Nacho Figueras Presents (21 page)

She reached out a hand to touch him. Jacob kept his gun pointed at Enzo but turned to her. “Stop!” he barked. “I said stop!”

In that moment, Enzo leaped forward and threw himself onto Jacob. The gun went flying out of his hand.

The men grappled as Noni ran to pick up the gun, pointing it in the air and shouting, “Stop! Stop! I have the gun! Stop!”

But the men kept fighting. At first, Noni couldn't tell who had the upper hand. Jacob had the strength of a metal worker, but Enzo had the fury of someone who had just seen the woman he loved mortally threatened. Enzo took a hard blow to the face but then turned and hurled himself against Jacob, sending the taller man crashing to the ground. He started punching him, over and over, venting all the rage and fear that had been building up inside him since he had realized that Noni was gone.

“No, Enzo, stop!” screamed Noni. “You're going to kill him! Stop!”

Enzo didn't seem to hear her. The dull, wet sound of flesh pounding against flesh filled the air.

Noni pointed the gun into the air and fired.

Enzo stopped then, turning to look at her and letting Jacob slump to the deck.

Noni aimed the gun at Jacob. “It's okay,” she said to Enzo. “I have the gun. It's over. I'm okay.”

Enzo came to her, leaving Jacob as he pulled himself to a sitting position, coughing and spitting up blood.

“
Querida
,” Enzo panted, “I was so scared. I thought—”

“Daddy?”

A small voice echoed over the water, silencing them all. The door to the cabin creaked open. They all froze.

“Noni?” said Max.

Noni quickly put the gun behind her back, and Jacob struggled up, raising his hand to hide his battered face from his son.

“Buddy,” he said, his voice raspy and clogged, “go on back down, sweetheart. I'll be there in a moment.”

“But, Daddy,” said Max as he walked out onto the deck, “I don't feel good.”

Jacob groaned desperately. “Okay, honey, just go back to bed and I'll—”

“I feel like I might throw up.”

“He's seasick,” whispered Noni. “Oh God, that's right. Jacob, he gets seasick. That's why we couldn't stay on the yacht? Remember? I told you.”

Jacob stared at her for a second, and then all the fight seemed to go out of him at once. His face went even paler and he seemed to collapse in on himself. He leaned against the side of the boat and closed his eyes.

“Max,” he said. His voice sounded agonized, “Max, come here, babe.”

Max went to his father, and Jacob picked him up and clutched him into a hug before the little boy could catch a glimpse of his father's bleeding face.

“Listen, baby,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “I want you to remember that no matter what, you are my best boy, and I love you.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” said Max, his face against his father's shoulder. “You're my best dad.”

Jacob leaned his face into his son's hair. He took a deep breath. “I want you to go with Noni and Enzo now, okay? I'm going to go away for a while, but I'll come back as soon as I can.”

Max struggled to pull back and look at his dad. “Where are you going? Can I come?”

Jacob shook his head. “No, baby. Not this time. You'll be good with Noni, okay?”

Max's bottom lip started to quiver.

Jacob leaned down and gave his son a fervent kiss on his forehead. “You'll be fine, okay? Noni will take great care of you.”

Noni passed the gun to Enzo behind her back and then stepped forward to Jacob. He buried his face in Max's hair for a moment and then passed the little boy over to Noni's arms.

Max began to cry and pushed his face against Noni's chest.

Jacob met Noni's eyes. He looked absolutely ravaged. “Just…let me go, okay, Antonia?”

She looked back at Enzo, who nodded. She turned back to Jacob. “Okay,” she whispered. “Go.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Jake,” she said, “listen. I'll take care of him. I promise. Everything we talked about before—about him knowing that you're a good man—I promise that will happen.”

He nodded. “I know.”

He put his hand out, as if to touch his son's quivering back, but stopped just short and turned away.

T
hey arrived back at Pilar's well after midnight. The lights from the party were still turned on in the garden, and the family came running out the front door as soon they pulled up.

Max had fallen asleep again, crying himself out, and Noni slipped him out of her truck and into her arms. Enzo followed them up the stairs to the house.

