What's Done in Darkness (19 page)

“Get us a round of tequila shooters,” Katrina said. “When in Mexico, and especially when in Tequila Grill, tequila needs to be the order of the day.” She beamed at him.

“Right, love.”

“See that table?” Katrina pointed. “We're going over there.”

“Okay,” Christian said. Then he gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading off in the direction of the bar.

Katrina began to walk, and I followed her. The good thing about having arrived here before nine was the fact that there were plenty of tables to choose from. I expected that later the place would be filled.

I thought Katrina might sit, but she shucked her denim jacket, put it on the table, then took me by the elbow and began to lead me. A lively Latin tune was playing, and she was gyrating her hips even as she was making her way to the dance floor. Then she turned and faced me, moving her body in a totally sexual way. I tried to match her movements, but I couldn't match her enthusiasm. But I supposed that if I had spent an afternoon getting laid, I would certainly be sexually liberated on the dance floor, too.

When the first man approached us no more than a minute later, I wasn't surprised. Katrina was sex on a stick, winding her body and smoothing her hands over her stomach and hips as if she were begging to feel a man's hands there instead.

I didn't hear what the guy said to her, but I saw her smile. Saw the man place his hands on Katrina's hips and try to dance with her. She extricated herself from him, then came behind me and started dancing, as if to say we were together.

The man watched, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

And that's when I felt the hand smooth over my hip. At first I thought it was Katrina, giving this guy a real show. Until I looked to my left and saw a man standing beside me.

“Hey, you want to dance?” he asked, his Mexican accent thick. He looked at me as though I were a tall glass of water on a hot day.

He was one of the short, local guys I had seen when we'd first come in. He came up to about my chin, but apparently that didn't discourage him.

“Um, no.”

As if on cue, Katrina took me by the hand and twirled me around.

“I think you need a man,” the man said to me when I was facing him again. He reached for my hand. “Dance with me.”

“Actually,” I began, pulling my hand from his, “I was just heading to the bar.”

“Let's go together,” he told me. “Whatever you want, I will get it for you.” He spoke English well.

“No, that's okay.” I started walking off of the dance floor.

“I insist.”

“My boyfriend's waiting for me at the bar.” I offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry.” Then, before he could say anything else, I hurried off to where I joined Christian at the bar and quickly slipped my arms around his waist in case the man was watching. I had to make it look good.

The bartender was just pouring the last of the three shooters when Christian turned, his eyes widening a little as he saw me. “Oh?” His voice held a note of question.

“Go along,” I said. “I'm trying to escape someone.”

“Ahhh, of course.”

“What took so long, by the way? This place isn't packed.”

“I think everyone in here wanted a drink at the same time as I did,” Christian said.

I faced the bar and watched as the bartender put three lemons onto a small plate beside the shooter glasses. Christian put the money down onto the counter.

“Excuse me. What's going on here?”

At the sound of Katrina's voice, I turned and let my hand fall from Christian's waist. “Nothing. He was just my decoy so I could escape that other guy.”

Katrina was grinning, her expression saying that she got it and that she was just messing with me. But she placed a hand on Christian's back, almost proprietarily.

“Here.” Christian lifted two shooters and passed one to Katrina and one to me. Then he passed each of us a lemon as well before lifting the last shooter glass for himself.

“Here's the salt.” He licked between his thumb and forefinger and sprinkled salt onto that area. He passed Katrina the saltshaker and she did the same, and I was the last to complete the first phase of the tequila shot ritual.

Katrina took charge, counting to three, and we all threw our heads back and downed the shooters, then quickly grabbed the lemons and sucked on them immediately afterward to kill the bite of the strong liquor.

I dropped my shooter glass onto the counter with an audible slam, crying, “Ah!” And then, “I could use another!”

Katrina looked at Christian. “Order us another round, will you? We'll be right back.” She took me by the arm and started to drag me off.

“Where are we going?” I asked. I didn't want to go back to the dance floor.

“The ladies' room.”

The restroom was one of those dark, murky places. For the life of me, I didn't understand why club bathrooms were so often painted black and why the lighting was so poor. I could barely make out how good or bad I looked in the mirror.

“Here.”

Turning away from the mirror, where I'd been trying to adjust the lock of curls hanging at the side of my face, I faced Katrina. She unfolded a Kleenex in the palm of her hand. There were little white pills in there, and she extended her palm for me to take one.

“What is this?”

“Ecstasy,” she explained, as casually as if she had just said
aspirin
. “Take one.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.”

“Don't be a wimp. Take one.”

“I don't do drugs.” It was the one thing I'd refused to partake of in college. Sure, I'd drink. But after the one time I'd smoked pot with Wesley and suffered the most intense bout of paranoia afterward, I'd sworn off all drugs.

“It's just gonna make you feel good. And you could loosen up.”

“Why?”

“You seem a bit uptight.”

I frowned. “That's not true.”

“You can't see it, but everyone else can. Even Christian said that you seem distant.”

“How do I seem distant?”

“Come on. Try one. It's no big deal.”

I reached for a pill, not wanting to appear uncool. But as my fingertips closed around it, I thought about what I had done for Wesley. How I had, without question, delivered that package of weed because he'd asked me to. I had risked my freedom for a man, and he'd gone ahead and dumped me anyway.

So this time, I knew that I didn't want to follow the crowd or be influenced by anyone to do something that I really didn't want to do. Even if I did appear uptight.

“Maybe later,” I told her, a way to soften my rejection of her offering. Then I dropped the pill back into the Kleenex.

Katrina shrugged, nonchalant, as though it didn't bother her. And I hoped it didn't. I should be able to make my own decisions about this without feeling guilt.

