Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

  Out of habit, she started toward her bedroom to get dressed, only to stop short when she heard the water turn off.

  “Bad idea, bad bad bad idea.” She pivoted so fast she almost tripped, then let out a panicked gasp as she heard a key snap open the lock on her front door. Tatum whimpered, cast a frantic look at her closed bedroom door and dived forward as her front door swung open. Her mother and aunt, deep in conversation, weren’t even looking as they walked in. “Mom!” She tried, but there was no stopping them. “You’re supposed to come after I’ve left for the day.”

  “Pfffth.” Farrah Colton waved her off as if she was a pesky fly at a picnic. “We needed your input on the drapery fabric.”

  “No,” Tatum said. “You really don’t. I don’t care what fabric—”

  Farrah sniffed the air, elbowed her twin sister and earned a smile in return. “I told you if we were early enough we’d get breakfast. Oh, honey, you’ve made waffles. What’s wrong?” She dumped her armload of fabric samples onto one of the tarp-covered chairs and strode into the kitchen. “Did something happen at work?”

  If they only knew. “I just wanted waffles,” Tatum protested to no one who would believe her. “Can’t a girl just have waffles for breakfast when she wants them?” She couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at the bedroom door. Her heart hadn’t beat this fast since...her cheeks warmed. Well, since just a few minutes ago when Cruz had his hands on her. “I’m sorry. I had a difficult night.”

  “I can see that.” Aunt Fallon walked over and touched a gentle hand to Tatum’s scalp. “That looks like a nasty cut. What happened?”

  “Tatum?” Farrah’s concern shifted. “You hurt yourself?”

  “It’s nothing,” Tatum said in such a rush her tongue nearly knotted itself. “I bashed into one of the racks in the freezer. I got distracted. Really, Mom, it’s nothing.” She held up her hands and backed up as her mother approached. “Can we do this another time? I’ve got—”

  “Oh.”

  Tatum froze and closed her eyes. Never before had one male-uttered syllable threatened her sanity more.

  “Sorry.” Cruz’s amused voice floated through the room. “I, uh, forgot my bag in the other bathroom.”

  When Tatum opened her eyes, she found both her mother and aunt exchanging unreadable looks before they turned their mutual attention first on Cruz, then on her. “I can explain,” Tatum managed in a whisper.

  Then she turned around and found Cruz standing just outside her bedroom door, skin and hair still dripping, one hand gripping the edges of the towel draped low across his hips. She swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from taking pulse-pounding inventory. Her imagination hadn’t come close to the reality of him. Nor, it seemed, had her subconscious.

  Detective Cruz Medina had been beautifully made by nature, and clearly enhanced by meticulous attention paid at the gym. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t sculpted, from his distinct abs right down to those hip muscles that drove women like her over the edge of reason. The way his dark hair lay damp against his shoulders and tiny beads of water dotted his neatly trimmed beard had her internal thermometer spiking into the danger zone.

  “Then again.” Tatum covered her mouth. “Maybe I can’t. Ah, Cruz, this is my mother, Farrah Colton, and her twin sister Fallon. My aunt. Mom, Aunt Fallon, this is Cruz—” she hesitated at the flash of warning in his gold-flecked brown eyes “—Mendoza.”

  Tatum caught his gaze when it flew to hers, and prayed he could somehow read her mind. Don’t make this worse, she silently pleaded. Please don’t make this...

  “Ladies. Pleasure to meet you.” As if he was wearing an imported suit and welcoming them to a night at the opera, he strode forward and offered his free hand to each of them. “Apologies for my current appearance.”

  “No apology necessary,” Tatum’s mother said. “Except from us, of course. We had no idea we’d be interrupting anything by coming over early. Tatum, why didn’t you say you had company?”

  “Ah, I...um.” Despite rarely being at a loss for words, she couldn’t seem to find any at the moment. “Cruz, don’t you think you should go get dressed?”

  “Right,” Cruz said and darted into the guest bathroom for his things. “I’ll just...” He backed his way toward her bedroom. “Carry on, ladies.”

  “Uh-huh.” Fallon nodded. “He didn’t have to leave on our account,” she said and earned a snicker from her sister.

  “Or get dressed,” Tatum’s mother added.

  “I guess I should be glad you didn’t have your work crew with you.” Desperate for escape, she hurried into her personal safety zone of the kitchen.

  “He seems nice.” Farrah took a seat on one of the stools, leaned her chin in her hands. “Known him long?”

  The fact her aunt joined her mother at the counter was a sure sign this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not. “A while,” she lied. “He’s, ah, working at the restaurant.”

  “Really?” It was her Aunt Fallon who spoke. “I didn’t think you approved of workplace romances.”

  Tatum set a stack of plates on the counter with a bang. “That’s not what this is. Exactly,” she added at their skeptical looks. “It’s complicated, okay?” No way was she going to tell them the truth, that her restaurant was being used as a possible front to distribute drugs. Or that an undercover detective was investigating the claim. “Trust me, it isn’t going to last.”

  “Just getting him out of your system?” her mother asked far too innocently.

