“Well, perhaps I’m not as simple to pin down as you thought,” he smirks. Lifting a remote from the counter, he points it at the large framed art over the fireplace, which flickers then turns to a news channel, revealing it to be a television in disguise. “But I do like the news,” he adds.
“Can I help you with something?” I feel useless just standing around while he prepares food.
“Nah, go ahead and have a seat. Get comfy. Let me take care of you for a few minutes.”
A rush of heat spreads through my chest and outward, and I settle into the fluffy couch, drawing the blanket over myself and pulling in a deep breath—it smells like him. I’m not really paying attention to the news until something the reporter says draws my complete focus.
“… the body, believed to be José Perez, was discovered early this morning in Dinner Key Marina.”
My eyes immediately lift to the television and remain glued there, my heart racing. The reporter is outside, the marina behind her, with a uniformed police officer standing in front of yellow crime scene tape.
“Police have not officially identified the victim, but our sources tell us it’s definitely the well-known businessman. Mr. Perez has multiple businesses in the Miami-Dade area, and suspected ties to several criminal organizations that have not been proven. We’ll keep you updated on this story as it unfolds. For now, Miami-Dade police are refusing to release any more information.”
Vincente walks around the couch, carrying a tiny coffee cup on its own saucer. In my peripheral vision, I see him stop dead in his tracks when he takes in my expression. “What is it?”
“That man,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper. “I met him at the party last night. Nothing sinister. I just made small talk with him and his friend, along with a few other girls at the party, while I was waiting for your cousins to signal me for the exchange.”
“I’m sorry, that must be a shock,” he murmurs sympathetically, settling into the seat beside me. “But you didn’t know him?”
I accept the coffee. “No, but it was weird—Manuel saw me talking to him and freaked out. He acted like I was some kind of double agent. Like he assumed I knew José and worked for him or something, like I was a spy for him and that’s why I am involved with you.”
Vincente’s expression hardens. “Did he accuse you of something?”
“Sort of. It felt like he was in the middle of threatening me when Emiliano texted to say we had to do the exchange. And then he would not let me leave, said we had something to talk about. That’s when I texted you. It freaked me out.”
“Okay, thank you for telling me. Enjoy your coffee. I’m going to get breakfast going.” He presses his lips to my temple and returns to the kitchen.
I watch the news for a few more minutes, but they’ve already gone on to another story. When I steal a glance back into the kitchen, Vincente is texting furiously on his phone.
Somehow, I know this doesn’t bode well for me, or my happily ever after.
Chapter26
Even though he never confirms it directly, Vincente strongly implies that his cousins might have had something to do with José Perez’s untimely death. He won’t say whether it has something to do with me, but I can’t help assuming it does.
We end up hanging around his place all day, napping and watching Netflix. I feel safe here, comfortable, and more tired than I realized. Vincente’s couch is deep and plush, and when he pulls me into his body, my eyes drift closed easily.
But as the sun goes down, my anxiety grows. My eyes flick repeatedly to my phone, even though I’ve ignored it most of the day. Vincente says nothing, but I can see his growing concern.
Finally, when I’ve shifted to sit up and my foot is wiggling nonstop, he touches my shoulder.
“What’s going on Sloane? You seem upset.”
“I…” I hadn’t realized it, but now that he asks, I know exactly what it is. “I don’t want to go home,” I confess in a small voice. “I’m afraid to see my mom. Especially since my dad won’t be there tonight.”
“So, stay here. You don’t have to go home, do you?”
“No…”
“Then stay. We need to go over to my parents tomorrow, anyway. You can stay here with me and take all the time you need to recover.”
My heart swells, even though I know I can’t accept. “But I don’t have clothes or anything, not even a toothbrush. I’m like a refugee.”
Vincente snorts. “Hardly. Besides, I have two brothers who, for some reason, think of my place as their own. They show up unannounced and demand to stay like I’m some kind of hotel. So I’ve got a little stockpile of extra stuff, just for them. Toothbrush situation is a non-starter.”
“Well, I have a feeling your brothers don’t have a stockpile of women’s clothing that would accommodate me.”
“I’m sure we can rustle something up for you to sleep in. If you like, you can put your outfit in the wash and it’ll be clean for tomorrow. Come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll order in some food and we’ll just continue our couch party.”