He rubbed his eyes. Was Dr. Karsh a link in the Miami mafia chain?
Gabriella had either removed the bug from beneath her monitor or she’d purposely walked to another part of her office with her cell phone to have her conference.
Then again she might have decided to leave the bug alone. There was no way of knowing.
A groan escaped his throat. She would have made a damn fine FBI agent. She’d make an even better lover. He shoved the thought aside.
“Keep up the good work.” He clicked off and phoned the undercover officers tailing her.
“This is Calder. Give me a progress report.”
“Yes, sir. She rode her bike home, then left a few minutes later for a Laundromat two blocks away. It’s the Maple Street Laundromat in the middle of the 1300 block, west side. Officer Barr followed her inside. They’re both still there.”
She could have arranged to meet Hal there. No telling how many calls she’d made on her cell phone between two and three.
“Did she go on foot?”
“No. Her bike. She dangled a laundry bag on the end of her handlebar.”
“Call me the second she leaves the Laundromat, and don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Right.” There was a click.
When Max reached Little Italy, he pulled into a parking space for delivery trucks a block away from her apartment. He waited for what seemed like hours—in reality it was only twenty minutes—before his cell phone rang. He clicked it on.
“What’s happening?”
“She just walked out the door with her laundry and is taking off on her bike headed north.”
Max started the van and backed out of his parking place. “Put Barr on as soon as you can.”
“He’s on his way to the car now.”
Thirty seconds later Max got the call. “This is Officer Barr. While Ms. Peris was getting ready to put in a wash, I checked all the units on the pretense of looking for something I’d lost. There were no notes left anywhere for her to read. After she loaded the washer, she sat down to work on a crossword puzzle she’d pulled from her laundry bag.”
It was probably the same one Max had seen on the table by her bed.
“There were half a dozen people in there, but she didn’t talk to any of them or make eye contact. She got up once to put her things in the dryer. When they were done, she put everything back in the laundry bag and left. I checked the washer and dryer she used to see if she might have dropped a note inside for someone. Nothing.”
“Good work. Keep it up. I’ll check in with you later.”
Max took off for her apartment. It was time to make his next move.
GABY WAS HALFWAY between the Laundromat and home when she heard her cell phone ring. She pulled it out of her jeans pocket to glance at the caller ID. To her surprise it was the Girls’ Village dispatcher. She hadn’t had an emergency phone call from them in more than a month.
She came to a stop in front of a magazine shop and clicked on.
“Gaby, this is Janene. We’ve got a critical situation. Go to the back parking area of Greenbrier’s Department Store at the Marina District shopping center. There’s a sixteen-year-old girl hiding in the middle Dumpster near the loading dock. She’s wearing a pink T-shirt and jeans. Her name’s Svetlana.”
Another Russian. Probably an immigrant. “I’ll take care of it.”
Gaby clicked off, then phoned for a cab. What a time to be without her car!
After turning off her phone, she put it in her pocket, then rushed inside the shop with her laundry bag.
“Excuse me, sir.”
The man at the cashier’s desk looked up. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’ve been called to an emergency situation and am waiting for a cab. Could I leave this laundry bag and my bike here? I’ll come for them both as soon as I can.”
After a slight hesitation, “Of course. Bring your bike inside. I’ll put it behind the counter.”
“That’s very kind of you. I’ll think of a way to repay you later.”
She handed over her laundry bag, then went outside for her bike. Within a minute she was ready to go. “Here’s my business card.” She pulled one from the wallet of her back pocket and laid it on the counter before hurrying out the door again.
In a couple of minutes a taxi cruised up to the curb. She scrambled into the back and gave the driver instructions. The traffic was horrendous, but when she told him the nature of her errand and showed him her official identification for Girls’ Village, he said he would hurry.
When they finally reached the shopping center, the back parking lot was full of cars and people. She told him to head for the middle Dumpster. As soon as he pulled up beside it, Gaby got out, leaving the door open.
Walking over to large trash bin, she lifted the lid. “Svetlana? My name is Gaby. I’m from Girls’ Village. Don’t be afraid.”
In a second she heard noise, then a strawberry-blond head emerged above her. Finally she saw a lovely, but frightened, young face appear.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
Gaby helped the girl down. She was taller than Gaby by several inches, but very slender.
“Get in the taxi and crouch on the floor.”
The girl did as she was told. Gaby followed her inside and shut the door. The driver knew where to go. They were off.
“Thank you very much,” the girl whispered in heavily accented English. She sounded like Anatoly, only her accent was far more pronounced.
“You are very welcome. How did you hear about Girls’ Village?”
“At school. This lady told us we could call.”
“Mrs. Apgard?”
“I do not know.”
The girl’s legs were pressed up against Gaby’s. Her body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Gaby wondered what awful situation she was running from.
“Well, I’m glad you called us. We can help you.”
