Fight For Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Five

Harrison

New York,hello my cruel mistress, I’m back. This is my city. The place I was born in and grew up in. The urban jungle I love, with everything I always need a few blocks away. Though, I hate the crowded streets and the foul stench in the atmosphere. And the heat.

Thank fuck summer is almost over. It’s the worst time of the year to be in this godforsaken city— because of the heat, but also because that’s when we have more visitors. Tourists choose to vacation here from June through August. They are all sweating, yet smiling at their phones while they take thousands of selfies to share with their loved ones.

This is nasty, people.I can’t help but think. Why would you enjoy being here? Between perfume and the stench of the sewer, I’m gagging.

Once I’m out of the subway, I move along through the thick crowd. Towering over everyone as I do, I can see the bright shop signs, the towering skyscrapers, the accident that just happened between a cab and a limousine down on 53rd Street. At noon, the smell of the sewage and different food carts accompany me along the way until I am right in front of the high-rise where Tiago sent me to meet his sister.

Walking through the rotating door, I make my way to the elevators.

“Sir.” One of the men who are at the entrance stops me. His eyes take me in from head to toe. “We need to see your ID.”

Dropping my chin, I analyze today’s attire. Black clothing, a thick armor vest with lots of compartments. A few scars on my face and dried blood on my left hand. I chuckle. This man must think I’m about to blow up the building. That’s not the case. This is my work uniform, and things sometimes get messy. We had a little incident in McAllen, Texas. Maybe I should’ve gone home to clean myself up before coming here.

At least he’s doing his job. Not that his “Sir, can I see your ID” would stop me if I planned on blowing up the building. I could’ve deactivated the CCTV, shot him as I entered, and gotten rid of anyone living in the apartments. Well, that decides it, we need to find Tiago’s sister a more secure hideout.

Why would she be undercover and staying at a safe house?

Giving in, I pull out my wallet and show him my identification. His back straightens and his eyes open wide.

“My apologies, sir.” He squares his shoulders, moving to the side. “Have a nice day.”

I smile, shaking my head. He should be fired. My fake FBI badge is easy to detect for an agent of the Bureau. Maybe he’s just a security cop.

Harrison: I arrived. What’s her apartment number?

Tiago: 22nd floor, apartment C

Harrison: Do you understand that releasing information as if this was a scavenger hunt is shitty?

Tiago: Just got that intel from my brother. Should I remind you that we were off the grid?

Harrison: You have a brother? Fuck, what else is there to know? Is there a wife, children… Do I have godchildren and you never told me? What are you hiding? Years of trusting my back to you and you haven’t told me about this shit.

Tiago: There’s nothing else really. I have a brother and a sister. Same father, different mother. But if you want, we can organize a slumber party. Have a pillow fight in our pajamas and tell each other secrets.

Harrison: Fucker, you owe me.

He doesn’t answer, and I poke the elevator button one more time. I pull my phone out to check on my family. Hunter is out of town with his girlfriend, Fitz went to Japan to close on a deal, and Scott and I plan on having dinner later tonight. Hazel has been too busy to respond to my emails or my texts. I take the opportunity to send her a text.

Harrison: How’s everything, bee? I’m home and ready to party. Are you available tonight?

Hazel: Hey, I missed you. Tonight isn’t good. We can talk after you have dinner with Scott.

Harrison: What happened?

Hazel: What are you talking about?

Harrison: Your attitude.

Hazel: It’s complicated, but everything is okay now.

I hold my breath. My gut clenches, worry freezing every muscle in my body. I shoot a text to Scott.

Harrison: Hey, what’s going on with Hazel?

Scott: She’s fine. I’ll tell you later tonight. I’m going into a meeting.

Harrison: Why didn’t you call me?

Scott: If she needed you, she’d have called you.

What’s his fucking deal? I’ll find out later. I step into the elevator. Right as I’m about to shove my phone back into my pocket, my phone buzzes. A sequence of multiple texts appear at once.

Bradley: Enjoy the ride.

What the hell?

Hawk: Revenge tastes better when served HOT.

Bradley: Place your bets, gentlemen.

Hawk: One hundred says he’s going to complain in five.

