La Bruja y el Asesino (The Witch and the Assassin)

By Vicki

9 months later found me tapping my heel, impatiently waiting for service at a bar in Los Angeles. I was dressed to kill and my mood matched. The hotel I was in was five-star, but the service sucked - at least it did on this Saturday night in the bar. I was supposed to be down the hall, in the "Pacific Ballroom" with my date - dancing the night away at my 15-year class reunion.

My teen years had not been easy, what with shuttling back and forth between bitterly divorced parents. My mother had lived outside of Santa Barbara while my dad spent his time in the bars in downtown L.A. Living with either had been difficult, but I suppose no more so that any other teenager in California. The high school friends I had made were not lasting - but like every other red-blooded American woman, I wanted to show off how great I looked at age 33, plus see how far everyone else had deteriorated. So here I was at a ritzy hotel in L.A., waiting at the bar for a drink. Go figure. The little black dress I had painted on was small, sexy and sheer - I had chosen it for effect as well as the fact that August in California was hotter than hell. Killer black heels elevated my 5'2" frame 3 inches taller and made my legs look fantastic. Of course, those "killer heels" were killing my toes - but anything for looks, right? Although the hairstylist had used a can of spray to keep my blonde hair up in a French knot, wisps of hair were still drifting down to stick on my sweaty neck.

The guy who accompanied my to the reunion that night was a respiratory therapist from the last hospital job I had contracted for. He was nice, and easy on the eyes, so I thought what the heck, ask him to go with me. He was now back in the ballroom, draped over a chair drunker than a skunk. "So much for dancing the night away," I thought wryly.

The bartender slowly headed my way after I waved a ten-dollar bill in the air. "Scotch and soda," I said once he got close enough to hear my voice. The crowded bar and dance floor made it difficult to hear yourself think, let alone make yourself heard. The people to the side and to the back of me kept pushing and jockeying for position. One particularly obnoxious man next to me kept trying to cop a feel from every woman at the bar and my venomous stare didn't seem to help. Suddenly I could feel someone else up against my back and curling their hand around my waist. I was just about to use my sharp elbow as a weapon when I heard a low voice whisper in my ear, Bruja…"

My eyes lifted to the mirror above the bar and met the stare of a darkly handsome man whose chocolate brown hair curled around his face. "Miguel..." I breathed as I felt my stomach lurch and knees go weak. I twisted in his grip to look directly into his amber eyes.

"Miguel! I can't believe it - how have you been? You look so good with clothes on!" I fumbled over the words as my stunned mind recalled every detail of our last time together.

I suddenly realized my poor choice of words as Miguel's eyebrow raised in question of my statement. "I mean…I mean…you look fantastic," I amended clumsily.

"Why thank you, senorita. I can say the same for you - you look wonderful out of your nursing uniform," Miguel said with a smirk on his face.

We both laughed and I could feel myself relax as the tension eased between us.

"How are you, Miguel? I was so worried after you disappeared last year." My eyes looked him over and thought that indeed, he had recovered in a most spectacular fashion. He was dressed in charcoal colored slacks that fit over his lower half as though they were specially made for him. A fine gauge, creamy ivory sweater was tucked under a black herringbone jacket that hugged his shoulders and emphasized his form. His dark curls lay around his face in careless fashion, and as I reluctantly pulled my eyes back to his face, I saw that he was perusing me just as closely as I was studying him.

Miguel picked up my drink as the bartender set it in front of us and said shortly "follow me." He led me across the crowded bar to a corner table that had just vacated it's occupants. Indicating that I should sit - he himself took the chair that was next to the wall and looked over the crowd before settling his gaze on me.

"I'm sorry I had to leave so abruptly last year, Leigh. But I have recovered - my wounds have healed and I believe I may have acquired some new ones as well. I never did thank you properly for the use of your car and computer, though. Without your assistance, I'm not sure I'd be here now. Thank you, Leigh." He lifted his glass in a salute to his tablemate.

I could feel myself blush slightly, and lifted my glass to drink as well. "It was no problem, Miguel. I'm just glad everything turned out so well. But I never did learn why that man wanted to kill you" I asked inquiringly.

"It is of no importance. Tell me…" he said, obviously changing the subject. "What brings you to California?"

"A couple of reasons, actually," I began. "I ended my contract with the hospital in Texas just after you left. You remember that I am a traveling nurse, right?" Miguel nodded his head and said, "Of course - you get restless staying in one place. I remember thinking that it reminded me of me! Go on," he encouraged.

"Well, I spent some time in Washington, D.C., then I went to Idaho for a couple of months. That was really boring, but it was good money." I paused to take a drink of my scotch. "Then I came out here for a contract. I thought it would be perfect, because I grew up outside of Santa Barbara and here in LA. I guess I'm just a California girl at heart." I twisted a tendril of blonde hair in my fingers to emphasize the point.

