Steel, p.7
Steel, page 7
She tells me that Gia and Noah will head back early and I hate it. One of us should have the beautiful honeymoon of her dreams but that's not happening. I answer Gia's texts as well to say I'm sorry for breaking their time away. Her reply is immediate. What Noah and I have been doing…we can do anywhere.
I chuckle and jump out of my bones when the door slams closed. Leandro's standing at the door fuming like an exhaust pipe. He's about to melt me with his eyes.
Oh crap. I'm so tired and he's ready for a fight. I don't doubt I can fight with him. I'm always up for a good fight but he just saw his father after years, just learned Emilio is still the same asshole he always was, just got exposed to what he had been avoiding for so long. The last thing I want do is add to his burden. I'm supposed to be here to comfort and support.
"Did you like what you saw?"
I keep a crafted blank face and remove my heels. "What do you mean?" I drop each shoe over the edge of the bed.
"You just had to engage him, though you know I don't want you to."
I pause midway to removing my ankle Strap knife. "What?"
"Why did you respond when he talked you? That's what he wanted. He wanted you to open a door, so he could have conversations with you and spew all his bullshit. You said you would listen to me."
Say what now? I lift my right hand and lay the left above it in the time-out sign. "Hold up. What are we talking about? I did listen to you. I stayed mostly silent but if someone addresses me, I'm not a mannequin and I have a mind of my own."
He paces to the middle of the room, looming over me near the bed. "No, you don't, when it's Emilio. Do you not understand who he is? What he is?"
I keep my voice under its normal decibel. I also keep my snark at two degrees instead of the normal ten. "Come on, be reasonable. We're here to find Lucy. I don't care about anything he has to say unless it can lead us where we can get out of here."
"I don't want you here, at all."
This would be the hurting blow in a normal situation. The one that makes me back off, retreat to a corner or lash out in my worst language. Except his hands are fisted at his sides and he's speaking through his teeth. There are huge circles under his eyes that I didn't notice.
We've been through a lot in a few days. He's been trying to protect me and this is a million miles from the norm.
He's pacing and lecturing me. "You insisted on coming and now here you are. My father is an asshole that ogled you, even though he's supposedly worried about his missing daughter, whom he loves more than anything."
I hop off the bed and throw the covers back. I kneel back on the bed and offer him a hand.
He stares at it. "We're talking about serious stuff, Amelia."
"Yeah, I know. You can still full-on lecture or preach or life lesson me while we both lay down. My neck's hurting from looking up at you."
I shift forward and take his hand, pull him down until he lays down, his head on the pillow. He kicks his shoes off and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. A glaze comes over his eyes. He's exhausted and I'm partly to blame. If he weren’t so worried about protecting me, he wouldn't be this tired.
I rub my fingers over his forehead, making small circles. Maybe I should have listened to him and stayed away.
"I hate him."
I pause, savor the words. Yes, they feel right. He should hate the man that was supposed to be there for him but is instead the opposite of what a father should be.
I go back to my small circles on his skin, imagine him here alone, dealing with Emilio's hatefulness. My heart bends. I saw enough tonight to make me want to launch myself at his father, get in his face and call him every special name in my vocabulary. I feel sorry for Anna who does not see him clearly but mostly, it breaks me that Leandro has to be around him at all. I need to be more vigilant while I'm here.
His breath evens out and I step out of bed, careful not to wake him. I grab a quick shower. He's sound asleep when I slip back into bed. His phone vibrates on the nightstand and I see Alec's name flashing and shoot him a message from my phone that we haven't killed each other…yet.
I turn off the lamp and lay next to him. I start to reach for his hand but remember our time on the plane today. I almost groan. Why did I have to think about it now? I roll away to the far side of the bed but I face him, focus on his outline in the dark. I want to throw caution out, kick it far from me and press against him.
But we're not kids and after what happened on the plane…shit, there I go again. My last thought is a prayer. Dear God, let Lucy come home quick.
12
"So, the terminal camera shows Lucy coming back to the island and getting in her car but nothing after that," Amelia says, blowing a mouth full of air.
I concentrate on my breakfast. If I don't, I won't eat. We keep revisiting the same events and arriving at the same place: nowhere. "I want copies of the tapes. The answer's there. It has to be."
She's already texting and I don't have to ask her who. For the past two days we've shared the same space, the same meals, and the same mind. She anticipates what I want and need, sometimes ordering things I don't even know are necessary. I catch myself turning to her at times when I normally would have shot Alec a text message. True to her word, she's been helpful, patient, caring. She deals with Anna on a daily basis, preventing me from having to engage with Emilio's deluded wife.
I want to thank her, tell her that maybe it's not such a bad idea she's here. I open my mouth, but the waiter comes by. He's smiling at her and pouring her more coffee and offering water and asking her what else she needs.
She smiles at him, wide and sweet. I know that smile. It's the one that goes one-eighth of an inch past polite and it's ambiguous enough for you to reach any conclusion you want. Is she flirting or being nice or really looking at a puppy that's behind you? The kid, something over eighteen but who knows how old, just about falls out of his boat shoes. He's obviously taking it to heart.
