He’d changed. Life without Piper made everything else feel vacant. So what if he didn’t get the promotion, if it went to Eisenhower? It didn’t matter. Nothing did now, as far as his career was concerned. Life without Piper made everything wrong with the world, and no other remedy could right it.
Even if Agent Valentine got her way and had him prosecuted, if he spent time in jail, if he owed the government a quarter of a million dollar fine, none of that mattered. Not now.
Even if he was plodding toward his doom now, to meet with Crockett, where the boss’s last move before his retirement exit was to inform Zach he was not only being fired but he was also about to be prosecuted for stealing the company’s jet, it didn’t matter.
Losing Piper made everything else’s import pale.
Crockett had called him in. He passed Cora’s desk, and she buzzed him back to the sanctum, a crease between her brows, and her lips forming a horizontal line. Her silence felt like a harbinger. An axe was about to fall, but Zach couldn’t feel any of the impending doom through the numbness that cocooned him.
Crockett greeted him at the door, and Zach decided it would be best to lead with confession. It would be the masculine thing to do.
“Sir, first of all, I need to express my apologies.”
“Yes, you do.” Crockett offered Zach a seat.
Zach preferred to stand. “My actions of week before last are only possible to explain in light of what else followed.”
“Missing the interview, shah!” Crockett waved it away. “Don’t go bothering with that. I’d already made up my mind, you know.”
He had? So then, why the formality of an interview? Why put him through that rigmarole if the partnership was foreordained to be Eisenhower’s, er, Austin’s, or whoever. Ire seeped through the anesthetic coating Zach’s soul.
“I assume you gave the partnership to Austin.”
“Indeed.”
“I can’t blame you. He’s nothing if not tenacious. That settlement of Bingham v. Kempton had to contribute to the decision.”
“Oh, not Mr. Austin—Mrs. Austin. About Bingham, that was probably what sealed it against Eisenhower. It was supposed to drag on forever, which was why we put him on it—he was the slowest attorney on staff. Well, he botched that, and he’s fired.”
“Fired! For settling a case?”
“No, no. It was a series of infractions, all well-documented, believe me. Most of them involved idleness. Some involved sloppy work.”
Probably none as serious as stealing the corporate jet, Zach would wager. He could almost feel the whoosh of the axe against the back of his neck as it loomed.
Crockett picked his teeth with a pen cap. “The wave crested against him when we found out he’d married Sylvia to advance in the company, with an eye that he could continue to do nothing and just being married to a hardworking associate would put him into a better light. Some dunderhead told him there was an unwritten rule that all partners at Crockett, Bowie, and Houston have to be married.”
Before he could stop himself, Zach had blurted, “They don’t?” He choked back his words. “Because…rumors fly.”
Crockett gave a dry laugh. “How stupid do you think we’d have to be to implement a policy like that? We promoted Sylvia Nakaumura Austin based on her merits of working here for fifteen years. She was our pick long ago. The only hesitation we harbored was that she’d chosen Eisenhower as a crony, and then a husband, but we finally overlooked that and considered her merits and what she brings to the firm. No, the promotion criteria was not marital status. Ha, ha. What Crockett, Bowie, and Houston values is loyalty. Loyalty to home, to family, to country, and to the firm.”
Okayyyyy. Zach’s head spun.
“Speaking of family, I’d like to talk wives.”
Zach didn’t respond. His mind flashed to Piper being escorted from a courtroom in cuffs.
“My wife likes Chile. She’s living there already and getting quite involved in an ex-pat cooking club, in fact, which is one reason I called you in.”
Zach decided to take a seat in the wingback chair, since his knees weren’t supporting him well. Cooking club in Chile?
“What could I have to do with that?”
“Your wife made the jalapeño corn you brought to the party two weeks ago.”
“Yeah?” So what? Piper was gone. She’d never be making that for him again, unless Zach could pull off a miracle.
