Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2021

by Anna J. Stewart

  “I’d say I’m sorry,” the lieutenant said. “But I have the feeling you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  “You’re right. If you and your team are finished, I’d like to lock up and go home.” She gathered her purse and jacket and led the older woman downstairs. She waited until the lab techs and officers walked out her front doors, then turned out the lights and locked up. She dug into her purse for her set of spare keys and handed them over. “In case anyone needs access and I’m not here.”

  Lucille Graves looked down at the collection of keys. “About Cruz—”

  “I’m sorry.” Tatum held up a hand. “When I said I didn’t want to see him again, that included I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “He cares about you, Ms. Colton.”

  “All evidence to the contrary. I’d say thank you, but I wouldn’t really mean it. Good night, Lieutenant.”

  “Good night.”

  Tatum couldn’t stop swallowing on her way to the parking lot. Her car felt a million miles away, but the tears were just beneath the surface, waiting for one tiny crack in her control to flow free. She lifted her face into the cold wind, let the chill take care of them. She stopped when she saw her car was surrounded by her employees. By her friends.

  Sam and Quallis and Colby and Chester. Bernadette and Susan clung to each other. Every server, every bartender, every bus-person and Ty. All of them stood there in the cold March air waiting for her.

  When Ty stepped forward, she couldn’t stop herself. The tears spilled and she held up her hand, shook her head. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Please.” But he did. He moved in and wrapped his arms around her, drew her in to an embrace that reminded her so much of the ones her father had always provided that her knees buckled.

  The sobs nearly choked her as she clung to him, the cold fading as the others encircled her, rested their hands on her shoulder, on her back.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed between sobbing breaths. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have let—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Ty assured her. “If you want to blame someone, blame me. I helped him. I trusted him. Should have known better than to trust a cop. Especially a cop who lies for a living.”

  “We’re going to fix this,” Susan insisted. “Somehow, someway, we are going to get True back on track.”

  “You can’t really think there’s any hope of that.” But it meant the world to her that they at least pretended. She’d seen the videos online. They were trending on Twitter and had been splattered all over Facebook. The food world would be next, especially once Constance Swan added her two cents. “We’re closed. Indefinitely. I’ll pay you all through the end of the month at least. After that, I don’t know when or if...” There was every real possibility she might never open those doors again.

  “Come on, boss,” Sam urged when she stepped back and got herself under control. “Let’s go get a drink across the street.”

  She wanted to. Tonight of all nights, but she couldn’t. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was rehash it over and over. “Another night. I’m going home. I’ll call you when I know something,” she insisted and made her way to her car.

  Tatum didn’t look at them as she drove away. She couldn’t bear to. She drove by rote, heading for the ranch house only to pull over to the side of the road halfway there. Her home, in the last week, had somehow become theirs. Everywhere she looked she’d see him, hear him. Smell him on her sheets. Imagine him lounging on her sofa while she cooked or acting as taster as she experimented. There wasn’t a part of that place that wouldn’t haunt her tonight.

  She turned the car around, headed for the condo. She barely remembered getting there, parking, taking the elevator up. All she wanted was a shower and her bed and to sleep until she could forget.

  But when she stepped inside, all those wants vanished. Her mother, her aunt and January all got to their feet. The space looked new, with its pale Wedgwood blue walls and elegant, gold-accented brocade draperies. Her furniture was rearranged into a more practical pattern, but most of all, they’d left her kitchen alone. It was beautiful. It was, she thought, perfect.

  “Guess you finished just in time for me to move out.”

  When she buckled this time, her other family was there to catch her.

  * * *

  “How do you function on so little sleep?”

  January stumbled out of the bedroom and somehow managed to perch on the barstool without tumbling to the floor. Her sister had never done particularly well with all-nighters, whereas Tatum thrived on them. Her mother and Aunt Fallon had finally headed home sometime after one, having given Tatum just enough time to wallow and wail before the anger set in.

