Don't Breathe a Word: Includes a bonus novella (Texas Justice Book 2)

by Christie Craig

  “No. I don’t know what I was thinking. No, I wasn’t thinking. I can’t…”

  “Are you still married?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  The honesty in that one word sent relief through him.

  But the look in her eyes yanked it away before he could savor it. “Please go.”

  “Nikki, if we could talk…”

  “That’s what we were supposed to be doing and this happened.”

  “Then maybe it’s not wrong.” Was he trying to convince himself or her? “Maybe—”

  “I’m not ready. I’ve got Bell, and that’s all I need to worry about right now.”

  Just like that he realized he wasn’t ready, either. He didn’t even have a condom. He hadn’t thought to buy them because…he hadn’t planned on having sex.

  An image of his wife, round with his child, filled his mind, and guilt tossed cold water on what was left of his need tightening his lower body.

  He stood, scooped up his dog, and walked out without saying another word.

  * * *

  Pablo parked in front of Rex’s house. The boss had called an hour ago and said he wanted to see him. Pablo’d rather have a tooth pulled, but until he got his money back, he was at the asshole’s mercy. Before he got out of his car, his phone rang.

  It was Sam. “Tell me you have something.”

  “I do. The flowers were ordered from a place in Texas. I called that florist and the store manager said the customer paid in cash. So there’s no record. No name, no credit card. And the employee who worked that day is out on a family emergency. She won’t be back for three days.”

  “Where’s the florist at?”

  Sam hesitated.

  “Where?” Pablo snapped.

  “A small town in Texas called Red Clay.”

  “They have to be from Vicki,” Pablo said. “She’s there!”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Pablo said. “Go there. Take photos of the bitch and my kid. Check in with all the schools to see if they have a student fitting my daughter’s description.”

  “Are you forgetting, I have a job?” Sam’s voice lacked respect.

  “Get off. Claim it’s an emergency. I want you there by morning.”

  “You think I can just take off now?”

  “That’s exactly what I think. And it’s exactly what you are going to do.”

  Sam must have heard the fury in his voice. “I’ll call, but then what? You can’t just go there and kill her. It’ll fall on me.”

  “If you love your family, it’s a chance you’re going to have to take.”

  * * *

  Tuesday morning Vicki sat at her kitchen table. She’d barely slept. Her side had hurt the first part of the night, and all she could think about was how Juan probably considered her a tease. How could he not?

  But dear Lord, if Sweetie hadn’t entered the room, she’d have had sex with him right there on the couch. Right where Bell could have walked in at any moment. What kind of a parent was she?

  And if only that were the worst of her wrongdoing. Hadn’t her plan been to remain polite but distant? Be the neighbor who could wave at him, say good day, goodnight, and pretend his kiss hadn’t mattered at all?

  Where had things gone so haywire?

  The answer bounced back.

  Right after sitting down beside him, when he made her feel…normal. Made her feel as if she were just any other woman and he were just any other man. A man whose story intrigued her, whose flirting warmed her, whose sense of humor teased her. A man whose heart seemed so broken and his pain so familiar that she ached to be the one to help him heal.

  But the closer she got to Juan, the more questions he’d ask, and the more likely it became that he’d discover her secret. While it almost seemed impossible for someone who seldom trusted anyone, she wanted to trust him.

  But Joanne had made it clear. A cop would be obligated to turn her in as soon as he learned about the report about the guardianship case. It didn’t matter that the claim wasn’t true.

  Maybe she needed to consider how soon she could find a new place to live. She still had twenty thousand dollars from her life savings. But she’d already gone through twenty thousand. AWACO had helped her with new identities, and even helped find affordable housing, but after that she and Bell were on their own.

  How did anyone live on minimum wage?

  She rose to refill her coffee and the pain in her side pinched again. Standing, she waited for the discomfort to pass. She couldn’t afford to be down and out. She had two Zumba, a Pilates, and two yoga classes today.

