Caught in the Act

by Jill Sorenson

  Across the parking lot, a man opened a can of soda and took a long drink. Kari couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled up the windows and leapt out of the van, locking it quickly before she rushed to the back door. There were no shouted threats, no weapons drawn. Her eyes darted around the parking lot as she disengaged the alarm. Inside Zócalo, she used the bathroom and drank straight from the sink, splashing cool water on her flushed cheeks. As she straightened, she winced at her reflection. She looked like a crazy person. Mascara smudged, eyes wild. Her tank top was damp with sweat.

  “Ugh,” she said, yanking it off. After a quick toilette with paper towels, she put on the extra shirt she kept under the counter.

  A man was waiting for her when she walked out.

  Kari let out a muted scream, flattening her back against the wall. It was Chuy’s partner, the quiet crew member with the no-frills face.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, standing still in the hallway. His accent wasn’t as pronounced as Maria’s, or as pleasing to the ear. With the light behind him, he was a dark outline, almost unrecognizable. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes,” she said, her heart pounding. “Where’s my sister?”

  “She will be delivered to you, as planned.”

  “When?”

  “When you give us the packages.”

  “They’re in the back of my van.”

  “Those are just tiles.”

  Her stomach felt queasy. “I don’t understand.”

  “It was a dry run,” he explained slowly, as if speaking to a child.

  A dry run. She’d almost gone insane for nothing. Even worse, she had to repeat the experience. “No,” she whispered. “That’s impossible.”

  The man remained silent.

  “I can’t do it again!”

  “Would you like to pay the debt another way?”

  Kari slid down the wall, shaken. She couldn’t come up with that kind of money. Selling her assets would only cover a fraction of the amount.

  “We will give you more instructions before the real pickup.”

  “I want to see my sister.”

  “After the delivery.”

  “You’re an evil man,” she said, her voice breaking. “How do you live with yourself?”

  He turned his head to the side, contemplative. In profile, he was only slightly less intimidating. “I’m sorry you are upset.”

  “Fuck you!”

  With a polite nod, he left her alone.

  Kari couldn’t have guessed how long she sat there, her knees drawn up to her chest. Finally she got up and went to the mini-fridge, staring at the contents blankly. Something gnawed at her belly, but it didn’t feel like hunger. She grabbed a yogurt smoothie and drank from the container, hoping to fill her emptiness.

  A knock at the back door alerted her that she had another visitor. She went to answer it, not exercising any special caution. She felt numb.

  It was Adam.

  “What a surprise,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. There was no warmth left inside her, no hint of the coquette.

  He gave her a quick survey, assessing her bleak mood. “You forgot your sweater.”

  She looked down at the garment he offered. The cream-colored knit made a sharp contrast to his dark hands. They were strong, capable hands. An honest man’s hands, she thought, even though she didn’t trust him.

  “Normally we would have stuck it in the lost-and-found,” he said.

  Her gaze rose to his face. It was compellingly sincere. For some reason she couldn’t unfold her arms to accept the sweater. She just stared at him, her lips trembling. The tears that wouldn’t come a few minutes ago rushed to the surface, wetting her dry eyes.

  He didn’t panic at the sight or make any awkward excuses. As if he understood that she was frozen, he shook out the knit fabric and draped it around her shoulders, enveloping her in its soft embrace.

  Kari melted at the gesture. Allowing herself to be drawn forward, she pressed her face to the front of his shirt and cried. He wrapped his arms around her, cupping the back of her head and stroking her hair. There were no words of comfort or invasive questions. He just held her until the tears abated.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling. Her nose was running, so she shied away from him, grabbing a tissue. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “I had a bad day.”

  “Maybe you should talk about it.”

  “To you?”

  “I’m the only one here.”

  God, he seemed so earnest. She’d always been drawn to nice men but fallen into lukewarm relationships. Adam was different. He had the good-guy appeal she responded to, along with a mysterious edge that excited her.

  Maybe he was the last person she should be baring her soul to. But he was available, and she liked him.

  “My sister is a heroin addict,” she said, clearing her throat. It was the first time Kari had spoken those words out loud. When the earth didn’t quake in protest, she added, “I’ve always felt guilty about it.”

  “Why?”

  Kari went back to the fridge for a cold drink. This was a long story. “You want one?” she asked, lifting the water bottle.

  “No thanks.” He grabbed a chair at the table, waiting for her to continue.

  She sat down across from him. “My father was poor when we came here, but he worked really hard and saved enough money to buy a furniture store. His business was a runaway success. He lived the American dream, spoiling Sasha and me with expensive gifts. We wore designer clothes and went to trendy clubs. By the time we were teenagers, we both had fake IDs. No one questioned us.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She died in the Czech Republic. I’m sure that was one of the reasons my dad treated us like princesses. I think he wanted us to have a carefree life, because his had been so full of hardship. But it didn’t work out that way.”

  “What happened?”