  Now, five hours, three loaves of bread and a vat of beef stew later, that anger was on a full-blast-boil.

  “Coffee,” January groaned. “For the love of all that is holy, coffee.”

  Tatum smirked and abandoned her puff pastry to do her sister’s bidding. She waited to speak until her sister had had her first sip, then dived in.

  “Somewhere between the sourdough and fougasse, I made a decision.”

  “Hmm.” January looked doubtful. “Usually your best decisions are made over waffles. I say hopefully,” she added, eyeing the waffle iron cabinet.

  “Not today.” That she now resented waffles only added to her mood. “Today, I take a stand. I’m not giving up.”

  “Well, duh.” January rolled her eyes. “You’re a Colton. It’s literally a gene defect. We fight to the death. But, for clarification, are we talking about Cruz or True?”

  “What do you think?” She had Cruz Medina solidly in her rearview mirror. Mostly.

  “Ummm.” January pressed her lips into a thin line. “Maybe we need Simone for the rest of this conversation.”

  “Mom said she didn’t answer her phone last night when you all called her, but she did text.”

  “Whoopee!” January waved a finger in the air. “Such support she’s showing you.”

  Because of her own issues with compartmentalizing, Tatum wasn’t going to blame Simone for not being there with the rest. The longer the investigation went into their father and uncle’s killer, the more determined Simone became. “She’s having trouble dealing with Dad’s death. You know this. Let her be.”

  “I’ll remind you you said that at a later date. So, what’s this plan of action you’ve come up with?”

  “First—” Tatum brushed off her hands “—I’m going to call one of the local news stations and offer to give an interview, clear the air, so to speak.”

  “Can you do that?” January frowned. “I mean, will the police let you?”

  “Let me?” Had she heard that correctly?

  “Legalities and all. Due process and blah-blah-blah. Just...” January crinkled her nose. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t like it when Cruz interfered with your career. Blindsiding him might not be the best idea. He has arrest powers.”

  Oh, he had a lot of powers. “The irony was not lost on me.” Tatum folded her pastry, turned it and wrapped it in plastic wrap to set in the freezer for a half hour. “And don’t worry. I’ll clear any statement I make with Lieutenant Graves. I’m also thinking of writing something up for social media.”

  “Nah.” January shook her head. “Let this ride out. Things like this burn out in days, replaced by some other attention suck that make people feel superior. The more you contribute to it, the longer the fire will burn. Trust me on this, Tate. Just focus on getting True’s doors back open.” She sat up, frowned. “I think that’s my cell.”

  “Probably Sean again. He’s been texting you all night. Don’t worry,” Tatum assured her when she got the glare. “I only answered once to let him know I was okay and that you were asleep. Call him back and tell him you’re on your way home.”<
br />
  “Am I?” She looked down at the borrowed set of pink bunny shorts and matching tank. “I don’t look like it. I don’t like the idea of you being alone today.”

  “I won’t be.” She was already heading into her bedroom to get dressed. “I’m never alone at True.”

  * * *

  Cruz managed to wait until dawn before interviewing Richard Kirkman. He wouldn’t have made it that long if he hadn’t taken a call from Jade and had a long, decision-making discussion with her about Johnny. It was time, she’d told him, only a short time to go. Cruz glanced at his watch, at the date below the time. Today was Johnny’s thirtieth birthday. It was fitting, Jade insisted. To let him go on the day he’d been given to the world.

  He’d sat there at his desk, multiple coffee cups lined up on the table. In hours he’d say a final goodbye. All that was left was to close this case and tell Johnny, before he was gone, that he’d kept his promise. Except...

  He hadn’t. Not yet. But he had managed to destroy the one good thing to come into his life. Tatum Colton had, in a very short amount of time, carved a permanent place inside of him. He’d never understood the idea of finding the person who fit, something Johnny had lamented for him on more than one occasion.

