by Kara Lennox
Almost immediately, a guard appeared with keys. He looked disapproving but didn’t say a word as he unlocked the door of the holding cell. The door swung open and Travis stepped out, though he was almost afraid everyone would burst out laughing and push him back inside, yelling “April Fools’.”
Megan escorted him out. “Thanks. If anything, you know, happens—if they gather more evidence or something and toss me back in here, can I call you?”
“Of course.” She handed him a business card.
“What do I owe you for today?”
“I’ll send a bill. But don’t worry, I’ll give you my first-timer discount.”
He really didn’t know what to think. This just seemed too good to be true. One thing was for sure; he would be eternally grateful he’d decided not to mouth off to that smug bastard detective.
“Where do I pick up my truck?” he asked as the guy in the property room returned his belt, his wallet and his phone to him.
“There’s a claim ticket in the envelope,” the bored cop said. “Go to the impound lot.”
“And where is that?”
The guy rattled off an address that was at least two miles away. Great. He had no cash in his wallet. He’d have to hoof it, he supposed.
He said goodbye to Megan, then kept his head down as he left the station. The weather had cooled off while he’d been incarcerated; a blue norther had blown through during the past few hours, and the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. He’d been perfectly comfortable in a T-shirt earlier, but now he was freezing. Ah, well, it hardly ever got really cold in Houston. He’d survive.
He stood in front of the police station, looking down the street one way, then the other, trying to orient himself. Suddenly his heart stopped. Was he seeing things? No, that was definitely Elena, sitting on the hood of a parked car, her arms folded against the brisk wind. Waiting for someone or something, it looked like.
A compulsion to move toward her overtook him. He wanted to thank her. He wanted to ask her what the heck she was doing, because if she hadn’t given the cops the evidence they needed to make a case against him, then she’d lied. Granted, he and Elena had come to an understanding over the twenty-four hours they were together, but was it enough of an understanding to cause her to lie?
He actually took a couple of steps toward her, and then he stopped himself. If he was truly grateful, he needed to just stay the hell away from her.
Besides, someone might be watching him. Maybe this was a trap. What if Elena was wearing a wire, and they just needed him to admit to something....
No. Elena wouldn’t do that to him. If she wanted him to go down for kidnapping her, all she needed was to tell the truth.
Resolutely, he turned away from her. But then he turned back. He couldn’t resist. Just one more look. She was so pretty, sitting there in that billowy skirt blowing in the wind, her hair whipping around her face. He wanted to remember her. Aside from MacKenzie, she was the one pure thing he’d come into contact with in a long time.
Just as he started to look away, she swiveled her head and saw him. She froze. He froze. She stood up. Then she waved. Just a slight wiggle of her fingers, really, as if she was unsure how he’d take it.
He waved back and smiled.
She took one step toward him, then another.
Christ, he didn’t think they should be seen talking to each right in front of police headquarters. He headed toward her, walking briskly until they met on the sidewalk.
CHAPTER NINE
“ELENA.” HER NAME came out a hoarse whisper.
“Did you post bail, or...”
“They let me go. Lack of evidence. Thanks to you, I imagine.”
“Really? I didn’t think—”
“You shouldn’t have lied. But I’m grateful. Really, really grateful. I don’t deserve—”
“I didn’t lie. Everything I said was true. I just didn’t tell them the parts they wanted to hear.” She flashed an impish smile. “That’s what Celeste told me to do.”
“Celeste? The dragon lady?”
“Don’t call her that. She’s an amazing woman, much smarter than most people give her credit for.”
“If you say so. Um, I just wanted to say thank you. And now I’m going to get the hell out of your life and stay there. I’m really glad I chose you to kidnap, Elena.”
“Oddly enough, I’m glad you did, too.”
A shiny silver SUV pulled up to the curb. Elena looked over almost guiltily. “Oh, that’s my ride. Where are you headed?” She looked around. “Where’s your truck?”
“Impound lot. I’m on my way to get it.”
“We’ll give you a ride.”
“That’s okay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s freezing, and you don’t have a jacket.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Whoever was in that truck tapped on the horn. Not a loud blast, just a polite I’m-here-in-case-you-didn’t-notice beep. She looked over anxiously.
“I insist.”
He knew he shouldn’t. He needed to stay out of her life. But somehow, the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. She dragged him to the truck and opened the passenger door. “Don’t say anything about... He doesn’t know,” she whispered.
“Elena!” An older man behind the wheel greeted Elena with a big smile.
“Papa. Thank you so much for picking me up.”
“Of course, pequeña. Anytime. But how come your rich boss doesn’t send a car?”
“Um, long story. Papa, this is my friend Travis. He needs a ride, too. Where are you going, Travis?”
“Market and Texas Street.”
“Oh, that is not far,” the older man behind the wheel said. His accent was thick. “Climb in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Elena started to get in back, but Travis shook his head. He felt more comfortable letting her sit next to her father and carry the conversation. After hesitating a moment, Elena nodded and got in the front.
