“I told you. I was on a case. In fact, I successfully completed the case to my client’s satisfaction.”
“Uh-huh. Does your client know you got your butt thrown in jail while you successfully completed the case?”
“It’s not his concern,” Mia said. “You taking me back to my mother’s?”
“I am.” Maxwell began maneuvering the car through the downtown streets to merge onto the Connector. Thanks to the fact he was the Chief of Major Crimes, Mia had been allowed to wait for him in a perfectly comfortable office with several detectives whom she knew from when her brother Dave used to work there.
She always knew her connection with Maxwell would come in handy one day.
“I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable for you,” she said.
“I appreciate the apology, Mia,” he growled. “There was nobody downtown who was surprised you’d one day end up making that phone call to me. Least of all me or your mother. May I ask why you didn’t call your partner instead?”
“He’s busy on another case.”
“That is a lie. You don’t have another case. Jessie says he’s not answering his calls from her. What is going on?”
“I do not know how much I am at liberty to say,” she said primly. “Can we please stop and grab a burger or something? I’m starving.”
“No, your mother is making chicken and rice, I guess in honor of your release from jail.”
“Mm-mm, I love chicken and rice.”
“It will give us plenty of time for you to tell me exactly what you were doing trespassing at that feedlot in the middle of the night, how you came to shoot a water cistern to the tune of nine thousand dollars and then attack and hold at gunpoint three employees of the Hart of Georgia cattle feeding company. Thank you for not resisting arrest by the way. That would have been the cherry on my cake.”
“I wasn’t trespassing. I’m an employee there.”
“The owner says not at one in the morning, you aren’t. And how is it you’re an employee there?”
“Chief, do you think we could wait until after I’ve had something to eat? My head is killing me.”
“Where’s your gun? The arresting officer didn’t collect it. I cannot believe you pulled your gun.”
“You are not taking my gun.”
“Oh, yes, I definitely am. Mia, you shot a water cistern. You could have killed someone last night. Although I have to say I’m impressed you were able to hit a forty-by-forty foot water tower. I didn’t think you were that good.”
“I wasn’t trying to hit the cistern.”
“And we’re back to my being worried about you carrying a gun.”
“I have a license for it!”
“Is it back at your place?”
Mia crossed her arms. She was sure she should just be relieved to be free. And Maxwell was right. It should have been Jack who bailed her out. She couldn’t get away from the feeling that Jack let her down. And he didn’t even know she’d been in trouble.
“I know you want to make this detective agency work,” Maxwell said, shifting lanes and obviously deciding to shift tactics too. “I understand that. And you’re working hard to get the skills you need in order to do it. I respect that.”
“Mom told you I flunked the self-defense class, didn’t she?”
“She just said you were having trouble.”
“Why do I even need it? How many times will I need to handcuff someone? I don’t even own handcuffs.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, but the point of self-defense is not to make an arrest, Mia. It’s to defend yourself in case of an attack. Now, granted, just doing stakeouts and watching people’s houses shouldn’t get you in too much trouble—”
“Yeah, about that.”
He turned and frowned. “What? Something happen on the cheating spouse case?”
“You could say that. He’s suing me. I got the subpoena yesterday.”
“Suing you? What for?”
“Incompetence.”
Maxwell blinked and then began to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” she said.
“Oh, God,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh, that’s a good one. Lord, Mia, what are we going to do with you?”
“Feed me for starters,” she said morosely as she looked out the window. She’d had just about enough of being made to feel like a total loser. On second thought, it was probably best that Jack didn’t know about all this. Especially the part about the agency being sued. Although it so served him right for dropping out of the picture and leaving her holding the can.
“The key to operating a successful detective agency,” Maxwell intoned, “is to satisfy the client’s needs without getting yourself killed. That, I would say, is the main goal. After that it is to satisfy their needs without getting arrested, sued, or slapped with a nine-thousand dollar damages bill.”
“I get it, Chief. Funny guy. If I wasn’t strapped in I’d be rolling in the aisles.”
“Where’s Jack these days?”
“I told you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He’s moved in with an old girlfriend.”
He turned his head to study her but didn’t speak. He exited off I-85 onto Peachtree Industrial Boulevard and into Jessie’s neighborhood before he spoke.
“That’s hard to believe,” he said finally.
“I know. But it’s true.” Hearing the words come out of her mouth made her feel even worse. That’s exactly what he’d done. Left Mia and moved in with his old girlfriend. And not acknowledging it didn’t make knowing it any less painful. If anything, it helped to tell someone.
“Your mother will know what to say,” Maxwell said pulling into Jessie’s driveway.
Before she took her seatbelt off, Mia reached over and touched Maxwell on the arm.
“Thanks,” she said. “You did pretty good, yourself.”
The rest of the evening was exactly what Mia needed. Jessie fussed over her, smothering her with hugs and kisses and her favorite dish. The little dog that Jack had rescued six months earlier, Daisy, did back flips to show Mia how much she was missed and loved, then curled up at her feet, her chin resting on the toe of Mia’s sneaker while she ate and talked with Maxwell and Jessie.
