by Nico Rosso
“But nothing—” he spoke with quiet conviction “—can prepare them for you.”
An attempted confident smile quickly failed. She tried to rally, but didn’t even know what to prepare herself for. “Should I build a battering ram from scraps in the barn? We go in guns blazing?”
“They will gladly open the door for us because they’ll think you want to sell.” He casually leaned against the island and sipped his coffee, as if planning a picnic. “Once we’re inside, we play nice and collect any detail we can. Maybe we’ll pick up what scares them, and we can use that to fight back. They flinch, and we’ll see it.” The iron of his intent was still evident within his casual posture.
Having a plan helped ease her nerves. Having Ty helped...everything. “As easy as falling off a ladder.”
“I’ve never tried that,” he mused.
“Can’t recommend it.” She pulled up the sleeve of her T-shirt and showed him the scar along the back of her arm.
“Damn.” He tilted his head to get a better view.
“Pruning saw.”
Stepping back, he pulled down the collar of his T-shirt. A scar along the top of his pectoral broke up the smooth expanse of his skin. “Wannabe mobster thought I needed a shave with a straight razor.”
The urge to reach forward and touch it pushed her toward him, as if she could erase some of that pain with her fingers. She remained where she stood, hating that she had to suppress this need for contact and communication. “I’ve only seen those razors in antiques stores.” They even looked dangerous in the glass cases, like gleaming poisonous insects.
He reorganized his shirt. “Some punks like them because they’re easy to conceal. That particular punk had to wait until his broken arm healed before shaving anything.” Subtle swagger glowed in Ty.
She drew the confidence into herself. Falling off the ladder hadn’t killed her. The rattlesnakes that had slipped through her orchard had never bitten her. The Hanley Group was just men.
Ty moved toward the hallway. “Can you finish the toast? I’ve got to change.” She nodded and he continued out. Instead of stopping in the guest room, though, she heard him leave the house and get something out of his car. Undisturbed by the activity, Toro let himself out the dog door in the kitchen for his morning rounds.
The toast took her attention for a bit, but she was aware of Ty’s returning and closing himself in his room. A few minutes later, a different man entered her kitchen. It was Ty—same bold steps and lean, muscular frame—but he was wrapped in a deep blue suit. A tie with gold and umber motifs contrasted against a crisp white shirt.
Mouth dry, she licked her lips. “Slick.” He tugged his cuff and spun quick on his heels. The jacket opened to show he still wore his gun, but it disappeared once he faced her again. Strutting closer revealed that rare wicked gleam in his eye. Her own clothes felt way too functional. It would be better if she was completely naked while he was dressed like that. She cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind. “You city detectives are polished.”
His long fingers adjusted his tie. “You’ve seen what I usually wear. This was for my sister’s wedding.” Dipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a white sachet with a little tag attached. Mints with gold lettering commemorating the couple and the date.
“You must’ve had the bridesmaids lined up.” It came out a little salty, but it was obvious that no one would be able to ignore his striding across a dance floor.
“Just to dance.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Two of the bridesmaids were already married to each other and best friends with my sister and her wife, so it was that kind of party.”
The context of the wedding quickly shuffled in her head and calmed her jealousy. “Got it.” And she had no business feeling jealous anyway. Ty had been in her life for less than three days, they’d kissed once and then she’d said good-night. “I’ll change into something more businesslike after we eat.”
“You have a knife you can bring? Just in case you need some extra confidence.” Any playfulness drained out of him. “With a blade under three inches, so they can’t ding you on legalities.”
“I do.” A dead-serious air hung over the rest of breakfast and muted the food’s flavor. Upstairs, all her serious clothes felt too flimsy for a confrontation. The best compromise she could find was her nicest dark-wash jeans and a silky top with a simple jacket over it. She retrieved a folding knife from her work pants and slid it in her front pocket. Tall, ruggedly stylish boots pulled over the jeans finished the look.
For a second she thought to pull her hair back in a bun or ponytail, but threw out the idea. These bastards were already trying to control her. Let her Mexican Italian hair stay wild.
Unease in her stomach grew with each step down to the ground floor. Ty emerged from the living room to meet her. He quickly checked out her outfit. The heat of desire flared quickly in his look, reassuring her that she wasn’t the only one who still felt it. “Your hair looks nice like that.”
“Thank you.” The nerves dimmed in the blush that moved up her. She patted the knife in her front pocket. “This is definitely the strangest date I’ve ever been on.”
With extra chivalry, Ty glided to the front door and opened it for her. “I know how to turn it up, right?”
She made sure Toro was set for the day, then stepped outside with Ty and locked up. “How are you still single?” It was a joke and not a joke.
Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. “If criminals would stop breaking the law, I could slow down.”
Or he could find a woman who kept up with him. “Stupid criminals.”
Keys jingled in his hand. “I’ll drive. You navigate.” They went to his dented but functional car and climbed in. Her house and surrounding orchard grew smaller in the side-view mirror as they drove down the main road. After a turn toward the highway, it was gone from sight. The urge to return tugged at her. That was her home. Her family’s roots struck deep into that dirt.
