“Mrs. Calderone didn’t sound as if she thought Araceli’s mother would have left her.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the risk she took.”
Marc scowled. “I haven’t seen this side of you. I thought you were all sunshine and daisies and save the whales.”
“What side?”
“The chilly side. Brrr.”
“Oh, please.” She scoffed, prickled by his opinion. “Dealing with the facts, Marc. Just as you advised.”
“Still one pretty piss-poor way to live. Look at Araceli. Leaving kids here seems like a big risk.”
“People who come here illegally are gamblers. If they weren’t, they would have applied to get into the country legally. They roll the dice because life here is better than what they’ve leaving behind. They can usually find work and make enough to live and send money home to relatives. Their kids get free educations and health care and whatever special services they may need. What we provide is attractive.”
Marc stared out the window as they passed a pristinely landscaped bed-and-breakfast set back from the street. “I’m surprised. I took you for a crusading liberal who wanted liberty and justice for all.”
She wondered why he had formed this impression, chided herself for caring what he thought. Save the whales. Liberty and justice for all.
The man was a jerk. Why couldn’t she seem to remember that? “I don’t think the immigration situation is so simple. I see the reality in my work, and the government can’t throw enough money at the problem to fix anything. But they try, which is why we’re in the mess we are economically.”
His eyes widened in feigned surprise. “A political rant? I shouldn’t be surprised with all the district attorneys and council members in your family.”
For a man who couldn’t remember her name when she had come to see him at Mama’s not that long ago, he seemed to know an awful lot about her family. “I am not ranting, thank you very much. The more the government takes on, the more quality of service suffers. And not only in my field, either. But for social workers they cut back funding to the point that doing our jobs properly is nearly impossible. Without sacrificing our entire lives, anyway.” Her words ended with a jarring ring that resounded through the confines of the car.
Okay, a rant.
“Guess that answers the question about why you’re not married and making babies like everyone else around here,” he said. “I wondered why all you do is work.”
So, he’d noticed.
“Yeah, that’s my life.” Stupid flyaway emotions had her heart pounding because he had noticed enough to wonder. Had he seen what she had been avoiding? This man who seemed so skilled at reading people, at understanding their motivations and projecting their action. Courtney shouldn’t be surprised, but she was. Surprised he would notice her when he had made his reasons for helping with this search crystal clear. Autonomy. Escape. Money.
Or was there more? There was so much about this man she didn’t understand. Courtney told herself she didn’t want to, either. She had let her life dwindle to next to nothing, but now was not the time to look for quick fixes to the problem. Not with missing kids and FBI investigations and while she was at the mercy of an emotionally unavailable man with some obvious issues of his own.
Thankfully, she was saved from further obsessing when she pulled into the parking lot at Starbucks.
But Marc obviously wasn’t through yet. He just sat there after she put the car in Park and shut off the engine. She could feel his gaze on her, intense, and she avoided him by reaching for her purse in the backseat. No doubt she’d be paying for their drinks.
“You work so much because you really care for your kids,” he said, a simple statement.
But there was something else in that observation—she wasn’t sure what. Pulling her purse into the front seat, she turned to find him watching her. Their gazes met, and she wondered why her caring about kids should surprise him.
But it had. She didn’t know why, but she could tell by the way he considered her, as if revising his opinion and not afraid to let her know that she’d risen in his estimation. The stern lines of his mouth softened somehow, and Courtney knew right then that she couldn’t afford to glimpse the man behind the surliness and sarcasm, to see another side of Marc. Not when she already was so drawn to him.
So Courtney was extremely grateful when the jangling ringtone of her phone startled the moment. She grabbed it from the console and scrolled through the display to find a text message from Giselle. Four simple words that changed everything.
They found Jane Doe.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“OH. MY. GOD.” I clung to Kyle’s belt loop as he led me through the crowded hallway. The Venue was nuts. People crammed wall to wall, rocking out as the last band worked its set.
He blocked for me, like a football player barreling through the crowd, and I hop-skipped behind him, laughing and breathless, protected by his broad shoulders and the guitar case slung across his back.
We burst through the door into the night, and he came to a sharp stop as we cleared the swinging door. It slammed shut with a bang, and the sudden silence was deafening.
“Oh. My. God,” I whispered this time, reverent, like when I was in church.
Kyle had crushed his performance. He was a performer, and I hadn’t known. He worked the crowd so naturally that people shouted to keep him on stage. But he was cool. He didn’t cut into the next band’s time. After playing an encore piece, he packed his equipment and cleared the stage. The guys who ran the place were impressed. They caught up with him before the next set was over and invited him back.
Kyle was thrilled. He didn’t even bother trying to play it cool, and he laughed, and we danced, and he introduced me to his roommate and their friends.