Mia loved seeing these two together, although it had been a shock at first to believe that her intuitive, beautiful, artistic mother could be drawn to the big burly cop. Mia’s father had been more cerebral and much less physical than Maxwell, who was linebacker big, even if much of that had gone the way of too many years of not enough exercise and too much stakeout food. Mia’s father had been slender, a Russian intellect and a poet.
The automobile crash that had taken him from the family twelve years ago had left a hole that Mia never thought could be filled. And while it was true the gap was still there, she had to admit another spot had been created in all their hearts that exactly fit Police Chief Bill Maxwell.
She was grateful the evening’s conversation had not steered into Jack territory—or even into the area of having to divulge too many details of why she’d been arrested. She had told Jessie about the case—and had sworn her to secrecy about it—and so Jessie was likely hesitant to discuss it for that reason. As for Maxwell, he’d said what he had to say on the ride over.
After dinner, they drove to Perimeter Mall for ice cream. When Maxwell left them on a bench eating Rocky Road to find a men’s room, Mia turned to her mother.
“I can’t get readings off people as well as I can things,” she said.
Jessie frowned and then nodded. “You were always like that.”
“Well, it’s driving me crazy. Why is it? Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Am I getting my own vibes mixed up with theirs?”
“Possibly. People are harder to read accurately because you’re picking up on what they’re feeling at the time mixed up with some things that define who they are overall.”
“But when I touch inanimate objects, that doesn’t happen.
It’s not the same for you?”
“No, I’ve always read people better. In fact, objects don’t really speak to me at all.”
Mia watched the mall goers and ate her ice cream in silence for a moment. “I’m seriously thinking of wearing gloves. Do you know I can’t even push a shopping cart without feeling every cranky kid and frustrated mother who ever shopped at the stupid store?”
“You’re still learning to handle your gift, Mia.”
“Yeah, and you can stop calling it a gift any time now.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night, dear?” Jessie asked an hour later as they climbed into Maxwell’s big Ford truck.
“I’m sure,” Mia said. “And thank you, both, for everything.”
“What are you going to do about the charges?” Maxwell asked as he drove to Midtown.
“I’ll face them,” Mia said. “If I have to pay for the cistern or a fine or whatever,” she shrugged, “I figure it’s all part of the business.”
She watched her mother communicate silently with Maxwell by touching him on the wrist.
He cleared his throat. “I have a few moves.”
“I’m sure you do,” Mia said. “But I’m not sure it’s appropriate for you to be telling me about them.”
“Very funny, smartass,” he said. “I have a couple of very easy moves I can teach you. They’re not regulation police academy moves.”
“Good. Because I hate those and I can’t do them anyway.”
“But they’ll keep you from getting mugged or worse. If you practice them like I tell you. Every day.” He pulled the truck up in front of her condo.
“Just let me know when.” Mia reached over and kissed her mother on the cheek. “Dinner was amazing, Mom,” she said. “I’ll call you this week.” She hopped out, the key to her condo in her hand.
“I’m going to wait until you’re inside,” Maxwell said, putting the truck in park.
“Not necessary,” Mia called over her shoulder as she ran into her building.
“I’m still doing it,” he called back.
She ran inside, stopping briefly at the second story landing to peek out to see Maxwell drive away. At least he wasn’t going to wait until he saw my bedroom light go on, she thought with amusement. She opened the door to her condo and stopped.
He was sitting in the closest chair to the door, an overnight bag at his feet.
“Hey, Mia,” Jack said.
Chapter ELEVEN
“I can’t stay long,” Jack said. “If I hadn’t heard your key in the door I wouldn’t be here now.”
“Lucky me.”
“Kindly knock it off, Mia. I get it. You’re pissed. I think it would’ve been awesome if you could’ve just trusted me on this one—”
“No explanations necessary. It’s none of my business. Having a nice visit with your daughter?”
“Fine. Play it your way. I see you’ve been busy in my absence.”
Mia frowned and then saw he was holding what looked like a subpoena in his hand.
Oh, crap.
“Do you want to tell me why a process server hit me with this as I was walking up the stairs?”
“It’s a long story and totally not my fault.”
“I don’t have time for long stories,” he said, standing up and grabbing his overnight bag. “Besides, I bet I already know.”
“You think you know a lot of things, Jack. How often are you wrong, I wonder?”
Come on. Tell me it was a mistake. Tell me we need to pretend that night never happened.
“You are a loose cannon, Mia,” he said, waving the subpoena at her as he spoke. “Constantly going off half-cocked leaving the rest of us to pick up the mess or worse—figure out which railroad track the bad guy’s tied you to.”
“At least I find the bad guy.”
“Yeah, while he’s tossing you in the trunk of his car.”
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
“Well, hell, maybe that could be our new agency slogan: they haven’t killed us yet. That’d be a real confidence-booster for future clients.” He waved the subpoena. “You’re rash and impulsive. You don’t follow the plan and you don’t work as a team.”