  “A year after I graduated from high school, my dad had a heart attack and passed away. I didn’t know how to be responsible for myself, let alone Sasha. She’d always been wild, and I wasn’t a very good guardian to her.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Kari swallowed hard. “Later that year I met this guy, a club promoter. He took me to all the best parties, and I was … easily impressed. One night he introduced Sasha to a friend of his. The four of us went up to the VIP area. Sasha drank too much champagne, which was typical of her, but so did I. Andrew asked if I wanted to go to the next room, and I said yes. I left my sister there, practically passed out, with a total stranger.”

  Adam didn’t have to ask what had happened then. He knew.

  “When I heard her scream, I sort of … woke up from the champagne fog. I ran to help, but the door was locked. When I finally got in, Sasha was sobbing, her clothes torn. And the guy was so smug, like he knew he’d get away with it.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes. I took her to the hospital and gave a statement to the police, but she refused to press charges. She said she couldn’t remember anything. She was only seventeen at the time. And she’s been using heavily ever since.”

  “Why do you think you’re at fault?”

  Kari’s eyes welled with tears once again. “I introduced her to drugs at a very young age. We smoked pot together. Whatever I did, she did.”

  “Did you do heroin?”

  “No, Adam, I left her to be raped!” Hands trembling, she swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I was annoyed with her for getting wasted and embarrassing me. So I left her, drunk and alone, to be raped.”

  “You were drinking, too. Your judgment was impaired.”

  She looked away. “I will never forgive myself.”

  “What about the rapist? Doesn’t he deserve the blame?”

  “Of course, but—I should have protected her. I should have known.”

  “The only person who could have known was t
he perpetrator himself, and maybe his asshole friend. How old were they?”

  “Twenty-five,” she whispered.

  “I’ll bet the club promoter understood the danger he was leaving your sister in and didn’t give a damn. Those men exploited both of you.”

  Kari nodded, miserable. She’d never seen Andrew again.

  “If you’d been raped while Sasha was passed out, would you hold her responsible?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. “No.”

  “Jesus, Kari, have you ever talked to anyone about this?”

  “Just the police officer.”

  Adam gave her a level stare, saying nothing. Maybe he didn’t think she’d made all the right decisions, but he didn’t criticize her or dismiss her feelings. He wasn’t offering any false platitudes, either. She appreciated his straightforwardness. Too many men said what they thought women wanted to hear.

  “I’ve enabled her in so many ways,” she murmured, hugging the sweater around her body. “I’ve given her money and kept her secrets. I told her I wouldn’t see her unless she was sober, but she’s never sober. I couldn’t cut her out of my life.” Her throat tightened with sadness. She stood abruptly, tipping the plastic chair over. “Now I feel like I’ve already lost her. I’ve never been able to help her, and I’m afraid she’s going to die!”

  Adam’s expression softened, but Kari pressed her hand to her mouth and turned away, dismayed by her words. Voicing her fears made them seem too real, too frighteningly possible. She couldn’t handle the thought of her baby sister overdosing. After the day she’d had, it was too much.

  He rose to his feet and came up behind her, touching her arm. His hand burned through the thin knit, heating her bare skin.

  Kari didn’t want to cry anymore. She didn’t want to let go of Sasha; she wanted to reach out and grab something else. She needed to shut off her emotions for a few fleeting moments and surrender to sensation.

  She knew Adam would accommodate her. She could read his desire without even looking at his face. His body was taut with tension, and his chest emanated warmth. If she leaned back a few inches, she’d feel him.

  Her breath quickened, and she covered his hand with hers, stroking his knuckles. His fingers tightened on her upper arm, a reflexive squeeze that made her shiver. “Could you get in trouble for being with me?”

  His hand stilled. “Maybe.”

  Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Moistening her lips, she glanced over her shoulder. “Then why did you come?”

  His gaze darkened, from medium brown to espresso black. “Just tell me what you’re mixed up in.”

  Instead of spilling her secrets, Kari turned to face him. She knew Adam would alert his superiors about the shipment. He was too honest to give her the kind of help she needed. But he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t step back when she closed the distance between them, or pull away when she twined her arms around his neck.

  “Let me help you,” he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

  “I can’t.”

  “Damn it, Kari—”

  She lifted her lips to his, shutting him up.

  10

  There was a dead man in the broom closet.

  Maria startled when she saw him, smothering a scream. The slumped figure straightened unexpectedly, opening red-rimmed eyes.

  Drunk. Not dead.

  She knew those eyes, color de avellano. She couldn’t remember the English word for eyes that muddy shade of green, but she’d recognize them anywhere.

  Her inebriated savior frowned, trying to free his arm from a tangled mop head.

  She glanced past the vending machines. Chuy’s office door was closed. Sonia had just gone in for their afternoon appointment. “What are you doing?” she asked in a low voice, leaning over him.

  “Shut the door,” he rasped.

  “You can’t sleep in here.”

  He thought about that for a minute, grappling with the concept. “Where’s Armando?”

  “I don’t know.” She hadn’t seen him in the past hour, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on the premises. “Are you hiding from him?”

  He shook his arm loose from the mop strings, ignoring her question.

