“You did.”
“I’ll need low salt and no sugar. Two of my guests are diabetics. One has celiac disease, poor dear. And, of course, my gluten intolerance. Will you email me your menus by the end of the week?”
“No problem.” How the hell can you have a formal dinner with no sugar? And no salt? And what the hell is celiac disease?
“Thank you, Jack. My husband loved your truffle mac and cheese last week.”
“Glad to hear it.” Why wouldn’t he? It was loaded with butter and cheese, pasta and chunks of truffles.
After a few more instructions on how she preferred Jack to tidy up afterwards, they disconnected and Jack tossed the cell phone onto the couch then walked into the kitchen.
The last two days had been a serious pain in his ass with this new Buckhead client forcing his hand on the whole no gluten thing. If it were up to Jack he’d just tell her, eat it and deal with it. But of course, he was in the customer service game now. So he’d spend a couple hours online researching recipes and meal plans to accommodate her while hoping to come up with something that wouldn’t make a dog vomit.
He peered through the glass door of his oven at the potpie bubbling away. The crust was golden but not yet mahogany.
Things had changed between him and Mia since last month when they’d solved Dave’s murder. Not really changed in a bad way, unless you thought the fact that they weren’t sleeping together was bad.
Which he did.
He glanced at the water bowl on the floor. At the moment, he wasn’t sure if Daisy was his dog or Mia’s. He grinned ruefully. Looks like they had a shared custody arrangement. Regardless of how gruff he’d sounded to Mia on the phone, he was delighted they had a case—it was another reason besides her dead brother and a homeless dog for coming together.
Which was why his phone conversation with Jess a few minutes ago was so frustrating.
“I hate to ask, dear,” Jess had said, whispering conspiratorially into the phone while she was waiting for Mia to finish with her horse, “but if you have any ideas about dating Mia, I need to ask you to please table them. At least for now, as a personal favor to me, Jack.”
Jack tossed down the potholder and picked up his wine glass from the counter.
Something about Mia being all vulnerable and needing to get a better grip on her extrasensory powers first—or whatever the hell Jess called it—and saying that getting involved romantically could be problematic.
What the hell? It was bad enough they hadn’t seen much of each other since they solved Dave’s murder. They’d talked about creating a detective agency together, but what with his chef business taking off, nothing had moved forward. He’d been positively gleeful when the wife with the cheating hubby had called.
Then, five minutes later, Jess called with her “special” favor.
Now he was supposed to hold off making his move? For how long? A week? A month?
Indefinitely?
He heard Jess’s car pull up behind his truck in the driveway and felt a flutter of anticipation in his gut at seeing Mia again. God, he had it bad. He turned off the oven and drank down the rest of his wine.
“Jack?”
“In the kitchen,” he called, pulling out the anti-pasta tray from the refrigerator.
Mia stepped into the kitchen. She wore jeans and a corduroy barn jacket over a turtleneck. Her face was flushed with excitement. The mixture of a floral perfume with the faint whiff of horse clung to her long dark hair.
Daisy burst in from behind her and jumped up against Jack’s knees.
“Hey, girl,” he said, squatting down to give the dog the hug he’d prefer to lavish on Mia.
“Jack,” Mia said, “I’ve got something to show you.”
“I hope it’s a pinot noir,” he said, standing up. “Although I could live with a decent pinot grigio.”
Jess came up behind Mia and squeezed into the narrow galley kitchen. Jack saw she had her arm around a young man.
“We found him walking down the front drive at Shakerag,” Mia said, shrugging out of her jacket and handing it to Jack.
The man was Hispanic, Jack noted, and judging from the spasmodic way his wide eyes followed Mia’s hand gestures, he didn’t speak English.
And he was frightened.
Jack waved them all out of the kitchen. “What happened? Who is he?”
“That’s just it, Jack,” Mia said. “We don’t know. Oh. I left the wine in the car.”
“We’ll get it in a minute.” Jack approached the man who cowered the closer Jack got, his eyes darting to Jess and Mia as if pleading with them to intercede. “What’s the matter with him? Crap, he’s bleeding!”
“It’s not bad,” Jess said. “But he seems to have gone through barbwire at one point.”
“Okay, everybody sit down,” Jack said. “And start at the beginning. When did you find him? I just talked to you thirty minutes ago.”
“Right after I hung up,” Mia said, patting the couch next to her. “Seconds later he practically fell in front of our car.”
“And why did you feel the need to put him in your car?”
“Okay, Jack, don’t be like that. Can’t you see he’s scared shitless?”
“Mia, dear. Language.”
“Sorry, Mom. We don’t speak Spanish so we don’t know why when I opened the car door he practically dove into the back seat. I figured he was running from someone, you know? Mm-mm, that smells good.”
Jack dashed into the kitchen and pulled the potpie out of the oven. He set it on the counter to cool and returned to the living room. The man was sitting on the couch now. Jack figured he was about twenty years old. His face was freshly cut by the barbwire but no longer bleeding.
“He’s petrified,” Jack said, sitting opposite the man.
“I know,” Mia said. “We figured he was afraid we’d turn him in. For sure he doesn’t have papers.”