She focused ahead on the Hanley Group. “As soon as I felt them leaning on me, I put all the contact info from the developers into my phone.” Pulling up the entry, she mapped a route and relayed the first stage to Ty.
A metallic scraping sound from the dented front end of Ty’s car grew steadily as he accelerated to highway speed. The car stayed on track when he pulled the steering wheel back and forth as a test. No stray pieces shook loose and he proceeded on.
Rodrigo merited only two exits from the highway. They sped past the last turnoff to town. Golden-brown hills rose and fell on both sides of the road north. She settled deeper into the seat to watch the shifting land, broken up by agricultural buildings. “I never get to really look at this.” Ty glanced at her quizzically. “I’m always driving,” she answered.
“Enjoy it until we get to San Jose.” He made an exaggerated frown before resetting to a neutral expression. They swept over a long bend in the highway and the Pacific came into view on their left. In the cloudless day, it looked like the horizon had been cut with a razor.
After a few miles, they turned away from the ocean onto another road. It wound into hills, dark with pine. Traffic sped up, taking on a more urban urgency. Scrape marks on the concrete median showed the scars of all the wrecks. Some looked very fresh. The twisting highway didn’t help the growing nerves prickling under her skin.
Ty navigated smoothly through the curves and let the faster cars pass and risk their own necks. “I know a cop in the city, Benny. His parents were Welsh, he told me, as if that explained why he had an Everest-sized chip on his shoulder. Do you know why?”
“Something to do with England, but that’s all I’ve got.”
“The guy has hands like bricks. He always holds the smallest coffee cup he can find in one of his massive fists during an interview or interrogation. As soon as it’s finished, he crushes it, just a little bit. So you can hear it. Maybe th
e last couple drops drip out. And whoever we’re talking to gets scared as hell and doesn’t even know why.” Ty made a fist and used it to gently tap her shoulder. “That’s what we’re going to do. Squeeze them. Subtle.”
When she shifted her focus from the story to the task at hand, she found that the Hanley Group didn’t loom quite as large. But she knew it wouldn’t be easy. “Maybe Benny could join us.”
“You don’t need him to intimidate someone.” Ty’s eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but his mouth remained serious.
“A farmer with no college degree.” And her size wasn’t going to send anyone cowering behind their desk.
“A woman who shapes trees. Who knows how the earth and the weather come together to create food.” He looked at her instead of the road for a little too long. “You scare me.”
“I don’t buy that,” she scoffed.
He shook his head. “I could tell you a lot of things to get you hyped for this door kicking. I’m telling you the truth now. These guys, whoever we’re going to meet there, have no idea what you are. And that’s going to terrify them.”
She ran her hand through her hair and gathered her confidence. “And I have my knife.” But she didn’t want to consider what it would take to use it.
He revealed his own danger in a smile. “And you have me.”
Which was both reassuring and more complicated than ever. There was no one other than Ty who she’d trust to walk with her into the teeth of whatever was coming. But that kiss hadn’t stopped echoing through her. As soon as she was distracted enough to not think about it, the hot pulses would wash back over her again. Seeing Ty in his suit hadn’t helped. The passing trees flicked the sun on and off his profile and the determined set of his jaw.
The highway swept down from the hills and turned into a flat racetrack. Suburbs surrounded her. New and old strip malls, office buildings and stucco houses sped past. Warehouses and industrial parks crowded next to the road for long stretches. Logos for tech firms she’d never heard of were too convoluted and went by too quickly to read.
Ty drove more aggressively to keep up with the traffic around him. People seemed to change lanes or pass without fear of consequence. She kept hitting an invisible brake pedal on the floor. “You can’t drive like this in a small town. Everyone’ll know who it is.”
“Kill or be killed on the highway.” Somehow he kept his cool. “It can be better in the neighborhoods.”
That was the world she was rushing into. “Far cry from the orchard.”
“Do you know how terrified these suits we’re going to meet would be to spend the night among your trees?”
“The call of a horned owl will give anybody the chills.” The paths between the trees were so well-known she needed only a flashlight on the darkest of nights.
“Except you.” He raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses.
True, knowing the hunter was watching over her land was reassuring. “We have an understanding.” Her phone alerted her to the next move in the navigation. Both she and Ty sat up straighter as they exited off the highway into San Jose. At first they were surrounded by warehouses and she wondered if the map was wrong, but after a block they were met by a stand of gleaming new buildings. They stood at different heights, as if still growing and learning how to best adapt to the sun and wind. A manufactured neighborhood of mixed-use housing and shops crept close to the sidewalk, leaving little room for pedestrians to walk.
“There it is.” Ty slowed the car. The address was ahead on their left. A twenty-story building, alternating stripes of concrete and glass.
She unclenched her jaw. The Hanley Group didn’t own the whole structure. They were just renters in suite 1550. She owned her land.
Ty brought the car into a parking lot attached to the mixed-use buildings, near a high-end supermarket. Maybe she imagined it, but it sure felt like most of the people they passed checked out the dented front end as he looked for a spot. They parked between two very expensive SUVs. Ty got out and inspected his car as it ticked down from the drive. “Nothing’s rubbing where it shouldn’t. We should be good for the drive back.”