“Hold it, please.” A honey-like, melodious voice calls out to me.

Any other day, I would use my manners and stop the doors. Not today.

Bradley: Have fun, Everhart.

“Are you deaf?” I lift my gaze, finding a woman using her hands while speaking to me. Hundreds of bangles adorn her arms, jingling as they clash against one another. Too much bling, sweetheart. She’s smiling. I swear rainbows ooze from her pores.

My gaze narrows, trying to understand whatever she’s doing with her hands. Wait, is she signing? I laugh, watching her ridiculous show.

I touch my ear lightly and say, “No. Perfect hearing.”

She tilts her head to the side, her light-brown eyes framed with long eyelashes study me. They contrast perfectly with her olive skin and long, black, curly locks. My eyes relish her body. She looks gorgeous on that flouncy, short dress, showing those long, toned, tanned legs. Chains and charms encircle her ankle. Going through security at the airport must be a pain in the ass with all those clingy things.

“Ah.” She nods once as if everything has become clear as the crystal hanging from her neck. “You’re one of those.”

“One of—” The elevator moves at a faster speed than usual heading up, then changing directions. What’s going on?

Honey eyes look up to the panel, her index finger tapping the twenty-second floor. Where is she going? “Weird. It’s not illuminating the floors. Where are you going?”

Bradley: The timer is on.

Harrison: What the fuck?

Hawk: Smile for the camera, sweetheart.

I look up at the CCTV camera, flipping a finger. Fuckers, I mouth.

“Nowhere, sweetheart. We are going nowhere,” I blurt, switching my attention back to my phone.

Harrison: There’s a civilian here. Let her out and try this some other time.

Hawk: No. This is perfect.

Bradley: She’s bright, loud, and radiates sunshine. Just the way you hate them.

Hawk: Can you hear it? “…Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya.”

Those outside our circle wouldn’t understand our relationship. We are coworkers, friends, and brothers. We know our strengths as well as our weaknesses. It is true that I hate the heat, bright shit, and women who smile too much. Why are they so happy? What’s their agenda? Why fake that life is wonderful when it sucks?

Like this woman whose eyes are trying to suck me into her happy world. All those colorful charms and crystals she wears. They remind me of those kaleidoscopes Mom created for us to play with while she was in her art studio. This woman must be as disorganized as Mom.

Flaky.

Chaotic.

A convoluted mess.

I loved Mom dearly, but like my father, her disorganization drove me crazy.

“What do you mean we are going nowhere?” She frowns, chewing her lip. “Today is supposed to be a perfect day. One of those easy days where I can relax and smell the roses.”

She pulls a spritzer out of her purse and sprays a couple of times around her. “This is as close as you can get to flowers?” I ask her, sarcastically. She gives me a don’t judge me glare.

“Lilacs and lavender—New York stinks.” She scrunches her nose a second time.

The corner of my mouth pulls slightly. At least we agree on something.

“How do you conclude that today is going to be easy?”

She pulls out her phone, smiling as she rolls her eyes. “Mine is going to be easy. I’m not sure about yours.” A few taps on the screen and then her attention is back on me. “When were you born?”

“Excuse me?” My brows knit together. Tipping my head, I observe her.

“Well, if I ask what your zodiac sign is, would you know?”

“Why would I care?”

“Typical. Not many men care about it.” She squares her shoulders. Her glossy lips don’t drop the smile, even when her eyes narrow in frustration. “Let me tell you, horoscopes are essential to coexist.”

She’s crazy. Certifiable.

Harrison: Get me the fuck out of here.

Bradley: Giving up so early in the game?

Harrison: Don’t you have a wife and children to go torture, Bradley? Hawk, isn’t your fiancée organizing a wedding?

Fuckers. Scratching my chin, I watch her, estimating the time we would be stuck in the elevator. Yes. I could do it. Especially if I compared these next hours with the fifty miles, I walked through the jungle carrying my equipment and Tiago—who was wounded—to the plane where Wings waited. Could I stand Miss Sunshine? The light humor that her eyes carry doesn’t fade with the fucking heat. She watches me intently, analyzing me.

“Are you always this… joyful?” I ask, curious about her.