I shove a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. I could use some more coffee, but he doesn't even look my way. Why should he? I'm just a thirsty customer, after all. So, I grab her mug and drink from it. Both she and the waiter look at me.
He stares at me as though he sees me for the first time today, like he hasn't been serving me for the past hour and clears his throat. "Can I get you more coffee, sir?"
I too pretend I just saw him for the first time and I don't understand what he asks. I keep staring at him until he turns bright red and leaves.
"That's so mean. He's just a kid trying to earn his tip."
"That's funny. I'm a customer that can leave a tip. In fact, I'm the one paying this bill but he pays me no mind."
"You should finish that coffee. You're a horrible morning person."
"You're the one that kicked me off the bed yesterday."
"You were on the phone when I barely got five hours of sleep."
"I couldn't help it. It was a business call. You didn't have to kick me. You're way meaner than me."
She smiles like I paid her a compliment and swipes bacon from my plate. "Aw, thanks. We should have the tapes by three today. I'll have them secure us a place so we can go through them, with coffee and hard liquor to make you human again."
I hurry through the rest of my food. She's telling me about the place where we'll watch the video but I'm not listening. I'm stuck on how familiar this scene is. We wake up in the same room, share the same space getting ready, eat our meals together. She seems way too comfortable with this, as comfortable as I am getting used to being surrounded by her smell or our pre-sleep conversations.
This won't be good. There's only so long two people, who had once torn at each other with their mouths and hands, can skirt around the topic of sex. Sex would make our mornings perfect. It would, but I'm not stupid enough to say it, of course.
"What are you thinking about?"
Shit. Think of something. "Huh?"
"You have this weird look on your face."
"Oh…"
She grasps my hand tight. "Don't react."
Emilio materializes at my side. His sneer-smirk mutation firm in place. "Well, this is really nice. Your sister is missing and here you are having a fancy breakfast with your sweetie."
Her gaze is my anchor and I count to three and then speak. "We're allowed to eat, aren't we?"
"Not when you should be out there like everyone else. What part of your sister's missing don't you get? Don't you have any feelings?"
I'm not fazed, not even by the spit that lands close to my hand. He's like a rabid animal with his bulging eyeballs.
"If you wanted me to have feelings, to care for my sister, you would have brought me to meet her years ago. You would have introduced me to your family, not kept me away like the family leper."
It's almost worrisome how relaxed I am. I speak like it doesn't bother me and it doesn't.
"I don't even know why I called you. You're useless."
I'm calm, used to it. I know who Emilio is. But Amelia shoots out of the chair and is in front of him in the next second.
"He's not useless. You are. Where the fuck have you been the last three days? We've been searching this island from side to side, talking to people, looking for your daughter. All this time, you're getting drunk somewhere while the child you love is missing but you want to blame that on Leandro? You're a piece of shit."
Emilio freezes and I can see this going the wrong way. All he does is take a step forward but everything hazes out. My head swims with images of the back of his hand striking against her cheek and blood staining the corners of her mouth. I'm in between them, shoving the drunk away from her. "Don't fucking touch her."
I'm following too, because the images won’t go away and I know they’re not real, because I'm in between them. Though it’s impossible, there's a part of me that still sees him striking her. I move forward and people step in my path but they won't stop me. I want to plant my fist on his face, let him know what it feels like, get him familiar with the taste of his own blood.
I'm a grown man and not a scared boy. I want to beat him, not for that little boy, but for Amelia because I can see it in his face. I see it, in those disgusting eyes so much like mine, that he wants to put out her insolence. Just knowing he wants to is reason enough for me to kill him.
I hear nothing but I shove someone in my path and anyone who tries to stop me. The hand that stops me is a small one that I somehow, deep down, know is hers. She pulls me back.
"Get him out of here and don't let him close to Leandro without permission again."
Our men drag Emilio away. I stand there watching, letting her take charge, not trusting myself not to shove my way after him. Maybe the apple really doesn't land that far when the tree's an asshole.
Amelia pulls me to the back of the restaurant until we're on the deck outside. She yells, "Don't let anyone else out here.”
I brace my hands apart on the rail, looking out into the bay. Boats cruise along and I am caught in the beauty of the stone wall cliffs. I envy the standing paddle boarders who get to enjoy the peacefulness, the pure blue waters. I hate it all, every single part of the charmingly-slow-everyone-knows-each-other small paradise.
All I see is Emilio, in every corner, every sound. This is the nirvana he was rewarded with after abusing me, treating me like shit for years. This is what he got, family, laughter, beauty, and at the same time he denied me all that. I want to go, leave now. Fuck him. Let him find Lucy on his own and let me get back to my criminal life, what he taught me to do so well.
Amelia ducks under my forearm until she's standing in front of me, willingly trapping herself between both my arms and my chest. I have to look down because she's so small. Her fingers skim along my jaw but she says nothing. I move forward, pressing her back against the rail and she still says nothing but wraps her arms around me.
I close my eyes and let myself linger and pull away, putting a couple of feet between us. Surprise drapes over her features but she lets her arms drop.
