His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black.

Before she could think of a way to extricate herself his hips began to move and she had no choice but to move with him. They fell into a slow, steady rhythm, swaying in a small box step.

One dance, she thought. One dance and I can go back to the table and wait for Bill like a good girl.

Rufino bent his head close to her ear. She smelled the faintly acrid scent of perspiration mixed with the heavy musk of his cologne. His breath was hot against her skin.

"I will show you the Tango, princesa" he murmured in her ear, "And later, I will show you more."

She tried to give a light laugh and was dismayed to hear it come out as a choked gasp as he pulled her closer still. She tried to lean away to speak, but his arm was like a vise around her waist.

"I should tell you," she said, her voice sounding high and strained in her own ears, "My fiancée might have something to say about the 'more' part."

At that he loosened his hold enough to lean back and look in her eyes.

"Maxwell?" he said, sounding almost delighted. "He is your fiancée?"

She was so startled she forgot to be anxious.

"Oh. No," she said. "Bill? No. He's just a friend."

"Ah, a friend," Rufino said with an unpleasant smirk. "You are at Abrazo with a 'friend' on Christmas Eve. If he allows this, I think your fiancée has lost his right to object."

Pam opened her mouth to protest and found herself lost for words. She couldn't say it was Ralph's idea. When he suggested dinner, she was reasonably sure, he had had the same mental image she did of fried fish sandwiches for two.

He couldn't have expected Bill to take her dancing. Of course, she thought, he hadn't really. They had sat quietly at their table through a dozen dances before Anjeline came over.

Anjeline. Had Bill brought her here simply to make Anjeline jealous? The thought caused another bright flare of anger.

Abruptly, Rufino thrust a leg forward, causing her to turn. Her hip collided with his and he moved his shoulders, pulling hers in a small shimmy. He twisted again and they resumed their face-to-face box step.

She noticed that the other couples on the floor seemed to be giving them a wide berth. She suspected it had less to do with admiration for their dance skills than reluctance to risk attracting Rufino's attention.

"Your friend, Bill, seems to be enjoying his dance with the gato preto," Rufino said.

The hand around her waist gave a sharp tug as he released his hold on her hand. She found herself spinning away, nearly losing her balance before his hand on her waist tightened and pulled her close again.

The movement turned her to face side of the dance floor away from the band. Across the floor, Bill and Anjeline danced.

As she watched, they took two steps in perfect rhythm, Bill's hand resting lightly on Anjeline's hip, her hand on his upper arm. Then she took a half-turn away, shifting into a step that was counterpoint to his. He slipped behind her and with a touch of his hand, reversed her direction. They took two gliding steps back, then a quick flick of his foot sent them moving at a right angle. Another touch of his hand sent Anjeline into a twirl. Her long black dress flared at her ankles in a cascade of sparkling sequins.

Bill's shoulders shifted and seemingly without even the slightest touch, he froze her movement. Her head dropped to the side and she arched back over his extended arm. One leg thrust back and her body formed an elongated curve in perfect balance to Bill's tall, straight line.

It was less like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, she thought, and more like Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. They moved together with an ease and power that made the word "dancing" seem inadequate. What it resembled most was a teasing dialogue.

She saw Bill's lips move and realized they really were having a conversation. For a moment, she was lost in uncomfortable thoughts of the kind of sweet nothings they might be exchanging.

The feel of Rufino's thick fingers against the nape of her neck broke into her attention. She had completely forgotten him and she guessed that he had noticed.

The pressure against her neck increased and she felt herself jerked back into a crude imitation of Anjeline's graceful pose. She tried to straighten, but the pressure of Rufino's hand was relentless. The high heel of her shoe slipped and she felt herself falling backward. She reached out reflexively and gripped Rufino's arm. His smug grin was sickening. For a moment she thought he was going to let her fall, but the hand behind her neck stiffened and she jerked to a stop, stretched out along his arm. His gaze raked down the front of her dress and she felt as if she was naked.

