Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
The rhythmic percussion and plucked guitar of Bachata thundered from the sound system Elena’s father had only recently installed. Coupled with the bank of colored lights projecting from the top of the bar, and the Sandoval family’s restaurant had become a night club.
Jal and Lexi sat at one of the few tables that hadn’t been pushed aside to create a space large enough for dancing, a space that was now near to bursting. Half of the Kitchen seemed to have shown up.
The table between them groaned under the weight of platters and bowls heaped with roasted meats, a few token vegetables, and plantains. So many plantains.
A cloud of fragrant steam seemed to hover in the air over the spread.
Normally, there wasn’t one thing to come out of that kitchen that didn’t make her mouth water, but Jal found herself pushing a spoon through a bowl of stewed chicken, corn, carrots, and potatoes without much interest in actually eating it.
Instead, her attention was fixed on her phone, which Elena had eventually returned, and the string of text messages only on her side of the conversation. She kept one eye on the door, which periodically opened to let in a burst of cool air followed by more people ready to party.
She looked up when it opened again, admitting a trio of giggling women, wholly underdressed for the weather, but slightly overdressed for a night out clubbing. They joined a group mingling on the perimeter of the dance floor, greeting others with a hug or a kiss on the cheek.
Beyond them, Elena held court in the middle, as always, joy seeming to burst out of her as she moved through the rhythmic steps of the dance, her long hair fanning out as she pivoted and spun, never spending more than a few minutes with the same partner.
Elena had tried several times to drag her into the throng, but like with her food, Jal had little interest in dancing, because the one person she wanted to be celebrating with still wasn’t there.
Lexi reached across the table and covered Jal’s hand with hers. “He said he’d be here, so he’ll be here.”
Jal tried to give her a smile, but her lips didn’t cooperate. She knew Lexi was right, but it didn’t make her worry any less. Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering his texts? How was he connected to what went down in the Bronx tonight? And where had Andy stolen that car from, anyway?
Before her mind could spiral any further, the door opened, admitting a burst of chilly, evening air. Jal dropped her spoon, ignoring the splatter of soup and clattering silverware as she nearly flew across the room toward the figure dressed all in black who had just entered.
Ciaran caught her with a grunt as her momentum drove them into the wall beside the door. She didn’t give him much of a chance to recover before she buried her hands in his hair and crushed his mouth with hers.
He was here! And he was safe!
Jal pressed herself closer, needing more reassurance that Andy hadn’t harmed him.
Ciaran broke the kiss and let out a hiss of pain. She drew back and, only then, noticed the bandages on his right hand.
She gently scooped her hand under his and raised it into the light. Two of his fingers were splinted, the other two taped together. A white compression wrap started at the second knuckle and disappeared up his sleeve.
“Oh my god, Ciaran, what happened?”
He cradled her cheek with the uninjured hand and she leaned into his touch.
He gave her a soft smile, and then, looked up, surveying the room, the swaying crowd, the music that promised to give them all hearing loss.
He eased her back a step and took her hand, wading through the fringe of the crowd toward the kitchen door.
Jal looked over her shoulder as she passed through the swinging door to see Elena watching her, though her feet didn’t miss a beat. She gave an encouraging wave of her hand and turned her attention back to the person she was dancing with. Her father.
The door closed behind them with a soft thwap.
The kitchen was still stiflingly hot, but mostly quiet, the few remaining staff milled around stacking clean dishes and wiping down prep areas.
Ciaran led her through the maze of cabinets, tables, and stoves to the corner office as if he had been there before.
Which he must have been, when he and Elena had hatched their plan, or whatever it was.
Ciaran put a hand on her back and propelled her into the small room ahead of him and shut them inside. Before she could take another breath, his mouth was on hers, his fingers on her chin, drawing her lips apart so he could deepen the kiss.
It was a desperate kiss, one of reassurance, of confirmation that they were safe, and whole, and alive. When they came up for air, a few moments, or an hour later, Ciaran pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.
Jal gripped the back of his neck and tried to kiss him again, but Ciaran turned his mouth just far enough out of reach.
“I just need to hold you for a moment,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear, sending a blast of heat down her spine. “Are ye alright, lass?”
Jal lifted her head, and an eyebrow. “Am I alright?” Her laugh was more than a little incredulous. “What about you? Where were you? And what in God's name happened to your hand?”
Ciaran sighed and dropped into the desk chair as if it had taken all of his energy to remain standing as long as he had.
Jal ignored the rickety steel folding chair she had always hated and leaned against the desk instead.
