His melancholy rooted her to the middle of the floor. It was an inexplicable dance, hers and his. He opened up very tender places in the center of her chest, and could just as quickly send a steel cage of protection crashing down around it.
"Listen," she whispered. "I am sorry about your family. No one should have died that way."
He looked up at her and simply nodded, but when he swallowed hard, suddenly it was difficult for her to speak. She found herself drawn to sit back down in the chair in front of him, leaning forward on her forearms with her hands folded. His hand covered hers and they both closed their eyes for a moment, allowing a long ago-memory presence before they both sat back.
"I did come to warn you," she murmured, holding his gaze.
"Talk to me," he told her in a quiet tone, no threat in his voice.
"I'm glad you're still able to wear a cross."
"I use to wear the little gold one that was a gift from my grandfather, given by my grandmother ... you know I used to never take it off. This one replaced it. That's all."
Damali nodded. "Promise me you won't stop wearing one, though. And, if you ever see anything ... unusual that frightens you - "
He laughed, cutting off her words and opening his desk drawer. Carlos shook his head as he reached in it and produced a huge, custom-designed silver automatic magnum. Setting it down carefully between them, he then slid it toward Damali with a grin.
"I don't do fear. But I do vengeance very, very well. Named my club for the skill."
"That won't work, Carlos. You can't shoot what you can't see. You have to use a higher - "
"Still trying to save my soul, baby ... and make me give all this up. What's in the center of this desk is what keeps the balance of power, not this," he chuckled, holding his cross out from his chest. "This is jewelry." He pointed to the gun, and returned it to the drawer. "That is power. And we all make choices... the subject of our running debate. Maybe one day we'll see eye to eye?"
She inhaled slowly and let it out even slower, the tightness around her heart became so heavy that she needed to stand, needed fresh air. She turned away and walked over to the wide glass and cast her gaze down to watch the club readying for the evening onslaught. "You took one path, I took another a long time ago. I just wish you could see. Every day that you stay in this, the less chance you have to get out, and the more in danger you are, just like everyone around you - dark draws to dark ... and it's already eating your boys, alive."
Her back was to him when she heard him stand and come toward her. She didn't flinch when the heat of his palms touched her shoulders as he massaged them. Nor did she pull away when he placed a gentle kiss against her neck. To her surprise her head tilted to yield to his mouth. She watched his reflection in the two-way mirrored glass and then shut her eyes. Just this morning ... if only. God help her.
"I'm already in too deep, and you know that, Damali. It would take a miracle ... it's a way of life once you choose this road, and there's no turning back - until you die." He inhaled deeply, sending a hidden tremor through her.
"Then, you go to Hell. It's so simple. Why fight it? Hell now, or Hell later. There's only a few choices for a man in my position," he murmured.
He'd breathed his statement behind his kiss, and she could still feel his breath as it swept the moist marker of where his lips had been.
"Not always," she whispered. "Sometimes miracles happen, if you believe."
He rubbed her arms and then stepped away. The loss of his heat sent a shiver through her and she unfolded her arms to wrap them around herself.
"Maybe you're right," he said. "You are here ... you cared enough to come to ask about my family, and even still try to chastise me about my lifestyle. After all these years, I guess some prayers do get answered."
As she stood watching him lean against the edge of his desk, his words knifed into her. Guilt spread and fused with old memories, becoming a palpable pain that made her palm find the center of her own chest. She had to make him understand her true purpose, and yet never give away her team. But, from way, way back, she also owed him enough information to keep him from an attack. If he perished from his lifestyle, that would be hard, but she could live with it. That had been his path, his choice. Yet, she couldn't have him stalked by something beyond his comprehension.
"There's something not human going after your family - and I'm not sure why, Carlos. And regular ammo doesn't work."
His gaze was tender when he considered her words and his smile wasn't haughty, just weary. "I know," he said. "Whoever did this wasn't human. Even in turf wars, there are rules."
"No," she corrected, still trying to get through to him. "I mean, it's not from this world. It's a demon."
He chuckled sadly and shook his head. "Now you sound like the grandmothers. Damali, go home. Baby, I got this. When you come to perform, I promise you I'll have men at every door, and won't let anything happen to you. Thanks for agreeing to a gig here to bring back the crowds ... and for the condolences. I'm cool."
It was useless. There was no way that his mind could absorb what she was trying to say. She let out a long breath, and gave up.
"Just keep your cross on."
He nodded and smiled at her.
"You be well."
"I will. Tell your mom and your family I asked for them."