Missed: Rafael and Lisa

Chapter One 

Rafael 

Rafael Soto had too many demanding women in his life. None of whom greeted him with a kiss after a long shift or wrapped their arms around him after one of his nightmares. The women in his life were married to rich dudes with enormous houses and fast cars. Like the America he'd served for three tours overseas, they needed him for protection, but not for love. All the hassle and none of the pleasure. 

These were his thoughts as he opened the door of his old truck after a long day's work and saw the blonde hurricane in high-heeled sandals bolt out of the Mullens' front door. Honor Sullivan strode across the driveway toward him. He braced himself, as one should when face-to-face with a human tropical storm. 

Flushed and out of breath, she stopped a few feet from him. Her giant diamond wedding ring flashed in the late-afternoon sunlight and nearly blinded him. "Hey, Rafael, you have a quick second?" She gripped a pencil. White knuckles. 

He steadied himself with one hand wrapped around the door's frame and looked into the brown eye of a hurricane. Technically, two eyes of the same hurricane. His free hand twitched at his side. Darned if hadn't almost lifted it in a salute to his superior. Old habits died hard. 

"Afternoon, Ms. Sullivan. What can I do for you?" Although they both worked for Kara and Brody Mullen, Rafael knew his place. He ran security. Honor Sullivan ran the career of former AFL quarterback Brody Mullen. Big difference. 

"I won't beat around the bush," she said. 

"I'd hope not, ma'am." It occurred to him that Honor's husband, Zane Shaw, was either the luckiest guy in town or the unluckiest, depending on what side of the storm he found himself. 

"Kara told me the construction on the building is complete," Honor said. 

The building. Those two little words had possessed his every thought for months. His building. Six sweet apartments in a Victorian mansion that had drained every dime of his savings. The "renovation" that had chained him to the suits at the bank. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm headed there now to meet Stone and Trey," Rafael said. "They finished the last details today." 

"Great. Here's the thing." Honor swept her long blond hair behind one shoulder. "Lavonne's been living with us during the remodel." 

"Yes, ma'am." Lavonne, former neighbor, was now one of his tenants. 

"He's not, you know, like other people." Honor pushed the eraser end of the pencil with her thumb three times, like she was sending a message in Morse code. "And he really needs that apartment."

"I understand," he said. 

Her eyes glittered, scrutinizing him. "Do you? Because he doesn't have anywhere to go, and he can't afford a big increase in rent." The woman had missed her calling. He could've used her for interrogation purposes during one of his missions in Iraq. 

"He won't have one. Lavonne knows that." 

"He told me you asked him to move to the middle floor because you changed the first floor into two larger apartments instead of three." 

"That's correct," he said. 

"He can't afford a two-bedroom. The studio was all he could manage. I don't appreciate you screwing him over." She moved closer to him. "That's not how we do things in Cliffside Bay." 

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. No taller than five feet and a few inches, she was like a jelly bean snake can. The minute you twisted off the lid, a plastic snake jumped out and hit you in the eye.