I watched her dry swallow a pill before returning the Kleenex to her purse. Then she looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the short strands of hair at the sides of her face.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Not quite,” she said. “You go on without me.”

I exited the bathroom. I kept my eyes fixed ahead of me, determined not to talk to any other guys right now. But despite the fact that I didn't want to talk to anyone, a man suddenly stepped into my path.

I glanced up. He was about six foot two, ruggedly handsome, with dark skin and closely cropped hair. And he had a muscular frame, something that was shown off by the T-shirt he was wearing.

I liked what I saw. There was a little edge to him, a hint of bad boy in his eyes and in the smirk he subsequently laid on me.

My heart began to race. Then, feeling an odd sense of panic, I looked away and kept walking.

“Hello,” he said, his voice like silk. He was walking beside me.

“Hello,” I replied, not making eye contact with him.

“Where are you rushing to?” he asked.

“The bar,” I said. The same line I had given the other man, but this time it was true.

“Why are you rushing like it's last call?” he asked with a hint of humor in his voice.

You seem a bit uptight.
“I know. It's just … I'm in a relationship.”

Damn, maybe I
was
uptight. This guy was easy on the eyes, and I was giving him the brush-off?

“Then where's your man?” came the question. “If you were my girl, I wouldn't leave your side.”

That drew a small smile from me, and I faced him. “I appreci—”

He put his arm around my waist, truly startling me.

I looked him in the eye. “I just told you that I have a boyfriend.”

“I might have something else you need,” he said, confusing me. Then, in a lower voice, he continued. “I've got some
other
stuff. Stuff to make sure you have a good time tonight. A good price.”

My eyes widened. Now I knew why I hadn't been drawn to this guy, no matter how cute. I'd sensed he wasn't worth my time.

I wriggled myself out of his arms. “I'm okay.”

“You sure? You look like you could use something.…”

“Which is why I'm heading to the bar.”

I walked faster, my stride strong. First Katrina, now this stranger. Did I have something written on my forehead saying that I wanted to get high?

As I hurried back to the bar, I found myself wishing that I had stayed back at the hotel. I wasn't ready for this, clearly. Wasn't ready to be out in a crowd of happy partiers looking to enhance their evening with drugs. I wanted to be in my hotel room, curled up in bed and watching a romantic comedy on television.

At the bar, I found Christian waiting with our second round of shooters. “Where's Katrina?” he asked me.

“I left her in the bathroom,” I explained. “She'll be out in a minute.”

He nodded. Then, “I really love her. I know it must seem like I don't sometimes. But I do.”

The comment had come out of left field. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I know you're concerned. I know Kat pretty much had to twist your arm to get you to come here with us.”

Was that why Christian thought that I was uptight—because I'd been unconvinced about going to Mexico with them? “We've all made mistakes,” I said to him.

“We're passionate,” he went on. “When we love, when we fight. We don't do anything halfway,” he added with a chuckle.

“I get it. And it's kind of nice,” I found myself saying. “Not when you fight, obviously. But at least when you two fight, it doesn't mean your relationship is over. Not like me and my ex.”

I noticed that Christian was looking beyond me, a curious expression in his eyes. And then his face fell. Something was wrong.

I whirled around to see what had gotten his attention. To my surprise, Katrina was with the guy who had just offered me drugs. He was all over her—his hands exploring her back and her ass. He had done the same to me and I had pushed myself out of his arms. But Katrina was throwing her head back and laughing as he groped her. Enjoying the attention.

“Bloody hell!”

Christian charged through the crowd, and I stood back almost helplessly as I watched, fearing the worst. This wasn't going to be good. How could it?

I swallowed as Christian grabbed Katrina by the arm and jerked her away from the guy.

Her laughter died on her lips. Even from where I stood, I could see the fury in her eyes. Then she shoved Christian. And the next thing I saw was a flurry of hands flying everywhere. Christian shoving her back, Katrina slapping him. The guy who'd been pawing Katrina pushed Christian, who stumbled backward. But a moment later Christian stood tall and charged at the other guy—who was at least a couple of inches taller and far more muscular—jamming a shoulder into his stomach. Barely affected by Christian's efforts, the man laughed—then punched Christian in the face, sending him flying into a crowd of women. Gasps and screams erupted.

I raced over to them, jumping in front of Christian just as he righted himself and raised his fists. “Hey!” I yelled, placing a hand on Christian's chest and extending my other hand to keep Katrina and the drug dealer at bay. “Stop it, everyone!”

If Katrina's eyes could kill, Christian would be dead. “Don't you ever put your hands on me again!”

“What the hell are you doing with this guy?” Christian demanded.

“You want to take this outside, bro?” the other man yelled.

Releasing Christian, I moved forward and put my hand on the other man's chest. God only knew what he was capable of. “Please, we don't want any trouble.” We were in Mexico, and the last thing we needed was to get into a confrontation with the wrong person. And God knew we didn't want another run-in with the police. “Please.”

His eyes held mine for a long moment; then his lips curled in a smile. “Don't worry your pretty little self, sweetie. This dude ain't worth my time.”

And with a shrug, he turned and wandered through the crowd. I released a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

“You're an asshole,” Katrina said to Christian.

I gave Katrina a warning look, hoping that she would take the hint and let the conflict drop. “Katrina, forget it.”

“At least I'm not a whore,” Christian spat out.

I glanced around at the onlookers, and that's when I saw two bouncers heading in our direction. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”

Panic filled Christian's eyes as he saw the bouncers, too. He reached for Katrina. “Let's go.”

She jerked her arm free of his hand. “Like hell,” Katrina retorted. “I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“You're pissed at me when you're the one acting like a slag? That wanker was all over you, for Christ's sake. And I wasn't even twenty feet away!”

“I'm a grown woman,” Katrina shot back. “I can do what I want.”