Elena’s father reached between the seats and offered his hand. “Elmer Marquez.” His hand was surprisingly smooth for a field-worker’s. Isn’t that what Elena had said he did for a living? Something about cane fields, but that was back in Cuba. Maybe he did something different here.
“Travis Riggs.”
“How do you know my daughter?” he asked lightly, though Travis sensed a certain edge under the seemingly friendly question.
“I, um, met her when I went to Daniel Logan’s house for a meeting.” That was the truth, as far as it went.
“He had an interesting story to tell,” Elena said. “He’s trying to help his brother to regain custody of his little girl.”
“Does Mr. Logan get involved in that type of thing?” Elmer asked, sounding genuinely interested.
“As it turns out, not this time,” Elena said drily. “But anyway, that’s how I met Travis.”
“What about you, pequeña? You need me to take you back to River Oaks?”
She hesitated. “No, actually.... I thought maybe I could go home. To the house. Your house, I mean.” She seemed flustered.
“Of course! Your mama will be happy. She’s making a big pot of congri. Now I won’t have to eat the whole thing by myself. How about you, Travis?” Elmer asked. “Hungry? You haven’t tasted heaven ’til you’ve had my wife’s congri.”
Travis was about to say he wasn’t hungry, but just then his stomach growled.
Elmer laughed. “Well, I guess that settles it.”
“Yes, Travis, you must come to our home and have dinner. I bet you’re starving. I had a tasty but very small breakfast this morning and no lunch.”
“Ah, I’d like to, but—”
“Houston is playing Tulane,” Elmer said in a voice in
tended to tempt.
Travis sensed Elmer was desperate for some male companionship to watch football with. Maybe when Elena and her mother got together, they ganged up on him. “Yeah, okay. For a little while, anyway.”
“Whenever you want, I can run you where you need to go. Or Elena can.” He winked at Elena, and she grinned.
Travis was surprised when Elmer drove them to a fancy neighborhood on the fringes of Memorial Park, near downtown. Their house was a huge colonial, bigger even than the one Travis was renovating. The front yard was professionally landscaped and maintained. Elmer stopped in the circular driveway, and they all climbed a short flight of steps to the columned front porch. A pinecone wreath the size of a Mack truck tire adorned the oak front door.
Helluva home for a Cuban immigrant farmworker.
Elena’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over at Travis. He probably hadn’t hidden his surprise very well. But, really, the Marquez family wealth and how they acquired it was none of his business.
Still...he’d been sure Elena came from humble roots, like him. Had she made up all that stuff about playing in the street in Cuba? Almost drowning in a leaky dinghy? Patching up relatives who worked in sugarcane fields?
He wouldn’t blame her. She’d probably thought she would never see him again after they parted ways. Sharing a meal with her family the day after he’d kidnapped her was an eventuality neither of them could have envisioned. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened. Any second now, he expected to hear the Twilight Zone music.
As they entered the house, Travis became acutely aware of his clothes, and the fact that he hadn’t had a shower today. Elena had obviously bathed and put on fresh clothes. He, on the other hand, was about as fresh as day-old dog food. What he wouldn’t give for a hot shower and a razor. He must be giving Elena’s father the worst sort of first impression.
He forgot about bathing and clothes as the most heavenly scent greeted them. Someone was cooking—someone who really knew how to cook. The blend of spices and grilling meat made his mouth water.
“Rosalie, we have company!” Elmer announced happily as he led the way into a great room that featured plump leather furniture and a big-screen TV. A half wall separated the great room from a bright, roomy kitchen decorated in primary colors, where a petite, chubby woman waved a greeting. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wore a flowered dress covered with an apron.
Her face blossomed into a smile when she spotted Elena. “Pequeña, what a surprise!” The two women met in a doorway between the two rooms and embraced warmly. “You never come to see us anymore.”
“Mama, I was here last weekend,” Elena chided.
“And you brought a friend? You could have warned me!” She patted her hair self-consciously. “I could have at least put on a nicer dress.”
“You look fine, Señora Marquez.” Travis walked toward her, his hand extended. When she girlishly placed her hand in his, he leaned over and kissed it. “My name’s Travis.”
“Please, call me Rosalie,” she said.
“Rosalie, the stove?” her husband reminded her gently. “Dinner?”
“Oh, right. Señor Travis, you are staying for dinner, sí?”
“Your husband was kind enough to invite me.” He wished he could have brought something to contribute to the meal—a pie, or cornbread at least.
“Of course he’s staying for dinner,” Elena said. “Travis, I know you’re hungry. We eat early on weekends, so it’s not that much time out of your day.”
“Then it’s settled,” Rosalie said before Travis could even nod. “We’ll eat in about half an hour.” She bustled back to the stove, where a tall, stainless steel stockpot simmered, apparently the source of the delectable odor.
Elmer had already edged into his leather recliner and grabbed the remote. “Elena, why don’t you get me and your friend a couple of cervezas, eh?”
