He kissed her again, a mere brush of lips, but his body reacted as always. Save it for later. “Don’t even think it. They beat us here. Probably found her the same way you did.”
If his words sank in, she didn’t show it. She said nothing as she trudged up the stairs.
***
“You didn’t need to come with me,” Mara said, as Cort left the car behind her aunt and uncle’s restaurant. “I’m safe with my relatives. Although considering my aunt, maybe not.”
“She a tough cookie?” He pocketed the car keys.
She watched as he checked out the shadowed parts of the small parking area, dimming further as dusk fell. “Let’s just say my aunt never lets Mom forget her position. It grates on Mom, being the older sister and having to live with them and work for them. Mom’s sister has always been controlling. She finds little errands, demeaning chores for Mom beyond her hostess duties, just to lord it over her. I want Mom out of there and on her own.” Her knuckles cramped where she gripped her hobo bag tightly, and she flexed her fingers.
“The big reason she needs your father’s pension.”
“Yes. This has gone on way too long. I have to prove Dad innocent.”
“To do that you need to be careful. You’ll be okay inside the restaurant. I don’t want Thomas Devlin coming after me if you get hurt. Or worse.”
His veiled concern warmed her, although the threats around them chilled her bones. Their phone calls had borne mixed fruit. Cort couldn’t reach the FBI agent. Devlin had sent no one but ordered her stick close to Cort. The final blow was her sister’s news that André had flown to France to be at his sick father’s bedside. Interesting his need to leave happened at the same time as Mara’s trip to San Francisco.
Too convenient, too coincidental. She made sympathetic noises to her sister even as guilt cinched a band around her chest. After ending the call to Cassie, she’d texted Sandi to check on André’s trip.
As they walked to the front of the white-painted brick building, he slung an arm around her shoulders, making her feel secure. He knew how to watch for danger, how to react, what to do. And yeah, he was hot. He made her feel hot—in both senses of the word—and important and feminine, not the ultimate geek. And he made her smile.
Seoul Food was one of a number of Korean and other Asian businesses on Geary Boulevard between the Presidio and Golden Gate Park. A sandwich board in front listed the day’s specials. Aromas of spicy seafood stew and kimchi wafted through a vent.
His grin seemed forced, one he’d manufactured to lighten the mood. “You going to ask your mom about her sex life?”
“I’d rather throw myself under a cable car.” She glared at him, then wilted. “But I will explain about the ring pieces. If she knows anything, she’ll tell me.”
“Fine. Then I’ll mosey down the street and eat. Be back for you at eight thirty.”
“Mosey?”
“Hey, we are out west.” He kissed her soundly, a thorough enough kiss to curl her toes. “Don’t leave the restaurant without me. If these guys are after you, don’t give them any openings.”
Speechless, she watched him mosey down the street, admiring the way he filled out his jeans and the fluid way he moved, until he disappeared around the corner.
Inside Seoul Food the familiar spices and warmth of Korean hospitality relaxed her. No sign of her uncle, who managed the place by hiding from his wife in the kitchen. Her aunt, seating customers, gave her a lofty look, quite a trick for a woman who stuffed her pudgy feet into heels to lift her to five foot four. A nod directed Mara toward the back.
Her mother rose from the corner table when she entered the private function room. Shorter than Mara, Su Lin Marton reached up to kiss her daughter’s cheek. Mara bent into the Tabu-scented hug, comforted by the familiar. She, not her dad, was the now the one who supplied the perfume.
“Thank God nothing bad happened today. I’ve been worried,” Su Lin said in the slight Korean accent that remained after thirty plus years in the United States.
She scanned Mara as if reassuring herself. At fifty-nine, she maintained her youthful beauty, although with a few wrinkles around her dark eyes. Silver threaded her dark hair, knotted and clasped on the back of her head. She looked chic in tan pants and a pale yellow twinset.
“No need to worry about me, Mom.” Mara wished she felt as confident as her words. “I told you about Cort. He’s with me, and Devlin will send people if we need assistance.”
