by Linda Warren
“Thank you kindly for the information and the chair,” she quipped sarcastically.
“No problem,” he snapped, and went into the warehouse.
For the next three hours she searched cabinet after cabinet, looking for the name Alvarez. She had never realized how many people had worked at Brewster Farms over the years—thousands, all dependent on Mr. Brewster for a living. Some workers were permanent legal workers, some seasonal, some migrant. Most were Mexican, and she suspected a lot were illegals. Every name imaginable was in the files. She found several Alvarezes, but no Delores. She grew tired and hungry and decided to go home for a while.
Jonas wasn’t in the office, so she locked the door and took the keys with her. She had a sandwich and iced tea, then wrote her mom a note saying not to wait up for her. Her mother was a schoolteacher and wouldn’t be home until later in the day.
When Abby arrived back at Brewster Farms, she saw Edna’s car at the mansion. That was one woman Abby planned to avoid. When Edna, Jules and Darby found out what she was doing, they were going to be furious. A long-lost daughter could ruin their plans for the future.
When she entered the office, Jonas wasn’t there. He must be working on the farm somewhere. Avoiding her, she decided, which she didn’t mind. She was sure he didn’t do the actual labor. He was the overseer who made sure all the vegetables and fruits were picked, packed and shipped on time. Again she wondered how he’d come to work for Mr. Brewster. He certainly didn’t want to talk about it. He’d made that painfully clear.
She unlocked the door, propped it open and went back to her task, quickly losing track of time. Workers in the warehouse were hooting and hollering. They must have finished loading the trucks, she thought idly. Then her eyes were suddenly glued to the name she’d been searching for. She had finally found Delores Alvarez’s file. Thank God. Excitement darted through her as she sat on the concrete floor and read through its contents. Now she had the address. Delores’s parents lived across the border in Nuevo Hope, Mexico. If they still lived there, it should be easy to locate them or someone who knew Delores. She could do this without too much of a problem.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost seven o’clock. Time to go home. As she rose, she heard a click. She whirled in horror and stared at the closed door. She ran over and tried to open it. It was locked tight. No worry, she told herself, the keys were in her pocket. She withdrew them and noticed there was no keyhole on the inside. Damn! She beat on the door with her fist.
“Hey, I’m still in here. Hey. Is anybody out there? Help.”
Only silence met her frantic cry, and she sank to the floor. Don’t panic, she kept repeating to herself silently. Someone must have assumed she’d left. No one could see her sitting behind the cabinets. A simple mistake. That’s all. Someone would find her. She just had to wait. But she was so thirsty. She licked her dry lips as anger built inside her.
Maybe it hadn’t been a mistake. Had Jonas done this to scare her? No, he wouldn’t use that kind of tactic. He told her to her face how he felt and didn’t mince words. So who had locked her in? Where was everybody? She began to beat on the door again.
“Help. Help. Let me out of here.”
JONAS SAT in Mick’s Tavern downing Coke. He’d spent most of the afternoon in the sheriff’s office getting two of his workers out of jail. Lupe and Miguel were two young hotheads after the same girl. They had gotten into a fight and someone had called the sheriff. Jonas would have left their sorry asses in jail, but he had a crop to pick and he needed them. Besides, they were good boys, who’d simply let their raging hormones get the better of them.
They were eighteen and illegal. That’s why the sheriff had called Jonas instead of having them deported. The sheriff never interfered with anything that went on at Brewster Farms. A person working for Brewster only had to worry about Border Patrol and Immigration. Brewster didn’t have any control over those departments.
At least the afternoon’s activities had kept Jonas busy and away from Abigail Duncan. That was one obstinate, intuitive woman, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the next couple of days. He’d given Brewster his word, so there was no way out. But Jonas had a bad feeling about the whole thing, and her prying didn’t help. The woman never knew when to stop. And that wasn’t the worst of it. He didn’t like the way she made him feel. She threatened the control he had worked hard to master. As long as he could stay away from her, everything was fine. But now…
“Drowning your sorrows in Coke, Jonas?” Mick asked as he took a seat.