“I glad, too.”
“Is anyone else in trouble besides you?”
“Yes. My mother. Her boyfriend might kill her because I run away.”
Tears stung Gaby’s eyes. “Do you want the police to go there and help her?”
“No!” the girl cried. “Maybe he not kill her if no police come.”
Sandra, the teen who was expecting a baby soon, had told Gaby the same thing when she’d plucked her from a life-and-death situation at an amusement park last spring. The girl had asked that no police be called in because she was terrified harm would come to her family.
Gaby pulled out her cell phone and called security at Girls’ Village. “This is Gaby Peris. I’ll be arriving with a new girl named Svetlana in approximately five minutes by TransCab.”
“We’ll be ready for you.”
She put the phone away, then patted the girl’s back.
“We’re almost there, Svetlana. You’ll be treated with love and concern.”
“Since my father die, I not safe anyplace.”
“You will be now.”
It wasn’t long before she directed the driver to take the road around the side of Girls’ Village to the gate, where they were allowed on through. Again she asked him to wait while she took Svetlana inside to the admittance wing.
Liz, one of the volunteers on night duty, was there to greet them. Gaby turned to the girl. “We’re all on a first-name basis around here, Svetlana. Liz will help you get settled and then you can have dinner.”
Her gaze flicked to Liz. “After her orientation, why don’t you ask Sandra to be her buddy for tonight? I think the two of them will be able to relate without problem.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Come with me, Svetlana.”
The Russian girl hesitated. She stared at Gaby. “Thank you. You save my life.”
Again she could hear Anatoly in the girl’s words and voice. Everything about this girl tugged at her heart.
Gaby gave her a hug. “Knowing you’re safe is all the thanks I need.”
“You work here?”
<
br /> “I come whenever my job lets me. As a matter of fact, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow Gaby would be with Anatoly. Just the thought of him created an excitement she couldn’t quell.
Gaby’s comment produced the ghost of a smile on Svetlana’s face before the girl followed Liz down the hall.
Trying hard not to think about Svetlana’s home situation, Gaby hurried out to the taxi. One glance at her watch and she realized it was too late to go back to the magazine shop. It didn’t matter. She could walk over there in the morning to get her things.
Right now she had a lot more on her mind than cleaning the apartment for Hallie. On the chance that Svetlana was the girl’s real name, Gaby could run it through the State Department’s computer and come up with some matches. Since the school district couldn’t legally give her the information she sought, she would go about it her own way.
The father was dead. He could have brought his family over on several types of visas, hoping to get naturalized at a later date. Gaby would find out soon enough.
She gave the driver directions to her office. Fortunately she had some cash in an envelope at work she’d forgotten to deposit in the bank. She asked the driver to wait while she got the money out of the drawer. When she paid him, she gave him a big tip, thanking him for all his help. Then she dashed down the stairs, locked her office from the inside and got busy on the computer.
UNTIL MS. PERIS HAD TAKEN an unexpected detour on her way home from the Laundromat, her activities for the day hadn’t set off any alarm bells.
Now their ring was deafening.
Max followed the taxi at a discreet distance. When it finally pulled away from the curb in front of Jack’s Drum and Guitar Shop, he drove to the same spot and parked the van.
While Gideon ran a background check on the owner of the magazine shop where she’d stashed her things, Max had kept in touch with the guys tailing her. Their account of a teen being taken from a Dumpster to Girls’ Village in such a clandestine manner fit with recent information that the mafia brought girls from Russia, then forced them to work as strippers and prostitutes.
Girls’ Village was an established institution, reputed for the good it did in the community. But the mafia could have infiltrated it, and Ms. Peris was being used for a variety of activities. It would make the perfect laundering house for homeless immigrant girls.
Gabriella made the perfect Mata Hari.
Max gave her two minutes to reach her office, then moved stealthily down the stairs. She was already seated at the computer. Something was so vital she’d come here, instead of going straight home.
Determined to find out what that something was, he knocked on the door. Through the glass he saw her head swivel in his direction.
“Gabriella?” he called.
As he’d hoped, she jumped up from the chair without touching the keyboard. When she unlocked the door and opened it, he expected anything but what he got.
For one thing, there was nothing furtive about her demeanor. For another, she gave the appearance of someone who held the weight of the world on her shoulders. But that impression was a fleeting one as her gaze lifted to meet his and the sadness changed to pleasure.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes roved over his features, warming places in his body he hadn’t known were there.
“I went to your apartment to have a serious talk with you. When you were not there, I decided you must be working late, so I came here. What I have to say is very important. I do not mind waiting while you finish what you are doing.”
“It couldn’t keep until tomorrow?” But she’d asked the question with a smile hovering at the corner of her lovely mouth.
He inhaled sharply. “No. It could not. I must speak to you about my fiancée. I have decided I do not want her to come, after all.”