  “Once you find her, man, you will never, ever want to let her go.” Johnny’s bright blue eyes and Hollywood-blond hair all but shone whenever he spoke about Jade. “It’ll happen. One day. And I’ll be there laughing my butt off even as I plan your stag party.”

  But there wouldn’t be a stag do. For either of them. And that, Cruz thought as he scrubbed a hand down his face, was perhaps the greatest tragedy of all of this. Both their futures had disappeared in the blink of an eye, or, in Johnny’s case, the flash of a muzzle.

  The clock tick-tick-ticked its way to eight o’clock.

  By this afternoon when he walked into that rehab facility, he’d have Richard Kirkman locked down as a witness against one of the biggest drug cartels in the state. And that would be his parting gift to his partner.

  He stood up, stretched, and, catching his LT’s eye, headed down the hall to interrogation. Cruz popped his head into the observation room, glanced toward the two-way mirror as Luce came in behind him. “He ready, you think?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The plainclothes detective sitting at a computer monitor, ready to record whatever happened, nodded. “He’s about worn a trench in the linoleum. And he definitely should have to pee by now.”

  “Seems a good place to start. I’m going in.”

  “Cruz.” Lieutenant Graves held out her hand. “Forgetting something?”

  “Not really, no.” But he handed over his sidearm anyway. When he stepped into the interview room, he knew instantly his instinct to let Kirkman stew had been right on target. The room smelled like sour sweat, guilt and desperation. His favorite combination. He motioned for the monitor officer to leave, murmured his thanks and closed the door.

  Kirkman stopped his pacing and all but launched himself at Cruz. “Kept me waiting long enough. Where’s Nancy? Where’s my wife?”

  “She’s safe.” Cruz held up his hands, pointed to the mirror. “You put hands on me we’re going to have to add to your list of charges, Richard. I don’t think you can afford any more.”

  Richard backed off, resumed pacing. “You don’t know what you’ve done, Mendoz...” He stopped, whirled around, eyes narrowed. “That’s not your real name.”

  “Close. Detective Cruz Medina. Mendoza was Tatum’s idea. Keeping things as close to the truth as possible.”

  “Your admiration won’t get you far anymore.” Richard had the gall to smirk. “She won’t have anything to do with the man who ruined her business.”

  “Then I guess we have something in common. Sit.”

  Richard ignored him. “You got this all wrong, Cruz. I’ve been protecting Tatum. For months! I’m the only reason she’s still alive. Hell, I’m still protecting her!”

  “Really?” Cruz pulled a chair closer, spun it around and sat. “Do tell.”

  “First you tell me where Nancy is. What are you charging her with?”

  “Nothing. For now. She’s being held for questioning. If she doesn’t know anything—”

  Richard scrubbed his hands down his face. “She only knows I screwed up. Cruz, she’s innocent. You have to give her protection. You have to give it to both of us.”

  “Convince me. Tell me about Tatum and this fantasy you have about having saved her. You were a plant at the restaurant. You work for the Nacio drug cartel.”

  Richard sat, dropped his head into his hands. “I grew up with Javier Nacio. He was my best friend all the way through college. His father...his father considered me a second son. I didn’t know what the family was about until it was too late. He paid for my college, bought my mother a house, made sure she moved into a safe neighborhood. And then I was in deep. So I went where they told me.”

  “Try again.” Cruz shook his head. “No way Nacio Sr. would have had True on his radar.” Cruz wagged a finger at Richard. “You should take credit for your ideas, Richard. That was all you.”

  “Okay, yeah, it was. I might have mentioned using a high-end restaurant like True would be a good cover for distribution, but I didn’t know, I had no idea they were going to kill Daria Naughton to get me in the door.”

  That was one. Cruz made a mental note. “But once you were, you started pushing the catering idea.”

  “Yeah. It didn’t get me very far until Tatum’s dad was killed. That reception was the opening I needed. From there it was just a matter of creating the right client with the right system in place. In one month I managed to triple their supply.”