“I’ll need that recipe. Or, rather, my wife will. And permission to replicate it for the wives’ club in Santiago. Mrs. Crockett says it is the best thing she’s ever tasted, and she would like to enter it in their cooking contest. It’s national there, and your wife would be credited as the recipe source, of course. There’s a cash prize to be split between the winning chef and recipe creator, plus a lot of news coverage. Providing Mrs. Crockett and Mrs. Travis are the winners—and how can they not be, considering that corn’s delicious flavor—their recipe will be featured on a national cooking show and receive the Ambassador’s Award, which, as Mrs. Crockett tells me, is quite coveted.”
“I’ll, uh, see what I can do. I mean, I can’t ask her in person.” It was the middle of the night in New Zealand. Piper might not get the message, either. She hadn’t been responding to his calls. If their first real conversation was his asking her for permission to use a recipe, he would feel like a heel. But what other choice did he have in this moment? He prayed Piper would understand—if she got his message at all. He’d been going stir crazy over the fact she hadn’t been answering his calls. “I’ll, uh text her.”
“I’m confused.” Crockett’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? If you can’t get the recipe, my wife will be crushed. Her other efforts have not been satisfactory, and the judging for the contest happens to be tomorrow.”
Time crunches—Zach knew all about them.
“It rolls into the explanation of my absence last week, as well as my unscheduled use of the corporate jet.” Zach bit the bullet and gave Crockett a brief on the events of the previous days, including the border detainment in Canada, the court hearing in front of Judge Underdown, and Piper’s final removal. By some miracle, he was able to keep the hitch out of his voice, even if he couldn’t control the pounding ache in his chest as he recounted the story.
“From what I have been told, there is a penalty and a potential incarceration waiting in the wings for me.” He looked at the floor, knowing he probably owed everyone at CBH a big, fat apology for disgracing the tradition and hallowed gravitas they’d honed over the years.
“But,” Crockett eyed him, “for what motivation? It’s clear as day that you’re in love with your wife.” To this, Zach gave a shallow nod. Crockett clapped loudly. “This, this is the kind of loyalty we look for at Crockett, Bowie and Houston: pushing the envelope, going to extreme lengths to protect wives and children.” Crockett got up from his chair and paced behind his desk.
Taken aback, Zach asked, “Even if it involves taking the CBH jet in the middle of the night?”
“She was a client, right? You represented her in court? That’s what it’s for.”
Zach nodded.
“Forget it. What is your plan to get her back here?”
This was the last thing Zach expected to be asked in this interview. “I don’t know.”
Crockett came over and put a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Well, I have no doubt it will come to you, young man.”
Zach had his doubts.
“Now, I like you, Travis. Besides the recipe, I called you in for another reason.” Crockett gave a short heh-heh. “Probably should have led with it. Would’ve been more professional. But I’m retiring, and I can’t be too rigid these days. The Chilean air will do that to a man.” Crockett got a faraway look, as if he were picturing himself on a Pacific beach. “What I want to talk about is that partnership.”
“The one you gave to Sylvia Nakamura, er, Austin?”
“No, not that one. The other one we never filled when the original
Bowie retired fifteen years ago. Before your time. The board determined to keep one open slot for an exceptional person.”
“Really.” Zach didn’t believe it.
“Okay, I’m making that up. Fine.” Crockett mashed his palms together and perched on the edge of his spacious desk. “What I’m saying is I like you and I want my last move in the company to be a strong one, one I can be proud of.”
“Okay.” Zach didn’t let hope confuse him now. He couldn’t let himself be raised only to be dropped.
“Now that I’ve met you and your wife, seen you together, and of course over the years observed your work ethic and ability to bring in revenue, I’d be crazy not to open an additional partnership for you. When you failed to show up for your interview, it tied my hands. Now that I know why you committed the proverbial failure to appear, I support it wholeheartedly.”
The lump that had lodged in Zach’s throat for the past ten minutes evaporated. “You’re opening a partnership?”
“For you. Provided—” Crockett pointed a halting finger at Zach. “—you do your letter best to get that wife of yours home where she belongs. Now, tell me what I can do to help.”
