Page 5 of Desperate Justice
CHAPTER 3
Screams and shouts alerted him to the dangers awaiting him. He, a seasoned FBI agent, shuddered in anticipation.
“Let’s do this,” he muttered.
Rafe took a bracing breath and opened the door to enter his niece’s quinceañera party. The noise proved deafening. Salsa music, laughter, everything that was his big, noisy, loving Cuban family.
Purpose in his step, clutching the traditional doll he planned to give Sofia later, he headed to the reception room. The delicious smells of fried pork mingling with sweet pastries made his mouth water, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Double doors sailed open and his two sisters walked out.
Seeing him, Julia exclaimed and hugged him tight. He hugged her back. Veronica, his eldest sister, regarded him with a severe frown. She pointed to the gold watch her husband had given her upon the birth of Sofia, their first child.
“You’re late.”
Sorry, sis. I was looking for drugs. He offered a small apologetic smile. “My apologies. I tried.”
No excuses with his family. Not for family events, or anything else. They simply didn’t understand.
“You missed Sofia’s entrance with her court. Her dance with them. Herbaile de sorpresa. You almost missed the father and daughter dance.” Ronnie heaved a dramatic breath. “Well, at least you made it. Unlike Julie’s wedding.”
Okay, he wasn’t taking this lying down. Rafe heaved a breath. “You know I had to attend the funeral of one of my team...”
“And we nearly attended your funeral last year, Rafey! When are you going to quit that damn job and get a real life?”
Ronnie’s verbal assault sent his blood pressure soaring and rocked him back on his Alden dress shoes. “Listen, Ronnie, if you’re going to...”
Julie stepped between them, holding them at bay like a referee holding back two prizefighters. “Enough,” she said in Spanish. “This is your daughter’s day, Ronnie, and not a time for family arguments.”
Rafe drew in a breath and smiled at his youngest sister. “Always, the peacemaker. Thank you, Julie.”
He shot Ronnie a level look. “She’s right. Let’s leave this for another day. This is about your daughter’s birthday, my niece and goddaughter. And right now, I need to see her.”
Taking a deep breath to lower his blood pressure, he pulled open the door and strode inside. The hall was crowded, with lights sparkling from the disco ball shining above. His anger faded, replaced by pure amusement. Sofia loved glitz and glamour and had a thing for the 1970s. The DJ played “Disco Duck,” which made him chuckle. Right now she was dancing with a skinny, shy kid named Mark, who struggled to keep up with the music and Sofia’s expert moves.
So what if her mother could be a nag about his career and his life? Sofia could erase all his crabbiness and brighten his day.
You have to make the world safer for her, and all her generation.
Not tonight. Tonight wasn’t about duty or worry about Hernandez and his gang getting fentanyl into the hands of innocents like his niece and her friends. Tonight was about fun, and celebrating Sofia turning into a woman.
She whirled, her pink taffeta gown swirling out around her, the rhinestone crown on her dark hair sparkling as much as the disco ball. Someone shone a spotlight on her. He clutched the Barbie doll he brought to symbolize the last childhood gift as she made her transition from girl to woman. A lump clogged his throat. Where the hell had the years gone?
Rafe slipped the doll into his jacket pocket. He headed to the buffet table, suddenly hungry. Hell, he hadn’t eaten all day.
The usual array of food his family preferred sat in chafing dishes. A platter of raw vegetables and a dish of plain grilled chicken had been mainly ignored.
Croquetas de jamónandmariquitas de plátanofor lighter appetites, along withlechón asado, frijoles negros, boiled yucca and more. His nose wrinkled. No good old American cheeseburgers here. Only Cuban food.
He selected a few carrot sticks from the vegetable platter and gnawed on them.
“Rafael, why are you hiding from me?”
He knew that deep, beloved voice anywhere. Rafe set down his plate, turned and hugged his eighty-two-year-old grandmother. “I’m not hiding. I just got here.”
She’d find out soon enough.
“Did you eat?” she asked.
