Her One and Only Hero

by Sharon Hartley

  Button nodded. “Possibly.”

  “It was dark, but from the outside it appeared as if the location had been cleared out,” Dale said. “If anything was going on there, it’s over now.”

  “The warrants are in place, so we can confirm that this morning,” Button said. He pulled a sheet of paper toward him and read from it. “The owner of the property leased it to a Mr. and Mrs. Roberto Sanchez two months ago. They paid six month’s rent up front, so no credit check was performed. The owner says the place is hard to keep rented and these tenants give him no problems.” Button looked up. “Unfortunately, we can’t find any record of this particular Sanchez couple.”

  “So it’s a fake name,” Dale said.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “The Havanabia has surveillance cameras,” Dale said. “Can we get a look at them and run facial recognition on the man staring at our table?”

  Button sat back, considering the idea. “I’ll set that in motion.”

  When the agent settled his attention on Fran, she tried to smile, wanting to appear grateful for his help.

  “I’m very sorry about your daughter, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope you changed rooms after the attack,” the agent said.

  “The motel didn’t have one available,” Dale told him. “And it was too late to relocate.”

  Button shook his head. “I’ll bet neither one of you got much sleep then.”

  “Not much,” Fran murmured. After the police had left, she had tried to sleep, but Dale refused to lie beside her on the bed. He had sat up in a chair all night long watching to make certain nothing happened to her. This was the Dale she recalled from their time together so long ago, the man she had fallen in love with. And still loved.

  A sweet, caring man who would do anything for her.

  Except what she really wanted...for him to make love to her.

  Time, distance and the circumstances of her pregnancy had poisoned her memories of him. So much had been stolen from them. Surely the universe would give them back their daughter.

  But maybe not.

  Agent Button picked up his phone and requested a technician to sweep Dale’s vehicle for tracking devices. As Dale and the agent discussed the upcoming operation in Ybor City, Fran’s attention drifted. She remembered how Bella had looked on that last morning at breakfast. Her daughter had been in a hurry, hadn’t waited for Dora to prepare something. Why didn’t I notice something was different?

  Go home. What did that mean? Was the warning for her or Dale? Home to Italy? Back to Miami?

  And who had written the message?

  * * *

  FRAN WAITED WITH Dale in his vehicle while an army of men, all wearing dark jackets with FBI in huge white letters printed on the back, entered the home in Ybor City with a battering ram.

  In the light of day, what had frightened her last night looked like an ordinary home that had fallen into disrepair. The swaying branches of the oak trees no longer seemed threatening. The home appeared abandoned, sad, as if no one had used it for a long time.

  She thought about making a sketch but decided not to try. She didn’t need any more disappointment.

  Mio Dio, to think that a tracking device had been planted on Dale’s car. Was it because of Bella? What did that mean?

  She turned to look at Dale, who quite obviously wished he was inside with the FBI. Since Button did not know Dale, the agent would not permit him to accompany the team.

  “Bella is not here,” she said.

  “Probably not,” he agreed, drumming fingers on the steering wheel. “But maybe Button’s team will find some evidence that will lead us to where the bad guys relocated.”

  Fran doubted that, but remained silent. Do not give up hope. Bella needs you to remain optimistic.

  “It shouldn’t take long for them to clear the house,” Dale said. “Button will invite us in when he deems it safe.”

  “Safe,” she murmured. The concept sounded foreign to her. Would she ever feel safe again? Dale suggested that the traffickers who had Bella were rattled, but so was she—what the Americans called a hot mess. She wanted to be brave, but the attack last night had affected her.

  “How long do you think the tracking device the FBI found has been in place on your vehicle?” she asked.

  “No way to know. It’s possible the bug has nothing to do with Bella.”

  “Possible,” she said. “But you do not believe it likely.”

  Dale shot her a glance. “No, I don’t.”

  “So that means whoever has Bella knows who we are and that we are looking for her.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What else could it mean?”

  Before Dale could answer, one of Button’s team stepped onto the front porch and waved them inside. Surprised at how quickly they’d cleared the structure, Fran took a deep breath, her stomach queasy, and opened her door.

  Dale placed a hand on her arm. “Do you want to go in?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  His green gaze met hers. “It might not be pleasant.”

  “I understand.”

  Dale opened his door and jumped out. Moving more slowly, Fran joined him. He grabbed her hand, linked their fingers together, and gave a squeeze. He must have sensed her flagging spirits.

  Button shook his head when they entered. Scowling, Dale placed his hands on his hips.

  Fran looked around what had to be the living room, stunned to find it empty. No furniture, no draperies, no debris or garbage.

  “There’s nothing here,” Button said. “Whatever this place was used for, they sent in a cleaner, a good one. Every surface has been scrubbed professionally.”

  “Every room?” Dale asked.

  “Every room. They didn’t want to leave any trace evidence behind.”