A young server she didn’t know whisked in with a pot of tea and a plate of appetizers, stuffed deep-fried dumplings.
They took seats side by side at the round table, set with white linen instead of the placemats used in the main dining room. Usually when she visited her mother, she shared her small bedroom and ate most meals at the family’s row house, but Su Lin always treated her to one meal here. Mara felt a twinge of guilt for what she was about to ask.
“I ordered a variety but nothing stuffed with kimchi,” Su Lin said with an indulgent look.
“Thanks, Mom.” At her mother’s thoughtfulness, she relaxed further. She popped a hot dumpling in her mouth and chewed the savory squid.
The older woman poured tea, and looked up from her fragrant cup. “When I talked to Cassie, her voice sounded hoarse. Is she smoking again?”
Thank God her full mouth afforded her time to consider her reply. “I had dinner with her Friday. She wasn’t smoking then. Maybe she has a cold.”
“Uh huh.” No one put anything over on Su Lin. But she didn’t probe further. “Cassie mentioned something about this detecting with the thief’s son.”
Mara recognized that oblique statement as a demand for details. If she intended to quiz her mother about a ring piece, she had better comply.
The server brought their entrees. Mara ordered her usual seafood dolsot, rice with stir-fried shellfish and vegetables, and her mother the restaurant’s newest dish, japchae, clear noodles with beef and vegetables so she could recommend it to customers.
As they ate, Mara told her story, beginning with the Jeweler’s death and finishing with an explanation of their search for the ring pieces. No hiding Danita’s murder but her mom didn’t need to know the other hazardous aspects of their search. “Cort wants to prove he’s reformed. He wants to return the crown jewels so he can be free of FBI harassment. He’s a talented furniture maker.”
Su Lin dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin. A smile twitched at her lips. “He is more than that to you. I saw you together through the window. Very masculine and rough-looking, but obviously protective of you. And affectionate.” She tilted her head and waited.
Mara felt her cheeks heat. To their right in the kitchen, raised voices battled. In the dining room, silverware clattered. “I think he’s sorry he dragged me into this. But he needs my technical help and Devlin Security Force resources. Finding the ring pieces will help prove Dad wasn’t involved and you can receive his pension.”
“That is your reason for taking part. But there is more to it now. And you want something from me.”
“You’re right, as usual. Do you have anything of Dad’s, boxes of personal items, like jewelry or letters?”
Her mom’s shoulders straightened and she set down her chopsticks. “So you think he might have had a ring piece? He might be guilty?”
The vehemence didn’t surprise her. Her mom might not have loved her husband but she was loyal. Her throat tight, Mara shook her head. “He was innocent but I have to rule out every possibility. And we don’t have much time.”
“And Cort needs the ring pieces to find the jewels.”
Heat flared like a match struck in her emotional tinder. “It’s not about Cort.”
“I think it is, at least in part. You are in love with him. I see it in your eyes when you talk about him, when you defend him.”
Mara blinked away the tears threatening to burst the dam. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t be in love with Cort. So totally the wrong man.
“You and
Dad didn’t love each other. What do you know about love?” She clapped her hands over her mouth. Tears slopped down her cheeks and dripped into her bowl. “Forgive me, Mother, for being so disrespectful.”
Su Lin clasped her hand and placed it against her cheek. She murmured soothing words in Korean, words Mara had heard when she’d skinned a knee or lost a tennis match. “Whatever made you think that?”
“You argued all the time. You never agreed.” Bringing up Cassie’s birth seven months after the wedding didn’t seem like a good idea. Nor did what Cassie’d overheard. She blew her nose into the tissue her mother handed her. “Why did you marry him?”
“Look around you, Mara. This is where your father found me. Waiting tables and hostessing. I came from a small town in Korea with no money, no education, and no hope of escaping poverty. Your father was handsome, a rich American who wanted me.”
For security, not for passion. “He had to know you were unhappy.”
“I was not unhappy. Your father loved me. He was good to me and to you girls. He loved us all. Yes, we disagreed about a lot of things, but we always enjoyed making up.” Pink tinged her high cheekbones at this confession.