She looked stunned. He didn’t think it was an emotion she could fake.
“I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“What do you mean?”
Her beautiful arched eyebrows knit into a frown.
“Come in, Anatoly.”
He followed her inside and locked the door behind him.
She walked over to her desk but didn’t immediately sit down. They stood a few feet apart. He could see the monitor over her shoulder. A list of names stood out on the screen, but he needed to get closer to make sense of them.
That was going to be difficult. In the shadowy light without the door between them, the curves her T-shirt and modest shorts revealed had robbed him of his concentration.
“Please explain about it being too late.”
“Just today I learned that Natasha’s student visa went through. I was going to wait until tomorrow to surprise you with the news. I’m afraid it has already been mailed to her.”
He let out a stream of Russian invective. “Is there any way to stop it from reaching Moscow?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” After a brief silence, “You know what I think?” She flashed him a teasing smile. “You’re having an attack of prewedding jitters. It happens to American men all the time.”
“It happens to Russian men, too, Gabriella. But that is not what is wrong with me. This morning when I woke up and found myself wanting to spend the whole day with you, I realized something earth-trembling was happening to me.”
“Earthshaking,” she corrected him.
“Yes. That is the word I meant. Please…do not laugh at me. You think this is some kind of a joke, but I assure you it is not.”
She looked startled. “I would never laugh at you, Anatoly.”
Such earnestness deserved some kind of award.
“It is no secret that I have enjoyed women as much as the next man. But never in my life did I want to spend every minute with one, not even my fiancée. When I met you I thought, this is an attractive American woman, but the novelty will wear off.
“But three days and nights have gone by. I am more excited to be with you now than the morning you crashed into me.”
“Maybe that’s the reason your interest has lasted so long.”
“Now you are being sarcastic. You wound me, Gabriella.”
A sound of exasperation escaped her lips. “Not at all. Anatoly, if you had been the one to crash into me, not only would I have been furious, I’d have been prepared not to like you at all. But that would have been impossible, because you are very likable.
“I think maybe you’re still fascinated with me because the way we met was beyond your control, and you’re a man who likes to orchestrate your relationship with a woman.”
How did you know that about me?
“That is true. I have been caught off guard and should have recovered from my infatuation by now. But that has not happened yet. With feelings this strong, I realize I cannot marry Natasha. I have no desire to see her.”
“Anatoly, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“No. Karin was right. If I had truly loved my fiancée, I would not have left Russia. I should not have asked you for help with her visa. It was a foolish move, and I did it to fight my attraction to you. I must call Natasha and tell her not to come. She must be made to understand that a future with me is not possible.”
He glanced at his watch. “There is an eleven-hour time difference between here and Moscow. She will be awake and getting ready for work. May I use your phone?”
Max moved over to the desk where he could see the words on the screen. She’d been researching the Russian name Svetlana from an immigration data bank. He memorized what he could while he pulled twenty dollars from his wallet.
“You’re going to call her from here?” She sounded incredulous.
“If it is all right.” He put the money on her desk.
“When the bill comes, it might be bigger. Naturally I will pay. Please, go ahead and work while I stand here and make the call.”
“But, Anatoly…you need privacy.”
“In case you are trying to tell me that you understand Russian, le
t me assure you that I have nothing to tell her you cannot hear.”
“I only know a few words,” she said in a quiet voice. “But I should think you would still want to be alone.”
He held the receiver of her desk phone in his hand. “If I wanted to be by myself, I would not have spent my time looking for you. When we are both through here, I will put your bike in my van and drive you home.”
“No. I mean…I don’t feel like doing any more work tonight.”
For once she’d lost her cool.
“I have made you uncomfortable. Forgive me, Gabriella.” He put the receiver back on the hook. “I was so anxious to let you know I was ending my relationship with Natasha, I did not stop to think that this is your place of business and I am the intruder. It will not happen again.”
“Anatoly—” she said as he turned to leave. He paused midstride to look back at her. “You didn’t intrude. I don’t have my bike tonight and could use a ride home. Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Do not tell me this if you are only feeling sorry for me. That I could not take.”
“I might feel many things for you, but sorry isn’t one of them.”
“Yes? Many?” He smiled. “What are these things?”
She ignored his question and sat down in front of the computer to shut it down.
Obeying a compulsion he could no longer fight, he slid his hands onto her shoulders, enjoying the warmth of her flesh through the thin cotton material. He felt her body tense.
“You must relax, Gabriella,” he whispered. “Let my hands help you.”
He’d been wanting to touch her like this since the accident. Too late—he forgot to read the last few names at the bottom of the screen before she closed the file.
It didn’t matter. He knew where to find it again.
Right now he had found something else. Something tactile. Something throbbing with life.
He lowered his mouth where his thumb had been and brushed his lips against the flawless, satiny skin of her neck.
“I want to unlock your hair. May I?”
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