would go into the forest to pick berries, which she would make into jam or serve fresh for dessert. Some nights there would be bonfires on the beach. My grandmother would sneak out a bottle of akvavit and get tipsy. I think my mother had to carry me inside more than once after I’d fallen asleep beside her.”
Javier could imagine that—little white-blond Laura curled up like a kitten at her mother’s feet. “Your grandmother drank akvavit?”
Laura smiled and nodded. “She still does.”
“You don’t mention your father much.”
“He died when I was six. A traffic accident. My mother never remarried.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged it off. “It was many years ago. Enough about me. Tell me more about your summers in Humacao.”
“You picked berries with your grandmother. My grandmother had a big vegetable garden. She put us all to work in it. Whenever I complained that I didn’t want to pull weeds or dig, she would tell me I didn’t have to help with the entire garden, just the parts I hoped to see on my dinner plate.”
Laura laughed, the sound sweet to Javier’s ears. “She sounds very clever, your Mama Andreina.”
“She is. Most of the time we just ran wild with our cousins—playing baseball, lying down in the grass to watch the clouds, listening to drums play bomba. I think those summers saved me—that and joining the Teams.”
“What do you mean?”
Javier had never shared this story with anyone but Nate. But Laura had his heart, so there was no point in keeping anything else from her.
“In high school, I got mixed up with a bad crowd—one of the local Bronx gangs. My little brother Yadiel—he thought I was the shit, man. He followed me around like a puppy. One night, I got into it with a rival gang, started shooting off at the mouth. It got ugly—fists, knives. Then when we were walking home, a car drove by, and I heard a gunshot. They were firing at me but hit Yadiel.”
Javier could still remember the shocked look on his brother’s face, the helplessness and terror he’d felt as his brother’s blood spread in a pool of crimson on the sidewalk. “I tried to help him, tried to stop the bleeding, but . . . He was dead before the ambulance arrived. He hung around with me because he thought I was cool, but it got him killed. He was fourteen.”
Laura looked up at him. “Oh, Javi!”
He avoided eye contact, gazing out over the rooftops of LoDo. “I’ll never forget the sound of my mother’s scream when she heard he was dead. My father yelled at me, told me it had been my job to keep him safe, that Yadiel had only gotten killed because he’d been hanging with me. I was sent off to Humacao the next day, spent the rest of that year living with Mama Andreina. She put me back in line, put me to work. She told me I needed to become the hero Yadiel believed I was.”
Laura’s voice was quiet, sympathetic. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a troubled teenager’s shoulders.”
“Sometimes it’s the weight of responsibility that makes a person stronger. I left the gang, graduated, went to college, became a trainer.”
“That’s the real reason you became a SEAL, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is. I’ve carried a photo of Yadiel with me on every mission.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “Your grandmother must be very proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Yeah. She keeps a candle lit for me, prays novenas to Santa Clara for me whenever I’m deployed.”
“And your parents? What happened wasn’t really your fault. The blame lies with the person who pulled the trigger. They must know that.”
“They’ve forgiven me.” But Javier would never be able to make up for his brother’s death in their eyes.
For a time they walked in silence, the sun now low on the horizon, spilling golden rays over the mountains, making all the colors richer—the pale blond of her hair, the rosy flush of her cheeks, even the ice blue of her eyes. They went to stand on the western side of the roof, Laura in front of Javier, his arm around her waist, the street below them busy with people headed out on the town.
Javier glanced at his watch. “Time to get inside,
Tonight, he had special plans.
LAURA STARTED THE fire again. “I want to take a shower before I start supper. Think you can wait, or are you starving?”
“Don’t worry about me. Take your time.” His gaze narrowed. “And, hey, put on something really pretty afterward.”
“Something pretty?”
“Yeah. Just put on . . . you know . . . an evening gown or something formal—whatever you would wear to a fancy restaurant.”
“Are we going out on a
His lips curved in a slow smile, making her pulse skip. “Go take your shower.”
Okay, so he was keeping secrets.
Laura showered and shaved her legs, a sense of anticipation humming through her as she tried to guess what Javier was up to. She dried her hair, put on eye shadow and mascara, then walked naked to her closet, wondering what to wear. If only she knew
She looked through her small collection of cocktail and evening gowns. Before her abduction, she’d had dozens. Now, she had only a few, each one seeming less appealing than the last. The dark blue beaded velvet dress she’d bought for the symphony was too much. The black lace dress might work, but it was short—great for happy hour and parties, but maybe not a formal restaurant. Her yellow silk sheath dress was meant for summer. That left only the floor-length gown she’d bought for the foreign ministry dinner in Stockholm.
She searched the back of her dress rack and found it still in the garment bag. She unzipped the bag and removed the dress from its hanger, her gaze taking in the richness of the cloth—black silk that was adorned with gold beading. She’d fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen it, but she’d never worn it. When she’d put it on the night of the dinner—her first public event since her rescue—she’d felt uncomfortable with the plunging neckline and the male interest it would bring. But now . . .
It had been a long time since she’d
She walked to her chest of drawers and searched for a bra that could handle the neckline, then found the matching panties. The beading made the dress heavy, and getting into it was a bit of work, involving a hidden back zipper, lots of shimmying, and little beads that caught in her hair. But when she was done, the results were worth it.
She looked into the mirror and found herself smiling at her reflection, a feeling of giddiness running through her as she imagined Javier’s reaction. The gown fit her perfectly, enhancing her curves, the gold beading glinting as she moved.
She touched up her makeup, added a deep red lip stain, dabbed scent behind her ears and between her breasts—and then she was ready. Or she
She stood at her bedroom door, one hand on the doorknob, her heart beating fast. She knew she was safe with Javier. Why did she suddenly feel afraid?
Her mother’s words came back to her.
Wasn’t that what she’d vowed to do in that courtroom?
Subduing her fear, she turned the knob, opened the door, and walked toward the living room, her feet stopping when she saw. “Oh, Javi!”
He stood near the table wearing a charcoal-gray three-piece suit over a white shirt, the colors of the fabric bringing out his coal-black hair and brown eyes. His face was clean shaven, his hands in his pants pockets, a black tie hanging untied from his neck. She’d never seen him in a suit before, the sight of him taking her breath away.
His gaze met hers, then dropped, gliding slowly down her body and up again, his brow furrowing, the breath