Not wanting to wake Max, they whispered to everyone that they were fine, everything was fine, that there was a lot to tell, but they would talk in the morning. Right now they all just needed sleep.

Noni's dogs followed them up to the bedroom Max had been sleeping in. Careful not to disturb Tomás, who was sleeping across the way, Noni and Enzo worked together to pull Max's clothes off and then tucked him into bed.

They stood together, watching him for a moment. Enzo's heart ached as he looked at the soft, innocent curves of the boy's face, the way his long dark red lashes brushed against his cheek, the way his mouth still worked a little in his sleep, like a baby sucking at a bottle.

This child had lost his mother before he could remember, and now he had lost his father, too.

Enzo reached down to brush a copper curl off his face and smiled at the featherlight feel of his hair.

Noni reached over and took Enzo's hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for coming to find us.”

He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

The dogs, one by one, leaped lightly onto Max's bed. Enzo started to order them off, afraid that they would wake the little boy, but Noni put her hand on his arm, signaling him to wait.

If they had been in Noni's bed, the sisters would have curled up in their regular space at the foot of the bed, but this time was different. Mojo stretched out along Max's back, laying her head on the pillow next to his, and Luna fit herself on the other side, the top of her head right under Max's chin, wedging herself into the little boy's arms.

He opened his eyes then, just a slit, and turned in his bed, throwing one arm out over the white dog's neck and the other over the black dog, patting them both gently as their tails thumped in response.

The little boy and the two dogs lay there together like that for a moment. And then, with a sigh and a smile, Max fell back asleep.

Noni ached all over. Now that the fear and adrenaline had drained out of her, now that they were all safe back home, she felt so exhausted that she could barely make it to her room.

She turned to Enzo before going through the door. “You're going to stay with me tonight, right?”

Enzo nodded. “I don't think I could make it back to my place even if I tried.”

She nodded. “Good.”

She turned on the lamps by her bed, bathing the room in a soft golden light. It was only then that she really looked at Enzo's face. There was a bruise beneath his right eye and a cut on his cheekbone.

She reached up to touch his face and he flinched, so she stood on her tiptoes and slowly and carefully kissed his injuries instead.

His breath hissed and his eyes went dark. “Noni,” he rasped.

She gave him a long, slow kiss on the mouth, savoring the sweet taste of him. She broke the kiss and leaned her cheek against his broad chest, feeling the warmth rush back through her limbs in an aching tingle, replacing the icy, numb sensation she'd felt all night.

“Let's take a bath,” she whispered.

Her bathroom had a deep porcelain claw-foot tub, and she turned it on in a gush and left it to fill with the nearly scalding water.

She started to take her shirt off and paused, realizing with a start that she was still in her party clothes. The birthday party seemed days past, even weeks.

Enzo caught her hands and helped her pull her shirt off and then slide down her pants, exposing the black satin bra and bikini briefs underneath. He stepped behind her to unhook her bra and rained gentle kisses down her neck as he helped her remove it. She turned to him, just in her panties now, and pressed herself against him, laughing to realize that he was still in his good suit and that it was completely ruined. Dirty, torn, and stained with blood.

“Oh no, my favorite suit,” she said, and giggled at the absurdity of it all.

He shrugged philosophically, his amber eyes dancing. “It's probably time to buy another one.”

She helped him out of his clothes next, going slow because she could see that he was sore. First the jacket, then slowly unbuttoning his shirt, then slipping her hands into the waistband of his pants to untuck the T-shirt underneath, pulling it over his head, and trailing her fingers down his bare chest.

He took a sharp intake of breath. “Ah,
querida
, what you do to me.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and kissed him, not holding back this time, delighting in the feel of her breasts pressed to his warm, bare skin, of the way his strong arms twined themselves around her waist and pulled her ever closer.

She felt him pulse and she ground her hips against him with a groan, then stepped back to help him remove his pants and boxer shorts, savoring the way he sprang out, heavy, hard, and ready for her.