“He looks like he’s terrified for his life,” Jack said.
“Exactly what I thought.”
Jack gave Mia a baleful glance. “And your plan? I know you have one.”
“Beyond giving him a decent meal and trying to find out who’s chasing him?”
Jack sighed and ran his hand over his face. He turned to the young man who was staring desperately at Mia. “Como te llamas?”
“Jack! You speak Spanish!”
“What I just said, and an inquiry about the location of your aunt’s blue pencil box, is the extent of my linguistic abilities,” he said, grimly. He looked back at the young man. “Senor?”
The man continued to look at Mia as if she might save him.
“It’s okay,” Mia said to him. She put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, sending a jolt of heat through him where she touched him. “Jack is our amigo. He won’t hurt you.”
The man’s face crumpled into what looked like the beginning of tears and then glanced at Jack before turning back to Mia. “José,” he said. “Me llamo José.”
Jess stood up and went out to the car, returning with the bottle of wine. “I think we can all use a drink,” she said.
“Mi Hermana esta en peligro.”
“I have no idea what he’s saying,” Jack said.
“Mi Hermana.”
“Sorry, José. No comprendo,” Mia said.
“I think hermana means sister,” Jess said.
“How do you know that?” Mia said. She jumped up and rummaged in her purse for her smartphone. She touched a few buttons and then spoke into it. “Why were you running away tonight?” She held the smartphone out to José and an automated voice said: por que niegues esta noche?
José’s face lit up and he reached for the smartphone.
“Wait, let me move it from English to Spanish,” Mia said as she took the phone and made the adjustment before handing it to him.
He took the phone and spoke slowly into it. “Huia de mis captores.” He paused and the smartphone intoned flatly, I was running from my captors.
“Hol
y shit,” Mia said. “Like kidnappers? Does that make sense? Maybe he comes from a rich family back in Mexico or something?”
José spoke again into the phone. “Mi Hermana y yo fuimos tornados.” My sister and I were both taken.
“You were right, Mom. He was talking about his sister.”
“Maria,” José said, as tears filled his eyes.
“I think I know what this is,” Jack said, standing up. “Mia, give me a hand in the kitchen.”
“Are you serious? Now?”
“Please?”
Jess took the smart phone from José, changed the setting, and spoke into it, “Where is Maria now, José?”
Jack pulled Mia into the kitchen. “You can plate up four servings while I open the wine.”
“What the hell, Jack?” But she pulled four large white bowls from the open shelving in the kitchen.
“I think he’s a victim of a human trafficking ring,” he said in a low voice.
Mia glanced at the living room where her mother was talking to José. “You mean like sex slaves? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, it might for his sister,” he said, pulling the cork out of the bottle. “But human trafficking isn’t just sex. He says he was held against his will. If he’s being forced to do manual labor, it would explain his injuries and why he was over by Shakerag. There are several companies that have factories out that way.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m serious that human trafficking is a big problem in Georgia. Here, grab some forks. We’ll eat in the living room tonight.”
Mia loaded the four plates onto a tray with a pile of paper napkins. Jack followed her back to the living room with the wine and four glasses.
Jess looked up when they came in. “He said he hasn’t seen his sister in over a week. She’s only seventeen.”
José took his plate with both hands and for a moment Jack thought the man might skip the use of the fork. He looked at Jack for the first time since he’d arrived. “Gracias, senor,” he said. “Por favor me ayude.”
Mia reached for the phone but Jack waved his hand at her.
“Never mind. He said please help me.”
Mia put an arm around the young man and spoke earnestly to him. “We’ll help you, José,” she said. “Muyo ayude. Comprenez?”
“That’s French you’re sort of speaking,” Jack said.
“Ayudame a encontrar a mi Hermana.”
“Something about his sister again,” Mia said.
“You can guess what he’s saying, darling,” Jess said sadly. “I’m sure he wants us to help him find his sister.”
Mia nodded. “And that’s exactly what we’ll do.” She spoke into her smartphone. “We’ll find her, José. I promise you. We will.”
Encontraremos en ella, José. Te lo prometo. Lo haremos.
Tears seeped from his eyes and he smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the house. “Gracias, senorita,” he said. “Dios te bendiga. Dios te bendiga. Gracias.”
*****
Her feet were cold, her shoes sodden and falling apart. She had spent the last three days sleeping. She was sure they had drugged her. A part of her wanted to thank them for that.
In the small motel room, she saw three other women—girls, really—and they were all lying on the motel room beds as if they were dead. But Maria knew they were alive. Every now and then the youngest would whimper and call for her mama.
The two men played cards at a table by the window. They ignored the women and for that Maria was grateful. The other man didn’t ignore them, but for now he didn’t hurt them either. Maria tried to watch him without him seeing her. A long sheet of snarled black hair draped her face from where she sat on the corner of the one of the beds. She leaned against the wall and watched.
Her plan was simple. Papa always said those were the best kind. She would comply. Go along. Endure. As long as they didn’t kill her, nothing else mattered. She could handle anything else.
“Senorita?”
