L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent

by Style, Linda

  He rubbed his chin. “I’ll tell Alfredo in the morning before we go. At least he’ll be aware of what happened and can keep watch when he has other guests. Will that make you happy?”

  “I guess.” She shrugged.

  “Okay, my turn for the shower, but you’re going to have to stay inside. Treat yourself to one of these fruit drinks. They’re refreshing.”

  Fine with her. Once he was in the shower, she found her nightshirt, slipped it on along with a pair of cotton panties, then placed her silver hoop earrings on the table by the window where Adam had placed some change and things from his pocket. One looked like a medal of some kind.

  She picked it up. A Medal of Valor. She remembered after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, which seemed so long ago now, several officers had received the award for bravery. She’d known then that not all police officers were like her father.

  That Adam had received a medal like that for an act of bravery didn’t surprise her. But that he carried it with him did. Whatever he’d received it for must’ve been terribly important to him.

  Hearing the water shut off, she quickly took the blanket, which they surely didn’t need, rolled it into a tube and arranged it as a barrier down the middle of the bed. She crawled under the sheet on her side and was sitting up drinking the fruit punch when Adam came out of the shower.

  His hair, wet and slicked back, looked darker. The towel was hitched around his hips, and she had difficulty dragging her gaze away.

  “I’ve got to drop this towel to put something on,” he said. “You can either close your eyes or you can watch.” He grinned. “I’m okay with either.”

  She quickly glanced away and shut her eyes, mostly because she was embarrassed. She’d love to watch and he probably knew it.

  Seconds later he said “Okay. You’re safe now.”

  He was wearing a pair of cutoff sweatpants that hung low on his hips and didn’t cover any more than the towel had. Suddenly she found it hard to breathe…as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

  When he crawled into bed beside her, the mattress dipped severely. She had to catch herself to keep from rolling into him.

  Getting comfortable in a sitting position, he said, “What the devil?” He flipped up the sheet, then burst into hearty laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He stopped laughing long enough to say, “Sweetheart, if I was interested, do you think that scrap of cloth would stop me?”

  Heat scored her cheeks.

  He chuckled while reaching for his drink from the nightstand. The affectionate smile he bestowed on her caught her off guard. “You’re too much, Jillian Sullivan, you know that?”

  Desire inhabited her body. Could a person be mortified and turned on at the same time? If not, this was a first.

  After a few sips of his drink, he set the glass on the nightstand, then lowered the white mosquito netting around them.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ADAM AWOKE FIRST TO FIND Jillian spooned against him, her tangled curls spread out on the pillow. Despite the man rummaging through their stuff last night and his concern about what awaited them here, he hadn’t slept so well since his partner was murdered and his marriage had ended.

  Now, leaning on one elbow, he watched her sleep. Just looking at her pulled at his insides and sent his pulse into overdrive. He passed a hand over the sheet along the length of her, letting his mind do the touching. Then he picked up a lock of her hair and curled it around a finger. It was just as silky soft as he’d imagined.

  But then, he’d imagined far too many things, and if he didn’t move away from her now, she was going to know exactly what was on his mind.

  He sent his thoughts in another direction—to the man who’d been in the room last night. What would anyone be looking for if it wasn’t money or drugs?

  Since they’d been asking about Corita Sullivan, it was logical to think there was a connection. Someone wanted to know why they were interested. And who, other than Jack Sullivan, would want to know that?

  One thing was clear—they’d probably never know who the guy was unless he came looking again.

  Jillian stirred, stretched and reached out. Her hand fell across his chest, warm and seeking.

  Man, oh, man. His thoughts could only go one direction with that happening. Just as he started to slide away, she snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest.

  He closed his eyes, allowing himself a second or two to savor the closeness. She was warm and soft and her scent was delicious.

  She moved and her hair brushed his face. He sucked in a deep breath. He could make love to her without a second’s thought. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he wouldn’t be able to walk if he kept this up much longer. He moved to the side and slipped from under her arm. She stirred, then kicked off the sheet.

  Her long legs were bare all the way up to her white cotton panties. His blood surged, and for a moment he wondered how receptive she’d be. It was a stupid thought, one he eliminated immediately.

  He didn’t know her very well, but he was certain she wasn’t into one-night stands. Unpredictable though she was, he knew she was the kind of woman who thought about the future. The fact that she ran a successful business and owned her own home and vehicle, free and clear, attested to that big time.

  Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could handle a one-nighter. Because then he’d have to think about other things besides the fact that he wanted her. He’d have to think about how he respected her for doing what she believed in, admired her for her loyalty, even though her scumbag husband didn’t deserve it. Worse yet, he’d have to think about how much he liked her.

  He swung his legs off the bed and stood. At his movement, her eyes blinked open.

  She stretched her arms above her head, then when she noticed he was there and standing beside the bed, she smiled.

  “Good morning.” Her languid morning voice was low and, to his ears, seductive. She was seductive, and she didn’t have a clue.

  “Good morning.”

  Still smiling, she trailed her gaze from his face down his chest to his hips.