Zach didn’t hesitate. “You could use your contacts to get me an appointment at Immigration and Customs Enforcement.”
“Done.” Crockett’s chin jutted. “With anyone in particular?”
“The boss of Agent Nicole Valentine.”
∞∞∞
Half an hour later, Crockett had worked his CBH wizardry, and Zach stood in the icy-chill air of the government office staring down at Valentine’s boss. Standard-issue furniture right down to the clock on the wall surrounded him, but the room smelled like a peach candle.
Zach folded his arms across his chest and watched as Agent Valentine’s direct superior, Agent Danvers, scanned the material he’d brought. But the two of them weren’t alone in the room. Standing beside Zach and shifting her weight, Valentine sweated. Zach could feel the heat coming off her. Agent Danvers looked up after a moment and spoke to Valentine.
“I wanted you to be here to defend yourself.” Danvers looked up. “I don’t like doing things behind my agents’ backs.”
“I appreciate that, sir.” Valentine maintained her bravado, but Zach sensed a dip in it. “I value my position in Enforcement and Removal Operations.”
Danvers looked up, his eye skeptical. “I say I don’t like things done behind my agents’ backs, but it would seem you, Valentine, don’t share my philosophy.”
“Of course I do, sir. Transparency is the watchword of this agency. I know that as well as I know my own name.” Valentine’s voice trailed off as Danvers held up a document. Obviously, she recognized it on sight. Zach observed as a change came over her. Next, Danvers held up a photograph of Valentine and Mike canoodling, followed by another, and another. Within seconds, her shoulders had slumped. “I can explain all of that.”
Sure, she could. The final document, Danvers began to read aloud. It was a recap of the conversation Zach had overheard at the café that morning, where Valentine and Mike had colluded to attack Piper, based on Mike’s vendetta against her.
“You were dating?” Danvers asked. “Or, should I say, are dating this man?”
“Sir—” Valentine’s voice quavered. “As a former Texas Ranger, he possesses a sense of justice similar to my own, to our agency’s own, and…”
Danvers held up a hand. “This isn’t about that so much, Valentine.” He cleared his voice. Zach almost felt sorry for her, for what was going to happen next.
Almost.
“Are you aware, Agent Valentine, that this man,” Danvers pointed to Mike in the most passionate depiction of the two of them, “has been convicted for stalking? That afterward, he was fired from his position as a Ranger, and that since that time he has been on a watch list?”
Of psychos, Zach could add.
Agent Valentine collapsed into the chair.
“No,” she whispered.
“After looking over the material Mr. Travis brought, it is my belief that Mike gave you the tip about Mrs. Travis based on sour grapes.”
“Also called revenge.” Valentine was staring at the floor.
Zach could see the stuffing going right out of her. Revenge and its consequences spun in the air all around them. It was almost pathetic to watch the truth soak in—that Mike had never been interested in Valentine, that he’d used her for his mission of spite.
Danvers placed the photos back in the folder. “I told you this for your safety.”
“Thank you, sir.” Valentine sat straighter. “May I get back to work now?”
The look on Danvers’s face told Valentine the answer to that was a whole big bowl of nope.
“Thanks, Agent Danvers,” Zach said. “I’ll be going now.” He left so Valentine’s career could collide with the rocks in privacy.
Mission accomplished.
∞∞∞
Outside the ICE offices, Zach’s phone signaled a text. He looked down and saw her name, and relief baptized him. After not hearing back for a few days, he’d begun to fear she was in serious trouble. He stabbed at the phone, aching to know she was all right, but also wondering why she’d responded to this question and not his earlier attempts to contact her.
She must have her reasons. He just wished he could be with her.
Minutes later, he was back in Crockett’s office.
“Sir? I just heard from Piper. She messaged the corn recipe and asked whether your wife would also like her recipe for Chilean Sea Bass, since Mrs. Crockett is based in Chile.” Zach couldn’t help thinking, again, that Piper was a genius. “Trust me, sir. She does want it. The recipe might be what made me first fall in love with my wife.”
