Rated NC-17
It's still raining as we pull up into the parking lot of a rather ominous looking motel, the kind that rents rooms by the hour. Danny shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it to me as he stops the car under a blinking red neon sign that reads V CA CIES. I stare at that sign for a good minute before it registers that it's supposed to read VACANCIES, but the "A" and the "N" are burned out.
"Put this on," Danny says brusquely as he hands me the jacket that smells like him and something else that I can't quite define.
"Why?" I ask even as I slide it on.
Danny gives me another one of those unreadable looks. "Because, as shabby as this establishment is, I think the clerk might just notice all the blood on your arm and we can't have that, now can we?"
The jacket is warm and some of my shivering abates. "And here I thought you were being chivalrous," I mutter and he actually smiles a little.
He slides out of the car and helps me out of the passenger side door, sliding an arm around my waist.
"I don't need your help," I snap and push his arm away, even as I pull his jacket tighter around me.
Gunpowder.
That's what I smell on his jacket.
I close my eyes and see Nino sinking to the ground, see the smoke from the barrel of Danny's gun.
The blood. Oh, God, all the blood.
Mine, Nino's.
I sway on my feet and Danny's arm resumes it's position around my waist.
"Like hell you don't need my help. Now you either lean on me, or I swear Michelle, I'll toss you over my shoulder."
I glare rebelliously at him, but I let my body sag against him anyway.
We make our way through the rainy parking lot and into the dimly lit lobby.
I stand over to the side as Danny secures us a room.
Only now do I begin to wonder what we're doing here and I ask Danny that very question as he half drags me to room 112.
The motel is L-shaped with all the room doors opening out onto a narrow and cracked sidewalk. Our room is in the bend in the L.
"The suite," Danny jokes as he ushers me inside and out of the rain.
"You didn't answer my question," I say accusingly as I turn on a tacky coral colored lamp beside the bed.
The one bed.
I swing my eyes away from the offending piece of furniture, with it's lumpy looking mattress and nubby turquoise spread.
"Why...ahem...why are we here?" I ask again as I suddenly take an avid interest in the ugly little night table, it's surface warped and scarred by water rings.
There's a hint of amusement in Danny's tone as he answers, "I can't take you to your house, or my house, or Cedars for that matter and I figure we can lay low here. At least for tonight."
"Lay low?" I repeat as I turn my gaze back on him. Only then do I realize how exhausted he looks. His hair is wet and falling over his forehead and his dark gray sweater and black slacks are hopelessly soaked. And his eyes...his eyes look strangely empty.
"Yes, Michelle, lay low," he says tiredly, sa though he's speaking to a toddler.
"Are the-are the police going to be looking for us?"
Danny shrugs. "I don't know. Don't worry about it, though. I'll get everything under control."
"How are you going to do that?" I ask, my voice rising and breaking. "You killed Nino, Danny. You...you murdered him."
"Would you have rather I let him blow you away, Michelle?" Danny says in a dangerously low voice, his eyes blazing.
I look down at my hands. They're shaking and totally white. "No," I reply softly.
Danny sighs then and runs a hand over his eyes. "I told you I'll handle it and I will. No one will ever implicate you in this."
"Pilar-" I say suddenly, but Danny holds up a hand to stop me.
"I took care of my sister."
I don't even want to know what that means, but Danny must have seen the look on my face.
"Not like that," he assures me. " I just had a little...talk with her.Pilar is...she's young and she just made the mistake of falling for the wrong guy."
"I know the feeling," I murmur.
Danny gives a humorless laugh. "Are you referring to Nino or me?"
My cheeks flame, but I manage to hold my head up and say, "I haven't fallen for you, Mr. Santos."
He laughs again. "Awfully formal for somebody who had her tongue in my mouth not half an hour ago, aren't you, Mrs. Rivera?"
"I'm not Mrs. Rivera!" I snap. "Not anymore."
The look of amusement dies on Danny's face. "No, I guess you're not."
His eyes turn dark again as he as he stares off somewhere behind my head. "I thought I'd feel more than this," he says flatly.
"What do you mean?" I ask as I sit hesitantly on the edge of the bed.
"I've dreamed of nothing for the past few years but getting revenge on Nino Rivera. It's like hatred for that man consumed me. I saw everything through it's filter.I planned out all sorts of vengeful acts in my head, hundreds, thousands even, of times. But now...now that he's dead, I feel...I feel-"
"Empty," I finish, silent tears coursing down my cheeks, knowing all too well how he feels.
Danny looks at me with curious eyes, but I don't feel obligated to answer the question in them.
We sit in silence for a long while, each in our own thoughts until Danny looks back at me.
"Take of your shirt."
"Excuse me?" I sputter, raising horrified eyes to his.
There's a smile lurking around the edges of his mouth as he repeats, "Take off your shirt. I want to look at your arm."
"Oh-oh, right my...my arm."
Danny picks up a small metal box from the chair, also upholstered in that hideous turquoise, across from the bed.
"What's that?" I ask, eying the box warily.
"A first aid kit. I brought it in from the car."
