Chapter 5
5
K ia sidled up to Camila at the bar.
“I have a bone to pick with you. I can’t believe that’s Alejandro, your good friend. Damn. Does he have a girlfriend?”
Camila tipped the club soda to her lips and took a drag before answering. “No.”
“So he’s fair game?” Kia arched a blonde eyebrow.
Camila froze. “What do you mean?”
Resting a hand on her narrow hip, the blonde shot a glance in the direction of the VIP section. “I’m thinking about taking a shot at him before Lydia does,” she said, referring to the other single woman in their group.
Straightening, Camila cleared her throat as an ugly emotion burned in her stomach. “Both of you would be fools to hit on him.”
“Why? Because he’s not the relationship type? I just want to get my back blown out, and he looks like a back blower.”
Camila couldn’t deny that. She’d often wondered about his sexual prowess herself. Kia actually licked her lips, and Camila gripped the glass bottle so she wouldn’t be tempted to smash it over her head.
“Bad idea,” she said.
“Why?”
Camila dropped her voice to a conspiratorial level, leaning toward Kia so she could be heard above the loud music and revelry. “I shouldn’t tell his business, but Alejandro is secretly in love with another man. He’s gay.”
Kia’s mouth fell open. She stared at Alejandro for a moment before she returned her gaze to Camila. “ Really ?”
Camila shrugged. “Gay men come in all shapes and sizes. You know that,” she said, referring to Kia’s cousin, who was gay.
“Yeah, you’re right, but Patrice never mentioned he was gay.”
“A lot of people don’t know, and… I’ve said too much and betrayed his confidence.” She hoped she looked contrite.
“Well, I know you two are close. You’ve known each other since you were kids, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And he’s always been that way?”
“For as long as I’ve known him.”
Kia’s brow wrinkled. “You’re sure he’s not bisexual?”
Camila pursed her lips regretfully. “He’s not. He only swings one way, and that’s gay.”
Kia let out an exaggerated sigh. “There goes my plans for a weekend hookup.”
Camila patted her arm. She felt a little guilty, but the thought of Kia and Alejandro together made her nauseous. The thought of Alejandro and any woman together made her nauseous. She remembered the first time he’d introduced her to one of his girlfriends back in Jalisco. For two days she had stayed indoors, claiming to have a stomach virus so she wouldn’t have to see him.
Right now he was smoking a cigar while talking to her brother. He had rolled up the sleeves on his black shirt, and they gripped his veiny forearms covered in hair and tattoos. His powerful thighs, clad in dark-gray slacks, were set apart, and the unbuttoned top of his shirt revealed hair on his chest and his collection of chains. He was easily the hottest man in the club, oozing sex appeal and virility with minimal effort.
Camila greedily gulped her water to cool off.
The wedding guest she had been dancing with earlier came up to them. “Can I entice you ladies back onto the dance floor?” he asked, shaking his shoulders.
She pushed away from the bar and set a regretful smile on her lips. “I’m tired, and I’m going back to the VIP. You two have fun.”
She ignored his disappointed expression and headed toward Alejandro and Miguel. She climbed the stairs to the VIP and plopped down beside Alejandro.
“What are you two talking about?” she asked.
Miguel turned bloodshot eyes toward her. He’d clearly had his share of drinks. “Alejandro is giving me life advice like a good brother should.”
“Are you going to take the advice and apply it?” Camila asked.
“Of course! Right now, however, I see someone is bothering my wife, and I can’t put up with that shit.” He removed his glasses and pushed up from the chair.
“Please don’t start a fight,” Camila called after him.
He waved her off and stumbled toward the dance floor.
“Oh lord, I have a bad feeling that now he has a few drinks in him, he’s going to act like some macho guy. I’d hate for Patrice to see him get his butt kicked,” Camila said.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let him get into trouble tonight,” Alejandro said, amusement tilting up the corners of his mouth.
“Thank you,” she said with a short laugh.
Camila watched him take a puff of his cigar, its leathery scent circulating around them and curling into her lungs. She removed it from his hand, and he looked at her in surprise.
“Cohiba?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She brought the cigar to her lips, experiencing a thrill that his lips had seconds before been in the same place. She took a puff, and the subtle sweetness from the wrapper coated her tongue, mixed with the taste of spices.
She took another puff and released in a deliberate, controlled blow, letting the smoke wind in a snakelike manner toward the ceiling.
“Can I have my cigar back now?” Alejandro asked.
Smirking, she glanced at him through the veil of smoke. She enjoyed the earthy taste that lingered on her tongue and took another puff before handing him the Cohiba.
“Nice,” she said.
She felt relaxed and a bit naughty. Maybe because she was smoking after him, or maybe it was the drinks she’d downed throughout the night. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t herself. She felt fearless. Reckless. Horny from the dull throb between her thighs.
She crossed her legs, and Alejandro’s eyes shifted to where the short hem of her dress rode up on her thigh.
“Are you having a good time?” Camila asked.
He lifted his dark eyes to meet hers, but his expression remained unreadable. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
“I am. Are you?”
She nodded. “I needed to get out and have fun more than I realized.”
“Me too. It’s a reminder that everyone needs down time.” He took a drag on the cigar and handed it back to her.
She took a puff and then returned it. “You should stay in town longer. You work a lot. I know you have vacation accrued.”
“I do, but I’m going to Jalisco when I leave here. I have not been to my parents’ graves in a long time. I need to go and check on them.”