  “Really, Mom?” If Tatum’s face was any hotter she could cook breakfast on it.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy physical and sexual relationship,” Farrah continued in a way that had Tatum wanting to cover her ears. “Although he looks more than capable of dealing with you on a more permanent basis.”

  “Definite son-in-law material, for sure,” Fallon agreed.

  “Son-in...okay, stop right there.” Tatum pushed out the words over her reaccelerated pulse rate. “You run a design business, not a wedding planning one. And don’t you dare start shifting attention away from the job you’ve started here. Keep on track, you hear me?” Tatum glanced over their heads as her bedroom door opened again and Cruz emerged. “No interrogations. And no teasing. He’s a nice guy, Mom,” Tatum said when her mother got that gleam in her eye. “He really is.”

  Farrah’s amusement faded, replaced by understanding that still contained more than a hint of interest. “All right. We’ll behave.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Fallon teased, then sobered at Tatum’s huff. “Oh, let us have some fun, Tatum. You haven’t been this smitten about anyone since—”

  “Smitten?” Tatum gaped. “I’m sorry, did we just join the road cast of Oklahoma!?”

  Apparently a glutton for punishment, Cruz emerged from her bedroom, fully dressed and completely appealing.

  Her mother began humming an all too familiar show tune as she spun around on her stool. “So, Cruz. How about while Tatum finishes breakfast, we get to know each other?”

  CHAPTER 9

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Cruz wasn’t sure what entertained him more. Her mother and aunt’s completely unsubtle interrogation over the best waffles he’d ever eaten, or the fact that Tatum continued to provide him with more layers of cover. Both lost out to Tatum’s mortified reaction. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. “I thought it was funny.”

  They took the stairs down to the parking garage in her building, leaving well after the previously designated eight o’clock escape hour. He now completely understood why she was determined to get out before Fallon and Farrah arrived. That said, he wouldn’t have changed anything—and he meant anything—that had happened this morning for the world.

  “Of course it was funny for you. It wasn’t your mother who walked in and found us
...well.” She made a motion with her hand that went up and down his body.

  “True enough. If it had been, we’d have been looking for a justice of the peace by lunch.”

  Tatum snorted and laughed until she saw his face. “Oh, my...you’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Cruz shrugged. “Not really. But she hasn’t met any of the women I’ve dated since I moved out of the house. Something she’s mentioned on more than one occasion. Along with her growing desire for grandchildren.” They reached the bottom floor, and he pulled open the door for her. “Until I hand one over to her I’m pretty much considered a disappointment.”

  “Do you want kids?” Her own question seemed to catch her off guard. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  “That’s all right.” He dug out his keys, clicked the alarm off his car. The beep echoed around them. “When I was about six months out of the academy I was first on scene to a domestic call. It was Christmas Eve, the first one I wasn’t spending at home. I walked into this house behind two other senior patrol officers.” He opened the passenger door, let her in, then stood there with his hand braced on the door as she looked up at him. “They’d been there before. To this house. Abusive situation, the husband with the wife, the wife with the kids. It just...” He shook his head, flinched against the all too familiar imagery that still haunted him. “As bad as you can imagine, it was worse. I remember thinking, why would anyone bring children into the world if you aren’t going to love them. Three beautiful, traumatized kids whose last moments on earth were filled with nothing but violence and rage.”

  For an instant he was transported back, to another day that haunted him, another that had defined him.

  “Cruz.” Tatum reached up and covered his hand with hers. In that moment, her touch felt like a balm on his heart. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” He tried to cover, but there were times he was reminded of how truly hopeless his job seemed sometimes. “In answer to your question, it was a while before I could even let myself think about maybe having a family. Kids deserve the world, you know? They deserve attention and love and the promise of everything good. Like my parents gave to us. Like your parents did for you.”

  Her smile was sad, and he knew she was thinking of the father she’d lost only a short time ago. “So, do you now? Want kids?”

  If anyone had asked him a year ago, a month ago, heck, even a week ago, his answer might have been different. Now he found himself saying, “With the right woman, yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “I think I do.”

  Before the conversation went too far off the deep end, he motioned for her to pull her hand inside and closed the door. By the time he got behind the wheel and backed out, the topic was closed. “I’m scheduled to start work around one. I’ll do my best to be on time,” he told her in a way that reminded both of them that he still had a job to do. “Lab results came back on the ladle. No prints.”

  “No prints at all?” Tatum frowned. “That means whoever it was wiped them off, right?”

  “That’s what I’m guessing. I actually came back to the restaurant last night to try to get a look at people’s lockers. Since I didn’t get to, I need to do that today.”

  “Right.” She was back to being tense, to folding in on herself and tucking into the corner of her seat. “Back to business. Are you going to tell me if you find anything?”

  “I’ll tell you what you need to know,” he said and hoped that was a good enough answer. “The further you stay out of this—”

  “I’m already in it, remember? If they’re breaking into the restaurant after hours—”

  “They didn’t break in, Tatum.”

  “What?”

  “They knew how to get in, through the loading bay door. It was partially open. That’s how I got in so quick.” He waited a beat. “Who all has access to that door?”

  “Well, I do obviously.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looked out her window. “Richard and Susan. Sam and Ty, too. And the cleaning crew who comes in on Sunday morning.”