  “By accepting deliveries of drugs at True and transporting them in catering orders to Belma Trade.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, and it was all going okay until she hired you. I had someone all picked out. One of Nacio’s lieutenants was ready for the sous-chef job and then there you were.”

  “And since Tatum hired me herself, you needed to get a hold of my employment file.”

  “I was ordered to. Nacio wanted to know who you were. He doesn’t like coincidences.”

  Great. He had something in common with a drug lord.

  “You didn’t have to lock her in the freezer. You could have just gotten it during the dinner rush.”

  “Her office is all windows. She’d have seen me and I didn’t have time to think about it. He had Nancy under surveillance. He probably did last night when you picked her up.”

  Cruz hoped his boss picked up on that. If Nancy Kirkman was being watched by the cartel, then they knew she was in custody. Not being able to reach Kirkman himself was probably adding to their concern. “We’ll take care of Nancy, Richard. I promise. What did they do when you gave them the file?”

  “They told me you couldn’t be trusted and that meant Tatum couldn’t be, either. She needed to be taken care of, but I said I could do something without hurting her. That’s when I had Nancy approach Constance Swan. Nothing distracts Tatum like potential to grow True. I just needed her to focus on something that didn’t involve you and whatever you were looking for.”

  “And when it didn’t work, you tried to run her down with your car.”

  “Not me, man. That was Nacio’s deal. He put one of his best men on it. Cruz, you have to listen to me. This isn’t over. Getting me, that’s nothing. You want me to flip, great. Fine, yeah, you put me and Nancy somewhere where they won’t find me, WITSEC, whatever, I’ll take whatever deal you guys offer. But you have to get to Tatum and keep her away from True.”

  “But you’re here. What threat—”

  “You really think I’m the only one Nacio had working at True? It takes two people to drive those catering deliveries, Cruz. Man. Oh, man, this has all gone wrong. I told him this wasn’t going to work. They always find out.” He sagged forward, burying his face i
n his arms. “This has all gone wrong.”

  “What has gone wrong? Your last delivery—”

  “The last drop-off didn’t make it to the suppliers. He took it, Cruz. He’s stashed it to sell on the side. My cut was supposed to be enough to get me out of the country, but I felt things going wrong and planned to get out.”

  “Stop whining and tell me who else Nacio had working at the restaurant.” His mind was already flipping through the employees. Susan, Sam, Chester, Colby...half a dozen servers, just as many bartenders. Ty, Bernadette and... “Pike. Was Pike driving that car that went after Tatum?”

  Richard’s head snapped up. “Yeah. He said she wasn’t distracted enough. She needed to be taken out. He was furious when she walked back into True.”

  “Son of a... Pike is behind all this. Lieutenant!” He was on his feet and out the door. She popped out into the hall at the same time, held out his weapon. “Richard’s low man on the ladder.”

  “But Pike’s record came up clean.”

  “I’m betting that’s not his name. Run a deeper background check. Talk to him.” He pointed into the interview room. “I need to find Tatum.”

  “Wait, Cruz!” Richard tried to step clear, only to be stopped by the officer standing outside the room. “Pike’s not giving up that stash. He’s been ripping them off for months. He needs a scapegoat, someone to blame, someone to give Nacio as a trade-off.”

  “Tatum.” Cruz felt the blood drain from his face. “He’s going to turn Tatum over to Nacio. Luce?” He didn’t even try to quell the panic spinning inside him.

  “Go!” his boss yelled. “Take backup with you to the restaurant. I’ll send a car to her house.”

  “And the condo.” He yelled out the address as he ran through the squad room.

  Please, please, he prayed as he raced to his car. Don’t let me be too late again.

  CHAPTER 16

  It took all Tatum’s focus not to do the math as she emptied True’s refrigeration units of the leftover and unused food from last night. On the bright side, things had blown up on a Friday night, so she hadn’t purchased food for next week yet.