Page 64 of Tequila & Lace
“It’s too soon.”
“I’ll be fine.” I screwed the cap on the tub of my mascara and threw it on the counter. I started to walk down the hall to the kitchen.
“I’m going with you.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You’re not going with me on my date.”
“Yes, I am.” He was talking nonsense.
I grabbed my purse off the kitchen table, needing to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. It’s an S&R date, not a top secret date that I will never go on again.”
So… that may or may not be true. I still needed more research. I’d had one date that ended badly. I didn’t know who Martinez was and I needed to find more girls who could get me closer to meeting him.
After the incident at the Wynn, I’d called the secure line for the FBI and reported it. I’d needed to let Eric know. I needed to report my findings, and if the man had died then the bureau could handle it since I was undercover and my DNA and prints were all over the room. I was also probably caught on camera fleeing the scene.
“Do you have your gun?” Paul looked down at my purse in my hands as I opened the front door. We bought me one at the range before we left. There was no way he was letting that slide even though I already had one in my room.
“Yes, sexy.” I kissed him quickly before walking out the front door. Paul grabbed his keys and started to walk toward the garage. “Where are you going?”
“Going on your date.”
I put a hand on my hip. “You’re serious?”
“As a fucking heart attack.”
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop him, so I rolled my eyes, got in my car and backed out of the driveway. When I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, Paul parked beside me. I glared at him and shook my head.
“Gorgeous,” he called out.
“You better stay at the bar,” I whispered and kept walking, not wanting to bring attention to us. I didn’t want to stop in case my date was already inside the restaurant and could see. I wasn’t at a hotel because my date was only for lunch. I’d never had a lunch date before; maybe he thought it would end with a nooner. Guess we’d find out. I was getting good at turning them down for sex—minus Martinez’s guy who clearly got off raping women.
I walked into the Mexican food restaurant and to the hostess stand. “I’m meeting a Mr. Sanchez for lunch,” I explained.
She looked at her reservation list on her computer. “Yes, we have your reservation, but he hasn’t arrived. It says to go ahead and seat you.”
“Perfect,” I replied.
I looked over my shoulder and gave Paul a tight smile before following the hostess to the back corner of the restaurant. As we walked, I noticed the restaurant had minimal people, but yet she took me to the farthest corner of the restaurant. I didn’t think much of it. Mr. Sanchez had probably requested a quiet table where we could be alone and he wouldn’t get caught with an escort.
I sat with my back to the wall, facing the bar. I was able to see Paul and would see Mr. Sanchez when he arrived. I didn’t want to admit it but having Paul there put me at ease. I wasn’t in a hotel room and I would never be in one again with a client, but having my man there was like having backup even if I had my gun sitting in my clutch purse that was on the table.
The busser came over and left a glass of water, a basket of tortilla chips and a dish of salsa. I caught the gaze of Paul. I expected him to be sipping a Coke and tequila, but he too was drinking water. He winked at me and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. No matter how mad I was that he’d insisted on coming with me to my date, I still loved him with all of my heart. I knew he was only doing it because he loved me. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened if that man had raped me. It would have destroyed everything we’d built. I don’t think I would have been able to survive it, let alone the touch of a man again.
“Preciosa.”Gorgeous.
I looked up and into the same eyes I looked into every day in the mirror and blinked, unable to say anything. My mouth went dry. My heart stopped beating. I was certain I couldn’t breathe.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid into his chair in front of me. “Have we met before?”
We had.
I’d raised him from the moment he was born until I went running for my life.
My gaze flicked to Paul’s—I needed him. I needed him to breathe because I couldn’t. This wasn’t happening. What did I do? How did I tell the man sitting across from me that he was my brother?
“That’s not possible. I know all thewhoresin this town.”
He didn’t recognize me, but I was sure of it. Thiswasmy brother. My gaze flicked down to his hand that was running along the condensation of the ice water. Along the inside of his palm was the mark from the cigarette burn my mother gave him when he was four and she’d used him as an ashtray.
