by Sharon Sala
She eyed the food she was making. “Does this bother you … I mean, the smells of food cooking? I didn’t think that you might not be—”
Franklin held up a hand to silence her. “It smells wonderful. I will drink some coffee and take my meds and maybe steal a piece of that bacon when it’s done before Adam comes and eats all my food.”
Sonora nodded and made herself smile, but she could tell he wasn’t right. Either he was weak, or in pain, or possibly both. It broke her heart to think that she had just met this wonderful man and might lose him before they got to know each other the way father and daughter should.
She pretended not to notice his hand shaking as he poured coffee into a cup, and she busied herself making gravy when he counted out more than a dozen pills and swallowed them, one by one.
Biscuits had just come out of the oven when someone knocked on the front door.
Franklin looked up at the clock and grinned.
“Adam already? It’s barely eight-thirty. I’m thinking he must really be hungry … or something.”
Sonora heard the sarcasm in his voice and laughed in spite of herself. Franklin was obviously a big tease and she may as well face the fact that he wasn’t going to give up alluding to Adam’s interest in her.
“Probably smelled the biscuits,” she said. “Want me to let him in?”
Franklin’s smile widened. “Someone has to. Might as well be you.”
She threw a pot holder at him.
Surprise lit his face as he caught it. This daughter of his had fire in her soul. But he should have known that. No one did what she did for a living without having a large amount of faith in herself. It made him sick at heart to think of her growing up so alone. It was a good thing that she’d had a strong belief in herself, because there had been no one else to do it for her.
He heard Adam’s deep voice, then the sound of Sonora laughing. He smiled. It had been years since such joy had filled this house. His blessing was that he’d lived long enough to hear it.
“Good morning, Franklin,” Adam said, as he followed Sonora into the kitchen. Then he eyed the stove and the pan of biscuits. “You outdid yourself this morning, didn’t you?”
Franklin beamed. “I did nothing but oversleep. My daughter has cooked our food this morning.”
Sonora bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she cracked eggs into the hot skillet. This was nothing short of a miracle and she was frying eggs in this kitchen as if it was no big deal.
“I like mine over easy,” Adam said.
Sonora jumped. She hadn’t known he’d come up behind her.
“How many?” she asked.
“Two, please.”
She grabbed another egg and broke it into the skillet beside the three that were already beginning to cook.
“What about you, Dad? How many eggs for you?”
“Oh … maybe one. My appetite isn’t what it used to be.”
Sonora turned around and frowned at Franklin. His color was ashen, and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. She took a piece of bacon from the platter, handed it to him and pointed toward the table.
“Sit.”
Franklin took the bacon and sat without argument. Adam looked startled by Sonora’s perception, and without comment, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down by Franklin.
Sonora noticed the way Adam cared for Franklin, subtly checking the older man’s pulse, then shaking out two pain killers for him from a bottle in the cabinet. By the time the eggs were done, Franklin appeared to be feeling better.
Sonora carried the plates to the table, then added the biscuits, bacon and jelly. She poured the gravy and refilled the coffee cups, then finally sat down.
Franklin eyed the table, then Adam, then Sonora.
“Today, I am truly blessed,” he said softly. “And so I ask blessings for the food we are about to eat, and for the company of my daughter and my best friend.”
“I am the one who’s honored. Are those biscuits homemade?”
Sonora eyed Franklin, who appeared ready to offer another comment regarding her expertise in a kitchen, and headed him off.
“Yes, and before we get all carried away with praise for the cook, you should know that the eggs are getting cold,” she said.
With that, she passed the biscuits down the table, trying not to appear too pleased when both men took two apiece to start with.
For a few minutes, little was said other than a request for something to be passed. It wasn’t until Franklin was finishing his second biscuit that it occurred to him the food tasted good.
“Sonora, this food is very good,” Franklin said. “Who taught you to cook like this?”
“Betty Crocker.”
Adam grinned.
Franklin’s eyebrow arched.
“THE Betty Crocker?”
“The one and only,” Sonora added.
Adam snagged another biscuit, slathered it with butter and jelly, then toasted Sonora with it.
“Then … my compliments to the cook,” he said.
But Franklin wasn’t satisfied.
“You learned to cook like this from a book?”
Sonora shrugged.
“Pretty much. I got tired of eating out all the time, bought myself an old Betty Crocker cookbook from a library sale when I was … oh … probably eighteen or nineteen. After that, it was largely a case of trial and error. I did get a few pointers from an elderly woman who was my neighbor at the time.”
Franklin lifted his head and then stared off into the distance. Sonora could tell that he was troubled, but she didn’t understand.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad again? Maybe you should go lie down for a—”
“I’m sick, but not like you mean. I am sick at heart that you have marked every step in your life alone.”
Sonora got up and put her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him.
“You worry too much,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m strong. And if you’re feeling all that good, you can do dishes.”
Franklin looked startled, then he laughed and pointed at Adam.
