“Sure is. I’ll head straight to the office. You’re sure yanking The Restaway into this century. Not sure our guests will value wireless but—”
Joyce was still talking when she disappeared into the office. Amy grabbed her laptop, locking her room door behind her, heading to number twenty. Another couple of minutes and she was satisfied. She badly wanted to check her email account, having dispatched explanatory notices to present clients, refunding their money where appropriate. But she didn’t want to be tempted into opening one that would give her whereabouts away. She knew Randy’s skills. The FBI couldn’t track her down as quickly.
All of her hours alone in the queen sized bed in Unit One, the ones when she wasn’t actually sleeping, were fraught with memories of Dean. Oh, she fought them, and usually managed to banish them behind that mythical wall she built, for a time. Then his face would pop up and display on the back of her eyelids, yanking her out of preparation for sleep. The memory of his hands on her, inside her, his mouth … and his cock, driving her over the edge. The most disconcerting thing was waking in front of the door, hands pressed flat, forehead resting between them against the cool surface. Wanting to go to Dean. Looking for him. It happened time and again, interrupting her fitful rest.
And she was so tired all the time, anyhow. It was a good thing her job wasn’t onerous, and afternoon naps were sometimes possible. Amy missed Dean fiercely, at least the man who didn’t wear that murderous expression the last time she saw him. She missed being with him, missed the sex. Amy tried not to pleasure herself to fantasies about Dean, but she did, coming hard, shuddering against her release, but without any joy. She hated him, too.
“I think it’s good, Tom.” She set her laptop down on the counter and nodded to the tech. Joyce hurried out, calling her farewells.
“I’ll leave my card. Be sure to call if anything needs adjusting.” He chuckled. “That lady thinks it’s magic and incantations.”
Amy smiled, too. Tom packed up and headed out and she turned her attention back to the never ending paperwork.
Chapter Eleven
“So she called me.” Sandra stomped past Dean and dumped her coffee into the sink, turning the tap on full to rinse it. She was wrapped in a robe, and he supposed she’d worked the night shift, so that meant he’d woken her. Certainly she looked tired, as anyone would after just a couple hours of sleep. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But I guessed she’d call you at some point so I planned to keep checking.” He didn’t want to drop Enrico in the shit. He chose to stand in the middle of her kitchen, forcing her to find a way around him as she moved. “How is she, Sandra?”
“Okay.”
“I know she’s pregnant.”
Silence reigned, broken only by the soft gurgle of the remainder of the water as it swirled down the drain, and the humming of the fridge. Sandra stared at him, a myriad of emotions flashing in her eyes. “Who told you?”
“I found the test. I didn’t know if it was positive or not, although I hoped…So thanks for confirming it.”
Unable to pretend anymore, he slumped into the nearest chair, and passed a hand over his face. “I’ve been going insane.”
Dean didn’t give a shit about macho male posturing at that moment, wasn’t afraid to show his feelings. If he thought he could shake the information out of Sandra he would, but he knew better. And Enrico wasn’t a man to cross, despite his youth. Sandra was young too, about Amy’s age, maybe a couple of years older, and surely, he could appeal to her soft side.
“She’s fine. She didn’t want you to know because you’d pull this.”
“Pull what?” He worked hard to keep the threat from his voice.
“Hunt her down because you knocked her up. Your kid and all. Male pride.” Sandra’s voice was derisive, but Dean detected a plea buried beneath the snark. A plea for him to dispute her.
“I’m looking for her because I fucked up, Sandra. I was searching before I knew about the baby. You fucking know that. I didn’t trust Amy and that was fucking stupid. I kicked her out. I kicked my pregnant woman out of our home.”
“And you took this long to come and tell me this? You sent your boy instead?”
Dean shook his head. “I just found out. Home pregnancy test in the garbage. I’ve been looking for her since the day after I threw her out, Sandra. A baby just ups the ante. Help me.”