  Refilling her cup, adding milk, she sipped the coffee and remembered that Juan’s coffee had tasted better. Then she remembered how awesome it had felt to have his hands moving over her, inside her.

  Yup, she was going to have to move.

  Picking up her phone, needing a distraction from the ache building low in her abdomen and the loneliness building in her life, she hit the news app.

  A selection of links came up. Ten Things to Make Yourself Sexier. Nope. The next piece about Russian spies held no appeal. Scowling, she found a link to the Los Angeles Times. Feeling wistful for L.A., she swiped the screen that opened up a list of articles.

  Mother of Twins Killed While Babies Were in House: Willis Murder Remains Unsolved. Not wanting to go there, she moved to the next link, but then the words Willis and twins struck a chord. It couldn’t be.

  Vicki opened the link. A gasp left her lips when she saw a picture of her one-time employee.

  “No!” She read the short piece, stating the police had yet to make an arrest in the nine-day-old murder that had left residents in the North Hollywood neighborhood terrified for their own safety. Marisol, who’d helped answer emails and set up client appointments, hadn’t worked for Vicki very long, but even so, she’d thought of her as a friend.

  She couldn’t be dead. What kind of a monster could…

  A gut-punching possibility hit.

  What if Pablo did this? What if Marisol was killed—if her little girls were going to be without a mother—because of Vicki?

  Slammed with grief and guilt, even the air tasted bitter.

  Vicki insides started shaking. There was only one person she could reach out to for more information. She needed to speak with Joanne.

  Vicki pushed in the number. Right before she hit dial, she realized the time. It was five in the morning in California. But remembering Marisol’s picture, Vicki hit the call button.

  It rang once. Twice. Three times. Finally a voice answered. A sleepy voice. “Hello?”

  “Joanne? It’s me, Nikki Hanson…Vicki Trever.” Saying her real name gave her pause.

  “What’s wrong?” Joanne’s tone went straight from sleepy to concerned.

  “Marisol Willis was killed.”

  “Who?”

  “Marisol Willis. She worked for me. I just saw it online. She was murdered last week. You don’t think…Am I the reason she was murdered?”

  Vicki held her breath, waiting for Joanne to assure her it wasn’t.

  The line remained silent. No assurances. “Did she know where you are? About AWACO?”

  “No.”

  “Does anyone know where you are?”

  “I haven’t told a soul.”

  “Then relax. I’ll look into it today. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  “But what if—”

  “Relax.”

  “Relax? A woman, a mother was killed. And it might be my fault.”

  “You don’t know that. Let me make a few calls.”

  “But…”

  “Listen to me. We have someone with the program who works homicide for the LAPD. I’ll see if he can tell us anything.”

  Joanne hung up. Vicki set the phone down, her heart breaking for Marisol. She’d been a good person. A great mother. She didn’t deserve to die.

  Then Joanne’s question echoed in her mind. Does anyone
know where you are?

  She hadn’t told Dan where she was, but he knew about AWACO, and she’d called him. From her phone. An area code would tell him she was living in Texas. Maybe even in Anniston.

  Fear rose in her throat. Dan would never tell. She trusted him. Or she’d been closer to trusting him than any other man.

  But…if Pablo did kill Marisol, would he go after Dan? Or could Dan already be…

  She grabbed the phone and dialed Dan’s number.

  It went straight to voice mail. “Hi, I’m in Denmark. Leave a message, and if it’s important I’ll get back with you later.”

  He wasn’t even in the States. He had to be safe. But what about when he got home?

  The line beeped. Leave a message? Don’t leave a message? “Dan, it’s me. I just wanted to say that you should be careful if anyone’s asking questions about me. You know what I mean. Remember Marisol Willis, my employee? Something terrible happened. Just be careful.”