She moves her head to the side, twisting those lips again. Judging me? Maybe not; she’s hard to read. Her beautiful features are enchanting, but her mood confuses the fuck out of me. It’s not every day that I find myself trapped in an elevator with a woman who looks like she’s as happy as a unicorn flying alongside a rainbow.

“Why are you so mad at the world?” She sighs, arching her eyebrow.

“Am I?” I cross my arms, deepening my frown. Perhaps this will switch her attitude.

“You tell me,” she retorts, and there it is again, the edges of those heart-shaped lips tugging freely to her gorgeous eyes.

Is it legal to be that happy all the time?

Her smile shines like the stars in the sky. She’s the brightest one in the galaxy, and there is nothing that can dim it. Happiness flows through her, warming her skin like the rays of an early summer sun. Being near her lightens my insides, giving me serenity unlike any I experienced before.

She creates a warmth in my soul.

“You’re smiling.” She waves her index finger around my face. She’s so close I can almost feel it caressing my jaw.

Yes, touch me.

Wait. What the hell is wrong with me?

Scrunching my face, I glare at her and take a step back.

Personal space, lady.

“Alacrán.”

“What?”

“You’re a typical alacrán.” She sucks in her upper lip, resting the top of her tongue on top of it.

Fuck, I want to nibble on that lip so bad my mouth waters. It has been too long since I… fuck. We stare at each other for several beats. I try to decipher her end game, the tactic of this façade. There’s nothing other than sunshine, rainbows, and flowers.

“That’s Spanish for scorpion.” She breaks the connection between us, moving her eyes to the elevator’s panel.

“What?” I don’t comprehend what she’s getting into with her fixation with a poisonous insect.

“Zodiac signs,” she growls. I chuckle as she wiggles her nose in annoyance. “Yours is Scorpio.”

She’s so cute.

“Scorpions can’t hide their emotions,” she explains, poking several buttons including the fire alarm. Nothing works. “This situation is easy to fix. We call the superintendent of the building, and in a few minutes we’ll be out.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose closing my eyes. That’s not the solution. Unless I give in and ask the assholes to let us out, we will be here all day. I won’t. I plan on staying here all day if necessary. At least until they get tired.

“Yes?” A voice booms from the intercom. Bradley. That fucker is going to pay.

“Your elevator broke down. It’s in a loop going up and down, sir,” she explains, her voice isn’t that of a damsel in distress, but one of a woman taking charge of the situation. “How long is it going to take for your technician to fix it? I have to deliver some proofs to a client. Now.”

She sighs, tossing her head for dramatic effect. “A new client. The repercussions of losing him are…my livelihood is in your hands.”

I lean closer, whispering in her ear, “That’s a little over the top. Acting lessons?”

She smiles, closing the gap between us, her breath caressing my skin. “Telenovelas,” she whispers. The word travels through my system like thick honey, covering every inch of my body with a coat of sweetness.

“Hours in front of the television and living with my Mexican grandparents,” she clarifies, taking a step back. My body already misses hers. Her gaze connects once again with mine. “They’re full of drama.”

“What floor are you going to, Miss?” Hawk asks through the intercom. I want to pull out my gun and shoot that thing for interrupting us. We have all day, maybe all night, to get to know each other. If this ride ends I may never get another chance to taste those lips, run my mouth down her body.

“Twenty-second.” Our eyes don’t leave each other. I feel my lips copying hers. Why am I staring at her like an idiot?

“You should do that more often,” she says.

She moves toward me, her lips kissing my cheek. All at once my body jolts, a surge of electricity running through it. The combination of her voice still ringing inside my head and the touch of her lips sends a rush through my blood. My heart beats hard in my chest, like it wants to escape.

“Smile, I mean. It’s good for your soul.”

The doors open, and I freeze in place. I watch her turn around, swaying those curvy hips. The clinking noise of her bracelets hypnotizes me.

Fuck, what’s her name?I am about to step out to follow her when the doors close.

“You thought we would let you go?” Bradly cackles. “In your dreams, sweetheart.”

I slam my head on the metal wall. Fuck. I didn’t care about the heat. Only her name, her number, her lips.

Those angelic eyes.