For a moment, he just studied her, his eyes heating as he took in the dress that, while modest in terms of the neckline and tight full sleeves, hugged her curves and came to an abrupt stop mid-thigh.
A flush rose up her neck under his scrutiny.
She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the burgundy stretch velvet over her hips.
He followed her every movement and she resisted the urge to allow the look in his eyes to distract her by, say, climbing into his lap, and making sure the rest of him was still in working order.
She cleared her throat, and his eyes slowly rose back up her body. “Elena,” she muttered by way of explanation for her wardrobe and then raised her eyebrow meaningfully. “Your hand?”
Ciaran jerked his head and looked down at his bandaged hand as if it was the first time he was seeing it too.
Then, some of the daze left his eyes and he flashed her what she knew was supposed to be a reassuring smile.
“It’ll aye be well soon enough,” he replied.
“Doctor said it’s just a couple of simple fractures. I’ll be good as new in a month or two.”
“Simple fractures… Right. Yeah, no big deal.” She echoed in what she was sure was a terrible approximation of his accent. He snorted a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Ciaran. How?”
“It’s a long story, lass,” he responded. A corner of his mouth quirked up and he ran a finger down one exposed thigh. “And I’ll tell you, as long as you stop looking at me like that.”
“Then stop calling me ‘lass’.” she retorted. “Though it seems that you’re the one who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.”
He chuckled and shifted in his seat, but didn’t remove his hand.
Jal deliberately kept her eyes on his face, no sense confirming that he was as worked up as she was in the small, enclosed space. The whisky-gold of his eyes, reduced to a thin sliver around pupils blown wide despite the light in the room, were proof enough.
“Fair point,” he replied. “So, I was leaving work when my phone rings, and it’s Andy saying that tonight was the night to make good on our deal.
So, I rushed home, got my gear and off we went to this extremely posh house, where I proceeded to break into the perimeter gate, and the garage, then disable a security system so your ex could steal a car and ride off into the bloody sunset and out of our lives for good. ”
“In a 1967 Shelby Cobra?”
One eyebrow raised, and he nodded with a smile. “Apparently, of all the vehicles in that garage, it was what he chose.” he replied. “So, I take it that Elena got you girls over to Hunt’s Point in time for the festivities, then?”
“Sure did.” A wide smile stretched across Jal’s mouth. “Seeing Andy get led away in handcuffs will never get old. Doesn’t explain how you hurt your hand, though.”
“Well, the police were coming up the drive and I was the numpty who had my hand wrapped around the door handle when Andy made a break for it.”
Jal hissed in sympathy. “I bet he thought that he was leaving you to the cops,” she replied, then tilted her head. “Speaking of, how are you not in jail yourself right now? Not that I’m not ecstatic that you aren’t.”
Ciaran’s good hand found her thigh again and began moving slowly up and down her leg, each time reaching a little higher up before retreating almost to her knee.
“Andy had no way of knowing that the owner of the gate, the house, the garage, and the car was in on the whole thing,” he replied.
His eyes were focused on what his hand was doing.
Jal swallowed, the delicious friction of his hand fraying her restraint. “Who was it?”
“Someone I knew in another life,” Ciaran replied. “He’s helped me out in the past and was all too willing to help put Andy back where he belonged. But Andy had to believe that it was real, and so it became real, for both of us. And Christ, I forgot what it felt like.”
His fingers skimmed the hem of her dress, mere inches from his goal, and where she wanted him to be. “The satisfaction? The rush of adrenaline?”
He nodded, his eyes hooded as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric. “Aye, all of that.”
She knew that euphoria well. It wasn’t so different to what his touch did to her, was doing to her, as his fingers delved even further.
Andy had always been willing to help scratch the itch when she came home worked up after a successful steal, but he had never been the source of the feeling itself.
But Ciaran was. Being with him was as heady as any job she had ever pulled off.
Whatever he saw in her eyes brought him to his feet, maneuvering so he stood between her knees and hauled her hips against him. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he captured her lips and ravaged them.
His good hand wove into her hair and tipped her head back further so he could latch onto the spot below her ear that had her knees clenching tighter around his hips.
She palmed his cheek and brought his lips back to battle with hers. Her other hand slid down his chest and lower, to cup him through his pants. He broke the kiss with a groan and put a little space between them, breathing hard.
“We should go back to the party.” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t think Elena’s father would appreciate us doing what I want to do to you in here.”
She nipped at his bottom lip. “Then take me home. There’s plenty of room there.”