by Angela Evans
“They’re three and four. They’re a handful, but also the light of my life. They stay with my Mom when I’m at work. She works evenings waiting tables and sometimes tending bar at South of the Border, so since I work in the daytime and she works evenings, everything works out perfect. At least in theory.” Leslie laughed as if to say things rarely worked out as planned. “My husband died in a car accident when the youngest was just a baby, so it’s just me and them now.”
“I can tell you love them a lot and between me and you, that’s what matters most. My parents died a few years ago, and I miss them every day, but I never doubted they loved me and my brothers.”
The two worked and chatted easily for the next two hours. Amelia piped icing into a variety of flowers and Leslie got all of the various size cake pans into the oven, along with a couple of extras just in case one of them cracked when they were stacking the cake.
“Do you want me to mix a batch of scratch icing?” Leslie asked when the cakes were all in the oven.
“That would be great. I’m afraid I’m a little rustier than I anticipated, so these are taking me longer than I planned.” She was leaning over working on the island countertop and her lower back was beginning to ache. Standing up, she stretched and arched her back feeling the muscles protest.
“They might be taking a while, but they are gorgeous. This looks exactly like the flowers growing in my mother’s garden.”
“Thank you. I don’t know the name of them, but there are some growing near my bungalow at Casa Blanca. They smell like heaven.” Amelia made a mental note to find the name of them because if she did end up staying in Florida she would want some of those growing by her new place. “I think we should just clean up a little. Dex’s mom is coming by in a half-hour to see what we have planned for her cake.”
“Dex’s mom?” Leslie asked with curiosity practically oozing from the question.
Amelia groaned inwardly. She had referred to Patrice as Dex’s mom instead of as the client or by her first name, a dead giveaway her focus was more on the son of the bride than it was on the bride. “The bride’s son and I have been…” There was simply no way to put a labor on her relationship with Dex. Were they sleeping together? Yes. Were they dating? Well, strictly speaking there had been no dates, so no. Did she have feelings for him? Oh boy, did she ever.
“Having a fling?” Leslie asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s as good a way to describe it as anything I can come up with,” Amelia laughed. “He’s tall, dark, and handsome. He’s also brooding and mysterious, and probably more than a little damaged, but did I mention he’s handsome?”
“You’re on vacation, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with having a vacation fling,” Leslie reminded her as she filled the oversized sink with hot soapy dish water and began to hand wash the bowls and utensils they had dirtied.
“The thing is, I don’t know that I want it to be just a vacation fling. That’s the craziest thing I have ever said out loud.” Amelia slumped back against the door to the walk-in cooler letting her head fall back.
“Does he feel the same way?” Leslie asked.
“He’d have to communicate for me to know,” Amelia groaned.
“Not much of a talker, huh? My husband was like that, too. Some guys prefer to show you how they feel instead of telling you. They don’t realize women need the words, too.” Leslie looked wistful as she spoke of her husband.
“The thing is, I came here to figure out what I wanted to do with my life and to get over my cheating fiancé. I didn’t intend to find myself considering a move to Florida and falling in love with the first guy who came along.” Amelia groaned in despair.
“Whoa. Two big things in that declaration and I’ve only known you for a few hours. You’re thinking of staying here and doing what…running the bakery? And the L-word? That is definitely more than a vacation fling.”
“Running a bakery has been the only thing I ever wanted to do since I was a kid. My parents died and I ended up running the kitchen in our family lodge and before I knew it, years flew by. The fiancé, honestly finding out he was cheating just gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get out of a relationship that was comfortable at best. Things with Dex are definitely not just comfortable, they’re like…fireworks thrown in a can of gasoline!”
“Sounds explosive.”
That comment had her memory flashing back to the first time she’d made love with Dex. Yeah, explosive was a good way to put it.
“The look on your face right now looks like those women on the cover of the sexy romance novels my mother reads.” Leslie definitely had a sense of humor. Amelia could get used to working with her every day.
Before Amelia could come up with any kind of a response, she heard a knock at the door letting her know Dex’s mother and sisters had arrived for their consultation. Soon the bakery was filled with happy laughter, bubbling conversation, and more excitement than the small building could possibly contain.
* * *
As Dex left the police station, he drove slowly past the bakery, checking to make sure everything looked okay. He could see his entire family gathered inside and seeing them where he knew Amelia was just solidified his resolve to keep all of them safe by putting these guys behind bars where they belonged.
He’d stopped at the police station to let the police chief know he was off-duty, but a case had followed him to town. As he’d expected, the chief already had an idea of the new trouble who had washed up on his shores. Aside from offering Dex the use of any of the resources available in the department, he’d let Dex go off to do what he needed to do with his blessings and no interference. Dex had made another stop and exchanged phone numbers with the lead detective in the squad room so they could get in touch with each other easily in case Dex needed backup. But he didn’t plan on needing, or waiting, for backup.
His phone rang and Dex snatched it up from the cup holder on the second ring.
“I hear you’re making friends in paradise.” His Captain’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Friends?” Dex asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“I already got a call from my counterpart in Mimosa Key,” Captain Morrison explained.