Sinking down at the kitchen table, Sandra dropped her face into the cradle of her hands. Dean sat opposite her and waited. He knew a battle of conscience when he saw one. Despite his history, he, too, struggled from time to time, moreso since his relationship with Amy had developed into something serious. She was so earnest in her belief of the golden rule. Without the eye for an eye part, unless he was mixing his parables.
The words, when they came, were muffled. “I don’t know where she is, but I know she’s not living. She’s in some kind of twilight state. She sounded like a freaking cheerleader, all fake happy. Desperate.” Sandra raised her head and locked eyes with him. “Amy loves you, Dean. She was the making of you. And you completed her.”
Nothing he didn’t know. Nothing he hadn’t tortured himself with, but the additional flagellation by Sandra’s wasp tongue was expected. She loved Amy, too, and hadn’t betrayed her. Dean heard her out, holding onto his temper, being as patient as he knew. “I know it, Sandra. All of it. I need to find her. She needs me, especially now.”
“I’ll try, when she calls again. Maybe she’ll listen.”
“Tell me about the call.” He wasn’t leaving until he heard everything.
“She called, said she was fine. Bullshit. I told you. She’s working and the people are kind.”
“What kind of work?” Dean asked every question occurring to him, dissected every word Sandra remembered, to no avail. He froze. “Did she call you on her cell?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Why?”
Damn it. Amy’s phone had been offline for weeks. Dean believed she’d either tossed it, lost it, or hadn’t bought another charger, the one for her little cell still plugged in by the nightstand. He pulled out his own.
“Randy? Get Lee to do the GPS search again. Use his contacts with the provider. Amy called Sandra and might have used her cell.” He confirmed the date with Sandra and passed it on. Amy hadn’t cracked her computer that they’d been able to tell—certainly she hadn’t opened even one of the emails he’d sent and asked Randy and Andrea send, not that Andrea wasn’t already reaching out.
“Will do. And Dean? You were right about the city not doing those fucking curbs. I’ll meet you at the usual place and we’ll talk.”
Fuck. It never rained, but it poured. “I’ll be there. Pull someone in to sweep the place.” He turned to Sandra, watching him with a peculiar expression on her face. Dean raised a brow as he shut the call down.
“You’re a ruthless son of a bitch, Dean Chambray. You think you’re able to juggle your various lives right now, but at some point it’ll come down to the job or Amy again. You think on that. And tell that Enrico not to come around. He’s got your stamp on him. I’m not going down that path.”
Dean nodded. Sandra was nothing if not clear, and her assessment of his lifestyle right on the money. Maybe not so young after all, and as world-weary as Amy. But he couldn’t sort it out until he knew what was going down, and Amy was his priority.
“You’ll have to tell Enrico yourself, Sandra,” he said as gently as he could, marking the twist of pain on her face. “I’ll have her call when I find her.”
****
Randy was already waiting for him at the bar. Dean had picked up a tail about four blocks from the place, so they were cruising, looking for him. He slid into the booth and the waitress brought him a beer.
“Minor says it’s some joker in the district attorney’s office looking to climb the ladder. The guy’s related to some police official and they’re stroking him, letting him mount an investigation. Lord knows where he got your name in his sights. Th
e asshole’s creative.” Randy rolled the bottom of the bottle across the coaster, the condensation marking the paper in little half circles.
Dean nodded. “How long?”
“Maybe another three days. There’s no will behind the asshole and the money and personnel will soon run out. The sweep found nothing, but Olsen turned an electrician away the day before yesterday. Wrong address. He remarked on it. I didn’t pay attention. My fault.”
“Enough fucking blame to go around, Randy. Let it go. We’ll let the asshole’s party play out, maybe point him at Unez. He thinks he’s my latest up-and-coming competition. The two of them can dance.”
Randy nodded. “Should be easy enough. I’ll have a couple of the guys draw them a map to Unez’ place when he’s meeting with his crew.” A bark of a laugh. “With any luck there’ll be some stupid who acts out and the cops will have something to train on. Now I can get back to looking for our leak. Whoever it is, I’m not even getting a hint, but he’ll crawl out of his hole at some point.”