Mara held up a hand. “Enough, Mom. T.M.I.”
The mood lighter, they laughed together.
“He was a good man, an honorable man,” her mom continued. “And I had my girls, my house, and my garden.” She knitted her fingers together in her lap and looked at them as if her hands were tied. “But now I am back where I started. And my girls live a continent away.”
“I think I understand. I’ll get you out of here if I can.”
“With help from your young man?”
“He’s not my young man. We’re...” She struggled to think. “I don’t know what we are. But he’s smart and kind and proud.”
“And sexy.”
Chuckling, Mara picked up her tea and downed it. “He makes me laugh and hurt for him. He listens to me and thinks about what I say. Mom, he built me a desk and he reads all the placards in museums.”
Su Lin’s knowing laugh rolled out. “You are in love with him but you are afraid.”
“Something like that.”
“Your situation is nothing like mine. You and I are not alike. If Cort Jones is a good man and you love him, fight for him.”
“I don’t know. He trusts no one. He doesn’t believe in love.”
“Self-preservation. He has been hurt by someone he loved, his father. Pride. You said he was proud.”
Mara nodded. He’d given her no sign he felt anything but desire. Maybe friendship as well. Not enough. Was she in love with him? Or was it simple lust? Simple? Nothing was simple about the emotions roiling inside her.
“One thing more,” Su Lin said, with a catch in her voice. “I have never told anyone because it shames me.”
Mara studied the older woman’s anguished face. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“You need to understand. I told you I did not love your father when we married. When the doctor warned him about smoking and his weight, I realized I could lose him. That is when I knew I loved him.”
Not just loyalty, but love. Tears welled again. She caught her mother’s hand and felt the trembling of her emotion in her frail bones. “He knew?”
Su Lin shook her head. “That is my shame. I was afraid to tell Quincy I loved him. Afraid he would not believe me after all those years. He died without knowing.”
“I’m so sorry.” She rose from her seat and went to embrace her mother.
“Your young man has no family left. Only you. And you are both in danger.” When Mara started to protest, her mother cut her off. “No, don’t. I see more than you think. Once you know your feelings for him, tell him. Let him know he is not alone.”
“That’s a big risk to take.”
“Some things are worth the risk. I regret every day I did not risk love with your father.”
Chapter 21
Mara hugged her mother goodbye awhile later and meandered unseeing through the restaurant’s busy tables. Too much to think about. Too much to absorb.
She nearly collided with a server bearing a heavy tray of hot covered dishes. Aromas of spicy chicken and shrimp and the hated kimchi wafted around her as the lids rattled. She apologized to the irate server and scooted away.
Whatever Cassie had overheard got jumbled in the telling to Mara. Or misinterpreted by their juvenile minds. As Cort said. Marriage was about love, but more than love. Her parents made their union work in many ways. They had passion and their marriage lasted. But what she’d always wanted still held. True love from the beginning. On both sides.
She was about to take a seat on the bench reserved for take-out customers when a sharp voice penetrated her fog.
“Customers need those seats,” her aunt snapped. Probably irked because Mara hadn’t made time for her. More likely because she had to do Su Lin’s job. “Your young man came in. He said to meet him at the car.”
“Thanks. I’ll visit with you next time, okay?” Mara slipped away without waiting for a reply and hustled around back.
Vehicles pinged as their engines cooled in the full lot. Under the halogen safety lighting, she spied their rental car beside the restaurant’s panel van. Funny, Cort wasn’t in the driver’s seat. And hadn’t he said to wait inside? Apprehension prickled her nape.
A big hand covered her mouth and an equally hefty arm yanked her backward. Her heart raced. Her head reeled. She struggled but the man had her pinned against him.
“Do not make a sound.” A man in a tailored suit stepped from behind the van. The accent, the military bearing, the buzz cut, he had to be Colonel Yerik. “I merely want to talk.”
His words made no sense over the barrel of his big pistol, aimed at her nose.