She knelt, lightly scratching her fingernails down his back and legs, taking him in her mouth, loving the way he tasted, feeling such joy as he groaned and twisted his hands into her hair, letting her lick and suck until he gently pushed her away.

“Come back up here,” he said. “That feels much too good.”

She laughed and slowly stood, rubbing her almost naked body up against his until they were face-to-face again.

He kissed her until she was dizzy, plying her mouth with his tongue, running his hands all over her body, hooking her underwear with the tips of his fingers and dragging them down her legs with excruciating patience.

Then he cupped his hands around her rear and lifted her onto the vanity counter. She shivered as he placed her down on the cool surface.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Marble,” she answered, laughing.

She shivered in an altogether different sort of way as he gently moved her legs apart, kneeling in front of her and kissing his way up her inner thighs, one at a time, teasing her as he lightly caressed her curls with his fingertips. He sat back up for a moment, watching her face as he brushed his fingers over her and then let them go deeper, searching out the burning center of her and circling it with an almost casual expertise, all the while locking his eyes on her face as she writhed and moaned beneath his touch.

He bent his head back down to her. Just giving her the lightest of kisses at first, making her arch and burn for more. Then he grasped her thighs in his hands and pushed her legs even farther apart before parting her with one quick slash from his tongue and making her cry out in surprised pleasure.

He lapped at her slowly, taking his time. Trembling sensations coursed through her body, making her feel as if she were floating on currents of silky pleasure. She wrapped her hands in his hair and watched him, marveling at how he made her feel both wholly in her body and yet somehow outside it. She swore she could see a faint golden light—a radiance—that seemed to illuminate them both.

He lifted his head for a moment, staring into her eyes. “I will never get enough of you,
querida
,” he said fiercely before bowing his head back down and parting her once more.

She started to tremble all over as he went deeper, licking and sucking, reaching up to cup her breasts in his hands, lightly pinching and flicking her nipples between his fingers as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth. She could feel herself falling over the brink now, the trembling turning into a buzzing, electrical flow and the light between them bursting into a radiant flame. He kept licking and sucking as he reached down and slid first one and then a second finger inside her, stretching her until she could feel him all through her body, and she tumbled over the edge with a sharp and wild cry. She felt like she was shattering into pieces even as he pulled her ever closer. She felt as if her body was built of nothing but shooting stars and billowing waves of joy. She peaked again and again under his strong fingers and agile tongue, until she was sobbing her bliss and begging for him to fill her in a different way.

And so he stood and placed her, still pulsing, back on the floor, turning her away from him and cradling her body within his own, slipping on a condom before sliding into her with slow, excruciating control, filling her deeper and deeper, his breath going ragged and uneven. His body trembling around hers with the effort of curbing his need. She felt her breath run short as she begin to peak again, every small movement sending her closer and closer to the edge, until he reached around and cupped one breast in his hand, teasing her nipple between his fingers, and slid his other hand down through her curls and into the very pulsing center of her, circling and rubbing. And then, just as she thought she could take no more, he pulled back and then thrust himself into her, no longer holding back but sheathing his full length deep inside her, and then out again and then back, losing all control as he took her over and over, sending her falling, falling over the edge. Because she could feel nothing else but this man she loved, nothing but his body, his soul, and his heart, all of which she knew, in that exquisite moment, to be hers and hers alone.

They floated together in the warm bath afterward, her body resting against his, heedless of the overfilled tub and the way the water lapped over the sides and onto the floor in little waves and drips.

The room smelled of roses and lilies, the sweet scents drifting up on the breeze. There was a soft glow from the garden below, the tattered remnants of Noni's first birthday party, fairy lights and lanterns, the candles long since burned out, but the fireflies still blinking their electric message of desire, swirling in graceful clusters in the warm summer air.

One luminous insect broke from the pack and rode the current of the breeze up and through their window, drifting over them and pulsing gold and then green in the hushed darkness of the room. They silently watched it hover, and it seemed to them a flickering, floating talisman of their luck. A reminder that, indeed, some people might search a lifetime for what lay between them…for what they held in their hands.