“Two Eagles will do the dishes.”
Adam grinned. “It would be my pleasure. However, I hope you know that there’s a house rule about the dishwasher getting to take home the leftovers.”
Sonora frowned.
“There’s nothing left but biscuits.”
“Exactly,” Adam said, and then grabbed the bread plate and headed for the cabinet.
“We will be outside on the back porch for a while,” Franklin said. “When you’ve finished, please join us.”
“Hmmpf? Oh … shurr,” Adam mumbled.
Sonora wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d just stuffed another biscuit in his mouth, then Franklin took her hand and led her outside.
“Let’s sit here,” he said, and pointed to a couple of wicker chairs at the north end of the porch.
They sat. Franklin took a deep breath, folded his hands in his lap, and then stared straight into Sonora’s eyes.
“Now we ask questions of each other, and the answers must be honest.”
Before they could start, Sonora heard the familiar ring of her cell phone that she’d left on the cabinet. At the same time, Adam called out.
“Sonora, your phone is ringing.”
“The only person it could be is my boss,” Sonora said. “I’d better get it.”
Adam met her at the door and handed it to her as she came inside.
“Thanks,” she said, glanced at the caller ID, then smiled. “I was right. It’s my boss. This won’t take a minute, okay?”
Franklin nodded, and then leaned back in the chair as Sonora answered.
“Hello.”
Gerald Mynton breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “You’ve been harder to find than the Loch Ness monster.”
Sonora frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Mynton sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I’m afr
aid I have some bad news.”
Sonora stilled. “How bad?”
“Your friend, Buddy Allen, is dead. We think Garcia got to him, trying to find you.”
Sonora moaned. She didn’t know it, but her face had gone white as a sheet.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter how. I don’t know what this means, but before he died, Buddy said to tell you that ‘he didn’t tell’.”
Sonora choked on a sob. Buddy the joker, the life of the party who could never shut up, yet he’d wanted her to know that he didn’t tell Garcia anything about how she’d left town.
She took a deep breath and then made herself calm when all she wanted to do was start screaming. She compromised by shouting. “I asked you a question and I need an answer. What did Garcia do to him?”
Startled by her outburst, Franklin started to get up and go to her, but Adam beat him to it. Adam walked up behind her, put an arm around her waist, just to let her know she wasn’t alone. To his surprise, her legs all but gave way.
“Easy, girl,” Adam said softly. “We’re here for you.”
Sonora’s knuckles were white from the grip she had on the phone and she was struggling to keep focused as she repeated herself one last time. “Please, Boss. I have to know.”
Mynton was sick to his stomach to have to be the one to tell her. “He beat him, honey … bad. He beat him real bad.”
She bent over and grabbed her stomach, certain that her breakfast was about to come up.
“Oh God, oh God. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, damn it. It’s Miguel Garcia’s fault,” Mynton said. “And just so you know, he’s on your trail.”
Sonora straightened up with a jerk and cast a frantic glance at her father, and then at Adam. What evil had she brought to this beautiful place?
“How? How could he know where I am?” Sonora asked. “Nobody knew. Buddy sure as hell didn’t. Even I didn’t know where I was going and I’ll bet my life I didn’t leave a trail.”
“Well, that’s just it. You are betting your life and I don’t like it. I want you to come in. We’ll put you in protective custody and—”
“No. I will not hide from the bastard. Besides, how do you know he’s following me?”
“He was last seen in Flagstaff. Did you go through there?”
Sonora shuddered.
“Yes, but so what? There are four different ways to leave that city.”
“He’s moving east.”
“Shit.”
Mynton heard her muffled curse.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” she said, swiping tears from her face even as she pulled herself out of Adam’s arms. “I’m sorry, too, but not nearly as sorry as Garcia is going to be when I find him.”
Mynton nearly dropped the phone. “What the hell do you mean … when you find him?”
“I’m not going to sit here like a Judas goat and let everyone else—”
Adam didn’t know what was happening, but he could tell that it was bad. And, he could tell that Sonora was in trouble.
He grabbed her arm and mouthed the words, what’s wrong?
She frowned, and waved him away.
He grabbed her arm again, and this time, said it out loud.
“What’s wrong?”
Sonora rolled her eyes.
“Boss … hang on just a minute, okay?” Then she turned her pain into anger and lit into Adam. “It’s business, Adam, my business, which means it’s none of yours. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”
“Who’s Buddy?”
Her face crumpled like a used napkin.
“My friend. He is … was … my friend. The man who wants me dead beat him to death, trying to find out where I was.”
Franklin took the phone from Sonora’s hands.
She was so surprised by his actions that she let him do it.
“Excuse me,” Franklin said. “I’m Sonora’s father, and whatever trouble she is in, we will help her deal with it.”
Sonora grabbed the phone away. “Boss! It’s me! Don’t pay any attention to him. I’ll be leaving here as soon as I can pack. I’m not going to have Garcia come looking for me here.”