Her face was hot with anger and embarrassment when he finally pulled her upright. Involuntarily, she searched for Bill and found him. His gaze met hers over Anjeline's shoulder and she let the pleading show in her eyes. She felt a catch in her throat as she saw his eyes narrow and his jaw tighten.

Rufino seemed to feel the change in her breathing. He took two quick steps, turning her sharply so she faced the bandstand.

"Be a good girl, Pamela," he said. "Your friend, Maxwell, is busy with his gato preto. He has left you to me."

He pressed forward and her stomach tightened as she felt a hard pressure against her hip.

"And I want to show you how to dance," he said in a husky whisper.

She couldn't hide her grimace of disgust. Rufino gave a harsh laugh.

"You play with fire in your pretty red dress, princesa," he said in a husky whisper, "too late now to fear the flame."

He bent toward her and she knew he was going to try to kiss her.

No, she thought, "try" was the wrong word. He was going to do it. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

But that was no reason not to make the effort. She took her hand from his arm and pulled it back to launch a hard slap against his looming face.

He released her other hand and caught her wrist easily. He dragged her open hand down and between their bodies.

This was too much, she thought. There was no way she going to allow herself to be sexually assaulted in the middle of a dance floor.

She lifted her foot and speared down with her heel, digging it into his ankle. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sight of his black eyes widening in shock, followed by the rigid look as the pain struck.

She realized she'd waited just a moment too long to pull out of his grasp when his face went red and he bared his teeth in a snarl. When she tried to wriggle free, he gripped her so tightly around the waist it forced the air from her lungs.

"I was too gentle before, princesa," he growled. "Now I know what you need is a good, hard-"

He froze in mid-snarl.

"I'd give a lot of thought to the next word out of your mouth, Rufi."

She looked over Rufino's shoulder and saw Bill. His eyes were set and focused, but his face was strangely calm.

Rufino released his grip and she stumbled back. The other dancers were backing away in a widening circle, but the band didn't seem to have noticed the interruption yet. Bright flourishes of music drifted over the suddenly still floor.

Pam moved carefully to the side and saw the long-barreled revolver Bill had pressed to the small of Rufino's back.

As she moved, she noticed with an unpleasant start of surprise that Anjeline stood on his other side, biting her full lower lip in a gesture of beautiful anxiety.

"Counselor, do me a favor," Bill said, his eyes never leaving Rufino's back. "He's got a piece on him somewhere. The only place I can think is an ankle holster. Since you didn't find it a minute ago with your shoe, I'd try the other leg."

Pam bent quickly and lifted Rufino's trouser leg. A black elasticized holster was strapped to his calf. She tugged the snub-nosed revolver free and backed away.

She moved to hold it out to Bill.

"Hang on to it for a minute, honey," he said.

He started backing away toward the door on the far side of the dance floor. She gripped the gun and pointed it carefully toward the ground as she kept pace at his side.

"Down on the floor, Rufi," Bill said. "Hands on your head. You, too, Tadeo."

She only noticed the bulky bouncer type moving up on their left when he froze. As Rufino and Tadeo sank to their knees she saw Bill's sharp gaze raking over the crowd.

The band was coming to a jangling halt at last and in the sudden silence his voice rang against the wine-colored walls.

"Tell your goon squad to stay put," he said. "I won't be as easy-going if they follow us."

"You'll be dead, old man," Rufino snarled from the floor. "And you won't be able to protect your women then."

Bill snorted and shot Pam a look from the corner of his eye.

"Now who's medieval?" he said.

"Can the chatter, creep," he shouted. "Start counting. Don't move till you hit five hundred. And if I see you coming after us, you're gonna be looking for your head in the gutter."

"Get Pam out the back," he hissed.

On his other side, Anjeline nodded and stepped around him. She reached out for Pam's hand and led her quickly toward the door.

As she pushed it open, Nico appeared at their side looking pale and anxious.

