Crossroads

by Chantal Fernando

  I pretend I don’t enjoy the feeling of having her in my arms.

  I pretend I don’t like it, and I sure as hell ignore the way it makes me feel.

  I’m good at that, turning off my emotions. I can go cold as ice, make myself feel nothing.

  It’s the best way to be.

  SIX

  SHE sleeps like a baby the whole flight, until we get told by the flight attendant that she has to return to her seat for landing. She doesn’t look at me after she wakes, probably shy, or embarrassed, I don’t know which. Maybe she’s ashamed to have been so close to a biker without a gun aimed at him.

  Or maybe it’s me with the issue.

  I keep an eye on her as the flight lands. I see her dig her nails into her palm, and I want to help, but I don’t think she’d appreciate the offer right now. If she wants my help, I wish she’d ask, but I know she won’t. Reality has hit, which means she must be feeling much better than before, when she was so out of it that she didn’t care whose arms she was in. Feeling helpless, I watch as she tries to keep herself calm. When we land, I see the relief play out on her face, and I feel it too. Since neither of us has any carry-on bags, we exit the plane quickly. We walk side by side in silence, and it’s only when we’re standing at baggage claim that she speaks.

  “Thank you, for what you did back there,” she says, exhaling roughly. “You didn’t have to. And to be honest, no one has taken care of me like that before, so yeah . . . thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I say. She moves to grab one of the bags, so I lean forward and carry it before she can.

  “Thanks.”

  I simply nod my head, grab my bag when it comes around, and then walk through the exit with her to hail a cab. I open the cab door for her, then put our suitcases in the trunk, wondering when exactly I became gentleman of the year. She gets in the back, while I get in the passenger seat to give me a little space to clear my head. The driver is chatty as fuck, which is both annoying and welcome at the same time.

  “Business or pleasure?” he asks after I tell him the name of the hotel we’ll be staying at.

  “Definitely business,” Jo says from the back, sounding tired but still managing to muster a dry tone.

  Jo? Since when is Johanna, Detective Chase, just Jo? Great, now I’ve given her a fuckin’ nickname.

  The cabdriver and I discuss everything from weather to politics before we reach the hotel. When we get there, I pull out my wallet just as Jo shoves a fifty-dollar bill in the middle of the driver and me, her outstretched hand waiting for someone to take it. With a shake of my head, I tell the driver to ignore her, which he does with an amused smirk.

  “Seriously?” she says, sounding annoyed. “Ranger, take it, don’t be ridiculous.”

  I pay the driver and tip him, ignoring her money, and then get out to unload our suitcases. Taking one in each hand, I walk toward reception, but then stop and wait for her, realizing that I’m being a little rude.

  “I can carry my own suitcase,” she grumbles, trying to take it from my hand.

  I sigh, glancing down at her face. “It will go easier and quicker if you just let me do what I have to do. Why don’t you go and check us in?”

  “Did you print out the reservation?” she asks, going through her handbag as if looking for it.

  “No,” I say, brow furrowing. “I assumed that you would.”

  “Why, because I’m female, I’m meant to be the organized one?”

  “Yes,” I say, wondering if Faye printed it out and put it somewhere for me. Sounds like something that she’d do; she usually thinks of everything.

  Jo makes a sound of frustration and walks to the reception desk. I stare at her ass in those jeans as it jiggles with each angry stomp she takes. She can get as angry with me as she wants as long as I get to enjoy that view. She returns a few moments later and hands me my key.

  “We’re right next door to each other,” she says, nodding toward the elevator.

  “Okay.”

  We get inside the elevator together and she presses the button for level five. I look down at my key, which reads ROOM 538. When the elevator stops, I carry the suitcases out and walk toward my room.

  “I’m here,” she says when we pass the room before mine. She uses her key to open the door, and I carry her suitcase inside for her.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask, taking a look around her room. It is nice. Spacious. I know Faye chose the place, so I wouldn’t expect anything less, but we don’t really need nice rooms. We won’t be spending much time in the hotel.

  “Get some food and some sleep, and we’ll start early tomorrow morning. How about six a.m.?” she suggests, sitting down on the bed. “I’ll catch a cab to the car-rental place, and then I have to stop by the police station.”

  Great, just great.

  “Well, while you do that, I’m going to go have a look around the area she was last spotted, speak to the locals, and see what I can find out,” I say, glancing around her room once more. “Anyway, good night.”

  “Good night,” she says softly, leaning down to pull off her sneakers.

  I back out of the room, dragging my suitcase behind me, and close her door. I’m about to call out for her to remember to lock it, but she’s a fuckin’ cop, and I don’t think she needs to be told. Instead, I head next door to my own room, place my suitcase in the corner, and then fall back onto my bed. I barely fit on it, but I manage. I really hope that coming here was the right decision—that we can find out where Elizabeth is. I close my eyes and dream about one of the last times that I saw her.