My ears still rang from the hours of pounding music. We had danced to every set since Kyle’s, and dragged our excitement outside to make the night crackle. The air felt cutting and sharp as I caught my breath. Even the stars shimmering against the sky made the dark gleam.
“Man, I don’t think I could have asked for tonight to go any better.”
“You were awesome,” I agreed.
That got a lopsided smile, but Kyle was so happy he hugged me, a full-out hug that crushed what little breath I had left.
I went all fluttery inside, a feeling that seemed to go along with the excitement. Then he laughed again, rocking on his Converse and shoving his hair from his sweaty face until the glossy waves stood on end.
“You know what the best part of tonight was?” he asked in a voice rough from making so much music.
I could think of many best parts. From his success to dancing close to him for the rest of the night. But the excited replies faded as quickly as they’d come to mind. Somehow joking didn’t fit the moment, so I only shook my head.
“That you were with me.”
We were standing so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with my own. I felt flushed and aware of everything in a way I hadn’t ever before. It was the night, and I knew it, but when I gazed up into his eyes, the world seemed to vanish, and I could see only him.
He meant what he said. No jokes came to mind this time, because he had put words to how I felt.
“That’s your gift,” I said softly. “You put feelings into words. That’s what makes your music so special.”
And him. He was special, too. I might not know him very well, but I knew. I had a gift, too.
He lowered his face, and my heart stopped. I thought he might kiss me. But he only rested his forehead against mine and breathed in a broken breath. As if it took lots of strength to not kiss me.
Such a sweet gesture.
Mama and Debbie would approve.
I touched his cheek. Rested my fingers against his warm skin, fe
lt the texture of his stubbly cheek.
We didn’t need words just then. Being close was enough. His breaths brushing my breaths. Our skin gently touching. I could have stood there forever.
But I knew nothing lasted forever.
The Venue door swung wide. We weren’t close enough to be hit, but the appearance of a group broke our moment. Kyle stepped back first, protective as he slid his arm around my waist and led me away.
Another fluttering inside.
We stepped off the curb, and I looked around at the street. “Where are we going?”
“Do you have to head home yet?”
It was late. I could feel it in the air, could sense it in the quiet street. “No.”
“Good. I’m so keyed up I’ll never sleep. Do you like tea?”
I couldn’t honestly say I was a fan, but I didn’t want to disappoint him. “I definitely don’t need coffee.”
That made him laugh. “There’s a place down the block. It’s open pretty late. I’ll get my gear tomorrow. Edwin locked it in the director’s office. I’d need his help lugging it home anyway. Unless you can carry an amp or two.”
I only smiled, but I could have carried his equipment. I was used to lugging my own junk around. Artists had tools, too, and I noticed he didn’t leave his acoustic guitar. I understood.
We walked side by side, talking about the night. The tea place wasn’t far, and it had all kinds of weird drinks that I’d never heard of. I let Kyle choose for me. I didn’t care. The warm tea felt good on my throat after singing and shouting all night. And I was with Kyle. Nothing could be better.
“So where did you learn how to write music?” I asked when we bypassed a table to sit on a big couch. “You had way more original stuff than I knew, and that’s saying a lot since I’ve heard you play tons of times.”
“I took guitar lessons when I lived in Florida. And I belonged to guitar club in school.”
“You’re very talented with the training you had.”
“You know all about that,” he said with a grin. “You’re an entrepreneur. The youngest one I ever met. The most talented.”
“Thank you. That’s a big compliment.”
“All that stuff on display in the coffee shop was by a local artist. Your stuff is way better.”
“Really? Wow.” I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t paid much attention because all my attention had been on him.
Then he told me about his grandparents in Greece, and how beautiful it was there. A place filled with inspiration. He’d also lived there when he was younger, and had gone back to see his grandparents for a few months after graduation.
But no mention of parents. I found that strange, but didn’t question him. Not when it meant I would probably have to answer questions about my own.
“Why’d you come back to the States if it’s so great there?”
“The money wasn’t working out for me. I was working so much at stupid jobs that I didn’t have time for my music. Made sense to come back over to really give my music a go.”
“Is that your plan?”
“That’s my plan.” He was so earnest. “I know I should be practical. I don’t like always worrying about money, but if I don’t give it a real shot I’ll never know if I can do anything with it. I have to at least try.”
“I know about dreams.” I couldn’t tell him about my family or my angel Debbie, but I could tell him about my plans. “I’ve been working on my portfolio for two years. As soon as I get a few more semesters completed, I’m applying for a scholarship to the Art Institute in Chicago.”
Then I would have a career and earn enough money to find Mama and Paolo and bring them back to the United States.
“I think you’re doing that already. You must have had some training.”
“I learned from the best artist I ever met when I was young.” I had to stop and swallow hard as an image of my laughing papa filled my brain. Images. My gift. “Now I take classes online.”