“Just drowning my thirst.”
“You got a different kind of thirst.”
Jonas stared at him over the rim of his can. “You think you know me?”
“Sure do, my friend. I’ve known you since you were a kid, and I can tell you exactly what you’re thinking and feeling.”
Mick was right. He’d been Jonas’s only friend for a long time. “So what am I thinking and feeling?” Jonas asked slowly.
“Abigail Duncan has you all riled up. Ain’t seen you this troubled since—”
“Leave it alone, Mick.”
At the tone in Jonas’s voice, Mick shifted gears. “Brewster has a daughter? Ha.”
Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?” he asked sharply, then answered his own question. “Oh, yeah, you have a daughter and a sister-in-law who work in the hospital. If Brewster finds out they’re spreading rumors, they could lose their jobs.”
“But he won’t find out, will he, my friend?”
Jonas leaned across the table. “Tell them to keep their mouths shut.” He settled back in his chair. “Besides, I’m not sure the story is true.”
“You got doubts about Brewster?”
“Yep, and there ain’t a thing I can do about it.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing” was his quick answer. “I don’t want anything to do with the damn situation, but Brewster is insisting that I go with her.”
“Ah.” Mick nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his cigar. “If Brewster is sending you, what does he need the Duncan woman for?”
Jonas twisted the Coke can. “It has to do with the memoirs she’s writing. Finding the long-lost daughter is going to be the big ending, and he wants her there to witness all the little details.”
“I see.” Mick nodded again. “And you’re going along as a bodyguard.”
“Something like that, but Ms. Duncan doesn’t want my help.”
“But you’ll go, anyway.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed some Coke. “I told Brewster I would.”
“It’s probably not a bad idea.” Mick rubbed his chin. “A woman alone in Mexico, poking her nose into family matters—it could get dangerous.”
Jonas knew that. Mexicans had a strong sense of family, and they didn’t like outsiders interfering.
Mick stood. “I gotta get back to work.” He patted Jonas on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend.”
As Mick walked away, Jonas watched the activity in the bar. It was after nine and the place was filling up. Jim Colson, the bank president, was dancing with Teresa Gomez. Their bodies were welded together, and soon they’d be in one of Mick’s rooms upstairs. Jim had a wife and three kids, and Sunday morning he’d be on the front pew in church singing his praises to the Lord. Jonas, who’d never been part of a real family, didn’t understand a man who was willing to jeopardize everything he had.
Of course, no one ever breathed a word of Jim’s infidelities. His bank owned the mortgages on most of the homes and titles to most of the vehicles in this town. And Brewster owned the bank. For the first time, Jonas wondered if Brewster really had had an affair with a Mexican girl. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, he supposed.
Workers were piling into the bar to drink, dance and have a good time. It didn’t matter that they had to work tomorrow. They lived for the moment. Jonas thought that was a damn good idea. Maybe Jim had the right idea, too. Tomorr
ow was a crapshoot, anyway.
He stood and laid some bills on the table. “G’night Mick. It’s been a long day.”
“Jonas.”
Jonas fitted his hat on his head and glanced at Mick.
“Don’t be so down about this. You’ll spend time with a pretty woman and that ain’t bad. It’s the best way I know to get rid of those tight muscles.”
Jonas didn’t respond. He just walked outside to his truck. But he knew what Mick was suggesting. Dammit, he wasn’t listening to Mick.
When he reached the office, he saw her car parked in front. That crazy woman. She was still searching through the files. Well, she could search until the cows came home. He was going to bed. He headed for the outside staircase that led to his apartment over the warehouse. He had built it twelve years ago with Brewster’s approval. He’d gotten tired of sleeping on a cot in a storeroom.
As he stepped inside, a slight smile eased across his face. His home. The only home in which he’d ever had his own bedroom and bath—a luxury that made him feel rich.