  “I can’t believe the vacation has come to an end,” she says, closing her eyes and letting the sun hit her face. “Back to reality. I’m going to have to find another job now, and save money until I can afford my next adventure.”

  “You could go to college,” I suggest, adjusting myself against the tree trunk.

  “Maybe,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

  Another girl from the tour, Jane, spots us, and comes to sit down. “Hey, Cam. Hey, Lizzy. Am I the only one feeling sad that this is our last day?”

  I grin, knowing how much she hates being called Lizzy. I tell her that her name’s too long, so she can’t blame people for shortening it, but she says she doesn’t care. Her mother named her Elizabeth after her grandmother who died in childbirth, and that’s what she likes to be called.

  “You’re definitely not the only one,” Elizabeth replies, sighing deeply. “All we’ll have are our memories.” She smirks in my direction. “And maybe an STD for Cam.”

  “Hey,” I say, swatting at her leg. “I can’t help it if the women think I’m fuckin’ irresistible.”

  “They definitely think you’re something,” she mutters under her breath, but a smile plays on her face. She never brings up my reputation from high school, and I appreciate that. Half the women here wouldn’t want me if they knew where I came from. They see who I am now, not who I was, and I like that. I thrive off it. I like Elizabeth. In fact, I wish we’d been friends back in school. I could have used a friend like her. Then again, maybe I’d have dragged her down with me, ruined her reputation around town. Yeah—I guess things happen for a reason. We were meant to be on this trip together. I’ve learned from her, and I hope she’s learned from me.

  “Yes, they think I’m good-looking, and amazing in bed.”

  Jane stands up, brushing the grass off her ass, and says, “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it, then.”

  We watch as she departs. “We scared her off.”

  “You did, you mean,” she says, laughing. “I hardly spoke.”

  “Maybe your silence intimidated her.”

  “Maybe your talk of how amazing you are in bed made her feel awkward,” she fires back, nudging me with her foot. “Or maybe you already slept with her, and that’s why she wanted to run away.”

  I haven’t.

  At least I think I haven’t.

  “Yeah, yeah. We should probably pack our
shit and get ready to fly out,” I say, standing up and offering her my hand. She takes it, and I pull her up. “The end of this adventure.”

  “But the start of another one,” she says, smiling.

  She’s always smiling.

  Elizabeth Chase is sunshine, rainbows, and butterflies, and I’m not used to that. Sometimes I don’t know how to deal with it. I’ve never been friends with someone like her. A good girl. Someone who sees the positive in everything. I hope we remain friends after this. She lives several hours away from me, but we can still keep in contact.

  “Let’s go,” she says, nodding her head toward the hostel.

  I follow behind her.

  SEVEN

  Johanna

  I ORDER room service for dinner and assume that Ranger does the same, because I don’t hear from him again for the night. I feel so embarrassed when I replay the flight in my mind. I’ve never been a good flier, but that flight was a whole other level. My head felt like it was going to burst, the migraine and nausea were that bad. Why did it have to happen in front of him? I don’t want him to see me as weak. I don’t want anyone to see me as weak. I cradle my head in my hands and groan. Oh well—it happened, and Ranger was infuriatingly sweet about it. No one has looked after me like that. No one. Handed me some painkillers and rubbed my back or something? Sure. Picked me up and cradled me like I was fucking precious? Like he wanted to take the pain away for me? Like he was experiencing my pain—that’s how much it felt like he didn’t want me to suffer?

  Definitely not.

  He’s a take-control kind of guy, this Ranger. I’m used to being around alpha males—in my line of work it’s kind of a given, but there’s something about Ranger that takes it to a new level. He’s just . . . silently powerful. I don’t even know how to explain it, or him. Even in my short time around him, I can tell he’s different from any biker I’ve ever met. He’s nothing like I thought he was going to be.

  When I found out I was going to be working alongside bikers, I have to admit that I was confused and angry. I didn’t see how bikers could help me in any way, probably because all the ones I’ve met have been good-for-nothing criminals, and I didn’t understand why they’d have anything to do with Elizabeth’s case. It makes sense that Faye was brought in, because of her connections with the feds, but it’s almost like these guys are the exceptions to every rule I’ve been taught as a police officer.

  Ranger though, I didn’t see him coming. When I’m around him I forget who he is . . . and to be honest, I kind of forget who I am too. I shake my head, as if that will clear my mind of his craziness. Ranger is going to have to act as my partner while we’re here, working together to find Elizabeth, and that’s it. Look at me, overthinking things just because he did something nice for me. Travis would have looked after me. Maybe not pulled me into his arms, but he would have made sure I was okay. At least I think he would have.

  This probably shows just how I’ve been treated by men in the past. I haven’t had a man cook for me, or ever truly been spoiled before. I don’t know anything about love, or romance, or dating. All I know is work, family, and friendship, which isn’t a bad life at all. My job might not be safe, but my personal life is. I take risks every day as a cop, but I won’t take them with love. It’s just not worth it. I’ve never been lucky in love. A few lukewarm relationships, but no real connection that left a lasting impression on me. I’m married to my job and that’s just how it is. I’ve accepted it.

