Less than a half hour later, he spotted the delivery person, familiar blue visor on his curl-encased head, heading toward the office building. When he ducked inside, Cruz waited a good few minutes, then got out, tugged his shirtsleeves down and straightened the tie he’d donned. The next second, the delivery guy emerged, a confused, anxious look on his face. He turned, looked to the number on the building and rechecked his phone.
Cruz jogged over. “Hey! Are those for Belma Trade?”
The kid practically sagged with relief. “Yeah, that you?” He pointed to the spinning glass door. “You know your offices are empty, right?”
“No one up there?” Cruz pulled out his wallet.
“Place is a ghost town. Name’s on the directory, but it’s all dead space. They move without telling you?” The kid laughed but didn’t seem convinced it was funny.
“Not exactly.” Cruz held a fifty up between two fingers. “Anyone asks, the delivery went fine. No surprises. You get me?”
“I got you, yeah. You want these?”
“Absolutely.” Cruz hefted the pies out of the kid’s hand, and the kid took the money and walked away.
He had the pieces. All the pieces, as well as the framework, and finally, he could see the complete picture. A picture he was almost reticent to finish. Whatever happened now, he’d done what he’d set out to do: he’d have a major supplier of narcotics off the streets and soon he’d have leverage to find out exactly who pulled the trigger and shot Johnny. Nothing else, nothing else, he told himself firmly, mattered.
He didn’t believe that for one flat second.
When he walked back into the station, he dropped off one of the pizzas to the front desk, carried the other two up to Narcotics, where the best group of detectives had helped him get to this point. Those detectives gave him a bit of a cheer when he left the pies in the break room, but he didn’t stop until he reached his LT’s office. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be hungry again. He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, ducked his head inside. “Hey, LT?”
“Yeah?” She glanced up from her computer. “Well?”
“We got them.”
* * *
The combination of adrenaline, anticipation and potential triumph made for one powerful fuel that catapulted Tatum through the week. Armed with a plethora of new menu ideas and riding high on the positive benefits of excellent and mind-numbing sex with one seriously hot cop, she had True and its employees buzzing like serious worker bees determined to please their Queen.
Word that Constance Swan would be dining with them on Friday had been the injection they’d all needed and everyone was on board to present the best food, the best experience of their careers.
Friday morning, do-or-die day, she was up and moving well before the sun, unable to sleep. But Cruz was out, sprawled on his stomach in her bed, black hair a stark contrast against her daisy yellow sheets. The sheet currently riding low across his narrow and quite agile hips. As the barely-there rays of the morning sun peeked through the skylight, she sat for a moment, tempted to trail her fingers down and along the toned, taut, tempting sight of him. It wouldn’t take much. This she’d learned fairly quickly. But he’d been wiped out last night, and not, funnily enough, because of her.
She curled her hand into a fist, resisting the urge, and grabbed her yellow robe before padding into the kitchen, where she put on the coffee and set to work.
A little over an hour later, coffee in hand and the homemade cinnamon buns she’d made last night after getting home from work securely in the oven, she sat at the table with her computer and notebook, and got to work.
When she sniffed the air a while later, she set a mental clock, and sure enough, not ten minutes after, Cruz wandered in, nose first. “Woman, you are magic to wake up to, you know that?” He stopped long enough to capture her mouth with his, his hand massaging the back of her neck as she leaned into his kiss. “That said, if you don’t stop baking I’m going to have to get my butt back to the gym.” Cruz grabbed what was now his coffee mug off the counter and filled it.
“I think we’re managing just fine with our own workout routine, don’t you?”
“We’re getting by. So.” He took a seat. “You ready for tonight?”
“As ready as I can be.” Nerves were taking hold; she could feel their tiny catlike talons creeping around inside her, leaving marks in their track. “I keep telling myself it’s all going to be fine. Even if she hates us, there’s no such thing as bad publicity, right?” He didn’t laugh with her. He barely smiled as he sipped his coffee. “Hey.” She reached out, closed her hand over his. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” His lips quirked up. “I just feel like we haven’t stopped for a while.”
“That’s because we haven’t. Last night you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about. I assume it’s the case?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, caught her hand when she pulled away. “Yeah, it’s about the case. You have some time now?”
“Sure. Oh, wait a second. Hold that thought.” She practically bounced out of her chair when the oven timer went off. She nearly swooned when she pulled the pan of fluffy, springy, fragrant rolls out. “Are you a gloopy icing kinda guy?” She set the pan on the counter and retrieved the batch of cream cheese icing off the back counter.
“Isn’t everyone, with cinnamon rolls?” He stood, walked over and, coffee in hand, watched her slather the still steaming buns. When she started to lick her finger, he reached out, took hold and brought her fingers to his mouth, kissing and licking the icing clean.
“These are just as good warm as they are hot,” she murmured, shifting and moving closer to him.
“I have no doubt.” He brushed his sugarcoated lips across hers and she wondered if she’d ever tasted anything so completely wonderful. “But about that conversation.”
“Right. The case.” Because she knew it had to happen sometime, she put some distance between them and slid a knife around the edge of the pan. “I’ve been assuming no news is good news.”