Dean nodded. If anyone could track that dead man down, Randy could. He asked his lieutenant the pressing question. “Amy?”
“She used her cell. Got a placement. Not an exact location but a block spread. Might need to wait for her to call again.”
“No. I’ll canvass myself once I lose my tail. She might have already moved on, but Sandra said she’s working so that speaks to her living there. I’m not waiting.” He only hoped she hadn’t driven far away from her new home to place the call.
“Well, good hunting, buddy.” His right hand man looked pensive for a moment, and furrowed his brow. “Amy might not be interested in coming back.”
“I won’t be giving her the choice, Randy. I’ll put fucking locks on the apartment if I have too.”
“Oh, man. This isn’t like when we held those guys until the siege broke.”
Dean nodded. “No, this is about bringing my woman home and spending time until she forgives me. I’m bringing her home, and I’m not letting her go.”
Silence. Dean didn’t think his plan was unsound. Finally, Randy spoke. “Okay, then. But if you fail, and from the way Amy reacted that day, you just might, it could bring you down. You’ll leave the business open to a coup because you’ll be with her to keep her calmed down, or you’ll be in jail on kidnapping charges.”
“Noted.” Dean took the coordinates and went home to pack a bag.
Trading his ride for an SUV at a prearranged point, he ditched the half-hearted efforts of the tail. One of his crew, similar in size and coloring, swerved the truck into traffic, following orders to return to the office after a lengthy scenic trip. Dean sat behind the wheel of the black SUV and watched his vehicle, and the blue sedan, convoy down the street before turning in the opposite direction, the GPS programmed. He thought about Randy’s warning. His second in command was right and Dean knew it. He could ill afford to take a lengthy time period away from the business given the recent interest by the bureaucrat, and kidnapping Amy might not be the best plan in the long run.
But he knew his woman. She’d have talked herself out of them as a couple to protect herself—and their baby—from what he’d done, and Amy was stubborn. Stubborn in her refusal to give up on him, insisting he was a good person, a man she had total faith in to make the right choices in life, do the right things in the end. She didn’t approve of his shadier business activities, yet didn’t nag him or dwell over much on that side of his life because she had faith and accepted what she couldn’t change without considerable consequences, aware of the balance in life. He regretted, more than ever, never finding the right time to tell her the whole story. She’d simply accepted his edict to get gone, delivered as it had been. That stubbornness alone might defeat a lesser man.
The miles flew by, and not just because of his heavy foot. Dean thought of the scenarios he might be faced with, would have to address, deal with. Worse case was that Amy found a protector, and Dean might be forced to do something drastic, something she would definitely object to. He decided not to consider that scenario, because it was his possessiveness talking, his crippling need for her. It was too early in the game for Amy to be with anyone else, if he deserved any luck at all.
Best case, she was working a job, living hand to mouth, and could be extricated without much fuss. The people she worked for might be kind, but kindness was no obstacle or consideration for him when it came to bringing her home.
The pretty city streets of Santa Rosa soon enveloped the SUV. He saw the coordinates coming up and slowed his speed, spirits sinking when the strip mall came into view. Shit. Fuck. At least thirty stores, a couple of restaurants, a bowling alley and some office space. Not to mention a few decrepit houses on the edge of the mall property and across the street. The good news was, it wasn’t all private housing; sometimes it was difficult to persuade a homeowner to allow access. Dean decided Amy must have called Sandra while at work, just to be optimistic. He parked the vehicle and pulled up a Google map to reconnoiter from overhead, noting the relative compactness of his search area. He’d start with a restaurant, feed the inner man and work his way from there. Maybe he should have brought a few of his crew.
****
“More coffee?” The waitress smiled at him, an obvious come on. Dean didn’t have time for it, although could have charmed the information out of her. He shook his head and reached for his wallet.