Camila was disappointed but understood. Unlike her, Alejandro didn’t have much close family. She had a brother and cousins and aunts and uncles on both sides, all of whom she had a great relationship with. But he only had his maternal grandmother. He had lost his parents at a young age and went to live with her, whom he called Mamita, which was how she and he met. Her grandmother and his grandmother had attended the same church, where Emilio’s father was the priest.
People in town had said Alejandro had demon’s blood running through his veins, but she never cared who he was, though all the adults knew. He was the son of Carmen and Luis Sanchez, career criminals who had ruled the town they lived in. Carmen died in a knife fight with another woman, and Luis passed when he crossed the wrong dirty cop. When his father died, Alejandro had only been eleven years old and was immediately shipped off to the town where his grandmother lived.
“I told Kia that you’re gay,” Camila blurted.
Alejandro cocked his head and looked at her as if she’d grown a second nose. “What?”
“I told Kia that you’re gay.” She shrugged.
“I heard you. Why the hell did you tell her that?” he demanded, sounding confused.
“I don’t know.” She did know, but she couldn’t tell him.
“Out of the blue, you tell a woman who I do not know that I am gay?”
“She wanted a weekend fling, and that’s why I said what I said.”
His eyes filled with disbelief as he studied her. “You messed up my chance to get laid this weekend?”
“You can get laid whenever you want, Alejandro. I’m sure you have plenty of women in Hopevale falling all over you.” She sniffed, angling away from him.
Hopevale was a town not far from Atlanta, Georgia where he had settled.
“I do not.”
“I don’t believe you,” Camila said, hoping the jealousy didn’t seep through her voice.
“It is the truth, whether you believe me or not.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, purposely pushing her breasts higher. She experienced a modicum of satisfaction when his eyes flickered to her bosom for a second.
She finally asked the question she’d been dying to know. “You don’t have a girlfriend in Georgia—some nice Southern belle cooking you heaping bowls full of shrimp and grits and all kinds of Southern dishes?”
The intensity of his stare burned the side of her face, but she refused to look at him.
“Most of the time, I cook for myself. Sometimes I go to Sunday dinner at my boss’s house. Other times, I eat out. I cannot remember the last time a woman cooked for me, but if she did, I’d rather have camarones embarazados served with a big bowl of frijoles charros on the side.”
Camila shot him a glance from the corner of her eye. “If you were staying longer, I could make that exact meal for you.”
She had spent a lot of time in the kitchen with her grandmother during the summers and had fond memories of learning to make traditional Jalisco dishes.
“You might make me stay longer than planned,” he drawled.
Camila’s heart thumped faster in her chest, heat spreading over her exposed neck and arms. She hadn’t cooked for him in years. Not since Emilio was alive.
“Do you know who he is? He looks important.” Alejandro squinted through spiraling smoke, and Camila followed his gaze to a group of men walking toward a different VIP section. A mid-forties, Andy Garcia look-alike in a beige suit and black tie was flanked on either side by four men who towered over him.
Camila smirked. “So, I was right? You really are gay?”
Alejandro blew smoke out the corner of his mouth while his eyes did a slow tour of her body. “We both know I’m not gay, but if you need me to prove it…”
Her breath hitched and heat—burning heat—washed over her and made her pulse dance. His behavior threw her for a loop. She couldn’t recall him ever looking at her like that before and didn’t know how to react. She decided that answering his question was safer.
“That’s Javier Reyes. He’s a billionaire. He owns this casino and several others. One he’s renovating here and two in Macau. His office is at the top of this building. He’s not a nice guy.”
“I guess that’s why he needs those bodyguards,” Alejandro murmured. He rested his wrist on his thigh, his attention focused on Reyes and his men.
“A lot of the casinos aren’t owned by the same people who own the buildings, but in his case, he owns both. He took over when his father retired. Word is that Javier is a control freak and ten times worse than his father. His name has been linked with shady business practices, bribery, even burying people alive in the desert as some kind of sick punishment. No surprise, the cops are in his pocket, which means he does whatever the hell he wants. He basically acts as if he’s a gangster instead of a businessman and has a huge compound thirty-five minutes outside of Vegas. Apparently, he contributed quite a bit to its design, so he’s really proud of it. The compound is supposedly guarded by a small army of security. He throws the occasional party, and from what I understand, they’re pretty wild.”
“You never received an invitation?” Alejandro asked in a teasing voice.
“I wouldn’t accept if I did. I would normally never spend a minute in any of his establishments, but Miguel and Patrice received a good deal on the casino’s wedding package, so here we are.”
The biggest bodyguard, a Black man dressed in a black suit, yanked a man from his seat in the VIP.
“Oh boy, I wonder what he did,” Camila whispered.
The bodyguard gripped the man’s arm and hauled him out of the section, and the others followed. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was obvious the man was pleading. It was strange to see everyone continuing to dance and party, as if a man wasn’t being dragged through the club.
As they passed by, Javier turned his head in Alejandro and Camila’s direction, and a shiver traveled up her spine when his eyes met hers. Something about him sent fear tunneling through her, and she dropped her gaze. Alejandro, however, continued to look at them until they left.
“Do you know him?” he asked.
“I’ve never met him before in my life.” Feeling a sudden chill, she wrapped her arms around herself. “What do you think is going to happen to the man they took?” she asked, though she had a good idea.
“If what you said about Reyes is true, my gut says he’s a dead man.”