by Pamela Clare
Oh, my ...
God, he was gorgeous.
His body was all lean muscle from the slabs of his pecs with their dark curls and flat nipples to his biceps, abs, and obliques. A dark trail of curls disappeared behind his waistband, drawing her gaze to a place where it had no business being.
He was saying something. “If anything happens, I don’t want the two of us getting confused and shooting each other.”
Okay, that was important.
She jerked her gaze back to his face, swallowed. “Right. I’ll grab my weapon and run into your room.”
“Perfect.” He walked over to her. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
Being close to him like this was overwhelming. Mia could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell his skin. It was intoxicating.
She stood on her toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Joaquin, for everything. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He stood there and watched her as she walked into his spare room and closed the door behind her.
Joaquin lay in bed looking up at his ceiling in the dark, unable to sleep, what Mia had told them running through his mind.
Ice Queen, Iron Maiden, bitch.
Powell, that cabrón, hadn’t gotten what he’d wanted from Mia. Rather than facing the fact that she wasn’t interested in him, he’d pulled one of the oldest tricks in the book and made it seem like something was wrong with her. Yes, she was reserved, but she had passion. Joaquin had seen the glint of anger in her eyes when she’d talked about how Powell had treated her. He’d seen compassion, too, for the soldiers who’d been hurt.
Mustard gas? ¡Carajo!
Powell’s reprisals against her ought to have gotten him thrown out of the Army long before he’d had the chance to fuck up anyone else’s life. Coffee cans of shit? Making her ask for tampons? Camel spiders?
Hell, Joaquin didn’t even want to know what those were.
Whoever the killer was, he’d gotten close to Mia tonight. She had given Wu a list of the men who’d been a part of the looting, even those who didn’t live in Colorado. Wu would be checking into them, but it would take time.
In the meantime, they needed to help Mia get that concealed carry permit and keep her safe. Whoever this guy was, he was former military, just like she was. Although Joaquin knew that Mia was tough—she’d had to be tough to make it through that living hell of a deployment—all it took was one bullet.
Mierda.
Joaquin closed his eyes, willed himself to relax, images running through his mind like a slideshow. Mia standing near the barricade tape the night he’d met her, her face lined with worry. Mia smiling as she danced with him. Mia in shock over the medic’s murder. Mia looking at him through pleading eyes, trying to decide whether to trust him. Mia standing in a white nightgown and robe, her red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders, her gaze fixed on his chest.
Hell, yes, he’d caught that. Had that been desire in her eyes?
And what are you going to do about it if it was?
Nada. Nothing. Not yet. The last thing Joaquin wanted to be was the next man in Mia’s life to let her down by putting his dick first.
But, oh, if she ever told him she wanted him…
He touched a hand to his cheek where she’d kissed him, his skin burning still.
If that day came and the two of them crossed the line into sex, he was pretty certain they would light his bed on fire.
Joaquin made huevos rancheros for breakfast while Mia showered. They lingered over their coffee, talking about her job, about the concealed carry permit, and what to do to keep her safe.
“I’ll be fine.” She gave him a smile that put a hitch in his chest, her red hair hanging in damp ropes around her shoulders. “I’m touched that you worry about me.”
“Of course, I do.” He reached out, took her hand, ran his thumb over her knuckles, her skin soft. “You’re a special woman, Mia.”
Color came into her cheeks, and she shifted her gaze to the window—but she didn’t pull her hand away. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got armed guards at the Gardens, and there are people and security cameras everywhere.”
He let her hand go, instantly missing the contact. “Can you ask one of them to walk you to your car?”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea. I plan to submit my application for the emergency concealed carry permit before I go in today.”
That’s when Joaquin saw the clock. “Mierda.”
He was due at the paper in the I-Team meeting in ten minutes. “I’ve got to run, but there’s a spare key in the drawer beneath the fruit bowl that you can have. You’ve got my number. Call if you need anything. Sorry to run out on you.”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
He stepped into a pair of boots, grabbed his camera bag. “See you later.”
She gave a little wave. “Hasta la vista.”
That was cute.
He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He drove down alleys, through parking lots, and on the streets, making it to the paper with one minute to spare. He worked off his breakfast with a sprint up three flights of stairs to the newsroom, where he found the I-Team staff already heading toward the conference room. He set his camera bag down on his desk, grabbed a notepad and pen, and fell in with them.
“Glad you could make it,” Matt said in a low voice. “What happened last night?”
Joaquin shook his head.
“Oookay.” Matt let it go.
Joaquin took a seat at the conference table next to Anna Hughes, who usually worked in news for the city section. She had wanted a seat on the I-Team for a long time and had dressed for the occasion in a dark blue pantsuit with her dark hair pulled back in a tidy bun. “Hey, Anna. Good to see you here. Did you get drafted?”
She gave him an unconvincing smile that told him she was nervous. “Tom asked me to fill in for Sophie until Kat gets back from maternity leave.”
