The Saints of the Cross (31 page)

“Didn’t go as planned, Sarge?” I know Javier has followed me out of the bedroom when I hear William’s inquiry. I pick up the pace, hoping to beat Javier to the elevator and avoid him altogether.

“I’m not finished yet, William,” Javier replies in an annoyed tone.

I can tell he’s closing in on me, because the heavy thud of his feet on the carpeted floor is getting closer. I bang furiously at the down-arrow button on the elevator.
Come on!
Suddenly, Javier grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. I yelp in protest, but to no avail. He pulls me to him, leans down into me, his hot heavy breath smelling of red wine, and his mouth seizes mine. I try to pull out of his tight grip, but his strength is overwhelming.
When did he become so strong?
He presses his body even closer to mine, although I don’t think it’s possible for two people to be any closer in proximity. His tongue urgently, almost angrily, probes my mouth, and the resulting tingling sensation that shoots through me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I stop fighting him and instead move my lips in sync with his, engrossed in the familiar sensation that is the electricity we share. I reach up, pull his neck down toward me and kiss him back with an intensity that feels almost frantic.
What is going on here? Why can’t I stop myself? I want to stop, really, I do. But my body won’t let me. My heart won’t let me.

Javier pulls away first, taking my right hand and placing the ring box in my palm.

“Take this. You don’t have to wear it. You may keep it, regardless of your decision. It is a gift for you. I want to give you time to get over the shock—time to think about it. Okay?”

I look up into his piercing, black eyes and nod silently. The elevator bell announces its arrival. Javier takes my free hand and kisses it softly. I step into the elevator just as the door closes behind me. I look down at the small box in my right hand.
Did I just agree to marry him? Oh Jesus!
I close my eyes trying to replay what just transpired, but the image of Xander in that framed photo on my night stand, his half smile and adoring face, is all I can see.
Could this get any more complicated? Camilla! She can’t see this, or she’ll go freaking nuts on me!
I quickly stow away the box in my purse as the elevator doors open to the lobby.

I walk into the lobby, wiping tears from my face. Luckily, Camilla is sitting on the sofa with her back to me. Two twenty-something Ivy-leaguers in expensive suits flank either side of her, both giving her their undivided attention as she rambles on, probably about some perceived injustice—likely how she had to miss the Saks annual sale to attend her grandmother’s funeral in Columbia.

“Camilla, let’s go!” I shout from the entry doors. Camilla turns, and her right eyebrow arches when she sees me. She says something inaudible to the two men, and then she heads toward me.

“What’s wrong?” Camilla asks with a smug,
I told you so
expression on her face. “Your face is all blotched, and your eyes are red, so I know you’ve been crying.”

“Please, if you’re my friend, you will just
drop it
.” I give her a severe look. “I need time to get over this. Can’t you understand that?”

Camilla’s face softens—her expression actually turns to one of concern. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me close, resting her chin on my right shoulder.

“Let’s go pick out some awesomely hot dresses,” she whispers after a few minutes. “Looking good is the best revenge, after all.”

We laugh through silent tears and turn for the door.

CHAPTER 25

I’m standing outside of the Kennedy Center in a strapless, black ball gown and a red-satin shawl, freezing my tail off. I’m obsessing over the fact that when I walk into the Inaugural Youth Ball for President Capshaw, something is going to change. It’s the not knowing what that something is that’s killing me right now. Part of me just wants to turn around, climb back into the limo, and instruct the driver to take me home. But I know that’s not going to happen. I watch Xander—devastatingly handsome in a black Armani tux—Camilla, Christian, Laurel, Jude, Olivia, and Marcus pile out of the limo.

Xander seems to know something is going to happen, too. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure everyone knows something is going to happen. And I’m pretty sure everyone knows that
something
involves Javier. I scan the parking lot, and there’s the limo with the Spanish flag whipping in the freezing January wind. He’s already here. When I turn my attention back to the group, Xander’s staring in the direction of the Spanish delegation’s limo. He looks down at me and, with a smile, offers me his arm.

“Shall we?” he says. I smile back at him and hook my arm through his.

We walk into the venue together as a group, and the first thing I notice is that every young adult from the East Coast is here tonight. There is a veritable sea of people, and the first thought that comes to my mind is:
thank God!
With this many people here tonight, there’s a good chance that I’ll not run into Javier at all—that we’ll miss each other completely in the crowd. That’s what I’m going to pray for, anyway.

Xander is greeting people he knows and introducing them to me, but I have to admit, I can’t concentrate on what he’s saying. I’m too nervous. I smile at each person and say hello, but I’m quiet, for the most part. The rest of our group has drifted away from us as they mingle with the crowd. Xander leads me into the ballroom, where a full orchestra is playing classical versions of top-forty pop music. He takes my hand and gracefully spins me around to face him.