  Then why does it feel like I’m reminding myself?

  • • •

  I wake up early, jump in the shower, turning the water to as hot as my skin can take, then get dressed. Ranger didn’t want to come to check in with the local police, but it’s something I need to do, both because I have to let them know I’m in their territory and because I need their help. I gave them a call to tell them about the tip, and they told me to come in and see them. The more people we have looking, the higher our chances are for finding her. I don’t bother with any makeup, just rub some lotion into my skin and run my fingers through my hair before rushing out the door. I walk to Ranger’s door and consider knocking to wake him up, or to see where he’s going to meet me today, but he’s a grown-ass man and he has my number.

  I shake my head and rush toward the elevator. I’m here for a reason, and finding Elizabeth is my only priority.

  • • •

  When the police here turn out to be helpful and cooperative, and tell me Elizabeth was seen on camera at a nearby gas station, I feel like today might be my lucky day. When I go to the gas station, I talk to the man who saw my cousin, writing down anything I think can be of help, even minor details. I view the footage of Elizabeth, which was taken only yesterday, and it’s definitely her. She looks disheveled, her normally perfect hair wild, her shoulders slouched, her posture telling me what I need to know.

  She’s terrified.

  But it is her. She’s alive.

  She walked inside the gas station with a man staying closely behind her the whole way. She grabbed a few things, bottled water and snacks, and then he pays for everything along with his gas. I can see her glancing around, as if looking for an escape, but then the man whispers something in her ear and she stills.

  He looks tall, and built, with broad shoulders, muscles, and dark hair, but I never get a good look at his face. She is tiny compared to him, the contrast between them striking. The two of them exit and head for their car. I write down the make and model, and the license plate number, then head back to the police station to run the plate and get any information I can to track this car and its owner down. It’s clear she’s being held against her will. Was it just a case of wrong place, wrong time?

  I send Ranger a quick text telling him to meet me at the station. He’s going to hate that, but he came here to help me, and he needs to suck it up and do what needs to be done. Adrenaline fills me at the thought of being a step closer than I was yesterday to finding Elizabeth. I turn off the radio, needing silence to think. What’s the best way to approach this? Go in guns a-blazing, or with just Ranger until we can figure out the situation? My phone rings and I know it’s him, so I pull over and answer it.

  “Tell me everything, now,” he says into the phone. He’s rude, but right now, I don’t care. We don’t have time for niceties.

  “She’s alive! Saw her on the gas station camera footage from yesterday. Saw the man she was with. I have his license plate number and I’m on my way to the station to locate it.”

  “I’ll get in a cab and be there ASAP,” he says, then hangs up.

  I throw the phone on the passenger seat and pull back into the driving lane.

  And then I smile.

  My baby cousin is alive, as of yesterday. One year younger—younger than me all the same—and she’s still alive. I can only hope that they haven’t hurt her, and that I can find her before anything else happens to her. I remember her face and how proud she was when I graduated the academy. Never did I think I’d be using my skills to find her. Never did I think there’d be a situation I wasn’t sure I could save her from.

  She needs to be okay.

  And I want whoever did this to her to pay, either with their blood, or with life behind bars. I really want anyone that has hurt my family to suffer.

  Maybe I’m more like Ranger than I’d like to admit.

  • • •

  Ranger storms into the station like he owns it, like it doesn’t faze him to be here when I know it does. He probably feels as comfortable as I would in a motorcycle clubhouse—he’s in enemy territory.

  “What did you find?” he asks, ignoring everyone and everything else around us. “Do we have anything to go on? An address? A name? I’d like to know who the fuck I’m about to kill.”

  My eyes flare. “Can you not yell that out? Pay attention to where we are, Ranger,” I hiss.

  “Yet you’re not telling me not to do it,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest and staring me down with those amazing
hazel eyes. “Because you know the fuckers who took her don’t deserve to breathe our air.”

  “The courts will deal with them,” I say, even though silently I do agree with him. “They can suffer behind bars. Unfortunately for us, I tracked the car but they’ve already dumped it. It was stolen anyway, so we have nothing except the location where they left it and a description of the man. I’m getting them to do a sketch of him right now and we’re going to plaster his face everywhere.”

  “Fuck,” Ranger grits out, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you search the car for prints or DNA?”

  “Doing it as we speak,” I say, shifting on my feet. “Waiting.”

  It would normally take longer, but because of me, they’re doing it quickly.

  Ranger’s hands tighten into fists. “At least she’s alive, you know?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I admit quietly. I wonder why he’s so passionate about this case. I always just assumed he was here because of Faye, maybe protecting her, but is there more to it than that? Is he just a good man? Or maybe something similar happened to someone he once loved, or something like that. Maybe he has a hero complex. I’m curious about him, I have to admit.

  “They’ll call us the second they get the results. Do you want to go back to the hotel in the meantime, or hang around here and wait?”