“Hey, Anna.” Cate waved to her from across the table, her gaze fixing on Joaquin. “Seen Mia lately?”
Joaquin didn’t like the way she’d said that, something in her voice and the way she looked at him putting him on alert.
Tom walked in, pencil behind each ear, stack of newspapers in his hands. He glanced around the table. “Hughes is joining us for a few weeks until James gets back from maternity leave. I think you all know her, so we can skip the meet-and-greet.”
“Thanks for having me here,” Anna said.
“What do you have for us, Hughes?”
Tom was putting her in the hot seat on her first day?
Anna sat up a little straighter. “A manager at one of Brighton’s Section Eight housing units invited police to practice K9 property searches and insisted that all the residents allow the police to enter their homes despite the fact that they didn’t have search warrants. I have a half-dozen residents on the record saying their apartments were searched against their will and an admission from the Brighton PD that they didn’t have warrants. They say they thought it was all just an exercise and voluntary.”
“Right. Voluntary.” Tom clearly approved of this scoop. “Did they find drugs, make any arrests?”
“No. No illegal drugs, no arrests.”
“What does the city government have to say about it?”
“The manager of the units told me that people who have nothing to hide shouldn’t object to their property being searched.”
“Whoa.” Alex gaped at Anna. “Okay now. That’s bullshit.”
Syd looked up from her control sheet. “How much room do you need?”
“I can do it in ten to twelve inches. I would love it if we could get a photo of one of these residents, maybe some shots of how the police left their apartments.”
Tom looked to Joaquin. “Ramirez?”
“I’ll head out to Brighton after the meeting, get a shot for the front page and something for the jump.”
Tom’s gaze shifted to Cate. “Warner, you
look like you have something to say.”
“Good job,” Joaquin whispered to Anna, who looked relieved.
“I’ve been working on my sources inside the Denver PD, and it’s paying off. I got a call this morning from a source who told me that something big is happening on the Meyer disappearance and Garcia murder, which the police believe to be connected.” Cate’s gaze shifted to Joaquin. “The source told me that Irving spent the morning on the phone with the Pentagon, asking for info about Mia Starr and the two men. According to Detective Wu, she’s not a suspect in either case at this point. But my source says something big is about to break.”
¡Carajo! Fuck.
Joaquin held her gaze, kept his expression neutral. If the police department had a leak and the paper published an account of what had happened at Tell al-Sharruken, Mia might think Joaquin had sold her out. Worse, she might end up in legal trouble, maybe even go to prison.
At the same time, investigative journalists depended on sources like this one. If Joaquin alerted Darcangelo and Hunter, he’d be putting Mia ahead of his job—and his obligation to the paper.
Tom frowned. “Can your source deliver proof of this or give us some idea of what’s happening? ‘Something big coming’ doesn’t work as a headline.”
“Yes.” Cate looked triumphant. “She said she can give me documents, so I’m meeting with her later over her lunch hour.”
Hell.
10
Mia left Joaquin’s place and took the light rail to the sheriff’s department on Colfax, where she filled out the paperwork for her emergency concealed carry permit and paid the fee. Someone at the police department—either Julian or Marc—had already faxed over a statement documenting her situation. In less than an hour, the SIG in her handbag was legal.
She took the light rail to the stop closest to her house, then walked home, staying acutely aware of her surroundings. Most people were at work, and kids were in school, leaving the streets quiet. She found her Mazda untouched and her condo just as she’d left it, no sign of any attempts to break in.
She sorted through her mail, then took a quick shower and dressed for work. It dawned on her as she was packing a lunch that she might want to check with Kevin first to make sure someone with the Denver police department had told him she’d been cleared. She had her answer when Sharon refused to put her through.
“What’s this about, Mia?” the woman said in an annoyed voice.
“I’ve been cleared and want to get back to work as soon as possible.”
“We haven’t heard anything about that.”
Disappointment and frustration cut through Mia. Did Sharon think she was lying?
“Tell Kevin to expect a call from the Denver police.”
She hung up and called Wu’s number. Her call went to voicemail. “Can you please contact the Botanic Gardens and let them know I’m no longer a suspect? I want to go back to work, and no one has gotten in touch with them yet.”
She was looking at seed catalogues—and daydreaming about a certain sexy photojournalist—when Kevin called her back.
“I’m so happy to hear the good news. When would you like to start again?”
“Now would be perfect. I miss my work.”
“Okay. I’ll brief security and see you in my office in an hour. And for the record, Mia, I’m so relieved. You’re a valuable member of our staff. We are concerned about your safety, though. Detective Wu explained that you might be one of this killer’s targets. We can talk about that when you get here.”
“Okay. Great. See you in an hour.”
So much for having her life back. It wasn’t Kevin’s fault or Wu’s or anyone’s apart from the bastard in the black hoodie.
She drove to work, parked in the staff lot, and entered through the front gate.
“Good to see you back, Mia!” said Tori, who sold tickets at the main entrance.