"Oh. I...uh...I hadn't noticed.Do you always keep a first aid kit in your car?"
Again, a flicker of a smile. "I find it comes in handy a lot."
"Really?" I ask,wishing my fair skin didn't show how badly I blush. "When do you have to use it?"
"When are you going to stop stalling and take off your shirt?" he asks pointedly and I look back down at the buttons I've been fiddling with.
"Right. Sorry." I'm all thumbs as I begin to slide the tiny buttons from their holes. I wish I'd worn a t-shirt, or a sweater, or something else I could just slip over my head and be done with it. But no, I had to wear a cotton blouse with a dozen little buttons down the front and make a big production out of this.
I sigh in frustration as the button right in the middle of the blouse eludes my slippery fingers once again and look up at Danny who's watching me with hot eyes.
"You could be a gentleman and turn your back," I spit out.
"I could," he replies and stays right where he is.
I glare at him and resume my work.
Finally, all the buttons are undone and I slide the blouse from my shoulders, looking anywhere but at him as he kneels before me.
There's no humor on his face as he examines the wound. "How bad is it, Doc?" I joke weakly, painfully aware of his nearness, of the warmth of his touch and breath on my rain cooled skin.
"I can't believe you're joking about the fact that your husband-" he sneers the word- "shot you."
"I have to joke," I say, wincing slightly as he turns my arm. "If I don't, I think I'll lose it."
Danny doesn't reply. He fishes out a wad of cotton and a small bottle of alcohol from the first aid kit. "The wound isn't as deep as I thought," he says as he douses the cotton with alcohol. "It'll probably be sore as hell for a few days, but I don't think it needs stitches. You're lucky. Very, very lucky."
"Thanks to you," I say softly. He lifts his eyes to mine and once again, I'm drowning in their depths, wondering why this man has the effect that he does over me.
Danny looks away first,muttering, "This is gonna sting," and pressing the cotton to my arm.
I bite my lips and tears spring to my eyes, but Danny makes quick work of cleaning the wound.
"There," he says, standing at last. His eyes skate quickly, and hotly, over me. "You...uh...you need to go take a shower before I bandage it."
"A shower?" I ask stupidly, as if the concept is foreign to me.
"To-to warm you up," Danny mumbles as he begins packing up the kit. "You can't sit in those clothes all night anyway."
"And what am I going to wear?" I ask as I self-conciously pull my blouse back on.
Danny looks baffled for a moment before inspiration strikes. He gathers that horrible bedspread in his arms and hands it to me. "Wrap yourself up in that."
I give the spread a skeptical look, but give what I hope is a nonchalant shrug and stroll into the bathroom.
Once I turn on the water, I sit down on the edge of the tub and indulge in a good cry.
Nino's dead, I tell myself over and over again. He's dead, he's dead, he can't hurt you anymore.
So why aren't I happy? Why am I feeling guilty for wanting Danny so badly when Nino is dead? Nino, who beat me, who raped me, who would have killed me, is dead.
I wipe away my tears as I slip out of the rest of my wet clothes and step under the punishingly hot shower.
Danny was right. From the moment I saw him in the church on my wedding day, I knew our lives were hopelessly linked. So what do I do with that now? Now, when I feel so empty, like I'm just a shell of the woman I once was.
The tears continue to pour as I think about Jesse and Nino and how nothing I felt for them can hold a candle for what I feel for Danny Santos.
Danny. The man who murdered my husband.
To save you, another part of my brain reminds me.
Or was it?
I suddenly think of Ana.Danny loved her and hated Nino for killing her. Maybe I was just a convenient excuse to do something he'd wanted to do for a long time.
Then I remember the look in his eyes when I came to and the desperate way he kissed me.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, as I shut off the shower.
After drying myself off with a scratchy towel, I wind the bedspread around me and walk back into the room.
Danny is still wearing his pants, but his sweater is hanging damply over the back of the chair.
"Sit down," he says huskily as he unwraps the bandage for my arm.
Again I perch on the side of the bed, this time unable to concentrate on anything besides the fact that he's shirtless and I'm naked underneath the bedspread.
Danny wastes no time fastening the bandage around my arm and as soon as he's finished, yanks the sheet off the bed and throws one of the pillows to the floor at the foot of the bed.
"You take the bed," he says tersely. "Let's try to get some sleep."
I nod mutely and arrange myself on the bed, staying covered by the bedspread. I wait until I hear him get settled on the floor before I turn out the light, a thousand feelings rushing thorough me.
"Goodnight," I say softly.
"'Night."
We lay in the darkness and I wonder if his eyes are as open as mine. A question begins to jab at the back of my brain. Ask him, a voice seems to chant, ask him.
"Danny?"
"Hmm?"
"Tonight...what happened to-to Nino..."
"What about it?"
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, wanting to know, but fearing the answer. "Was it...was it about me or...or Ana?"
The dark is silent for nearly a minute before the answer drifts out of it.
"It was about you, Michelle. It's always been about you."
Something beautiful explodes in my heart and I feel it flooding through me like liquid light.
Without thinking of Nino, or my family, or tomorrow, I get out of the bed and go to stand before him.