  Hanging up, Vicki felt nauseous. Breathing deeply, she walked into her niece’s bedroom, the pain in her side reaching for her ribs. Leaning against the doorjamb, she saw Bell sleeping peacefully. The urge to grab her and run hit hard. But where would she go?

  Her phone rang on the kitchen table. She shot back and checked the number before answering. It was Joanne.

  “Hello?”

  “You don’t have to worry. I just spoke to my contact. Police are pretty sure it was her ex who killed her. She’d just taken out a restraining order against him. They just don’t have enough evidence to arrest him yet. So relax. This doesn’t appear to be about you.”

  Vicki sank into a kitchen chair. It should make her feel better, but Marisol was still dead.

  “Are you doing okay?”

  “Yeah.” The truth leaked out. “It’s hard.”

  “I know. But you’re alive.”

  And Marisol isn’t. Neither was Alison. A lump of emotion filled her chest. “I’m going to get a new phone. I’ll call you with a new number.”

  “Why?” Joanne’s question was loaded.

  Vicki wanted to lie, but Joanne was the only person who was helping her. She owed her the truth. “I called Dan to warn him.”

  The line went silent. “Your boyfriend?” Disappointment echoed in Joanne’s voice.

  “Ex-boyfriend. But yes.”

  “You told him where you were?”

  “No, but I called him on my phone. I know I shouldn’t have, but…I’m sorry. It’s hard. I’m…alone.”

  “I know. You’re right, you shouldn’t have, but I get how hard this is. And you’re right to get a new phone. Don’t use this one again in case they get a trace. Text me your new number.” She paused. “And Nikki, we have someone relooking into Pablo’s death.”

  “And?”

  “Right now we have nothing that proves he’s alive. But…”

  “But what?” Vicki asked.

  “His old partner, Sam Milbourn, has been asking questions at one of the women’s shelters here. Someone shared with him a little about the organization.”

  “They know. They know I’m with the program.”

  “No, they don’t know.”

  “Pablo sent him. He must have figured it out.”

  “We don’t know that. He said he was looking into becoming a volunteer to help out women and children. Maybe after seeing what Pablo did to Alison, he wants to help.”

  “No, he’s lying. You can’t tell him anything. He’s helping Pablo.”

  “I’d never tell him anything. I haven’t—”

  “Even though he’s a cop?”

  “Our priority is your and Bell’s safety.”

  “And what if he gets a warrant? What if—”

  “Calm down. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve skirted the law. And I’ve got my guy looking into Milbourn. If he’s dirty, this might be the lead we need to catch Pablo.”

  * * *

  Juan pulled into a drugstore parking lot on his way back to the office after letting Sweetie out at lunch. He’d spent most of the morning trying to forget about how good those few minutes with Nikki on the sofa had been. How close he’d come to stripping off her clothes and burying himself inside her. Without a condom. The question now was if he was going to buy some. It felt both so damn right and so damn wrong. And considering how Nikki had tossed him out, needing them felt unlikely.

  And yet…

  He sat a good five minutes in the car before getting out and buying a twelve-pack of condoms.

  Shoving them into the glove compartment, he told himself that just because he bought them didn’t mean he’d use them. He told himself even if he had sex, it didn’t mean anyone would take Angie’s place. No one could.

  He’d just settled in at his desk when Mark came back from lunch and dropped in his chair. “You okay?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. Why?” Juan could hear the edge in his own voice.

  “I don’t know. You might have seemed pissed off this morning.” Mark spoke in his don’t-want-to-step-on-your-toes tone.

  “I’m fine.” Juan rolled his shoulders.

  “This about the neighbor?”

  “No,” Juan lied, and his shoulders jerked back.

  Mark continued to stare. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  “I think she’s scared.” The omission of just how much he liked her dropped to the pit of his stomach. “But yeah, I like her.”

  “Have you…asked her out or anything?”

  “I don’t think she’s open to dating.”

  “So you’ve asked, tried to—”

  “Yeah.”

