"So, a brown belt, huh?" He commented as he took his last sip, breaking the silence. "What about the rest of your family?"
I nodded. “My older brother’s also a brown, and one of my younger brothers is a purple. It’s kind of a family thing for my brothers, but I got into it because of a friend. Look, I’m glad we did this, but the afternoon session is starting, and I’d like to make another connection before the day is finished. Thank you, Tomasso."
We started back to the convention center, friendlier than I'd expected after the night before, and more than once, we laughed as we approached the center. “Do you have some spare time?" I asked as we neared the door. "Your family has business interests in restaurants, food, shipping—things like that, right?”
"Some, but mostly in the pizza industry. My friend, Jake, would be better suited for something like this. I’m not really involved with that stuff, regardless of my education,” Tomasso said before shaking his head. "But I can at least get some business cards for him, I suppose. Besides, I'd have to be an idiot to turn down an offer from a beautiful woman to spend some more time with her. And I’m no idiot."
"I don't know about that," I teased back, not even realizing I was flirting with him until the words were out of my mouth. I shook my head in disbelief and opened the door to the center, when suddenly, a man in a hooded sweatshirt collided with us, sending me sprawling to the sidewalk. "Hey! Que porra?"
The man went tumbling down with me, and I yelped as his knee caught me in the thigh. I got a good look at him, and he had the most remarkable face, with a scar that ran from his hairline to the middle of his left cheek, nearly bisecting his eye. His left eye was brown, while his right eye was blue. Scrambling to his feet, he took off running. "Puta! Get back here! You can at least apologize!"
Tomasso, who'd also been knocked down, got to his feet and chased the man for a few feet before seeing that I was still on the ground. Coming over, he knelt next to me. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, looking down at my suit, which had a tear in the skirt that pissed me off. "My suit took more damage than I did. He caught me in the thigh with a good knee though."
"Ouch," Tomasso said, offering me his hand. I took it, surprised at how effortlessly he helped me to my feet. Those muscles weren't just beach muscles. I could tell. I took a step and winced as a high heel that I hadn't realized I'd broken gave way and my ankle twisted, causing me to stumble again. This time, though, Tomasso caught me, even if he did have to swing me around to stop my momentum. "I think you need some new shoes."
I realized that we were just inches apart, his hands on my waist and back, his expressive, sensuous lips close to mine, and I felt my breath catch for a moment. "Thank y—”
My words were cut off as an explosion ripped behind me, the blast throwing both of us to the ground. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, and then the world went black.
Chapter 5
Tomasso
I was confused at first as Luisa and I went tumbling to the ground, the roar of the explosion making my ears ring. I felt something ding off my forehead, but it was a sharp sting more than anything else, and it was over before I even felt it. I was hurt more when Luisa landed on top of me, driving the breath out of my lungs. Rolling to the side, I eased her off me, blinking.
Black smoke roiled out of the door we'd just been trying to go through, and I felt my head ringing. I couldn't hear much of anything, and so I looked at her, trying to figure out what was going on. "Luisa? Luisa?"
She didn't move, and I noticed that she was bleeding from somewhere on her head. Adrenaline flooded my system as I got to my knees and checked her. She was breathing, but I couldn't hear anything when I put my ear to her chest, until I remembered that whatever the blast had been, it had certainly fucked with my hearing. Remembering the little bit I'd learned in a first-aid class, I checked her pulse on her neck and found it strong and sure. The blood was still pooling under her head, but she turned her head and groaned, which at least told me she didn't have a broken neck. "Luisa?"
She mumbled something incoherently in Portuguese, and even though I know Spanish and Italian, which are cousin languages to Portuguese, I couldn't make out the words. Looking around, I knew that whatever caused the explosion, it wasn't the place that a Bertoli or a woman who was part of a Brazilian crime family should be found when the police arrived.
Picking Luisa up in my arms, I carried her to my car and carefully placed her in the passenger seat. I ran around and got into the driver's seat, cranking my engine and hauling ass. I tried not to speed once we were more than a few blocks away, and I intentionally slowed down to avoid notice from the cops. It was bad enough that I was certain that I was on security cameras and that I was driving a black Alfa-Romeo 4c. Those things don't exactly blend in like a Ford Fiesta or a Toyota Prius.