"Policia," Anjeline whispered.

He nodded and moved back into the half-light at the back of the restaurant.

Anjeline tugged at her arm. She looked back to see Bill still backing away from the dance floor.

"Keep moving, sweetheart," he said. "I'm right behind you."

Pam let Anjeline drag her through the open door into a square storage room piled high with metal chairs and round tables, their legs folded flat, leaning against the wall. Anjeline was already pulling her on to the next door set in the far wall.

"Does this door lock?" Pam said as they moved between the stacked chairs.

"I don't know," Anjeline whispered. Her voice was tight as if she was on the verge of tears. "Please, come this way."

"Wait," Pam said, pulling against the other woman's grip.

She scanned the piles of furniture. It was mostly made of hollow metal tubing, too light to serve as a barricade. She spotted heavy brocade fabric in the corner and moved toward it. After a moment's indecision, she tucked Rufino's gun into the bodice of her dress.

When Bill backed through the door, she was tugging a massive tapestry-covered sofa away from the wall.

She looked up and saw him scowl.

"You're as bad as Ralph, aren't you?" he said. "Would it kill you to listen to me for once?"

He tucked his gun into his waistband and took the other end of the sofa. He took most of the weight. She helped guide into place against the door.

"Where's the gun I gave you?" he said. She saw his eyes shift to her neckline and he looked away.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, that'll work."

There was a bang like a kick being aimed against the opposite side of the door. Anjeline gave a little scream.

"That was never five hundred seconds," Pam said staring at the door.

Bill snorted.

"You kiddin'?" he said. "He can't count that high. I was hoping he'd make it to sixty though. Come on."

He reached for her hand and led her toward the opposite door.

"So, Bill," she said panting slightly as they scrambled through another storage room, this one stacked with plastic-wrapped linens, "Is it like this every Friday, or just on religious holidays?"

He barked a laugh.

"Only when you're around, beautiful," he said. "You seem to go to people's heads."

"I mean," she went on, stepping over a tumbled pile of white napkins. "I know the Tango has a reputation, but this is-"

She broke off as he skidded to a stop and turned to stare at her.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he said slowly. "Jeez, Davidson, you're so good at the support work I forget sometimes you're a girl."

Before she could snap back a sharp reply he stepped toward her.

He pushed one red satin strap back onto her shoulder, looked at her for a long moment, and leaned forward, planting a light kiss on her forehead.

His eyes were bright as he backed away.

"Do me a favor, Davidson," he said, his voice strangely hoarse. "And don't ever change."

A crash from the furniture storage room broke the spell. Bill grabbed her shoulder and pushed her toward Anjeline. The other woman was thrusting back the dead bolt on a heavy metal door. She jerked the door open and dashed through. Pam looked back to find Bill had stopped in the middle of the room.

He had his service revolver in one hand and was reaching around to grab the smaller snub-nosed pistol from its usual spot at the small of his back.

"Get Anjeline to the car," he said over his shoulder. "I'll be right behind you. But if I'm not, there's a spare key taped under the right rear wheel well. By the time you get the car started, if I'm still not there, drive like hell and don't stop till you see blue lights."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

"I'm counting on you, honey," he said.

She blinked and nodded once, then followed Anjeline through the heavy metal door, shoving it closed behind her.

They were in the drive-up delivery corridor behind the restaurant. Bare yellow bulbs were strung between the brick walls that lined the alley. They shone dull yellow pools on the cracked asphalt.

In her sparkling dress, Anjeline looked ridiculously out of place among the massive industrial dumpsters and stacks of folded cardboard boxes. She had her hands clasped against her chest and tears shone on her porcelain cheeks.

"Where is Guiomar?" she said in a hoarse whisper. "What-"

Pam took her arm and turned left down the alley.

"Guiomar wants us to start the car," she said tightly.