“They have art classes online?”
I nodded. “You would be amazed at how much stuff there is free, online and at community centers, too. Artists want to share what they know. I take classes and workshops all the time.” I didn’t have any other life. Not since Debbie had died. “And I always learn something. Even if it’s what not to do.”
He laughed at that. Wrapping his hands around the cup, he shook his head. “I can’t believe you don’t have a phone or a computer.”
“I have what I need. I work my magic with my sketchbooks and pencils.”
“And you make money. Face painting. Cartoons—”
“Caricatures.”
“You’re a registered seller. That’s impressive. I have a lot to learn.”
“You’ll learn.” Of that I had no doubt.
The tea place finally closed at one. Weekend hours, I guessed. But when we got back outside, I knew the excitement of the night had finally faded into the mist rolling off the river.
Time to head home.
“So where to?” he asked.
“To the bus stop on Church Street.”
“All right. Let’s go.” Then we headed to the bus stop, our conversation winding down, just content to be together.
Until we arrived at the bus stop. Kyle started rooting through his wallet for bus money, and my heart stopped.
“You take this bus home, too?” That was a pretty big coincidence.
“Beatriz,” he said patiently. “I’ll see you home.”
“I appreciate that, but you don’t have to. I’m good. Really. I’m only a block away from my stop at the other end.”
Of course, just as I said that, some guy shuffled out of a nearby alley. A vagrant.
Kyle rocked back on his heels and folded his arms over his chest, stubborn all over him. “You don’t even have a phone to text me and let me know if you make it. I don’t mind the ride.”
Well, this was new for me. I was usually a master at dodging out of places so I never had to let anyone know where I lived. Not that there were many people interested in knowing.
Maybe that was the problem—I wanted Kyle to know. I wanted to be a normal person on a date. Not someone who always had to hide in the shadows, avoid getting too friendly. Someone who couldn’t really live my life. I had become lonely since Debbie.
“You don’t want me to know where you live, do you?”
The question hung in the quiet dark for a moment, as if it had a life all its own. More of a life than I had. “It’s not that I don’t want you to know. I can’t.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the best thing to say, because that explanation invited more questions, but I knew he was really disappointed, maybe confused by all my secrets.
“That doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you tell me? I’m not letting you hop on a bus at one in the morning. That’s crazy.”
No, I was crazy. My feelings were wild. One minute I was on top of the world, and the next I felt as if I might burst into tears. The night had been perfect, and I didn’t want to see it end. Not like this.
“I’m not like you, Kyle.” My voice trembled. “I’m not out of school and on my own. That’s all I can say. I really like seeing you, but there are certain things I can’t share. If that’s not good enough, I understand.”
But I didn’t. My life was my life and I couldn’t risk it for anything. Especially not a boy I’d only just met.
He visibly reined in his emotion, the sharp edges of his expression smoothing out by slow degrees, reminding me, oddly enough, of Papa when Mama would insist that he do something he didn’t want to. His cheeks all blustery and his voice loud enough to make Paolo quake under his blanket.
For one moment, I thought I might have won our argument. That he would let me go and accept the limitations on w
hat I could offer as his friend.
Then he reached for my hand, a bittersweet touch, as he twined his fingers through mine. He wasn’t going to let me go.
“How about you spend the night at my place? It’s pretty close. Edwin will be there, and whoever he drags home after the last set. Definitely Gabriel and Brooks. You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep in the living room on the couch. You can leave in the morning. How does that sound?”
As I gazed into his handsome face, considered his compromise and the empty apartment at home, I thought his idea sounded as good as the music I’d heard him play tonight.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MARC AWOKE TO a room dark except for an electronic glow visible through a doorway. A computer? He could barely see through eyelids that felt swollen shut, couldn’t shake off sleep. Someone had placed a blanket over him.
He tried to roll over, but his leg rebelled, faint spasms that made his muscles shiver and twitch. Not quite to the level of pain, but uncomfortable enough to chase away more of the fog in his head.
The flight to Atlanta. He remembered now. Spasms so bad, he had chowed down on muscle relaxers before the plane had even begun its descent. Too many, obviously. He could barely remember landing, had only the vaguest memory of getting to this hotel.
But even drugged and disoriented, Marc recognized Courtney’s silhouette in the silvery glow, her features in profile, beautiful. She had gotten him into this room, had put the blanket over him.
Would life ever get back to normal? Would he ever be in a hotel room with a beautiful woman for the only reason he should be in a hotel room with a beautiful woman?
There were countless things he would rather do with this woman than burden her with his problems.
She had offered to drop him off at the terminal, but he had declined. He had refused to make concessions, had been determined to travel the way he had traveled a thousand times before. He remembered the way she had looked at him in the airport, though, remembered her threatening him.
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