“Maybe I would if I had a team to work with. Besides, your idea of a plan is wait and see what happens. In the meantime, somebody dies or the innocent guy goes to the gas chamber.”
“You watch too much crime television,” he said heatedly, his fists clenching and unclenching. She could tell she’d hit home.
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need this right now.”
“I imagine not. A clingy one-night stand? Must be extremely annoying for you.”
He grabbed her by the arm. “Stop saying shit like that. You don’t understand.”
She wrenched away from him, her own anger and insecurity swamping anything readable from his touch. “Why did you bother coming by?” she said, unhappily aware tears were near. “You screen my calls, you don’t answer my texts—”
“I don’t have time for this.”
She watched him turn on his heel and exit without another word.
*****
By the time Jack pulled into Sandy’s driveway he’d calmed down. The minute he saw Mia he had wanted to pull her into his arms and eliminate any and all doubts she had. Any other time, seeing her standing there in front of him with her hands on her hips as if they were squaring off at the OK Corral would have made him want to laugh.
But today, knowing that Twyla’s life was being measured out in minutes and quarter hours until he could get everything in place, all he could see was one more obstacle in his way.
Why couldn’t she trust him? Why did she have to act like every other woman he’d ever known? Why did she have to assume the worst?
If I could tell you, don’t you think I would? He hit a hand against the steering wheel.
So, great. He definitely made it worse by going back to the condo, but there was no hope for it. Right now he had bigger haddock to fry and if Mia couldn’t see that—for all her intuitive gifts—then so be it.
So bloody be it.
He slammed the car door and walked through Sandy’s front door without knocking. As soon as he entered, the air in the house, filled with despair and angst, stifled him. He felt his lungs constricting, fighting for breath.
Vernetta and Sandy sat on the couch in the living room holding hands. They both looked up when he came in. Well, at least that was good. It had taken them awhile, but he was glad to see the two had finally connected. If there was ever a time they needed to lean on each other, it was now.
“Did you get what you needed?” Sandy asked him.
He went to her and kissed her on the forehead without thinking. “I did,” he said, dropping his bag on the floor. “A few tools for tonight.”
“Another gun?” Sandy asked.
He hesitated. “A smaller one. Just in case.”
“Did you listen to the recording again?” Vernetta asked, standing up and easing a kink out of her back.
“Several times. I didn’t get anything from it that will help us.” He’d listened to it nearly thirty times, listening for ambient noise, background sounds, anything. Between the sounds in Sandy’s kitchen and whatever was happening in the background as it was recorded, there was just too much undefinable noise to pick out.
“I made some sandwiches,” Sandy said, getting up and going into the kitchen.
Jack was surprised. He looked at Vernetta but she was staring at his bag as if it contained live rattlesnakes. Sandy returned with a plate of tuna salad sandwiches.
“I made coffee, too,” she said.
Jack reached for a sandwich and then changed his mind and reached for Sandy’s hand instead. He pulled her down onto the couch.
“Why don’t you eat, too?” he suggested.
“I need to keep busy. I was cleaning the kitchen.”
“First time since we moved to Atlanta,” Vernetta said, but Jack saw she was smiling.
“I’m going to lie down,” she said. “It’s going to be a long night.” She moved up the stairs, her tread heavy and shuffling on the steps.
Sandy turned to Jack. “I need to apologize for coming on to you last night.”
“Is that what you did?” Jack reached for a sandwich. “Forget it.”
“I just…I guess I just wanted something to…I don’t know.” Her eyes glittered with tears and she took a deep breath in an effort to control her emotions.
He tossed the sandwich down and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t realize he was going to do it until she was snuggled up against his chest. In a way, it was what he meant to do to Mia before she got him so mad he ended up stomping out the door.
“I’m here for you, Sandy,” he murmured. “You know I am.”
“I know,” she said softly, her breath a sweet puff of cinnamon against his cheek.
God, had Mia ever been meek and compliant in the whole six months he’d known her? Could he even imagine her curling up in his arms and looking at him the way Sandy was now? Asking him to take control, to lead the way?
He took a beat and then eased her out of his arms onto the couch.
“Eat something, darlin,’” he said gruffly. “Then let’s start turning fifty thousand dollars into a half million.” He picked up his half-eaten sandwich and stood. “You said there’s coffee in the kitchen?”
*****
Mia sat in her car and looked down the long residential street. It was so clogged with dogwood and Bradford pear trees it looked like an advertisement for a luxury landscaping firm. Unfortunately, unlike when she did the stakeout in Brookhaven, this was not the kind of street that had either vacant houses, foreclosures or a lack of busy bodies ready to dial 911 if they saw a slightly older Toyota sedan parked for too long out front.
When Jack walked out of her condo, it was all Mia could do not to burst into tears. But somehow, as hurt as she was, deep in the darkest most intimate parts of her heart she knew there had to be a reason he was doing this. She was just enjoying that self-righteous feeling when someone doesn’t behave the way you want them to…and found it hard to let it go.
Complete Mia Kazmaroff Romantic Suspense Series, 1-4 Page 50