Mynton was too stunned to follow her conversation.
“I thought you were raised in an orphanage.”
“I was, damn it, but—”
“Then how did you find your father?”
“It’s a long story,” she muttered.
“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Mynton said. “But think a minute. No one knows you have family, so there’s no one to look for. However, if you leave, how are you going to be sure that Garcia doesn’t find them in his quest to look for you?”
“Because I’ll find him first,” she snapped.
“Yeah, well, Buddy Allen might have given you an argument with that thought.”
Sonora reeled as if she’d been slapped.
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled, then swiped a shaky hand across her face. “I can’t think right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Promise?” Mynton asked. “Oh. Wait. You’re supposed to call a detective named Broyles with the Phoenix P.D. He’s working Buddy’s case.”
“Yes, all right,” she said, and then hung up.
For a moment, she stood with her head down and her shoulders shaking. Tears were rolling out of her eyes and down her face, but she wasn’t making a sound.
Adam waited silently until he could take no more.
“You’re not alone.”
She put a hand over her eyes, and then turned away.
Franklin put a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re not alone,” he said, repeating Adam’s words.
She lifted her head, looking first at her father, then at Adam. Whatever might have been between them was over before it began.
“I can’t be here,” she said softly. “I will bring death to this place if I stay.”
Franklin waved his hand as if he was shooing a fly.
“Death is already here, Daughter. It’s been here for months waiting for me to notice. Please, whatever is wrong, you must let us help you.”
“It’s DEA business,” she muttered. “I can’t get civilians involved in—”
Adam interrupted. “I spent twelve years with the army Rangers. I was good at what I did. You’ll stay. We will help.”
“It is settled,” Franklin said.
Sonora was too overwhelmed to argue, and when they came to her and held her, she didn’t say no.
CHAPTER 8
Once the shock of the call and the trauma of the morning had been dealt with, Franklin went inside to rest, leaving Adam and Sonora alone. Normally, she would have been defensive with a man she hardly knew, but she wasn’t with Adam. She didn’t bother with trying to figure out why. She just took his presence as the comfort she desperately needed, and finally let herself grieve.
Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and the sight hurt Adam’s heart. As they walked beyond the yard into the shade of the forest, little by little, Adam drew out details of the relationship that had been between her and Buddy Allen. He wouldn’t let himself think about the spurts of jealousy that came and went as he listened to her talking about a man with whom she’d once been intimate. He didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, that he was envious of a dead man.
* * *
“So you dated Buddy for nine months. You must have some really good memories,” Adam said gently.
Tears finally spilled over and rolled down her face as she paused beneath a large oak.
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But all I can remember was constantly disappointing him. I was gone so much and he wanted more from the relationship than I was ever able to give.”
“He wanted to marry you?” Adam asked.
“Something like that,” Sonora said, then her voice broke. “And now he’s dead … he’s dead because of me. I told him my life wa
s too complicated for commitments but he wouldn’t listen.” She choked on a sob and then covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, Adam, Garcia beat him to death. I can’t get that out of my head.”
Adam put his arms around her. Sonora stiffened. Accepting sympathy was as difficult for her to deal with as accepting advice. But he didn’t turn her loose and she didn’t pull away, and slowly, slowly, she began to relax. When that happened, the wall of her emotions crumbled. Before she knew it, she was sobbing.
“Yes, pretty lady … cry for your friend … and for yourself. Cry it all out,” Adam whispered.
And she did.
* * *
A day passed, and then another, until an entire week had come and gone since Sonora’s arrival. As per her father’s wishes, she’d checked in every day with Mynton, just so she would stay up to date on the investigations. She’d called the Phoenix detective as she’d been asked to do, but had been unable to give him any information he didn’t already have.
She knew that, after a possible sighting of Garcia in Amarillo, Wills and the task force had left Flagstaff to check it out, and upon arrival had gotten a positive ID. Problem was, by the time all of that had been confirmed, Garcia was long gone—destination unknown.
* * *
As for Miguel Garcia, it had taken big money and calling in some favors from an old friend of his father before he’d finally gotten some help. Now, four of the drug cartel’s finest were combing the highways and the states bordering Texas and Oklahoma, trying to get a fix on the whereabouts of the missing DEA agent. Miguel had let it be known that it was worth a half million dollars to him to find Sonora Jordan.
While the men were searching, Garcia was forced to lay low. He now knew he had agents on his tail. He’d been assured by Emilio Rojas, the man who’d been his father’s right hand, that not only did the DEA have agents on his trail, but they knew the make, model and tag number of the car he was driving. Once the significance of this news sank in, he felt sick. The only way that could have happened, was if he’d been betrayed.
Time and time again, he went over a mental list of people who’d helped get him across the border. There were any number who could have tipped off the DEA, but he kept remembering the man at the airport outside of Houston who’d brought him a car and money, and then so abruptly disappeared.