  “How long?”

  “Best guess is a day or two. I’ve got agents canvassing the area. Maybe a neighbor saw a moving van or has information about the occupants.”

  “What about the garbage out back?” Dale asked.

  “Preliminary analysis indicates that debris predates the current tenants moving in. We won’t find anything useful there.”

  Fran blinked away tears. Another dead end. No sign of Bella.

  How many more dead ends can I endure? Bella is running out of time.

  * * *

  ON THE DRIVE away from Ybor City, Dale kept casting looks at Fran. She stared out the windshield. What the hell was she thinking? She’d barely said a word since they’d entered the house and discovered it cleaned out.

  The attack last night had frightened her, and finding the house empty had only increased her anxiety.

  No, it was worse than that. She was losing hope.

  He’d never had much hope they’d find Bella, but hated to see his Frannie this depressed.

  “We need to stay in Tampa another night,” he told her.

  “Okay. But why?”

  Relieved she still cared enough to ask, Dale said, “For one thing, I didn’t sleep last night. I’m in no condition to drive five hours. Plus, I need to look at the surveillance video of the Havanabia and see if we can get an ID on that man who watched us, and Button can’t get that set up until tomorrow.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “You know.”

  “Do I?” she murmured.

  “Come on, Fran. I know this is hard, but I need you engaged.”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you giving up?”

  “I don’t want to.” Her voice broke.

  Braked for a red light, Dale reached out and clasped her hand. “Listen, if I can find the man on the surveillance video and ID him, perhaps the FBI can track him down.”

  She took a deep breath, obviously trying to control her emot
ions. “Do you think he knows something about Bella?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That seems unlikely to me.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s our only lead right now. Someone put a bug on this vehicle because they wanted to keep track of us. Why else would they do that?”

  “Perhaps something to do with one of your cases in Miami.”

  “Believe me, I’ve got nothing going on where that would happen. It’s about Bella.”

  “Maybe.”

  Bothered by her resigned tone, Dale withdrew his hand and accelerated through the intersection. Yeah, this wild goose chase was likely a lost cause, but by God he would see it through to the end. He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t follow every lead no matter where it led. Whether valid or not, his cop instincts told him the man at the Havanabia knew something about his daughter. He wanted to find out what.

  “I would prefer not to go back to the motel we were at last night,” Fran said.

  “Don’t worry. Agent Button made a reservation for us at a motel the feds use. We’ll even get a government rate.”

  She nodded, but didn’t smile. His attempt at lightening her mood had fallen flat.

  After parking in a space reserved for registration in the new motel, he turned to observe Fran and hated the tight expression on her beautiful face. She stared into the lobby. She had to be exhausted. Neither one of them had slept last night. Maybe a nap would help her mood.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could use some rest,” he said.

  “I thought you had to be back at work.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to ask for more time.”

  She finally turned to him. God, but her eyes looked sad. “Can you do that?”

  “Oh, I can ask. I’m not sure what the response will be.”

  “Will you get in trouble?” she asked softly.

  “Let me worry about my job, Fran. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

  She lifted her lips in an attempt at a smile.

  “Wait here while I get our key. I’ll insist on the second floor this time.”

  Once he’d registered and transferred their luggage into the room, which had two double beds as requested, Dale took the bed closest to the door, pulled the bedspread down and stretched out on the blanket underneath.

  Fran sat on the edge of the other bed, her gaze fixed on the window, which was covered by drapes. No one could see inside. He’d bolted the door.

  “Are we safe here?” she asked.

  He sat up and faced her, their knees almost touching. “Is that what you’re so worried about?”

  “It is one thing I am worried about.”

  “No one followed us. I’m certain of that. And Button’s team removed the bug from my vehicle. No one knows where we are.”

  She nodded, retrieved a cosmetics bag from her suitcase, stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

  Dale blew out a breath. He needed to call Marshall, a phone conversation he was not looking forward to, and he didn’t want Fran to hear what transpired. No question Marshall would be pissed. Plus, Marshall had strongly hinted that asking for more time would put assignment to the terrorism task force in jeopardy.

  Well, his lieutenant would just have to be pissed. Dale relaxed against the headboard and made the call.

  When Marshall came on the line, Dale said. “LT, this is Baldwin.”

  “Brand-new Detective Baldwin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s going on, Baldwin?”

  “I need more time, sir.”

  “More personal business?”

  “The same business, but, yes, sir.”

  “Business you still don’t want to share.”

  Dale closed his eyes. Did he want to tell his lieutenant that an old girlfriend had shown up after over a decade asking for his help to find their missing daughter? That made him sound like some sort of jerk. He hadn’t known the daughter existed, but still. He didn’t want his superior officer to think he was the kind of man who avoided responsibility.

  “It’s complicated, sir.”