“How about a dance, Miss Sweeney?”

I look up at him and smile. My God, this guy is handsome. His hair is slicked back, which makes his golden eyes stand out. His smile is dimpled, sweet, and intoxicating. He wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me flush to his body. I rest my head on his shoulder and snuggle my face to his chest. Right now, I am only aware of three things: the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the way our bodies fit together so perfectly, and the sweet smell of his neck. There’s nothing else. Just he and I standing here absorbed in one another; and I am safe, and I am happy, and I am his.

“I love you,” I whisper and kiss his neck. He lowers his head and turns his face until our mouths meet. His lips are soft, warm, and wet. With my eyes closed, I latch on to him and my entire body goes flush. My arms are wrapped around his neck, and my hands are in his hair, when I feel him being torn away from me.

“Take your hands off her, Xander,” a familiar voice growls—its Javier’s. My eyes fly open.

“Stop it!” I shout when I see that Javier has a grip on Xander’s arm. The look on Xander’s face is a mix between disbelief and expectancy—like he expected this to happen, but he still can’t believe it actually is.

“Be quiet, Corazón,” Javier says to me. He releases Xander with a shove. “This is between Xander and me. Xander, I want you to turn around and leave. Now.”

“Why don’t you ask her what
she
wants, Javier?” Xander says with nothing more menacing than exhaustion in his voice, and I’m utterly impressed with his calmness, but I’m not at all surprised that he’s the one acting like the adult in this situation. I can tell that Javier’s pulse rate is rising by the expression on his face. He looks both determined and insane—like when he almost attacked Lane Bradley in Las Flores Café. It’s the memory of that Javier, and the way he looks right now, that’s setting off the sirens in my head. Xander and I need to get the hell out of here before someone gets hurt, or carted off by the spooks.

“Let’s just go,” I say to Xander and turn away from Javier, but he grabs my arm and jerks me back toward him. I put my free hand up to stop Xander when I see that he’s taking a step toward Javier. I say to him, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of this.” I turn toward Javier and say, “Let go of me now, or I’m going to scream.”

“What are you doing?” he asks me and releases my arm. The look on his face is all confusion. “Did Saturday in my hotel room not mean anything to you? Because it meant everything to me.”

“What are you trying to insinuate?” I say and feel my cheeks go flush.

“You know what I’m referring to, Corazón, so don’t act like you don’t.”

I flick my eyes sideways to Xander, and he’s looking even more confused than he did earlier. He’s studying Javier intently.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about. Nothing happened,” I say to Xander, but I’m keeping my eyes trained on Javier, because I have the distinct feeling he’s up to something. I have the urge to grab Xander’s hand and run, so that Javier can’t say anything else poisonous. “Javier, I’m leaving right now, and I don’t want you to follow me.”

I move toward Xander, but he’s firmly planted in place. He’s not going anywhere.

“Come on,” Javier sighs in exasperation. “You can continue lying to spare his feelings, or you can do the right thing and tell him the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Xander asks, with an edge to his voice. For the first time, I’m afraid. What if Xander doesn’t forgive me for losing my mind in that hotel room? I did kiss Javier, after all. I was confused then. I’m not confused anymore.

“She’s in love with me,” Javier says  to Xander. “She’s going to marry me after graduation.”

“What?” My jaw is on the ground. “I never said that, Javier!”

“Come on,
cousin
,” Xander says, a smirk crossing his face. “I know for a fact that’s not true.”

Uh oh. What’s he doing?

“Oh really?” Javier’s tone is just as condescending as Xander’s. “What makes you think that,
primo
?”

“Because if she were as in love with you as you say, then what happened between us Friday when she spent the night in my bed would not have happened.”

!

Before I even have time to register what has just been revealed, Javier shoves Xander, sending him flying across the room. He crashes into a few tux-clad attendees and lands with a thud on the floor. All eyes in the near vicinity turn on us.

I spin on my heels to yell at Javier to leave, but before I can open my mouth, a fist flies past my face, and a blond blur whizzes by me. It’s Christian, and his right hook has leveled Javier to the floor. He and Jude are kicking the shit out of him and shouting obscenities that would curl a sailor’s hair.

I am paralyzed with shock for a few seconds, and the room is in utter chaos. Camilla is helping Xander back to his feet, and Laurel is standing next to me in her red-satin ball gown, mascara running down her face, screaming for Jude to stop. All of this happens within the span of two minutes. I look at Xander, who is standing with Camilla’s arms wrapped around him. He’s watching me, waiting to see what I do. I make a decision that I’m probably going to regret.