“Of course, Papa.”
Travis parked himself at the end of a sofa. This was more than awkward. Why had he said yes? What force had taken over his brain? But he’d been helpless to deny Elena. If he could just make himself relax, it might be nice to watch football, drink beer and pretend the past twenty-four hours had never happened.
He couldn’t...could he?
Travis stood, on the verge of making some excuse and leaving. He could pretend to receive an urgent call. But then his stomach grumbled again, and he inhaled that heavenly scent. His knees bent, and he found himself sitting.
The Marquez household moved all around him. Elmer switched channels until he found the game he wanted; Elena disappeared and reappeared with two cold bottles of beer in hand.
“Travis? You can sit closer to the TV if you want.” She indicated a second chair, closer to her father’s.
“Actually, I need to clean up.”
“Oh, of course!” She found a couple of coasters and set the beers down on a large square coffee table. “It’s right this way.”
She took him down the hall to a guest bathroom that smelled like potpourri. The pastel hand towels looked too pretty to use. The vanity was an expensive, custom marble number, not something you picked up at Home Depot. He’d installed a few of these, and he knew how much they cost. The light fixture was expensive, too.
A memory flashed through his mind of the first time he’d visited his ex-wife’s family home. His jaw had repeatedly hit the floor as he’d ogled all the signs of wealth. He’d known she hadn’t grown up poor, like him, but that was the first time he’d realized how vastly different their backgrounds were.
She’d seemed to enjoy his reaction. He should have realized then what her expectations were, what she was used to. He should have run far and fast. But he’d been too bedazzled.
He liked to think he was smarter now. He had no idea why Elena was being so civil to him, but did that really matter? He could see he’d taken a huge misstep coming here. Now he simply had to gracefully extricate himself, and that was that.
She turned and headed back toward the living room, but he stopped her. “Elena.” He might not get another chance to speak privately with her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” she asked innocently.
“Being so nice to me. Introducing me to your parents, for God’s sake. You know as well as I do if they heard how we really met, your father would kill me.”
“You needed a ride. You’re hungry. And you need a safe place to regroup for a couple of hours, at least.”
“All of which is not your problem.”
“I’m making it my problem, okay?”
He really, really didn’t understand this. But he let it go, because he sensed he wasn’t going to get an answer that was any clearer. Not right now.
“What did you tell the police?”
“I didn’t lie. But I told them I didn’t want to talk about what happened and that I wouldn’t support any attempt to try you for any crimes. That’s all.”
She turned and left.
That’s all?
He turned on the hot water and removed his shirt. He really wanted to hop in that blue-tiled shower, but that would be taking advantage of the Marquez’s hospitality. He did wash pretty thoroughly in the sink, however. They’d given him a toothbrush and toothpaste at the jail.
Clean clothes would have been nice, but he had to settle for his stale shirt. He would stay long enough to be polite. He would eat some of Rosalie’s dinner, because to refuse would insult her. Then, for sure, he was getting out of Elena’s life—for good this time.
* * *
“ELENA, I NEED HELP in the kitchen.”
Elena would rather have stayed in the living room with the men, watching football. Not because she didn’t like helping in the kitchen—she did—but because she knew her mother was going to grill her about Travi
s. Still, she couldn’t say no.
“Coming, Mama.”
“Elena!” her mother scolded in a strident whisper once the two women were alone in the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone. Here, chop that onion.”
Elena dutifully began work on the large white onion, chopping the top and bottom off and peeling it. “I’m not ‘seeing’ him, not like you think. I barely know him.”
“Then why do you look at him with hunger in your eyes? And that is no ordinary hunger, no.”
Did she look at Travis in some particular way? It was scary to think she was so transparent. “He’s a very good-looking man,” Elena conceded. “It’s kind of hard not to look at him.”
“I can’t argue with you there. Is he married? I didn’t see a ring.”
“No, he’s not married. Actually, he’s divorced.” Elena thought that would cool her mother’s interest in Travis.
“Ah, well. When a girl gets to be your age, it’s hard to find an available man who hasn’t been married before. She was probably a bad wife.”
“Whatever. Don’t start planning the wedding yet. He has no interest in me...that way.”
“You obviously don’t see what I see. There is interest.”
“Mama!” Elena laughed. “You see what you want to see. And you act like I’m too old to find a husband and I should just settle. I keep telling you, girls don’t often get married so young in this country.” Sometimes her mother acted as if she’d just set foot in the United States.
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to at least think about it. This Travis, he is a good man, I think.”
Maybe she should tell her mother that Travis had served time in prison. That would sour her opinion of him. But she couldn’t bring herself to trash Travis’s image. A lot of people no doubt looked down on Travis because of his stint in prison, never mind that he’d served his debt to society, that he was a different man now. He didn’t need her adding to his grief.
The onion was chopped, and Rosalie took it and added it to the pot. She always added some at the last minute, so the congri—basically, black beans and rice—had a little bite.