“I’ll just bring your bill.” A hint of snip in her tone.
Sighing inwardly, Dean gave her his best get on your knees look. It never failed, except sometimes with Amy. The waitress blinked and tried another smile. He pulled the picture of Amy out and showed it, pulling one up on his phone, too.
“Private investigator. Looking for this woman.” He’d decided to play it as it felt right, and looking for his wife wouldn’t work with Susie the waitress. Amy wasn’t his wife yet, but she would be.
Susie took the little square of celluloid with fastidious care, scanning it. “Is she in trouble?”
Trouble? Or maybe needed to be found because of an inheritance? Amnesia? Trouble, he decided. Amy was too beautiful for this woman to feel kindness toward. “Took off with something that didn’t belong to her.”
“Oh. And you’re looking for her? Not the police?” Well, there was that. Susie apparently wasn’t stupid.
“The owner is impatient.” True.
“I see. Well, she doesn’t eat here, or at least not as a regular. I’d remember.”
“Can you check with the other staff?’ Dean hinted about a reward. Susie obligingly took the picture to the other waitresses and even showed it to the cook.
“Nobody remembers her.” A trace of sadness in her voice, but over the money, Dean was certain. “Do you want to leave your number?”
He dropped a business card into her outstretched hand, along with the money for the food and a fair sized tip. She squinted at the card in an unattractive manner. “Dean Chambray? Investment and Insurance services? I thought you said—”
“This is about an investment, Susie. Call me if you see her and I’ll make it worth your while.”
Dean tossed his napkin on the table and pushed up from his chair, aware of the woman’s assessing gaze. He could only imagine the number of acquaintances he’d make before the day was out. A wave of worry leached his strength for an instant. What if he couldn’t locate her? He couldn’t stand to think of waiting much longer, couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing his child grow beneath her heart. His concern for her, always present, had soared exponentially since learning she was pregnant and dealing with it herself. Squaring his shoulders he made his way out the door, back on an even keel. If he couldn’t find her, she’d eventually call Sandra again, and her friend would do the right thing. Talk Amy into coming home or tell him so he could make it so.
****
The hotel bed groaned beneath his weight as Dean fell back onto the cushioned surface, droplets of water still beading on his skin. He’d pulled a pair of boxers on after
his shower and thought to rest his sore feet before going out for a late dinner. He then considered ordering room service, but there were only two more restaurants to canvass at that fucking strip mall and it was still relatively early. Who knew the number of stores that could be shoved into each nook and cranny of the concrete structure? Who knew the amount of stuff available for sale in this great country? And the people working in them… Dean thought dealing with the criminal element was a shit job. But sales had to be the worst.
Staff either ignored him or were on him like white on rice. The shoe stores and women’s apparel were a dark hell. The good news was it didn’t take very long to ask and he doggedly persevered, adjusting his approach accordingly, showing Amy’s picture. With no hits. Not even a hint of recognition. The guy in the gags and costume place nailed it.
“She’s something, buddy. I’d be looking for her, too. You think anything happened to her for sure? I hope not. She in love with the person taking that picture, maybe?”
Dean hadn’t taken the picture, but she’d been looking at him when the camera caught the expression on her beautiful face. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and rolled off the bed onto his feet, resigned to staying the night and resuming his search in the morning if necessary. It was unlikely anyone at the remaining restaurants would know Amy—were other people in the restaurant business kinder than Susie? Was his woman waiting tables, or cooking? She’d taken to the happy housewife role like a duck to water, surprising herself, but confiding how much she liked it. Keeping his home, taking care of him, serving him because she trusted him never to abuse it, and to give back what she needed, to take care of her. And he had, right until he’d fucked it up royally. Time to move and quit berating himself. People might be home in those houses by now. She might even live in one.
Pulling a fresh shirt on, he yanked up his jeans and sat to slide a pair of socks over his aching feet before lacing up his boots. He made a quick call to Randy to check on the status of events back home.
Forever (Eternity #1) Page 19