“Yeah, I just left there,” Dex confirmed.
“I won’t even pretend to think you did it because it follows protocol. You did it because you want someone who will come running if you get your ass in hot water.”
“Damn straight.” Dex didn’t bother to lie. “I don’t expect these guys to go down easy, but they are going down one way or another.”
“It’s about time.”
Dex gave a grunt of agreement and acknowledged the captain was right. He’d spent way too much time on this case. All because he thought he could get Zack out. He should never have called an audible, and he should never have stayed undercover for as long as he had. It had affected him in ways he’d never expected and now he was fighting to find his way back to the light, to the man he used to be. Zack was dead; he couldn’t change that now and in the end all the work he’d done to get him out of the drug life had been for nothing. Zack may never have left, but now they’d never know for sure.
“I’ll call in when I have something to report,” Dex said into the phone.
“No, you won’t.” His captain knew him too well.
“You’re probably right,” Dex said and ended the call. He didn’t have time to be distracted now. He had a job to do.
Making a right turn off of Center Street, he headed back to the part of town where he had seen the familiar face just yesterday. The face of the man he’d been hunting for the last year of his life. The man known only to him as The Boss. He’d gotten close; he’d been within striking distance before the wreck. Now he was not giving up because giving up meant putting Amelia, his mother, and his sisters in danger.
Amelia.
Just thinking her name was a distraction. He could still smell her skin on him. If he closed his eyes he could h
ear the sounds she made when he was deep inside her. When he was with her he felt more like himself than he had in years. He felt lighter, freer, and relaxed. He wanted to nail The Boss and rush back to her. It took all his self-control to drive the speed limit, to force his brain to formulate a plan, to rely on his years of training and experience and not just on the clawing need he felt to be with Amelia. He owed it to his captain for trusting him to stay undercover for longer than any cop should ever be, he owed it to Zack for the life he might have had, and he owed it to himself to bring the most important case of his life to a close.
He wasn’t worried about evidence; he wanted a confession. He wanted The Boss to admit who he was and what he’d done. The only problem was he had no idea how he was going to get it without breaking several of the laws he’d sworn to uphold. On a deep breath, he reined in his temper, adrenaline, and anything else inside him that was urging him to go faster and to not worry about things like rules, policies, and laws. He would do this right, dammit, because he was good at his job and not the kind of cop who threw their whole career away over a piece of ass.
Even as he let his mind form the thought he knew he was fooling himself. Amelia was so much more than that. She was enough to scare him shitless.
A lifetime of believing all relationships ended like his mother’s and father’s reared its head in his mind. He’d grown up helping his mom put food on the table. She was the parent who had raised him. But he also knew he shared half his DNA with a man who considered women a convenience, a means to an end, and something to leave when things got too complicated, or a better offer came along. Rather than end up leaving a family behind to fend for themselves, he’d always just kept his life neat and tidy. Focus on work and avoid relationships of any kind. The only thing he had that even came close to looking like a friendship was Captain Morrison. Most cops had partners, but his affinity for undercover work meant he worked solo most of the time. He had a few fellow cops that would come running, guns blazing, if he sent up a flare for help, but that was mostly because they knew he’d never ask for help.
Parking his car in the same spot where he’d seen The Boss entering a house a few days earlier, he stepped out into the shadow of a van parked in front of him. Pulling the hem of his shirt over the gun tucked in the waistband of his shorts he took a step towards the row of houses so he could slip behind them and get closer to the house where The Boss had been seen.
The shadows were long as the Florida sun was just beginning its descent towards the bay, turning the sky a variety of pastel colors. Dex wasn’t looking at the pretty sunset, though; he was trying to look inconspicuous as he crept through a suburban neighborhood. As he turned to look back over his shoulder towards the street, he thought he saw the headlights on the van he’d parked behind blink once. Questioning whether it was just the sun playing a trick on him he stood still for a moment and just studied the van to see if he’d really seen the headlights blink. He stared at the van for a full minute, just about to give up and turn back to the task at hand when the lights definitely blinked. Twice this time. The signal was unmistakable.
The van was exactly the type FBI or other agencies would use as surveillance. Plain white, nondescript, and absolutely devoid of anything that would call attention to it. No broken windows, no bumper stickers, decals, or logos. It didn’t have a busted headlight, a broken taillight, or even a broken antenna anyone would be able to recall when they tried to describe the van.
Taking a few steps back towards the van, Dex watched carefully. Even though the van could be a law enforcement surveillance vehicle, it could also be a trick. He was no longer moving in the world of the drug lords undercover, posing as one of them; his cover was blown. They knew who he was and they most definitely knew where he was. As much as he’d spent his professional life on edge, watching his own back, he needed to do that tenfold now if he wanted to get out of this alive.
The back door of the van moved almost imperceptibly. Someone inside had unlatched the door. Anyone else looking at the van would not even have noticed. Dex knew for sure it was law enforcement on the other side of that door. At least, that’s what he told himself as he opened it.
