Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Emiliano
I liked the feeling of the way Isabella’s hand fit perfectly in mine. Spending these few weeks with her has opened a floodgate of feelings I’d never before considered. While my mind was constantly on the war we fought and the business we ran, at unexpected times, Isabella would come to mind. I wondered if she would like this or if she’d prefer that. I worried about her safety at the apartments and even at el Patr?n’s home. Since the afternoon when she melted down and came back to life—a stunning phoenix—I had the overwhelming desire to protect her while at the same time, to make her happy.
Those instincts roared to life in me like they never had before. I’d been attracted to women in the past. Dated here and there. But the life I led in the cartel wasn’t conducive to organic relationships. The women I saw the most were the whores from Wanderland. Since Mia’s apartments opened, I’d stopped using their services. If I examined the reason, it would probably be that knowing them at the apartments transformed them in my mind, taking away the anonymity from before.
Isabella’s soft brown eyes peered about as if she was seeing life for the first time. Perhaps there was such a thing as fated loves. I wasn’t ready to care for someone else until now. And now, that someone was here, holding my hand and leaning against my arm.
Isabella chatted with excitement as we passed different businesses on our way north toward the restaurant. With the life I led, it was too easy to see the dark side of every situation. That was a survival technique that Isabella didn’t possess. She saw the world as a shining star filled with happiness and possibilities. Being in her presence reminded me that the other side existed. It had to, because the qualities radiated from her being.
The bad was here too.
Not shootings on the street. Although that was possible. I personally had two guns, and two knives concealed beneath my clothing. I wasn’t the only one. The holsters and bulges were easy to spot when you knew what to look for.
Some of the bad was benign, such as the kid who pickpocketed an elderly man walking the opposite direction. The street venders who doubled their prices for tourists. The levels increased, such as the woman we just passed. The misery in her expression as the man at her side grasped her arm and hurried her along was a warning of worse to come. If not for Isabella, I would have intervened.
Scanning my surroundings was something I constantly did. It wasn’t a conscious effort but the way I’d been taught to survive. Isabella, on the other hand, lived a life of protection, bodyguards, Mafia soldiers, and her family. They watched for the darkness, allowing her to bask in the light.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “There’s the Little Italy sign.”
I squeezed her hand. “Our restaurant is just up ahead.”
She peered upward. “It’s such a beautiful evening; are we going to sit outside?” Almost every restaurant along India Street had outdoor dining.
I wouldn’t scare her by telling her that we wouldn’t because of the dangers lurking about. Instead, I smiled and said, “This is one of my favorite restaurants, and they have my favorite table waiting.”
“You have a favorite table?”
“I do.”
“How many women have you brought here?”
My lips landed on the top of her head, kissing her hair. “The only woman who matters is the one with me right now. The last time I was here, I was with Nick and two cartel chiefs.”
“Sounds romantic,” she quipped.
“It can be.”
Stepping through the glass doors, I let go of Isabella’s hand and placed my hand in the small of her back. Once inside, the delicious aroma of garlic awakened my hunger. We came to a stop in front of the hostess stand.
Evelyn, the hostess, opened her eyes wide with recognition. “Mr. Ruiz. Welcome back.” She smiled at Isabella. “Is this your first visit with us?”
“It is. Yes.”
Evelyn’s gaze was back to me. “We have your table waiting.” She picked up three leather-bound folders and said, “Follow me please.”
We passed by tables filled with customers on our way to the back of the large room. My table was a semi-circular booth on the back wall. From my seat, I could see the front door and the door to the kitchen. No one would have the opportunity to sneak up on me.
Evelyn laid the menus on the table.
Isabella scooted in and I followed.
Evelyn picked up the top leather-bound folder. “Here is our drink menu. We’ve added a few cocktails since your last visit.”
I took the menu. “Thank you.”
“Antonio will be your waiter. He’ll be over shortly.”
“Thank you,” Isabella said.
When Evelyn walked away, Isabella leaned closer. “She was flirting with you.”
Her observation caught me off guard. “She wasn’t. That’s how she acts around all the customers.”