“I bet you’re rethinking your whole ‘justice is my reward’ thing.” The damage on the fender wasn’t a cheap fix.
He shrugged it off and straightened his suit. “I know a guy with a body shop.” With a tip of his head, he brought them into motion. They merged into the flow of people near the market, then broke free of them to get to the street.
Concrete, metal and glass amplified the daylight. She squinted against it to pick out the details of the crosswalk and the building ahead. The architect had curved the ground floor into a welcoming arc. A low oval fountain broke the sun into thousands of dazzling pieces. Ty glided past it all and stayed at her shoulder as they walked through the sliding doors into the lobby.
Her first instinct was to check in at the security desk on the far right, but Ty kept moving toward the elevators. There were several other people flowing in the same current, and she walked as if she belonged. Ty removed his sunglasses, stashed them in his jacket and gave her a discreet wink. Her heart pounded faster. Because they were headed up to confront the Hanley Group? Or was it the way his attention never strayed from her, and he always seemed to know what she needed.
“Fifteen, please.” Ty’s low voice was so much warmer than the stainless steel interior of the elevator. A woman close to the front punched the button and the doors closed. The ride up was too long for Mariana’s nerves. She distracted her mind with thoughts of pruning her trees in winter. Following the lines of branches, seeking the strongest flow of energy through the wood... “This is us,” Ty brought her back to the world with a gentle whisper. They eased past the remaining people in the elevator and stepped out to the fifteenth floor.
“Dead ahead.” The same Hanley Development Group logo from the business card she’d first received was cut into glass and metal next to a set of gray doors.
Ty put his fist out and waited. She bumped hers into his and stepped forward. The door opened with a heavy swish in Ty’s hand. He held it for her and proceeded after with a guarding presence. The lobby was decorated in gray tones, with conceptual drawings of building developments on the walls and another set of double doors on the far wall. She walked to the front counter, where a white woman in her twenties smiled politely at a low desk and adjusted her thick-framed glasses.
“Good morning.” The woman scooted her chair closer to her desk. “How can I help you?” Strange to think that the same money that paid her also paid the bald man who’d firebombed Mariana’s store.
After sitting in the car, getting worked up, Mariana felt ready for a throwdown. She paused so she didn’t sound too confrontational. “I’d like to see Mr. Hebert.”
The secretary scrunched her lips to one side and clicked over her computer. “Do you have an appointment, Ms...?”
Mariana leaned on the counter. “Mariana Balducci.” She expected some kind of tell from the woman to indicate the importance of what that meant.
The woman’s innocent eyes lit back onto Mariana. “I don’t see an appointment.” A glance at Ty raised the woman’s caution. He smiled casually, but not warmly. “Let me see if he’s available. Please have a seat.” She waved her hand toward the chairs in the far corner, then typed efficiently on the computer.
While the stylish leather chairs were appealing, Mariana and Ty only stood near them. He whispered, “She didn’t blink. The bad business isn’t run through her desk.”
Any second the bald man and whoever his partner was could come bursting through the doors. Mariana nearly jumped when the secretary chirped, “He’s got a few minutes, so hold on just a sec.” Her pulse kicked faster. Ty’s calming hand came to rest on the small of her back. He smiled just for her, the iron still in his eyes.
A moment later, the door on the far wall opened to reveal the man who’d f
irst approached her in her store. Mr. Hebert was a fit white guy in his forties, about Ty’s height, with hair just starting to whiten at the temples. He wore slacks and a striped button-down shirt. A wedding ring was his only jewelry. “Ms. Balducci. Nice surprise to see you again.” It seemed genuine. “Come on back.” He waved her forward. When Ty approached with her, Mr. Hebert’s smile wavered. “And you are?”
“Mr. Morrison.” Ty shook his hand with a neutral expression.
“We’ll use the conference room.” Mr. Hebert walked briskly to a glass door on a glass wall that showed a long table lined with chairs next to yet another window revealing the sprawl of San Jose below. Mr. Hebert held the door for them. Outside, the land was carved into concrete pieces for miles and miles until it reached the foothills in the distance. “I honestly didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“But you hadn’t completely given up hope.” She stood instead of taking the offered chair.
Mr. Hebert’s smile wavered. “Sure. I mean, your property has a lot of upsides for us and I’m sure we could work out a deal that would benefit everyone.”
It was impossible to gauge if this man was behind the intimidation, or if he didn’t even know about it like the secretary. But someone in these offices knew, and the word would spread about her arrival. The nerves that had been shaking her all morning concentrated to hot coals of anger. “My orchard has been on that land for over a hundred and fifty years. Will your resort stand that long? Will it hold the hills together, or break them apart?”
“I’m sorry...” Mr. Hebert stood behind one of the rolling chairs, his gaze shifting between Mariana and the silent Ty. “Are you not here to talk about our offer?”
“I am here to talk about your offer.” She stepped forward, hands hot. “I saw that you bought the parcels north of my property before you contacted me.” Mr. Hebert moved backward. “You must’ve known those hills aren’t zoned for development. Did you just assume I was a sure thing?”