His Golden Dancer- ISBN 978-14199-17196  

“I have just realized,” Celia said when he returned to the foyer.

“Realized what?”

"That I know only your last name and the fact that you have military rank. Other than that, I don’t know what you are.” She looked about and noted the foyer was cluttered with the open cases of the on-scene team. “I do have suspicions that you’re police. But no one has explained it to me. Just what are you?”

“I am the police,” he replied and thought to leave it at that. Except his little Malagueña would not let up, refusing to budge in fact. He sighed and reached into his pocket for his identification. She passed it back to him, unimpressed.

“So? Why was my father talking to you? I can understand the superintendent. That’s business, in a sense. But the National Police?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“If you don’t think I would understand—”

“I’m sorry. But I’m not at liberty to discuss your father’s relationship with us.” She watched him. And was thinking. Again. She was wondering, speculating and looking too much like a sixteen-year-old. His experience told him that sixteen-year-old girls were the least reliable of humans. Not girl nor yet woman.

“Do you think my father knew something like this might happen? And so invited you to stay on as our guest?”

“Miss Ross,” he replied amused. And aroused which was not amusing “If I have learned any one thing about your father, it is never to second-guess him.”

“Dios! You’re just like him!” He approached her and stopped just beyond touching distance, unwilling to get closer. Not with his heightened nerves or with the lust he had foolishly unleashed, certainly not with three lab workers at his back. He was deputy police chief and as such, he was not allowed to touch. At least not in full view of subordinates.

“Is something wrong, captain?”

“The men who did this also visited your father’s offices.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Blue eyes flared in alarm.

“No one was hurt. But there was damage.” She looked past him into the open door of her father’s ransacked study and he could see her struggling, her mind scrambling to understand, and he noted the instant frustration tore at her.

“W-why?” she cried. “Who would do this to us?”

“Belarusians working for Kalin.”

“Kalin?”

“Do you know him?”

“Valery did mention the name. I think in connection with a club. The Chi Chi Club? He said he owned it. So who is this Kalin? And why would Valery know him? And why…” Her breath hitched. “Why?”

“Kalin is Georgi Berenkov’s cousin.” She didn’t say it but he saw a shifting in her eyes, a kind of ‘oh’ of understanding and since he knew of her father’s objections to the Berenkovs, he recognized the look passing through her face as guilt. He did not want that and so stepped closer to her.

“Does that mean anything to you?” he asked his voice low.

“No…” She looked right back at him. “But you must know this Kalin. Don’t you?”

“I know of him. I know his reputation. He and his family are people you want to stay well away from.” He again saw the guilt washing through her face and then the shame as she no doubt recalled her little deceit. Salvador could tell her no more. His job was clear. To get her out of this house. Somewhere safe. He dared himself and moved closer. He raised a hand to her shoulder and slid it down her soft bare arm. Cara mia, his senses leapt at the feel of her, her warmth, the incredible softness. The invitation she presented simply because she was here, standing six inches away. A temptation.

“You can’t stay here,” he said, abruptly stepping back.

“I can’t leave.”

“Why not?”

“I-I just can’t go. I’m sure my father’s expecting me to be here when he returns. I have our employees to think of. Tomorrow is payday and I should be at the office to take care of that, if nothing else.” She looked up at him, dark blue eyes pleading.

“Don’t worry about your father. When he returns, he’ll see the evidence of our work and give us a call.”

“But—”

“No,” he said firmly but softened his decree with a gentle shake of his head.

“Why not? I have everything here that I require. I even know how to drive my father’s car.” She said this with pride and flashed a pixie smile. “I do. Honestly. He taught me a few weeks ago.”

“You are not staying here,” he repeated as he gripped her elbow and turned her toward the staircase. “Anyway you would be alone in the house since I’ve already sent your housekeeper to her home to Alora. The gardener and the maid have been contacted. Now it’s your turn. Go upstairs and pack a bag.”

“You did what?”

He glanced at his watch. “You have fifteen minutes,” he said, pointing to the stairs. “Now go!”

He could give her no more time than that. By now Kalin would have had word that Ross had not been found and might already be taking steps to grab Celia. If Valery’s trick at the bar and now his appearance at the gate had been an attempt to do just that, then Kalin would try again. Perhaps coming to the villa in force. And if Kalin caught her…

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