She laughed. “For an observant man, you can be unaware.”
Under the table, I laid my hand on Isabella’s thigh. “I’m not unaware. I just have eyes for one woman.”
A beautiful rosy hue filled her cheeks. “Is this real, Em?”
“Fucking feels real to me.”
Antonio appeared in front of us. “Good evening. May I get the two of you something from the bar. A bottle of wine perhaps?”
Isabella stiffened at my side.
“I believe we will begin with water.”
“Very well. I’ll be back with your water.”
Once he was gone, Isabella leaned closer. “You don’t have to not drink alcohol just because I can’t.”
I lifted my brow. “You can’t? Do you have a physical reaction to alcohol, an allergy?”
She grinned. “I’m not old enough.”
My smile grew. “But say in the privacy of your home…”
“My family serves wine with dinner.” She scrunched her nose. “I’m not a big fan.”
“Then you’ve had the wrong wine. My father owns a winery here in Southern California. If you’re interested, we can find you the right wine. I’m not much of a drinker, but I know my mother and sisters have their favorites. When you could be called on at any hour of the day or night, alcohol consumption is at a minimum.”
Isabella’s pink lips curled. “Good. I’m glad you’re not abstaining because of me.”
“Oh, it is because of you. If anyone thought they could steal my girl, I plan to be sober so as to not miss my mark.”
She laughed as if it were a joke.
It wasn’t.
Antonio arrived with our water in a tall glass bottle. He proceeded to pour it into our goblets as he explained the specials of the day. We ordered our meals. After the waiter walked away, I said, “Some say it’s bad luck to toast to water.” I winked. “I can’t associate you with bad. So here goes.” I lifted my glass of water and Isabella did the same. “To us.”
Our glasses clinked and we both took a sip.
“I mean it, Isabella. It might seem fast, but I want to marry you. I’ve asked Jano to talk to Dario.”
She pressed her lips together and blinked her eyes. “You asked?”
“I did.”
“My father will never approve.”
“I won’t give up.”
From soup to salads to entrees, the food kept coming. When Antonio questioned us about dessert, Isabella placed a hand over her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Nodding to Antonio, I said, “Our check please.”
I sent a text message.
With my hand in the small of Isabella’s back, we walked back out onto the sidewalk. The number of people had doubled as the dinner hour attracted more customers. I led us south, the way that we’d come. “We can continue to walk around this neighborhood, or we have enough time to make it to Imperial Beach for the sunset.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of that place. Isn’t there a long pier?”
“Almost 1500 feet.”
She reached for my arm. “My tour continues.” Lifting her face to the sky, she closed her eyes and hummed. “I love being outside.”
She was so fucking vibrant and beautiful. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and repeat our kiss from earlier. No, I wanted more than a kiss. The thought of holding her soft curves against my hard body had my circulation rerouting as we walked.
“This way.” I tugged her to turn left on Cedar Street.”
“Isn’t the parking garage that way?”
“It is. One more surprise.”
When we came to a stop in front of a bakery with a line out the door, Isabella groaned. “I can’t eat more food. Besides, if we stand in this line, we’ll miss sunset.”
“It would be criminal to bring you to Little Italy without getting the best cannoli you’ve ever tasted.”
I tugged her past the line.
“What are you doing? Em, we can’t cut.”
We came to a stop at the counter. As soon as Beatrice, one of the owners, saw us, her smile widened. “Emiliano.” She reached for a small white paper bag. “For you.”
She’d obviously gotten my text message.
“Beatrice, you’re the best.” I reached for the bag and handed it to Isabella before reaching for my wallet.
“No. Go.” She shooed us with a brush of her hand. “Can’t you see I’m busy.”
“I can’t?—”
She smiled. “Next time you can pay.” Her gaze went to Isabella at my side. “I’m sure you two have plans. Go.”
“ Gracias .”
“ Prego . Go.”
“Does everyone flirt with you?” Isabella asked as we stepped outside.
“Beatrice is sixty years old if she’s a day.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t flirt.” She opened the white bag. “Oh, those smell delicious.”