Piper, the genius, so generous, even with valuable intellectual property—he missed her like an amputee missed a leg. When he got her back here, and he was partner, and…
Suddenly, the implications of the partnership offer slammed into him.
“Sir, I don’t know how I can accept the position if I’ll be fined, jailed, and possibly disbarred.”
Crockett threw his head back and laughed.
“With a love for her like yours burning as bright as that? Hardly! We’ve got a hundred witnesses just at CBH alone who’d come testify that they saw your sincere relationship in action at the staff potluck. The way the two of you completely creamed out at the quiz was the best thing all year. Too in love to notice details—that’s what we called it afterward.”
They did?
“Hasty weddings are no crime.” Crockett snorted. “Mrs. Crockett and I married two weeks after we met. Of course, I was headed to ’Nam, but that doesn’t matter. We were in love, like you two.
“Now. Quit worrying about that fine and jail time threat. We can make all that go away. Get to work sleuthing out a legal argument, which is what you do best. You have a girl to get back into the country—and your arms.” Crockett winked suggestively.
It didn’t even bother Zach; he had a loophole to find.
∞∞∞
A full week cooking at Hobbit Households, and Piper placed Late Nights, a meal served after nine p.m., out for the buffet line. Tonight was a shrimp curry served with a side of basmati rice. They liked the fragrant rices around here, it seemed. A couple of days ago when she’d created a hot, stuffed grape leaf with lamb and jasmine rice, they’d gone ape. Of course, the colonists were very satisfying people to cook for. They gushed with praise over every meal she’d made them. But that didn’t change the fact that this much cooking—from six a.m. to midnight, with cleanup, was going to be the death of her.
One week would turn into two, which would turn into a month, and she’d be baking for the Ebbles wedding.
She’d slide into this world, and disappear from all others.
Piper carried a hot vat of curry sauce with shrimp out to the buffet warmers. It was the third one. A cheer went up as she entered the room, and fifty colonists bellied up to the trough.
“Your food is pure elven magic, Mrs. Travis,” one bearded fellow said with a broad grin and a fleck of shrimp on the tip of his mustache.
“Thank you. I’m so glad you like it.”
They’d downed the previous two and begged for more. This was the last of it, so she hoped they’d eventually, please, heavens above, get full and quit eating for the night. In the afternoon she’d concocted a batch of homemade buttermilk doughnuts to set aside with cocoa for their midnight snack. She just couldn’t do another meal prep and still rise for breakfast.
Returning to the kitchen, she surveyed the million dirty dishes that still awaited her. At least she didn’t have to plate for Late Nights. By the end of each day, she’d been thrashed. More than ever she appreciated Garrett and his help in the kitchen with serving and dishes. If she ever saw him again, she’d be the one gushing with praise.
Rather than start in on the task just yet, she flopped onto a chair while hot water filled the industrial size sink. Steam rose in billows, like the clouds that floated in her mind, taking her back to Texas. She missed the broad, clear skies over Texas. She missed the y’alls and the yes, ma’ams, and the deep fried okra, and the kolache sausage rolls at the gas stations.
She missed home.
But more than that, she missed Zach.
A knock sounded on the swinging door between the dining room and the kitchen. Piper snapped back to life, hurtling to her feet to shut off the hot water before the sink overflowed with it. Dread filled her—if they’d already cleared out the shrimp curry sauce and were here to demand more, she had nothing to give them. The shrimp was gone, and her energy reservoirs were at zero.
She’d never make it months. She’d die a cooking slave.
“Piper?” Her mom poked her head in. “The mayor wants to talk to you.”
Oh, no. Piper’s shoulders dropped. She’d failed them, and they were going to consign her to twenty years’ hard labor in the salt mines of the Hobbit Households kitchen.
In bustled Mayor Ebbles, green wool suit buttoned over his protruding stomach. Back home she would have assumed it was a beer belly, but here it had to be just plain food. Maybe some ale contributed to it, but whatever. It led the way.
Legally in Love Boxed Set 1 Page 77