  “I figured that when I received an inquiry about your status from the Tampa FBI office.”

  Dale sat up and placed his feet on the floor. “You did?”

  “A phone call from one Special Agent Reginald Button.”

  Dale stood and paced. Damn, Button had checked him out with his department. The agent hadn’t mentioned that, but of course the call made sense. A law enforcement officer Button didn’t know had shown up making a lot of requests for FBI help. Javi had vouched for him, but maybe that wasn’t enough.

  “Are you still in Tampa?” Marshall demanded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you don’t want to explain why you’re on the FBI’s radar over there?”

  “I’m working with Agent Button, sir.”

  “Working with him on what?” Marshall demanded. “I don’t recall giving you authorization to liaison with the feds.”

  “I’ll make a full report when I return to duty, sir.”

  After a long pause, Marshall said, “I look forward to that report. Be in my office at six a.m. Saturday or bring your union rep when you bother to show.” He disconnected.

  “Yes, sir,” Dale muttered, although his lieutenant couldn’t hear him. He tossed the phone on the table with a clatter. Yeah, Marshall was definitely pissed, but at least he’d given him until 6:00 a.m. Saturday.

  This was Thursday night, so that gave him thirty-six hours.

  If he hadn’t found Bella by then, he had to make a decision. His future career or forget about his daughter even having a future.

  What was he thinking? Without her inhalers, Bella didn’t have thirty-six hours.

  * * *

  FRAN OPENED THE door to the bathroom and froze when she heard Dale say, “I’ll make a full report when I return to duty, sir.”

  He was speaking to his lieutenant. From his tone of voice, the conversation was not going well.

  She entered the room and found Dale standing with his arms crossed over his chest staring at the closed drapes. He hadn’t turned on any lights. Dim sunlight streamed in around the borders of the blackout curtains putting his body in silhouette. She could not see his face.

  “Was that your boss?” she asked.

  Dale turned. “Yeah, I let him know I need more time.”

  “Was he okay with that?”

  “Hey, I told you to let me worry about my job.”

  She nodded. Dale was protecting her, did not want her to know that he had trouble at work. He sensed that she could not stand to hear more bad news.

  Needing to touch him, she moved toward him.

  He opened his arms wide, encouraging her approach, and then enclosed her in a warm embrace. She placed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes as he hugged her tight. His heart thudded beneath her ear. Without speaking, they clung to each other.

  Maybe he needed someone to lean on right now, too.

  Because of mistakes made so long ago, both of their lives were disintegrating around them. They had tried, tried so very hard, but there was nothing they could do to stop the horrible rush of events that spelled Bella’s doom.

  Dale placed a finger under her chin and raised her face toward him. His eyes burned into hers.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Fran.” His voice was soft, his breath featherlight across her chin.

  Yes, her soul answered, even if her conscious mind could not articulate the words. Please, please do.

  She stood on her toes to bring her mouth closer to his, welcoming the pressure of his lips on hers. The kiss—their first kiss in more than twelve years—began gently, as if she were fragile and he was afraid to hurt her. Or as if he worried she did not want this intimacy. She opened her mouth to encourage him. Wh
en his tongue curled around hers, she moaned softly and enjoyed the long, deep kiss. Oh, I remember this. I remember this. This is what it feels like to want a man more than anything else in the world.

  Dale placed a hand on her buttock to urge her closer, allowing her to feel his erection. Thrilled at the proof that he wanted her, that he also remembered how they used to be, she pressed her hips into his and initiated a slow circular motion, one no man could mistake.

  With a groan, he broke the kiss and stared down at her. She remembered that look. How it made her feel. How it still makes me feel.

  She met his gaze and lifted a hand to his cheek.

  “You have such a beautiful mouth,” she whispered. She trailed a finger over to his lips and traced their outline. “I used to dream about your kisses, how they made me feel.”

  He flattened her palm against his mouth and kissed it. She sucked in a breath when he tickled her flesh with his tongue.

  “I never stopped loving you, Dale.”

  “God, Frannie.” He spoke her name roughly, as if it hurt him to say it out loud.

  He cupped her buttocks with both hands and lifted her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him again as he walked them toward his bed.

  He placed one knee on the mattress and leaned over, dropping her on the sheet. His eyes burned into hers. He didn’t move. What was he thinking?

  She reached for the buttons on his shirt and released them one by one. This was no time for thought. She’d done enough thinking for an entire lifetime. She needed to see his body. She’d wanted to see Dale without any clothing on since the moment she’d laid eyes on him in that bar with his friends. And right now he had too much clothing on for what she wanted to happen, what had to happen.

  He didn’t object, did nothing to stop her actions. His gaze continued to burn into hers, but still he didn’t move.

  She came to her knees on the mattress, pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and then lifted his white T-shirt over his head. She dropped the garment to the floor and stared at the sculpted chest before her.