By the time we reached the parking garage, my willpower was failing. I opened Isabella’s car door but before she could sit, I pinned her against the car, my left arm caging her. She tipped her face upward, soft suede irises meeting mine as she nibbled on her lower lip.
With my other hand, I reached for her chin, freeing her lip. “Whenever I see you do that, it makes me want to bite your luscious lip to see how good it tastes.”
Her smile returned. “No biting.”
My grin quirked. “You don’t know. You might like it.”
She dropped the cannoli to the seat and lifted her arms around my neck. “I know I like your kisses.”
Fuck yeah.
Cupping her neck, I pulled her toward me until our lips met. She tasted of sunshine and garlic. When a soft moan came from her throat, I was ready to blow a wad.
Beyond our bubble, I heard the distinctive click of a cocking gun.
“In the car now.” My timbre changed. “Lock the doors.” Isabella looked confused. I shoved her into the car. In less than a second I shut the car door, hit the thumb safety on my Beretta, and then pointed my loaded gun toward the shadows. Twenty feet away, standing near a large concrete pylon, I saw the culprit. “Drop your gun, motherfucker.” With my arms straight, I walked toward him. Step by step, my boots echoed on the concrete as he remained in my sights.
The asshole couldn’t be over fifteen years old. He was shaking like a leaf. If he wasn’t careful, he’d shoot himself or possibly me. Even though I was his target, I had better things to do than take a bullet.
“Drop the gun now.” I was less than ten feet away.
Fuck. The darkening of his sweatpants let me know he pissed himself.
“Put the gun on the ground, fucker. I’m not going to say it again.”
He did as I said and stood straight, looking as if he might get sick.
“Now kick it toward me.”
“ No hablo ingles ,” he said with his hands in the air.
“Te v oy a matarte .”
He kicked the gun and fell to his knees. “I was supposed to rob you.” Praise God. He miraculously learned the English language.
I walked closer, my barrel pointed at his head. “What’s your name?”
“Daniel. Don’t kill me.”
Fucker wasn’t in the position to make demands.
“Who told you to rob me?”
“The man on the street. He offered me a hundred dollars. I was supposed to bring your wallet and the girl’s purse back to him.”
“More specific, asshole. What’s the man’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
I took another step.
“I can’t say.”
“This Beretta is already cocked. All I need to do is pull the trigger and your brain will be splattered all over this garage.”
He closed his eyes as a tear ran down his cheek. “He goes by Manuel. Manual Lopez.”
Fucking common name.
“Where was he on the street?”
“We watched you walk out of the bakery on Cedar.”
The barrel of my gun made contact with his temple. “Daniel, tell Manuel Lopez that if I find him, he’s a dead man. If he tries to fuck with me again, he’s a dead man. Can you do that?”
“ Sí. I’ll tell him.”
“If I see you again, you’re dead. Now get up and get the fuck out of here.”
I carefully picked up the Glock he’d kicked by pinching the barrel. Turning around, I saw my car and like a punch to the gut, remembered that Isabella was inside. Hurrying back, I popped the trunk and threw the Glock inside.
When I came around to the driver’s side door and peered in, Isabella was staring my direction, wide-eyed. I opened the door. “Are you all right?”
“Are you?”
I got in, closed the door, and reached for her hands. “I’m sorry if that scared you.”
“You went toward him.”
“That’s what I do.”
A smile slowly curled her lips as she reached down to the floor and lifted the paper bag. “I smashed the cannoli when I accidentally sat on them.”
Relief flooded my nervous system as I grinned. “You’re amazing. And the idea of eating them after your ass smashed them…” I wiggled my eyebrows.
A faint pink hue filled her cheeks. “I’m not the one who went after a shooter. Did you…? I didn’t hear a gunshot.”
I shook my head. “He’s alive. He was a kid, probably not even fifteen. Someone paid him to rob us. I sent a strong message back with him to his boss.”
She leaned her head back against the seat. “Maybe I should leave this part out of the tour when I talk to Mia.”
“Do you want to go back to her house or to Imperial Beach?”
“My tour isn’t over yet.” Her smile grew and glistened in her eyes.
“Then onto the sunset.”