***
The aromas inside Seoul Food made Cort’s mouth water, although he’d filled up on Cambodian beef in yellow curry peanut sauce. A cup of tea, maybe a dessert, while he waited seemed like a plan. Mara should be ready to go soon.
“Mr. Jones?” A beautiful older woman who looked to be Mara’s relative approached him. She wasn’t smiling. No surprise. She wouldn’t be thrilled about his being with Mara.
“That’s me. I don’t want to rush Mara. I can wait.”
“My daughter left to meet you a few minutes ago.”
His dinner congealed into cement in his stomach. He clasped Su Lin Marton’s trembling hand. “Mrs. Marton, why did she leave? Where’d she go?”
Her free hand fluttered to her throat. “I don’t know. My sister said...” She swallowed hard, cast a beseeching glance toward another woman. “Mae?”
The sister, a stack of menus in her hand, looked distraught, confused. “A man came in. Said he was waiting for Mara. She should meet him at the car.”
“What did this man look like?” Cort demanded as he reached for the door handle.
“Like you. Bigger though,” Mae said with a shrug. “Tough. Shorter hair. Windbreaker.”
Shit. One of the Clones. “Stay here.” He blew out the door and booked it around the corner of the building.
Braking to a halt in the parking lot, he scanned the area. “Mara!”
No answer.
Shadows blurred the scene, but their rental sat empty where he’d left it, and more cars filled the small lot. Every nerve in his body tingling, on alert, he raced between the cars. Nothing.
A woman’s scream split through the traffic’s hum. A scuffling noise from the back of the lot sent him barreling that direction.
More scuffling. A male yelp of pain.
“You freak, let me go!”
“Mara!” He bolted into the narrow passage, adrenaline pushing him like a mighty hand. A dark alley, rank with smells of garbage and worse.
One of the Clone Brothers held Mara pinned against his torso with one arm. His other arm held one of hers stretched in front. The Clone grimaced in pain.
Cort’s breath caught and fear threatened to choke him. W
hen Mara’s wide gaze met his, he saw anger but no pain or fear. As quickly as his gorge rose, he dialed it down. She needed him to stay cool.
“Let me go, you ape.” She struggled in the steely grip, kicked backward with one pointed heel. “Or I’ll kick you again.”
Give ’em hell, sweetheart. But that could backfire. “Easy, Mara. Don’t give him a reason to hurt you.”
“Hold it right there, Jones.” Colonel Yerik pointed a pistol his way. Not the same one as last time. Even bigger. Long attachment—a silencer.
His relief at seeing Mara whole vanished. “Let her go, Yerik. She was just visiting her mother.”
“So you said before about San Francisco. Not credible. I do not believe in coincidence. Sorry to hear about the guard Inglish’s demise.” He raised his cigarette for a long drag.
“Was that you?”
Yerik snorted. “Not my style. Too high profile and no finesse. And inconvenient.”
“And Mara?” Cort clenched his fists as he struggled for patience.
“I warned you, Jones. If you pursue the search for the jewels, she will pay. It seems you—and she—need a demonstration.”
“You touch her, Yerik, and I’ll blow this thing sky high. Your fucking prime minister will go down so fast, he’ll suck you down the drain with him.”
“An idle threat. You have no proof of anything.”
“I don’t need proof, asshole. All I need is an interested TV reporter.” At Yerik’s raised eyebrow, he took a step forward. Before he could press his advantage, a siren’s wail brought up everyone’s heads. Mara’s mom must’ve called the cops.
“I do not believe you will go public.” Yerik tossed down his cigarette. “Be warned. I can get to Ms. Marton any time I want.” He turned to the Clone. “Release her.”
The muscleman shoved Mara toward Cort.
As she stumbled away, he caught her up in his arms. Could only watch as the men disappeared down the alley. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, thanking the powers that be he’d reached her in time and cursing himself for giving Yerik that window. He should’ve stayed at Seoul Food for dinner, kept her within reach.
Ring of Truth (Devlin Security Force Book 2) Page 19