  “All right.” He made a mental note. “I’ll see about tracking down their alibis for last night.” At this point the only one he knew wasn’t involved was Sam, since the young man had been sitting next to him at the bar the entire time since closing. The idea that Ty could be involved didn’t sit well; Cruz didn’t usually misjudge someone so completely. “Can you give me a list of all your vendors along with copies of your employee files? Anyone who’s had anything to do with True since you first opened?”

  “Of course.” The cool detachment wasn’t wholly unexpected. Being with her in her condo had felt almost like a fantasy world where they could leave reality behind. But they were back in the real world now. One that wasn’t particularly welcoming for them at the moment. “Let me out here, will you?” She pointed to the bus stop a few blocks from True. “I need to clear my head.”

  He hesitated. Cruz didn’t like the idea of her being out of his sight right now, but he couldn’t be sure if that had to do with the case or his growing attraction for her. He needed to keep things separate, even while giving the appearance of the complete opposite. Besides, he had somewhere to be.

  Cruz steered the car into the empty space. “I know this is difficult for you,” he said when she pushed open the door. “I do see that, Tatum.”

  “Even if you do.” She didn’t smile at him. She only stared straight ahead as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “You’ve made it pretty clear it doesn’t matter. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She got out and closed the door, hitched her bag over her shoulder, and went around the back of the car to cross the street and vanish around the corner.

  * * *

  “Colby said you’re hurt.” Tatum’s assistant manager hurried into the kitchen just before noon. Susan, undeterred by Tatum’s stern expression, scooted around Sam and Quallis, who were both wrist-deep in the endless pile of shrimp delivered fresh that morning. “Tatum, what happened?”

  “I should have pinned an announcement on the bulletin board,” Tatum said, turning down the heat on the béchamel sauce she was making for the employees’ early dinner. “I was taking a look around the restaurant last night and tripped going into the refrigerator. I just banged my head is all.” Even now the bruise throbbed as if protesting her story. “It’s nothing, you guys, okay?”

  “That’s horrible! We should check the threshold,” Susan announced. “You could have been seriously injured.”

  “Or next time I could turn on a light.” She hated having to explain something she’d thought for sure she’d managed to conceal with makeup. But of course all the makeup she possessed sweated off in the kitchen in a matter of seconds. “Just let it go, okay?”

  Sam didn’t look convinced. The high-intensity expression on his face had Tatum glancing away quickly. It had only been a day since Cruz had been working at True and already she could feel a change. At this rate, by the time he was done with his investigation, her tight ship was going to unravel at the sails.

  Her tone must have been enough to get her message across, because Susan withdrew back to the front of the house and the rest of the kitchen fell into an uneasy silence. While Tatum focused on making a revamped recipe of lasagna primavera, something she was testing as a possible late spring menu item, the rest of her crew and staff trickled in. Chester arrived with oversize coffee drinks in his hands while Ty quietly snuck in with a quick nod of acknowledgment before disappearing into the break room. She was sprinkling the final layer of fresh grated parmesan cheese on the top of the pasta when Cruz strolled in.

  “Afternoon.” His friendly greeting, Tatum noticed when she glanced up, didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Cutting it close, I know.” He gestured to the clock. Only ten minutes to spare before his shift started.

  “Not a problem,” Tatum said in what she could tell was an overly happy tone. She saw Sam elbow Qualli
s, who gave a reluctant nod. Sam washed his hands then, and followed Cruz down the hall. Tatum frowned, her stomach knotting.

  “What’s that about?” she asked Quallis, who deadpanned his face and just shrugged. “If there’s a problem you need to tell me.”

  Quallis, who she knew came across as a cross between a grizzly bear and a linebacker, merely shrugged. “That goes both ways, Chef.”

  “Right.” Tatum blew out a breath. “I guess I’ll just wait and find out, won’t I?”

  At the sound of raised voices and a distinct crash, Tatum jumped, her eyes widening in alarm as Quallis actually offered an approving nod. “That’s probably your cue.”

  Tatum didn’t have to be told twice. Gesturing for Quallis to stay where he was—not that he looked remotely interested in whatever was happening—Tatum hurried into the break room.

  * * *

  It had, Cruz thought as he stashed his backpack and sweatshirt in his locker, been one seriously crap morning. His only saving grace had been the idea he could come here and lose himself in the physical work, and get the last few hours out of his head.

  He sank onto the narrow bench in front of the bank of lockers, dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut.

  The bubble of pressure that had lodged itself in his chest two months ago was expanding, threatening to block the air from his lungs. He’d kept his promise and met Jade at the rehabilitation facility, along with two of Johnny’s doctors. As bad as he thought the news was going to be about his former partner, it was worse. Horrifically, heartbreakingly, predictably worse.

  “Mendoza.” Sam’s voice shot into the locker room like a bullet.

  Cruz’s head snapped up, recognizing the tone and the angry energy catapulting at him. He rose to his feet. “Sam?”

  The friendly, easygoing, teasing Sam Price he’d met yesterday was nowhere to be seen. Cruz had to bank his instinct to block the young man from grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming him back into the lockers with a lock-rattling bang.