He's laying on his back, his hands stacked beneath his head and I can see his eyes spark in the blackness.
Slowly, achingly slow, he reaches out his hand to me.
I take it in mine and a small gasp escapes me as he pulls me down, so that I fall on my knees, straddling his lap.
He levers himself into a sitting position and tangles his fingers in my hair.
His eyes roam my face, as though he's searching for something.
My head falls back as he runs his thumb over my lips and I feel a moan build in my throat as my fingers stroke the hot skin of his back and shoulders.
When our lips meet, it's fiery and needy and not the least bit gentle.
It's like our lips and tongues are warring with each other and I bury my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer, wishing I could melt into him.
He pulls back to tear at the bedspread covering me and our fingers tangle as I reach down to help him.
When at last the spread falls free, I feel his gaze on me and feel warmer than I ever have in my entire life.
Our lips meet again, and I press myself against him, wanting to feel the hard expanse of his chest against me.
His hands move down from my face to cup my breasts and I moan in earnest as his thumbs make slow, methodical circles around my nipples. He presses kisses against my throat, my collar bone and, finally, he takes one hardened peak into his mouth. My back bends in a way I didn't know was possible as low, pagan cries come from my throat. As his mouth attends first one breast and then the other, his fingers make a slow, hot path down my stomach and slide between my legs, expertly finding their target and causing my breath to catch in my chest. "Danny-oh, my God-" I manage to gasp. He grabs my waist, and, in one quick motion, rolls me beneath him.
And then it happens.
For one, brief, horrible moment, I see Nino leaning over me, feel his weight pressing me into the mattress. I stamp down the feeling of terror, but not before Danny sees the look in my eyes. He looks confused, horrified, and coldly furious all at once.
"God, Michelle," he breaths as he cups my face. "What did that bastard do to you?"
I can't bear to think that i might see pity in those dark eyes.
I bracket his face with both hands and whisper simply, fiercely, "No." No, I don't want you to feel sorry for me. No, I don't want you to be gentle with me. No, sweetness and tenderness, nice as they may be, can't sear away this ache, this shame. NO, don't you dare treat me like less of a woman.
He understands.
When his mouth comes down on mine, there's no sympathy in the kiss. Only blazing, raw need. His fingers resume their ardent ministrations and my hips buck shamelessly against his hand. I tug impatiently at the sheet still separating us and he chuckles softly and kicks free of it.
There are no words to describe the feeling of his skin against mine. I kiss his neck, his shoulder, anywhere my mouth can find. I'm not even aware that I'm crying until I taste my tears on Danny's lips. "Now, please-" I moan as that strange, wonderful momentum begins to build. Danny rests his weight on his forearms, hands wrapped in my hair, as he enters me and I bow up off carpet to meet him.
Neither one of us is in the mood for patience, for teasing. We drive ourselves against each other, seeking connection and oblivion all at once. I wrap my legs around him, needing him closer and closer and distant sparkles begin to shimmer through me and then, suddenly, forcefully, release comes. It's like the moon and sun exploding within my whole body and I call his name like a litany. He calls out for me when his own release comes and we cling together, survivors of an emotional shipwreck.
****
"Tell me about her."
We are lying together in the bed now, both the stiff sheet and awful bedspread tangled around us. My head rests on his chest and the beating of his heart soothes me. I've lost count of how many times we've made love and actually smile as I think that this horrible little motel room is the happiest place I've ever been.
He doesn't have to ask who I'm talking about.
"Ana was...she wasn't like any woman I'd ever known."
Strange, I don't feel jealous. Only curious.
"She was smart, much smarter than the women I usually dated, and sweet. God, she was sweet. It was like she saw the world in a way no one else ever had."
"You loved her," I murmur sitting up to stroke his hair. His eyes have that faraway look in them.
"I thought I did," he said at last. "but Ana was never the woman for me. She was too good, you know? I've often wondered if it wasn't just the novelty of the whole thing that drew me to her."
"Is that what I am? A novelty?" I ask quietly.
He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips. "I don't know what you are," he answers truthfully. "All I know is that I realized a while back that the reason I hated Nino had nothing to do with Ana. I hated Nino because he had you."
I kiss him softly. "You have me now."
Danny laughs and gathers me in his arms. "That I do. In fact-" he pauses to place a nibbling kiss on my earlobe, "I've had you several times.In several places."
I laugh too, wondering at this pure joy in the middle of such desperate circumstances. "This room may never be the same," I joke. Danny brushes the hair away from my face and smiles wistfully. "I've wanted this for so long. I'm afraid to go to sleep because I'm wondering if it's not all a dream."
"I'm real," I say, trailing my lips over his. "I'll prove it."
And I do.
We make love continuously through the night, until I'm not sure where I stop and he begins.
And somewhere, amid the fevered skin and damp sheets and trembling caresses, I whisper, "I love you," , knowing he can't hear me over the storm. I don't want him to hear me. Loving Danny Santos is my secret, at least for tonight, I decide, and I promise myself I'll tell him in the morning.
But in the morning, he's gone.