  Mark studied him. “You still think she’s hiding something?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t think she’s a criminal.”

  “I’m happy that you’re…you know, moving on. It’s time, don’t you think?”

  “Is it?” Juan ran a hand over his right cheek. When his palm scrubbed the scar, he barely felt it, but that little bit of numbness was all it took for the guilt to come flooding back. “Maybe I like her because I know she’s not available.” He stared down at his palm—still red where the stitches had been, but the cut had healed. Funny how the body could heal itself so damn quickly, but not the heart.

  “Either way, it’s good to see that you’re…waking up. And given what she went through with Bell’s father, maybe she just needs a little more time.”

  “Yeah.” Maybe he did, too. But he couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Or the condoms in his glove compartment.

  While it was hard to admit, he knew it wasn’t all about the sex. He hadn’t enjoyed just the sofa time of their evening. Flirting with her had felt electric. Entertaining her with his stories and hearing her laugh had been cathartic. Sharing things had…felt right. Then there was his need to protect her.

  And when he wasn’t thinking about her, his mind went to Bell. To her scars. To her words. It’s not your fault. He closed his eyes. He remembered Angie asking him to quit working undercover a month before the explosion. Probably before his cover had been blown. It kind of is my fault, Bell. It kind of is.

  “Hey.” Connor walked in.

  “Where have you been?”

  Connor dropped at his desk. “I paid another visit to the perp who beat up Bates.”

  “Did a week plus in jail help him recall anything?” Mark’s chair squeaked when he leaned back.

  “Nothing.” Frustration leaked out in Connor’s tone.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. Juan looked up. The station’s clerk, Mildred, stood in the doorway, a hand on her hip. “Someone’s here to see you.” Her eyes were on him.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “She wouldn’t give me her name, but she has your card. And she has pink—”

  “It’s me,” a voice echoed from the hall, and Juan saw a quick glimpse of pink hair behind Mildred.

  Mildred swung around. “I told you to wait.”

  “Yeah,” said Star, the waitress from the Black Diamond. “I never was g
ood at minding.”

  “Well, your mama should have taught you better.” Mildred turned around and stared at Juan as if their guest’s rude behavior were his fault.

  “It’s okay,” he told Mildred. “Let her in.”

  “Fine.” Mildred huffed as she walked away.

  Wearing a pair of black shorts that showcased a nice pair of legs and a bright blue shirt cut low enough to catch a man’s eye, Star sashayed into the room. She didn’t wear nearly as much makeup as she’d worn while waitressing, and Juan noted how young she looked. Hell, was she old enough to serve drinks?

  She bypassed Mark’s desk and headed right to Juan. She stopped a foot from where he sat.

  “What brings you here, Star?” Juan asked.

  “Do I need a reason?” Humor sounded in her voice.

  “I’m afraid you do.”

  “You still want information on Cindy?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, why don’t you buy me lunch and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “I’ve already eaten. Why—”

  “But I haven’t.” She slipped one hand on her hip.

  He hesitated. Did Star really have something? “Okay. There’s a Whataburger across the street. I’ll buy you lunch.”

  She lifted one brow. “What I got is worth more than a burger.”

  “Really?”

  Connor cleared his throat to hide his laugh.

  Star nodded at the man, then smiled.

  “Okay, I’ll make it a meal deal.” Juan stood up.

  Connor coughed again. Star cut him a seductive smile. “Is he always this cheap?”

  Connor leaned an elbow on his desk. “I’ll bet you can get a cookie out of him, too.”

  “I like cookies.” She turned to Juan.

  He grabbed his gun out of a drawer and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Bring me back a chocolate shake,” Connor said.

  Juan glared back at him. Connor coughed again.

  In less than five minutes, Star had ordered herself a lunch deal, a cookie, and a shake. They got their drinks and had just settled in a booth when he finally spoke. “What do you have for me?”

  She looked up at him through long lashes. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  He frowned. “No games, okay?”