No one had seemed to care about her when security had escorted her off the property. If Mia wanted to continue working here—she loved her job—she would just have to get over that. Besides, hadn’t she faced much worse?
Mia pushed a smile onto her face. “Good to see you, too.”
She stepped through the gate, some of the tension she’d carried these past days leaving her. She had missed this place. She knew every square foot, every garden bed, every tree, every flowering plant. She spent the next ten minutes walking the paths, taking it all in. Dormant rose and lilac bushes that would explode into blooms in early June. Patches of bare soil that hid tulip and daffodil bulbs. Dwarf conifers in the Japanese garden that brought green to the winter landscape. Bouteloua gracilis, her favorite grass, jutting out of the snow in tufts, its feathery blooms now dried and full of tiny seeds.
She made her way toward the main building, hoping the horticulture team had finished sorting through the pile of internship applications. Then again, she’d only been away for a day and a half.
Wishful thinking.
“Mia!” Sharon motioned her toward the conference room. “Kevin’s waiting for you. It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks.” Mia found Kevin sitting with Michael, the head of security and one of the two guards who had escorted her off the property.
The men stood, shook her hand, welcoming her back.
“Sorry about the other day,” Michael said.
“Michael has just been telling me that he’s concerned about our ability to protect you while you’re here.”
Were they going to send her home again?
She started to speak, but Michael cut her off.
“I’ve talked with the Denver PD. I’ve also given an image of the suspect from our security footage to the front-gate staff. We can escort you to and from your vehicle and make you a part of our rounds, but we can’t assign someone to accompany you all day. We just don’t have the numbers. We think it’s best if you stay indoors, preferably in the non-public areas of the facility, like the greenhouses or the offices.”
Mia let out a relieved breath. “For a moment, I thought you were going to send me home again.”
Kevin chuckled. “There’s always work in the greenhouses. And you can pick up where you left off with these.”
He rested his hand on top of a stack of papers.
Internship applications.
Mia couldn’t help but laugh. “Right.”
Joaquin stood next to the gas pump, waiting for his tank to fill and watching while Anna disappeared inside to use the restroom. When the door closed behind her, he stepped away from the pump and called Darcangelo.
One ring, two…
Cabrón, answer!
“Hey, Ramirez, s’up?”
Joaquin knew what he was doing could land him in a load of shit, even get him fired, but he’d made a promise to Mia. “You’ve got a serious problem.”
“I’m listening.”
“This has to stay off the record. I’m risking my career by calling you.”
“Let me close my office door.” A moment of silence. “Okay, go ahead.”
“You’ve got a leak. Catherine Warner told the staff at the I-Team meeting this morning that she has a source in Irving’s office who told her what’s going on with the case. The source told Cate that Irving had spent the early morning on the phone with the Pentagon and that something big was about to break. Cate is supposed to meet this person at lunch to get files or some shit.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Tell me about it, man. I would have called you earlier, but I wasn’t alone.”
Anna didn’t know her way around like Joaquin did and had asked to carpool to Brighton with him.
“You have any idea who it might be?”
“It has to be someone physically close to Irving, someone he trusts or someone who can hear what he says over the phone or who sees what’s on his desk. Cate is new and inexperienced. She used the pronoun ‘she,’ so it might be a woman.”
Experienced reporters didn’t give away the gender of confidential s
ources.
“I appreciate the tip. I’m going to run this by Old Man Irving right now.”
“You can’t be overheard. I could lose my job.”
“I’ll whisper directly into his hairy ear. Does that work?”
It might keep Joaquin’s ass out of the fire, but it didn’t assuage his guilt. He had betrayed a colleague. He had betrayed the paper. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No, thank you. We all made Mia a promise. Besides, we can’t function as a police department if our staff is leaking shit to the papers.”
Joaquin ended the call, walked back to his truck, and started washing windows.
He’d done the right thing. Mia had only talked to the cops because she trusted him. If a leak to his paper landed her in prison, he would never forgive himself.
Anna walked outside again, a smile on her face. “There is nothing that improves a person’s disposition quite like an empty bladder and a full cup of coffee.”
“I hear that.”
They talked about Anna’s story on the way back to Denver and the paper, Joaquin listening, offering advice when she asked.
“Hey, try not to worry. You’ve got this.” Joaquin meant it. Anna had good news instincts and lots of solid reporting experience.
By the time they arrived, she had worked out her lede and her nut graph.
“Thanks, Joaquin.”
“De nada.”
Cate wasn’t there when they arrived. It was just after noon, so she had probably left to meet with her source.
Had Darcangelo and Irving found the leak in time?
Ah, shit.
Joaquin tried to focus on editing photos and writing cutlines, his mind bouncing back and forth between wondering whether he’d reached Darcangelo in time and thinking about Mia. Had she gotten her concealed carry permit? Had she gone back to work? Would she sleep at his place or stay at her own home tonight?
He was in the middle of going over his images with Syd when Cate stepped out of the elevator and walked to her desk.
The expression on her face told him everything he needed to know.