He stripped off of his clothes and went for the shower. Afterward he wrapped a towel around his waist and fell across his king-size bed. He needed sleep to refresh his mind and body, but the natural remedy eluded him. Abigail Duncan kept intruding, with her green eyes, blond hair and tempting smile.
Go away, Abigail Duncan. Go away!
THE SMALL LIGHTBULB grew dimmer and dimmer, and the heat began to build in the confines of the closed room. Abby struggled to breathe normally, but she felt as if she was suffocating, the walls closing in on her. Her body was sweaty and her nerves were stretched tight with fear. Beating on the door had proven fruitless. No one had come to her aid. She had the horrible feeling that she’d have to stay in the room until morning. Her throat was dry, and she desperately needed water. Where the hell was Jonas?
She lay on the dirty concrete with her nose to the crack beneath the door. The minuscule amount of fresh air helped her breathing. Oh God, oh God, she couldn’t keep this up. Please, someone help me. Don’t let me suffocate.
AT ONE O’CLOCK Jonas was still awake. In an angry movement, he jerked to his feet. Damn woman was now interfering with his sleep. He hurried to the living room and looked out the window to the parking area in front of the office. Goddammit, her car was still there. He could see it clearly in the moonlight. This was too much. She was getting her ass out of there and going home. He grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped into them. He didn’t bother with shoes or a shirt.
He charged into the office in a fury. Then he saw the closed door, and an uneasy feeling came over him. Had she left with someone? He noticed the shallow light emanating from beneath the door. Nah, she couldn’t be in there with the door shut, he told himself. She had more sense than that. But he couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling. He walked to the door and pounded on it with his palm.
“Abby, are you in there?”
Abby raised her head. Was she dreaming or was that Jonas’s voice? “Y-es, yes,” she tried to scream, but her throat was so dry the words came out as a croak.
Jonas’s heart stopped when he heard the pitiful sound. What in the hell had happened? He’d deal with that later. First he had to get her out of there.
“Where are the keys?” he asked, praying that she didn’t have them on her.
“In my pocket.”
“Dammit.”
“Jonas,” she called feebly. “Please…help me. I…can’t breathe.”
“Hold on,” he shouted.
“Hurry, please.”
His heart jackknifed into his throat, and he ran into the warehouse. He found a crowbar and a hammer. It took him about a minute to pry the lock apart, but it felt like an hour.
Abby heard him beating on the outside, and she tried to get to her feet. But she couldn’t seem to move.
Finally the door swung open, and precious air gushed into her aching lungs. Gulping breath after breath, her gaze traveled from his bare feet, to the long legs encased in tight jeans, to the naked chest with swirls of brown hair, to his broad shoulders, then to the darkened eyes that were staring down at her with a worried look. He was like a Greek mythological god coming to her rescue.
Jonas dropped to his knees beside her. “Are you hurt? Can you get up?”
She was still lying on her stomach, unable to muster enough strength to do anything else.
“I…I…” She couldn’t find words and felt like a complete idiot.
He rolled her over, scooped her into his arms and carried her into his office. She rested against his hard-muscled chest. Where did he get those muscles? Jonas must do more work than she gave him credit for, because she knew he wasn’t the workout-in-the-gym type. A tangy, fresh masculine scent greeted her tired senses. If she could just stay like this until—
Jonas sat her gently in his chair, bringing that thought to a screeching halt. She realized her clothes were soaking wet from sweat, as was her hair, which hung in rattails. She must look awful. Jonas didn’t seem to notice. He was gazing at her with… Was that concern? Was he worried about her?
“Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle tone, and she knew that he was. There was a heart in that beautiful chest. Oh, yes!
She licked dry lips. “Could I have some water, please?”
He moved to the small refrigerator in the corner and grabbed a bottle of water. With one twist of his strong hand, the cap came off, and he handed her the bottle. She drank thirstily, then rested the cool plastic against her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s cold. That’s good. I’m so hot and…”
“You’re probably dehydrated.”
She glanced down at her soaked clothes. “Yeah, I think I lost a gallon of fluid.”
He leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his naked torso. His muscles bulged, and her eyes were mesmerized by the action.
“What happened, Abby?” he asked in his deep, husky voice. He said her name just the way she had wanted him to, the way she had dreamed he could—his voice was sensitive, caring and filled with passionate undertones that made her envision…. Damn, was she light-headed? Jonas Parker didn’t want anything to do with her, and she liked it that way. So what was wrong with her?
She took a gulp of water and gathered her wits. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I was sitting on the floor behind one of the filing cabinets reading Delores Alvarez’s file, when I heard the door shut. I guess someone thought I had gone home.”
“Your car is outside,” he reminded her.
“Oh, yes.” He’d made short work of that logic. Now she had to consider the other possibility. “You think someone closed it on purpose?”
Jonas nodded and hoped she was getting the message. Someone didn’t want her to find Delores Alvarez.
“Who would do that?” she asked.
He had to be honest with her. “I told you that when you start digging into the past, you’d better be able to handle the consequences. And there are a lot of people who won’t want you to find this…this daughter.”
She thought for a minute. “I went home and got something to eat and drink. When I came back, I saw Edna Kline’s car at the mansion. Maybe she saw mine, too.”
“She’s certainly one person who wouldn’t want a daughter to surface. I’ll have a talk with her and try to sort this out.”
An obstinate light entered her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, but I can talk to her myself.”
“Under the circumstances, I think it would be best if I did.”
She swallowed more water. He was right. Edna disliked her and probably wouldn’t tell her a thing. For the first time, the idea of accepting Jonas’s help appealed to her.
“Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “How do you plan to handle it?”
“Don’t ask so many damn questions.”
“It’s the only way to get answers, and you just saved me from suffocating to death. Don’t I owe you my firstborn or something?”
He grinned.
He actually grinned. And the effect was mind-boggling. It softened his masculine features and made him seem more approachable.
“I don’t want your firstborn,” he answered with that grin still on his lips. Then his face sobered. “What I want, you’re not willing to give.”
“How do you know until you ask?”
Your body, Abby. I want to enjoy every inch of your gorgeous body.
Of course, he didn’t say that. What came out of his mouth was “Give up this crazy quest to find this fictional daughter.”
She pushed damp hair away from her face. “Jonas, don’t ask that of me.”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Think about this, Abby. Someone locked you in that room for a reason—to scare you, and it’s only a start.”
“I can take a little scaring,” she said stubbornly.
“Then, why are you still trembling?”
She tried to squelch the tremors inside her, but without much success. She’d hoped that he hadn’t noticed, but her body had been pressed against his. He could hardly miss the fact that she was a quivering mass of nerves.
“I…I…” Even to her own ears she sounded like a babbling idiot.
He took the empty bottle out of her shaking fingers. “Give it up, Abby. Go back to Dallas and get on with your life. It’s not worth all this.”
She was so tired of people telling her what she should do. Anger pumped through her veins, and the trembling eased immediately. “Stop saying that,” she said. “You have no idea how I feel.”
“I know Abe wouldn’t want you to put your life in danger.”
His startling response angered her more. “I know he deserves better than the rumors that are circulating about him.”
“Nobody pays any attention—”
“Don’t use that line on me. Everybody listens to rumors. I experienced it firsthand. My mom sent me to the grocery store, and I met two women she works with. They were very nice and friendly, offering their condolences and saying how much they liked my father. I forgot something so I had to go back in the store. The ladies were in the checkout line, and I could hear them talking. One said, ‘I wonder if Gail told her daughter why Mr. Brewster really fired Abe,’ and the other answered, ‘I’m sure she didn’t. No woman wants to tell their daughter that her father was fired for embezzling funds.’” Abby took a long breath. “I wanted to confront them. Instead I walked away, unable to handle the pain their words caused me. Several days later, I overheard a similar conversation at the bank. People are talking and believing those cruel rumors, and I don’t care what I have to go through, I’m going to put a stop to them.”