If she gauged the distance right, Pam thought, Bill's car was two blocks away. It would be good to keep Anjeline calm until they got there. Answering some questions might curb the hysteria she heard building in the other woman's choked sobs. And she wouldn't mind having some answers.

She tugged Rufino's pistol from her bodice and held it pointed at the ground as she they clattered down the alley on their stiletto heels.

"Anjeline," she said, "Tell me what just happened in there. Who is Rufino?"

She heard Anjeline take a shuddering breath.

"Rufino is a-," Anjeline said haltingly, "A 'punk,' Guiomar says."

Pam grinned in spite of herself.

"'Punk' covers a lot of ground with Guiomar," she said. "Can you be more specific?"

"He is a- 'deal' I think it's called," Anjeline answered. "His men bring the drugs to Los Angeles and he sells them to men who sell them to other men."

"A dealer," Pam said. "Okay, that explains the denouement, but not the back story."

"What?" Anjeline said.

"I mean," Pam said more slowly, "What was Bill doing here tonight? Specifically. He wasn't just coming for dinner and a dance was he?"

"I called," Anjeline said. "Last night. I told him some men would meet at Abrazo tonight to make the deal for drugs. I did not know who. I thought Rufino would be one. Rufino likes to dance with me. I thought I could learn his plan and Guiomar might, ah, tome medidas. Take action."

The end of the alleyway was in sight and there was still no sign of Bill.

"Did you learn his plan?" Pam said, skirting a greasy-looking puddle at the last moment.

"He had no plan," Anjeline said, her voice rising. "He is homem louco- crazy man. His plan was to kill the other dealers and take the money. He boasted to me. He said he would kill them all in ah- uma emboscada. So I told Guiomar when we danced."

"Emboscada?" Pam repeated.

After eight years in Los Angeles, she still knew woefully little Spanish. Sometimes it bothered her more than others.

"Ah- ambush," Anjeline said. "Outside Abrazo."

Pam skidded to a stop. Bill would never in a million years send them out into a potential ambush.

"Hold it!" she said.

Anjeline took two more steps before she turned back.

There was a faint popping sound from back up the alley the way they had come. It could have been the echo of a backfiring car. Pam knew it wasn't.

"You didn't tell Bill the ambush was outside Abrazo, did you?" Pam said.

They were in a dark patch between two burnt out lamps. Pam thought she saw Anjeline shake her head.

"I did not have time," the other woman said. "Our dance was interrupted."

Pam thought she heard a faint note of reproach in Anjeline's voice. It was the least of her concerns at the moment.

If the ambush had been out back, she thought, she and Anjeline would have landed in the middle of it. The ambush was out front.

She looked down the alley. She wasn't surprised at all to see several hulking silhouettes step into sight.

She grabbed Anjeline's arm with her free hand.

"Silencio!" she hissed as the other woman let out a squeak of protest. Not for the first time, Pam wondered at the fact that beauty and intelligence were so often mutually exclusive.

She dragged Anjeline behind the nearest dumpster and pushed her down to a crouching position. She thought back to the few instructions on handling a gun she'd ever been able to pry from Bill's mouth.

"Just hold it and look tough." Not particularly helpful; especially when you really didn't want to become a hostage.

"Point it at the ground or the sky when you're not actually aiming it." He hadn't actually said that, but she'd observed the behavior often enough to learn it. Again, not useful in this situation.

What did he do when he shot at people? She pictured Bill, feet apart, arm extended. He had both eyes open, not squinting along the barrel as she'd been taught to do as a child playing cops and robbers. In her mind's eye, he took a breath and held it before he fired. He usually fired several shots in succession. Triangulating on the target?

It wasn't much, but it was all she could come up with under the circumstances. She spread her feet and settled into a bent-legged stance that felt like the one she pictured.

"What are you doing?" whispered Anjeline from somewhere behind her.

"I think I'm covering you," Pam hissed. "Be quiet and try not to sparkle."

--------------------

- continued -

el Tango de Los Angeles

(Tango of the Angels)