“We found the car that ran you down in the parking lot. It hadn’t been burned out, but it was stripped. Registration information shows it was reported stolen three weeks ago. The plates were from another car altogether, so I’m afraid that’s a dead end.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning whoever this is, they still have you in their sights.”
“And you’re here.” She focused on the buns because there wasn’t anything she could do about the other. “I’ve been back at the restaurant for days. Nothing’s happened. Everyone’s been great and as normal as usual.”
“Yeah. That’s what’s worrying me.”
“Well, I can’t let it worry me.” She took a deep, controlled breath. “Today is literally the biggest day, the biggest opportunity of my career. It can and I’m hoping will set up everything that comes next. So unless you’re going to tell me to cancel dinner reservations tonight—”
“I’m not.”
“But you did consider that, didn’t you?” She may have only been sleeping with him for a few days, but there wasn’t any doubt in her mind he was hedging that answer.
“I did. Things are...moving fast. Faster at this point than I think I can stop.”
Her throat tightened, frustrated and disappointed tears pressing for release. “If that’s your way of telling me you were right and I was wrong, congratulations.” She locked her jaw, refused to look at him, and the iced buns wavered before her eyes.
“Tatum—”
“You’re choosing to tell me this now, today of all days.” She finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.
“I...” He seemed to be struggling.
“Give me today.” She could feel herself begin to shake. “Tomorrow we can sit down and hash it all out, but please, Cruz.” She lifted a hand to his face
. “Please just give me today.”
He turned his head, kissed the inside of her palm, in the same way she’d done to him days before. “This isn’t going to go away, Tatum. No matter how much you want it to.”
“I know that.” Did she? Everything about the last few weeks had been almost surreal, from being suspected of being a drug trafficker to having an undercover cop in her kitchen who then ended up in her bed. There wasn’t anything about the days since she’d met Cruz Medina that weren’t completely out of the ordinary for her, so why wouldn’t she be able to keep pretending everything was fine? “Tell me one thing.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “Did you mean it the other night when you said you loved me?”
“I did. I do. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it.”
“Then that’s enough for today. You won’t hurt me, Cruz. I believe that as much as I believe I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. This matters.” She caught his hand and clasped it between hers. “We matter. If we both acknowledge that, if we both accept it, we can tackle whatever happens. Together, right?”
His free hand came up and brushed her cheek, tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. He smiled, a sad, resigned smile that didn’t exactly make her heart leap. But at least it kept beating. “Together. Now.” His gaze flicked to the counter. “Are you going to keep torturing me or am I finally going to get one of those cinnamon rolls?”
* * *
“This is a sign.” Tatum was talking to herself again. Talking and pacing and examining each and every nook and cranny of True hours before they were scheduled to open. “This new seafood vendor is already exceeding my expectations.” She lifted a fresh head-on prawn to inspect it. “Sorry little fella, but you are getting star billing tonight.” She set it back on the ice on the plastic-wrap-covered tray and waved Colby to the refrigerator.
“How’s she doing?” Ty’s question had Cruz glancing over his shoulder. “She’s been like a spinning top for the past two days. I don’t think she’s stopped to breathe.”
“She has. It’s called crashing,” Cruz said, then offered a sheepish grin. “Sorry. That was a bit crass, I suppose.”
“Only a bit. What’s going on with Kirkman? You get what you need yesterday when you followed him on the catering job?”
“I think so.” Cruz angled his head and urged Ty to follow him into the break room. Never in his wildest dreams would he have considered Ty his partner in all this, but the man had proven a worthy one, working with him to gather information and keep an eye on people Cruz couldn’t. A quick check of the locker rooms confirmed they were alone. “Kirkman accepted a delivery yesterday afternoon. Had them load it right into the catering van. I couldn’t get anywhere near it.”
“So you don’t know what was in it?”
“I only know Sam and Pike helped load up the van with the food orders and Richard headed out. When he came back, the van was empty.”
What he had managed to do earlier in the week was put a tracking device on the van. His people knew everywhere that van had gone in the past three days and it hadn’t gone near any of the addresses listed on the delivery invoices.
“Bastard really is using Tatum’s place to distribute drugs. There won’t be a hole deep enough for him,” Ty said. He started to say something else, but Cruz held up a hand, motioned to Ty to look busy.
Ty shifted to the coffee machine and pushed Brew.
“You two going to join us or not?” Sam sounded more stressed than Cruz had ever seen him. “No main entrée pizzas tonight, Cruz. Tatum wants you working prep with Chester.”
“Understood.” Cruz nodded and straightened his jacket.
“Ty, you’ve got pastries. Remember not to overdo it on the saffron.”
“Right.” Ty nodded. “It’s going to be fine, Sam. We all know what we have to do.”
“Good, good.” Sam let out an uneasy laugh. “Sorry. I guess I’m wound tight. Tatum called me into her office earlier. After this weekend she’s going to put me in charge of the catering side of things. Including the menu.” He straightened and beamed with pride. “She says she trusts me with it. Best news I’ve had in a long time. One step closer to my own place. Catering for True. Can you believe it?”