Miguel's amber eyes darkened as he watched me play with my hair and I could see his knuckles whiten slightly as he clenched his glass. Lord, I loved messing with men's minds, but a whisper of a warning crept into mine…"careful…this is not someone you can control," it said. I ignored it.

"And why is it I find you here tonight? Am I interrupting a date or something?" Miguel's eyes were questioning as he looked at me. "Do I have to worry about someone coming to attack me for speaking to you?"

"Ha! I wish!" I said with a laugh. "Believe it or not, I'm here at my high school reunion."

"Reunion? ¿Qué es eso?" Obviously not understanding what a high school reunion was, Miguel's eyes continued to rove the room, looking for what, I wasn't sure.

"A high school reunion. It's a party where your former schoolmates get together to see who looks the oldest, who's gained the most weight, you know…remember the 'good old days' together. I did have a date, however he's probably now passed out somewhere in the ballroom. For some reason - he was more impressed with the open bar than with my outfit," I said sarcastically as I played with the condensation on my glass.

"Chica…" he said with a deep growl in his voice. His eyes had stopped their journey of the room and settled on my face, my breasts, my shoulders. "Your date was obviamente estúpido. Who could prefer anything thing else over you?" His voice and words stirred something deep in my gut. A hot flash began at my toes and flushed my face.

I quickly looked away from him and intelligently said, "Gee, um…thanks. Well, I never said he was smart. I just wish I hadn't wasted the effort of getting all dolled up tonight!"

Miguel had continued to look at me and simply said, "Leigh, your efforts were not wasted. You are very beautiful tonight."

"Thank you, Miguel. It's been a long time since someone told me that." His eyes softened and then suddenly, he stood.

"Come on, let's get out of this madhouse and find somewhere we can talk." He stretched out his hand and it would have been impossible for me to not take it. As we made our way toward the door of the bar, Miguel's hand slipped possessively around my waist. I knew where this was headed and felt both fear and unimaginable excitement.

"Wait…I'll have to stop in the ballroom and get my wrap first," I said as I led the way back down the corridor to the reunion. Miguel continued at my side as we entered the large room where my schoolmates were partying. The band was rocking and the bass beat a rhythm so loudly, I could feel it in my shoes.

As I picked my way through the tables, I could see various people who knew me look speculatively at my companion. It was fun to have a handsome, sexy and mysterious man trailing me as I wound my way though the room.

I picked up the shimmering, filmy material that supposedly served to keep the cool summer air from chilling my skin, threw it over my shoulders and turned to leave. The band finished it's loud romp and had started playing a mournful, slow song, heavy with guitar strumming. Deep base notes mingled with a clear and soulful melody and I recognized the ballad as a tune from my past - full of love and longing. As my head tipped to listen to the melody, my hands were pulling me away from the table. Miguel had seen my look at the music and was dragging me to the dance floor. We joined several dozen other dancers who took to the ballroom floor under the mirrored disco ball.

My arms slipped up and around Miguel's shoulders and his arms encircled my waist. I felt his hands pull me closer - they were warm against the small of my back. As I was a good 5 inches shorter than Miguel even with heels, my face was naturally nestled into his shoulder and I smelled the scent of his cologne. It was a fresh smell that reminded me of ocean breezes.

As we whirled slowly on the floor, I could feel the heat of his hands that slid down over the top of my derriere and back up again to the middle of my back. I slid my hands under the collar of his jacket and felt the smooth and silky fabric of his sweater. With my eyes closed, the sexual tension and the music joined forces to make my head spin. Miguel dipped his head to mine and began an exploration with his lips on my neck. His smooth, feather-light kisses sent shivers down my back and arms. The fact that he was subtle this time with his kisses threw me off even more. He pulled me even closer to him as the music wound it's way toward the end.

The last note reverberated in the ballroom, but we were reluctant to pull apart and end the moment. Miguel looked down into my eyes and lightly rubbed his hands up and down my arms.

"Jesús, yo no pienso que he querido jamás alguien tanto como yo lo quiero ahora. Quiero hacer el amor a usted," Miguel whispered in my ear.

"I want you too, Miguel," I replied dizzily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do."

"Come on, let's go." Miguel abruptly turned and pulled me off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. His intense look and determined manner defied anyone at the party to get in his way as he led me to where - I'm sure I could guess. We strode in silence toward the bank of brass and glass elevators at the other end of the hallway. Our only contact was my hand in his, but his touch burned it's way along my skin. Miguel continued to look from side to side as if he were looking for someone - but I had gotten used to his paranoid or just extremely cautious behavior by now, so it didn't bother me.

As he pushed the up button at the elevator doors, Miguel pulled me closely to his side. He leaned down to brush his lips against my ear as said quietly "Where is your room, chica?"

The doors slid silently open and we entered the small, mirrored room. I pushed the 8th floor button and as the doors slid just as silently shut, Miguel pulled me into his embrace.