“Detective Dexter?” A voice from inside the shadowy interior of the van spoke his name.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m your new best friend,” the ominous voice replied. Dex was in no mood for games and immediately moved to close the van door and walk away only to be called back. “Special Agent James Anderson, and the person you’re looking for isn’t in the house.”
“How do you know who I’m looking for?” Dex asked, mostly just to see if he got an answer.
A file folder landed at the edge of the van floor, just enough out of the shadows of the interior for Dex to see a photograph of The Boss, with his arm casually slung around Zack. Damned if it didn’t make his gut clench to see that kid’s smiling face again. “James Warren, aka The Boss, aka The Bad News Man.”
“James Warren,” Dex repeated his name. He had heard the alias and a few others. He’d often suspected the thug thought them up himself to add to his own reputation.
“Yeah, that’s his real name. Get in and shut the door.”
Dex picked up the file and climbed inside the van, closing the door behind him sealing both of them in the dark but thankfully cool interior.
“Why are you watching him? Where is he if he’s not in the house?” Dex fired questions at the FBI special agent. The agent sat on the opposite side of the van where he could see out the passenger’s side window without being seen. One wall of the van was filled with electronic surveillance equipment. The other side held tactical gear including a vest with the letters FBI on the front, weapons, and a variety of camera lenses and binoculars.
Ignoring him for a moment Agent Anderson snapped a photo through the window and took a drink from the bottle of water resting near him before he answered. “I saw you come by the other day, figured you knew they had tailed you here.”
Multiple red flags went up for Dex. “You have one of those files on me?” He asked nodding towards the file on Warren.
“Every cop has a file, yours just happened to cross my desk.” Anderson’s cryptic answers were starting to piss him off.
“I’m not much for word games so if you want to spit out whatever you’re trying to say, I’m eager to listen. But if you just want to speak in half-answers and sarcastic nonsense, then I’ll just head back out the door.” Dex made a move for the door and again was stopped.
“Force of habit. You work for the Bureau long enough and it happens to all of us. Never tell more than you have to, always keep something back to cover your own ass,” Anderson apologized. “There’s a spot open on my team and your name was floated as one of the best cops we should look at to fill it.”
Whoa. What? The FBI was looking at him? “Who floated my name?”
“Your captain,” Anderson answered. “Unfortunately we don’t have time to get distracted by that right now.”
Chapter Six
Amelia had never been so cold in her entire life. One winter as a little girl she had slipped outside to see the snow falling and the door had locked behind her; for ten minutes she’d been outside in her nightgown and slippers before her mother had found her. She remembered coming in to sit by the fireplace and getting to have extra marshmallows in her hot cocoa. She remembered the feeling slowly and painfully returning to her toes as she warmed up. But that cold was nothing compared to the cold that seemed to be clawing its way into her body with every breath she took.
Patrice wept noisily in the corner of the walk-in cooler at the bakery. Naomi and Francine held her and tried to calm her down, but she seemed to be getting more hysterical with each passing minute. Amelia and Leslie were closest to the door, having been the last two shoved inside the cooler before the intruder had locked the door from the outside.
“Is there any way out of here?” Amelia whispered to Leslie, hoping and praying the other woman�
�s knowledge of the bakery would somehow benefit them now.
“The cooler sometimes sticks, and doesn’t close enough to latch tightly. We could push on the door and see if it pops open, but if he’s standing right there…” Leslie didn’t have to finish the thought. Amelia shuddered as much from the idea of what would happen as she did from the cold.
“Dex will come,” Patrice declared through her tears. “My son will save us.”
Amelia wasn’t sure if that would happen or not. Dex had no reason to come to the bakery. If he came by her bungalow later and she wasn’t there, he might not even think that was unusual; they didn’t have a date. They had never had a date. Still, the time she had spent with him meant more to her than she could describe. The way she felt when she was with him was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. If she closed her eyes right now she could hear his voice, she could feel his hands on her flesh, and she could smell the way his skin smelled when they made love.
The future was as uncertain as it could possibly be when it came to her relationship with Dex, but she was determined to get out of this cooler and tell him how he made her feel.
To Leslie she said, “We can’t risk that, but it’s good to know it’s an option if an opportunity presents.”
“What are we going to do?” Naomi whispered.
“Dex told me the guys he’s been after for over a year were after him, and they might come after us to get to him. He’ll come looking as soon as he realizes none of us are where he expects us to be.” Amelia said with more confidence than she was feeling. Fake it until you make it, that’s what her mother had always told her. Of course that was referring to things like trying out for the school play or making new friends. She didn’t really have any advice that applied to being held hostage in a walk-in cooler at a bakery while waiting for the guy she’d been sleeping with to come and rescue her. Amelia thought about that for a minute and realized there was a very good reason why her mother had never given her advice about being rescued; because her mother had taught her how to rescue herself. She wasn’t the damsel in distress type, never had been. When she had a flat tire, she changed it herself. If she realized she was living a life other than the one she had planned for herself, she damn well did something about it.