The gringo with the yellow hair—the one who smiled a lot—crouched next to Maria. He had a plate of tacos in one hand. And he was smiling. Maria didn’t know where he’d gotten the food but it smelled good. Even if it was garbage with salsa on top, it smelled very good.
Maria nodded and plucked a warm burrito from the plate. It felt soggy in her hand but it didn’t matter. It would fill her up. Besides, the gringo looked like he really, really wanted her to eat it. So she would comply. She wasn’t sure she could manage a smile. She knew he’d prefer it if she could.
For now it would be enough not to vomit back up the food he was offering her.
*****
After Mia and Jess left, Jack gave José a couple of ibuprofen for his bruises, a bottle of water, and the couch. The kid was exhausted and still afraid. Jack wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t bolt in the night. How in the hell were they going to find the guy’s sister if they couldn’t go to immigration? Jack had a contact at immigration legal services through Catholic Charities in Atlanta. They sometimes worked things around the back to get the job done. They might be able to help. Or at least give them a direction to start looking.
When Jack snapped the living room light out, José shot up to a sitting position on the couch and looked at Jack with consternation.
“You want me to leave a light on?” Jack asked.
José licked his lips and looked at the lamp.
“No worries, José. We all need a nightlight from time to time. Daisy! Where are you, girl?”
She was curled up at the foot of the couch with José. Jack smiled ruefully. If anybody knew what it felt like to be alone and afraid, it was Daisy.
“Alright, then, son,” Jack said. “We’ll get all this sorted out in the morning. Okay?”
José nodded and pulled Daisy up into his arms as he leaned back into the couch. “Okay,” he said in a hoarse whisper, his eyes closing as he spoke.
Jack ran a quick shower and then settled in the main bedroom with a novel Mia had been bugging him to read. He wasn’t big on reading fiction but he thought fifteen minutes a night wasn’t too much to spend on the woman who pretty much filled his every waking thought.
He looked away from his e-reader and frowned. Am I obsessed with her?
From the moment she’d walked into his life six months ago, Mia Kazmaroff had redefined his world view—with herself at the center of it.
That’s what happens when you want something you can’t have, he thought, forcing himself to concentrate on the book.
The crazy thing was, people had always told him oh, you’ll know when it’s real. They told him that in spite of the fact that he’d had a long series of serious girlfriends all through college and the police academy—not to mention a five-year marriage. And every one of those women had felt very real to him. Every one felt like they were right for him in cosmic ways that transcended the ordinary.
But until he met Mia, he’d never even come close to the real thing.
Stands to reason she’s got to be off limits.
He heard a sound in the living room and listened as José used the bathroom—little Daisy’s clipped nails patting along behind him—and returned to the couch.
Poor kid. If he and his sister really were abducted, there’s no telling what had happened to her. What was happening to her right now, he thought uncomfortably. He didn’t know what Mia had in mind—except a passionate intention to do something—but Jack was very much afraid this case was going to be solved the hard way.
By sending José back to Mexico without his sister.
In his dream he was ripping his clothes off. Tearing at them like he couldn’t get them off fast enough. He felt like he was burning up.
The kisses that accompanied the clothes-ripping were getting sloppier and wetter and Jack felt a needle of annoyance penetrate his dream life. And then he began to choke.
Daisy was standing on his chest licking his face and whining but there was so much smoke in the room, he co
uldn’t make out the dog’s form. He coughed and jerked the bedcovers back, startled to see sparks fly across the room when he did.
His lungs hurt like someone had coated them with hot sauce and every breath sliced him from the inside.
The fucking room was on fire.
He fell out of bed onto the floor and Daisy was with him nose to nose. It was easier to breathe on the floor but he knew he had to move fast. Now that his hearing seemed to be working again, he could hear the sounds of crackling and roaring as the flames on the other side of his bedroom door consumed his house. He crawled to the window and forced it open, watching the smoke suck outside in a powerful fume. The window opened onto the back deck. He grabbed Daisy and dropped her out the window and followed quickly behind her.
Outside, the night was cold and the air thick and snapping with the flames from the roof of his house. He watched, stunned, as the eaves on the near side of his house broke and fell onto the deck in a shower of sparks and smaller fires. He staggered away and watched the flames punch out the windows in his dining room and kitchen.
And then he remembered…
José.
Jack ran to the kitchen door that opened up onto the deck and grabbed the doorknob but the door was locked from the inside. Looking around wildly, he grabbed a deck chair and heaved it through the dining room window that connected with the living room. Inside, all he could see was black smoke and fire.
In the distance, he heard the fire truck coming closer and closer. One of the neighbors must have called.
There was no way. He looked through the dining room window and fell back as another blast of heat and flame shot out the broken glass. Daisy ran to him and he scooped her up and held her to his chest as he watched his house burn.
There was just no way.
3
Mia sat in the metal chair next to the examination table that held Jack in the emergency room at Grady Hospital, an oxygen mask strapped to his head. She could see his eyes darting around the room as if trying to keep up with his thoughts.
Complete Mia Kazmaroff Romantic Suspense Series, 1-4 Page 22