  Instead of averting her gaze, she stared.

  Yeah. He was in full salute. He started for the bathroom. “Hope you slept well. We’ve got another big day ahead of us if we’re going to accomplish what we came here for.”

  He closed the curtain behind him. Maybe talking about the job would get his mind and his delinquent body headed in another direction.

  Jillian all but flew from the bed when Adam headed into the bathroom. Within seconds, she’d dabbed her underarms with deodorant, pulled on a pair of lightweight jeans and a red tank top, which she covered with a white safari shirt to protect her from mosquitoes. Then she gathered her unruly hair into a ponytail and fastened it with a red-white-and-blue band.

  Adam emerged from the bathroom and she went in to splash some water on her face and brush her teeth. When she came out, Adam was dressed in jeans and a blue denim shirt and ready to go.

  Within minutes they were packed up and on their way to the hospital, which wasn’t that far from the center of town. She suggested they go there directly and not bother with coffee and breakfast. They’d have enough time for that afterward.

  Mostly she just wanted to get it over with.

  Adam had balked, not particularly willing to delay his coffee, but in the end, he agreed. She didn’t know if he’d acquiesced because he understood her need, or because he didn’t want her to discover something without him.

  It didn’t matter to her. She had her own agenda. She would do what she had to do and go home. Being around Adam was more difficult than she’d imagined. Not because he was a pain in the ass, which he could be, but because she couldn’t seem to focus when he was there.

  Being around him made her think of things she shouldn’t, made her feel things she hadn’t felt before, not even when she was married…and suddenly a safe, pleasant life in the suburbs didn’t seem as importan
t as it had been before.

  Clouds of dust kicked up behind them as the VW clattered down the small dirt road toward the main part of town. They’d soon discovered that not all the streets were quaint and cobblestoned. Some were hard-packed dirt.

  Her nerves stretching tighter with each passing block, they kept driving until they reached the town square, where a statue of a conquistador on a horse stood in the middle of a grassy area. An enormous cathedral was the focal point on one side, and several one-story buildings surrounded the square on the other sides. A side street looked as if it was set up for a farmers’ market.

  After parking, Adam got out and inclined his head in the direction of a small white building next to the church. “According to Alfredo, that’s the hospital.”

  Jillian saw a red-cross emblem on one window. “It’s so small.”

  “From the size of the town, they’re lucky to have one at all.”

  With the exception of the farmers’ market activity, the streets were quiet. It was 8:00 a.m. but apparently the locals slept late. Her thoughts raced as fast as her pulse as they walked toward the hospital. She sped up her pace, wanting to get it over with.

  Adam held the door for her and her heart stalled as she stepped inside. No turning back now. A woman in a white nurse’s uniform sat at a desk and smiled as they approached her. Jillian smiled back, though she felt anything but happy. Why was she so nervous? Did she expect the worst?

  Adam appeared to have no qualms whatsoever and steamed ahead. In Spanish, he inquired about the woman named Corita Sullivan. After a bit of conversation, the nurse’s face looked stricken. She pressed a hand to her mouth and rattled off another string of words—the only one Jillian recognized was muerte. Spanish for death.

  Jillian’s heart plummeted. More conversation between the nurse and Adam, and then he thanked her, took Jillian’s arm and led her outside. “What? What is it?” she kept repeating as they crossed the street to a park bench and sat down.

  “So, spill. Is she dead?”

  He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Yes. About four weeks ago.”

  Jillian sank against the bench and let out a sigh. “Now what? Did the nurse say anything that could help us? Did you ask where Corita lived? About her next of kin? Where she was buried or if her husband had come to see her? What happened to her little boy? Did her husband—”

  “Whoa.” Adam held up a hand. “Let me tell you what she said, and then you can ask questions.”

  Jillian couldn’t help feeling impatient. It was so terrible that the woman, a little boy’s mother, had died, but she had to separate herself from all that and focus on her purpose, and the sooner they got this over with, the better.

  Adam leaned against the back of the bench next to her. “Maybe we should talk about it over coffee. There has to be a café around here somewhere.”

  “Tell me now. I need to know now.” She tapped her foot, nervous energy making her unable to sit still. “Then we’ll have breakfast and figure out what to do.”

  He pulled in some air, obviously reluctant to share. “She said Corita Sullivan had been sick for a long time and had sent her son to stay with a friend. Apparently the woman had no relatives except her son and her husband, who had never been to see her the whole time she’d been sick.

  The nurses thought he’d deserted her, but Corita Sullivan didn’t believe he’d do that. She told the nurse that if her husband came to the hospital, she should give him the directions to her friend’s so he could pick up the boy.”

  “And? Did he come?”

  Adam shook his head. “No.”

  Jillian slumped. A dead end. She thought for a second, then said, “Maybe her husband knew the friend and where to find the boy, or got directions from someone else. Maybe he picked up the boy and the friend knows where he went.”

  “I thought of that. I’ve got the directions to the friend’s here.” He held up a slip of paper. “A village called Cabacera. If the kid’s father went anywhere, I hope it was to find his son.”