"I want to leave this place but I know I can't do it until Lucy is back. It's not her fault whose child she is."
"It's not your fault either, Leandro."
She says my name like she dragged it through her lips. It's like a knee to the gut. Painful enough to double me over, but I'm a man. Men like me don't double over. "No, it's not, but I've always known who he is. Let's go review those tapes. I'm going to hire more people to look for her. It's time we find Lucy and get out of here before I'm the next person to go to jail."
13
Our fucking Bronx guy strikes again. Can you handle? Shit's flying all over the place here and I’m so pissed I may just ask Gon to snuff his ass, no questions asked.
Carissa wants to call but I stop her. I can't explain over the phone and my mind is on Leandro. The footage from the cameras showed us nothing new but it may as well have shown Big Foot because Leandro is on edge and he looks like he's about to punch a wall.
Carissa is asking too many questions.
Can't talk now. He's about to blow. His father’s a dick…
"I don't understand how someone just disappears from a small island." Leandro paces to the window.
"We'll find her. We just need a little patience." I hear myself and I can't believe those words are coming out of my mouth. I don't do patience for…anything.
Leandro knows that too. He turns around and pins me with a look that screams bullshit. He goes back to pacing and my eyes follow him, back and forth like a ball in a tennis match.
"Why don't you sit down? I'll make you a drink." I hop off the bed and in the direction of the wet bar but he stops me.
"I don't want a drink. I don't want to sit down. I need to be out there looking…"
"It's getting late. The sun is going down. Where would you look that we haven't before, that our people haven't?"
"I don't know but I can't be here doing nothing. Not when she's out there. It feels…"
"…like you're not doing enough? Like you don't care?"
He looks away but I can't let it go. I need to drive it home, even if it pisses him off more.
"You're letting Emilio in. Those are his words and his views. I've been here with you. I know how hard you've been looking."
He still won't look at me, but his shoulders tense and he steps out into the balcony. I follow. I won't let him beat himself. He's not going to believe those lies, not with me around.
"You've barely slept for three days. We wake up with the sun and go to bed late. How can you even think of letting his words in?"
He turns to me and my left foot almost pivots me back through the door. His jungle-cat-eyes rove over my face. "Don't comfort me, Amelia. I don't need it or want it."
I would believe it if his voice didn't catch. If he didn't look at me with open hunger. My heart thumps but he's pulling me, without laying a hand on me and I'm moving. I can't help it.
"I'm here…"
I don't finish my sentence. Before the next syllable, he snatches me against his chest, his mouth against mine and I taste the hurt, the anger, the violence that lingers beneath his cashmere zip-up. I kiss him back, loosening the restraints on my own need, needing a taste of everything only he can give me.
His kiss is brutal on my lips but I can't even think of how good this feels. His hands on my lower back, spreading fire through my skin. I relish in it but not long enough to enjoy it. He pushes me from him, tries to go past me but I move in front of the door.
"What's wrong?"
"Excuse me."
He's so polite I almost smile. How does he do that? How does he say words with such calm when his eyes torch me over?
"Come on, let's talk about it."
"I don't want to talk. I'm all talked out. I need a drink and air."
"We're outside."
"I can't breathe around you…" His mouth hangs open like he can't believe what just came out of it.
"I'm sorry. I am just trying to help."
"I know you are but I need to go blow some steam somewhere far and away from here."
"Let me come with you." When did I become a stage-five clinger? I move out of his way and he goes through the door. Then I think of him alone somewhere, doing something crazy. Or Emilio seeking him out. "No."
He goes into the room but I'm right behind him and move faster until I block his path to the door.
"Why are you pissed off at me?" I know he's not but I'm grasping at anything that can keep him here.
"I'm not."
"Then let me help."
"You can't. Don't you get it? If I stay here, I'm going to end up messing everything up. I can't be this close to you right now. Not when all I want is…" He presses the heels of his hands over his eyes for a brief moment and then looks at me again. "… to fuck you. All I want to do is drag you to that big bed and fuck you, fuck the tension away, fuck you hard, make us both scream and numb."
My heart gives one big, great, enormous thump, then goes crazy until I can't hear anything else. My mouth falls open and I stand there like a mannequin.
"You see? Now I’ve made it fucking weird but that's what it is. We're sharing this space and it's not normal. We're not children or related and I know it's my fault we're this close in a room, but I keep telling myself it's for your safety… Just get out of my way, Amelia. Please."
He's desperate and determined to leave and I should let him. He needs to be away from me and I probably need to be away from him. A little space would do us both good. I'm convinced it's what I'm going to do. I'll let him go and I'll take a nap.
But I don't move out of his way. Instead I reach for the hem of my T-shirt and to both his shock and mine, I pull it over my head. I reach back and pull down my simple skirt. I step over it and toward him, unhooking my bra. I move past him to the edge of the bed, and I turn around and pull my panties down and lay on the bed.
"You want to fuck me, Leandro? Come fuck me, then."
He stares at me like a horn sprouted from my forehead and wings from my ass. For a while he's so still I wonder how wise it was to have gotten naked so fast.