“You’re going to do great,” Cruz assured him. “And yes, I can. Once we get through this weekend, we’ll celebrate. Maybe even get Tatum to join us.”
“Yeah, well, we all know who has an inside track on that happening. You guys get to work, okay? We’ve got food to prepare.”
“What’s going to happen?” Ty asked when they were alone again. “After?”
“I don’t know. But I plan to do everything I can to minimize the fallout.” He offered a tight smile and together they returned to the kitchen to help make Tatum’s dreams come true.
CHAPTER 14
“T-minus thirty minutes to open!” Colby yelled out as she rinsed a huge colander of mussels under running water. “Let’s get it done, people!”
“Look at her, all cheerleader.” Susan, tablet in hand, paced in front of the serving area where Chester and Pike were busy loading dishes onto the shelves. “Front of house looks good. Everyone’s pressed and polished. Don’t worry.” She held up her hand when Tatum started to comment. “They don’t look like they’re trying too hard. Everything is just tip-top. Promise.”
“Good, okay.” Tatum glanced at the clock, which at times seemed to jump into warp speed. “We’ve got two and a half hours before Constance is due to arrive. Just do what we’ve been doing and everything will be fine.”
“I’ve got you coming out to greet her shortly after eight thirty. That still work?”
“Yep.” Tatum tightened her apron band. “But feel free to remind me. Where’s Richard?”
“He had to take a call. He should be...yeah, here he is. You ready?”
“Absolutely.” Richard smoothed a hand down the front of his suit jacket.
“Everything okay?” Tatum recognized one of his nervous twitches.
“Yeah, fine. Just had a call from Nancy. Nothing to worry about.” He slapped his hands together. “Tonight is going to be one for the books, I don’t have any doubt. I’m going to head out, do one last check. Good luck, Tatum.”
“You, too.” Relieved to know the space beyond the kitchen was in good hands with both Richard and Susan, she felt a little bubble of apprehension burst. They’d spent the last two days rearranging some of the kitchen equipment to make room for the large paella pans she’d purchased, enough for one per table. She’d gone back and forth between single-serving plates, single-serving pans and family-style. Given the inspiration for tonight’s menu had been Cruz and his Spanish heritage, she’d taken the chance and gone with family. The rest of the meal, appetizers, salads, and desserts, would be served in their normal way, but the paella, when ordered, would steal the show.
Which meant it was time to start. Paella done the right way took dedicated time, and that was where Tatum was putting her energy. Everything was at her fingertips, from pans to rice, seasonings and seafood. Spicy chorizo they’d made fresh in-house was ready to be cooked, organic chicken was cut up and undergoing its precook treatment of salt and pepper and a hint of smoky paprika. She could already smell and taste the herbs and spices permeating the steamy air of the kitchen.
She took a deep breath, let it out and found her gaze shifting to Cruz. He was watching her, those dark eyes of his so penetrating, so piercing. So perfect. He gave her that smile she’d come to love, the one that said so much without a word, that she touched a hand to her heart, absorbing the support, confidence and approval.
Embracing all the encouragement he sent her, she turned to her stove and got to work.
* * *
Wrist-deep in chopped onions and peppers, Cruz felt his phone vibrate against his hip. He glanced up at the clock. The doors had been open for over an hour. O
rders were brisk and constant. Constance Swan was set to arrive any second.
He swore. No cell phones were allowed in the kitchen, but he didn’t have a choice. Not with the case about to burst wide open. Stepping to the side, he turned his back on Chester and the prep area and pulled out his cell. Seeing his LT’s number did not make him feel better.
“You got this for a few, Ches?” Cruz asked his fellow prep chef. “I have to take this.”
“Tatum sees a phone in here she’ll skin you like a chicken.” But Chester nodded. “Be quick.”
“Right.” Nothing like having a twentysomething kid tell you what to do. He ducked into the hall and hurried into the storage room. Ignoring the voice mail she’d left, he quickly called Luce back. “What’s going on, LT? I’m up to my neck—”
“Kirkman’s booked a one a.m. flight for two to Mexico. Saw his name pop on the alert we set up. He’s running, Cruz. He’s running tonight. And he’s running scared, because he didn’t even try to hide this.”
“Why now?” It didn’t make sense. Or did it? The chaos of the night, the frenetic energy spinning in and around True. What better time to disappear when people would be too busy to notice. “Only reason to do that would be if he was running scared, but I don’t think he is. I watched him on those deliveries yesterday, LT.” He’d barely seen a hint of nerves on the man as he conducted a drug handoff as easily as one might cash a check.
“We can ask him why in questioning. We’re out of time, Cruz. You need to make a decision.”
“What decision? We pick him up when he gets home.”
“We just took his wife into custody. She was on her way to the airport, two suitcases and passports with her. She had instructions to meet him at the gate. If we want him, we’ll have to grab him at the restaurant.”
No. Cruz felt the blood drain from his face. No, not here. Not tonight. He glanced over his shoulder. “LT, I can’t do it to her. Tonight means—”
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021 Page 20