  Jillian’s mouth fell open. “So that’s the plan? Find the boy and we might find his dad?”

  Adam looked at her. “You got a better idea, Sherlock?”

  “Well, how far is this place? I was going to try to find the address for the number I called from Chicago, go there and see if the man who answered is the same Jack Sullivan as the man in the photograph. Right now, all I know is that the number was listed in that name.”

  Frowning, she looked at him. “It’s not likely there’s more than one Jack Sullivan in Mirador, is it?”

  Adam shook his head. “No, and it’s a good idea. He gazed down the street. “Yeah. Definitely something to check out first. It could save me some time and a trip that could turn out to be for nothing. Let’s just hope he didn’t get spooked and took off.”

  That worried her, too.

  I’ll also check the map to see how far Cabacera is.”

  She noticed he used the first person. It could save me some time. Obviously he planned to go alone. Fat chance that! “So, shall we try it?”

  He cracked his knuckles one at a time. Was he debating about what to do? Whether he should do it with her or not? She couldn’t forget that he hadn’t wanted her along to begin with.

  Finally he said, “Let’s find a place for breakfast before we decide anything.”

  As they walked to the car, Jillian saw that the streets were a little busier. Several children had come to play on the edge of the green in the square, and a couple of women, probably the children’s mothers, stood nearby exchanging torrents of Spanish.

  She and Adam climbed into the car and drove along the nearest street, stopping at the first café they saw. Again they sat near the window so Adam could keep an eye on the car.

  A young girl of about twelve took their orders, then called them out to someone, probably her mother in the back. Hot black coffee came within seconds, and Jillian waited for Adam to take a couple of swallows before she said, “So … I think we need to find the address for the man I called. Then if that doesn’t work out, we go to the village where the woman sent her son.”

  Adam was silent for the longest time before he said, “I was thinking if we have no luck here in Mirador, you should go back to San José and then home.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “IT’S JUST NOT A GOOD IDEA, that’s all,” Adam said, keeping his eyes on the road. After they’d finished breakfast in silence and climbed back in the car, she’d folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window.

  He glanced at his watch, wondering how long it would last. Ten minutes so far. Pleased with himself, he smiled. It was the first time he’d seen any show of real emotion.

  Passive aggressive wasn’t the best kind of communication, but at least he knew she was pissed. Now he needed to find a phone.

  He didn’t like the idea of her continuing on with him, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t going home before getting some answers. And that may take a while. No way would Sullivan still be staying in the same place if he knew the law was on his tail. The law, or someone else—and his disappearance four years ago indicated he knew someone was.

  But it might be enough to satisfy her, and if it was another dead end, maybe she’d willingly go back to San José. She’d said if she didn’t get any answers at the address connected to that phone number, she’d find a way to get to the village with or without him. He had no reason to doubt it.

  “I know, you think it’s dangerous?” It was more a statement than a question.

  “It is dangerous.”

  “So do you think it’s less dangerous if we go together, or if I go alone?”

  He gritted his teeth. “That’s a stupid question.”

  Passing a building whose sign on the front read Tourismo, he jammed on the brakes, shifted into Reverse and stopped in front of the place.

  “What are we doing now?”

  “I need to do some things here,” he said. He needed to call Rico, but was
having a hard time finding any time away from her to do it. He’d tried his satellite phone last night when she was showering—when the intruder paid his visit—but Rico hadn’t answered.

  “I’m coming in with you.”

  He didn’t respond because what he said didn’t seem to matter to her. She’d do whatever the hell she wanted to do, anyway. But he didn’t want her listening to his conversation with Rico. His partner had been researching at his end and may have found information that could change Adam’s course of action.

  “I need a phone,” she said as they got out of the car and walked toward the tourist office. “I didn’t realize I’d have to get global service on my cell, and there wasn’t time for that before I left, anyway.” She stayed close, talking the whole time. “But if there’s a phone here, I’ll call information and if I get an address, we can check it out. And I should call to see how Chloe is doing and how the shops are going.”

  During the conversation with herself, she shucked off her safari shirt and tied the sleeves around her waist. She kept in step with him, and he noticed her cheeks and nose were a little sunburned and her freckles more pronounced. She had a healthy glow that made her eyes seem even bluer, if that was possible.

  But her mouth just kept on flapping. “So, do you want to make some calls, too? You should probably go first because mine might take a while since I have more than one to make. Come to think of it, I should call Meadow Brook, too, to see how Harriet is. And—”

  He stopped in his tracks. “I don’t care how many people you have to call or how many things you have to take care of. I’m here on business and that’s what I’m taking care of. Then I’m leaving. With or without you.”

  Her mouth clamped shut, albeit only for a moment. “I need to see how everything is going.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t care about that. Not my circus, not my monkey.”

  Drawing away as they walked, she looked at him askance. “No, I guess you wouldn’t understand that. But just because you don’t have anyone who might worry about you if they didn’t hear from you doesn’t mean other people don’t.”