I run up to Christian and grab his arm. “Stop, Christian, you’re going to kill him!”

“Get back, Evie.” He pushes me away and continues his assault on Javier. I wrap my arms around Jude from behind and beg him to stop. Thank God he listens to me and stumbles back over to Laurel. Christian won’t stop. He’s a man possessed, and I have no idea why he’s sticking up for Xander. I’m pretty sure they hate each other.

The only thing I can do is throw myself over the bloody mess that’s Javier, which is exactly what I do. I pull him close to me, propping his head on my chest. Christian’s leg is hiked up in preparation for the next heel-to-face stomp, when his expression turns to surprise as he realizes I’m going to be the recipient of the brunt of the blow.

“Evie—” is all he has time to say before two very large spooks in black tuxes grab him by the collar, yanking him about two feet back.

“What the hell is going on here?” the particularly large one demands. I look around them and see Xander and Jude, arms twisted behind their backs, in the custody of two more agents. Within seconds, we are surrounded. I wobble to my feet and look down at my chest and arms, which are covered in blood. So is Javier’s face. They broke his nose for sure. Maybe there are a couple of teeth missing, too. It’s hard to tell with all that blood.

Two Secret Service agents grab Javier under the arms and lift him to his feet.

“Let’s go,” one growls at us, and we are led outside as I hear someone else say, “Sorry for the interruption, folks.”

Outside, we are handed off to DC Metro police, who are waiting with squad cars. Christian, Jude, and Xander—all handcuffed—are herded into one car, while Javier and I are tossed into another. I open my mouth to protest, but I promptly go quiet when I see the look on the officer’s face; clearly, he’s not putting up with any crap from us tonight. Javier’s sitting with his head propped against the window, and he looks terrible. He’s holding the formerly white handkerchief the cops gave him up to his nose.

“Put pressure on it,” I tell him. He turns to me with a look that is part hatred, part disappointment.
What have I done?

I rap on the glass partition between the front and back seat. The officer on the passenger side turns and slides the door open.

“He needs to go to a hospital,” I tell him.

“Nice try, sis,” the officer laughs. “You two are going to the nearest precinct. Nobody ever died from a broken nose. Trust me.”

“I’m fine,” Javier says and turns his back to me.

I say in a small voice, “I have something I need to give you, because I can’t keep it anymore. I don’t want—”

He snaps around and stares at me. “Stop right there, Evangeline. Don’t say something you’ll regret later. Just give it to me.”

He extends his free hand out to me, palm up. I reach into my wristlet and my hand wraps around the two rings resting inside a satin pouch. I place the pouch into his palm, and he shoves it down into his pants pocket. He gives me a shake of his head and turns his back to me again.

“You’re going to change your mind,” he mutters to the window. I want to tell him how wrong he is about that, but I don’t. After what happened tonight, I don’t have the heart. Instead, I just sink down in the seat and pray for this night to hurry up and end.

We pull up to the precinct, and somehow the other car has already arrived because there’s Christian, Jude, and Xander sitting on a bench inside the main entrance. The two cops who drove us handcuff Javier when we get out of the car, but I’m walking freely next to them. A look of relief washes over Xander’s face when he sees me through the glass entry doors, but then his face goes stony again.

An officer comes out from around the reception desk when we walk into the precinct. He looks at Javier and wags his head.

“Jesus Christ, boys,” he says in Xander’s direction, and I think I see a fleeting self-satisfied smirk on Christian’s face. “You might as well take the cuffs off, McCreary. These assholes have diplomatic immunity. The whole lot of ’em.”

“Lucky bastards,” McCreary says as he uncuffs Javier.

I open my mouth to say something about my lack of stated diplomatic immunity, but the three guys on the bench frantically shake their heads in unison, so I stay quiet.

“I want the pretty one to leave first,” the captain says, pointing to Javier. Christian stands before realizing the captain isn’t talking to him. “Not you, blondie. Sit,” he says, motioning to the bench. Jude and Xander crack up at Christian, but go silent again when they catch the captain glaring at them.

“Gladly,” Javier answers and turns toward the entrance. When he grabs for the doorknob, I feel the unnerving need to reach out and touch him.

“Javier, I’m sorry—” I stammer, before thinking about the consequences.

“What the bloody hell?” I hear Christian say behind me, but I don’t turn to look at him.

Javier stops for a moment with his back to me, hands on the door handle, and then turns to face me. He finally meets my gaze, and there’s nothing remotely resembling love or forgiveness in those fathomless black eyes. Without saying a word—he doesn’t need to, his expression speaks volumes—he turns around and walks out.