  Maria realized that he was on something a little stronger than alcohol. He didn’t smell like booze, and his eyes were strange. “What will Armando do if he finds you?”

  “Kill me,” he said, slumping forward again.

  She shut the door, her mind racing. Armando wasn’t around, as far as she knew, and Chuy would be occupied for about five more minutes. If she left this man in the broom closet, one of the other maids would report his presence within the hour.

  Would Armando really kill him? He’d already beaten him to a pulp. His face still bore the bruises.

  Maria knew she should walk away. This was a dangerous situation, and she had plenty of other people to worry about. Kari might have been arrested. And the last time Chuy had caught her interfering with his business, he’d been furious.

  She didn’t want to be dragged into his room again.

  On the other hand, this man had saved her—twice. Maybe he’d lost his way and taken too many drugs, but he was still a good person. He was the same man who’d held her hand in the hospital, the handsome agent with the rough-soft voice. She couldn’t leave him in such a vulnerable position.

  Decision made, she ran to the elevator and pressed the up button, then rushed back to the closet. “Come,” she said, tugging on his wrist. “I hide you in better place.”

  He seemed willing to go, if not quite able.

  She crouched over him, putting her arms around his lean waist. “Hurry,” she panted. “We go to elevator.”

  With her help, he staggered to his feet, and they moved toward the end of the walkway. She supported him on one side, urging him to walk faster. The elevator doors sprang open with a noisy jingle. They almost didn’t make it inside.

  As soon as the doors closed behind them, he collapsed against her.

  “Levántate,” she ordered. “Stay on your feet!”

  He nodded, appearing half asleep.

  “Don’t you dare pass out,” she hissed in Spanish, trying to hold him up. There was no way she could do this if he lost consciousness. For a skinny guy, he weighed a ton, and he was a head taller than her.

  His throat worked as he swallowed. “Okay.”

  The doors separated, revealing the empty second floor. Maria breathed a sigh of relief. During the middle of the week, the hotel was never fully occupied, but a guest could leave one of the rooms any minute. Worse, Armando might step out of the shadows.

  “Let’s go,” she said, digging her fingernails into his ribs. He lurched forward, his mouth set with determination. Although he put forth a lot of effort, his motions were clumsy. He was a hard man, all sharp edges and ropy muscles. She had a difficult time directing him.

  Thankfully, the hiding place was close. Over the weekend, one of the rooms had been damaged by a small fire. A guest had been careless with a cigarette, igniting a trash can and burning up a section of carpet. The room had been closed for repairs, and no one had actually started the work. Chuy’s other business was his top priority.

  Maria propped the man against the wall and used her card key to unlock the door, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. She helped him inside, wrinkling her nose at the smell of stale smoke and burnt carpet fibers. As soon as he saw the bed, he stumbled toward it, falling facedown on the bare mattress.

  She shut the door and peeked out the window, seeing no one. So far, so good. He could sleep it off in here while she finished her shift.

  Her heart continued to pound, from tension and exertion. She didn’t know what would happen if they were discovered. Armando was a cold-blooded criminal. He might not enjoy hurting women, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it.

  He’d kill her quickly, perhaps.

  Shivering at the thought, she turned to face the sleeping man. His name suddenly came to her: Agent
Foster. He looked so different now. His hair was still dark brown, but medium length, his jaw covered with a scruffy beard. There was a dark circle under his left eye. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and worn gray jeans. The clothes weren’t just old and frayed, they were dirty, as if he hadn’t changed them in days.

  Despite this evidence of his deterioration, something about him appealed to her. Beneath those dingy clothes, he had strong muscles. Under the overgrown facial hair, he was handsome. Agent Foster was still in there.

  She sat at the edge of the bed, sweeping a lock of hair off his forehead. His skin felt cool to the touch, and his breathing was deep and even.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

  “Estás bien, señor? If I leave, will you … como se dice … stop breathing?” She didn’t know how to say overdose in English.

  “I’m okay. Leave me.”

  But she sat and watched him for several more minutes, reluctant to walk away.

  The instant his lips touched hers, Kari’s stressful day faded into the background. Her concerns for Sasha were pushed aside.

  The only thing she cared about right now was Adam. His mouth, his body, his touch.

  He slid his hand into her hair, holding her still. The subtle use of force excited her. It suggested that, although she’d started this, he was going to finish it. She liked that. Letting her eyes drift shut, she tilted her head back, inviting him to continue. When he covered her mouth with his, she parted her lips on a low moan.

  The way he kissed was kind of … indecent. He didn’t test the waters or use a light touch. He just dove right in, filling her mouth with his tongue. There was nothing polite or tentative about it. He used her mouth for his pleasure, delving inside, taking what he wanted.

  Kari liked that, too. She pressed her body closer and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, squirming for more. He tasted as good as he smelled, clean and spicy and delicious. His tongue was hot and his lips were firm. She wanted his mouth all over her body. Her sex tingled and her nipples tightened against the cups of her bra.

  He broke the kiss, panting lightly. Her lips felt swollen and wet. His eyes dropped from her mouth to her breasts.