by Mindy Neff
“I don’t think it,” she said with a grin. “I know it.”
“Well, know yourself to work, would you?”
“Aren’t you coming? I thought we could ride together. Same as always, ecology-minded souls that we are.” When he stared at her with a strange frown, she clarified. “Car pooling, Adam. Less smog.”
“Oh. I’m afraid we’ll have to generate extra smog today. I’ve got to make a stop on the way.”
“Where?” she demanded. He turned his back, rinsing his cup in the sink, taking more time than a simple rinse job warranted. She reached around him and twisted the tap. “Where?” she asked again.
His breath hissed out. “A certain sweatshop is scheduled to have a few uninvited guests.”
“The INS?”
“Among others,” he hedged.
“Then I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.” He turned, pinned her with a narrow-eyed look. “You’ll miss your first-period class.”
“You’ve got a cell phone in the car. I’ll get a sub for the class. Let’s go.”
He grabbed her arm as she headed toward the door. “This isn’t something you want to get involved in, half pint.”
“Who says I don’t?”
“Me.”
“Ah, my knight in tarnished armor.” She patted his cheek. “You’re sweet, Adam. But I’m a big girl.”
“Damn it, Molly, you’re not going.”
She matched his scowl, unable and unwilling to back down. “You think Lamar’s going to be there, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Decide, Adam. Are we going together where you can keep your eagle eye on me, or do I take my own car? I know the way, you know.”
He glared at her, shook his head, then stormed across the kitchen with all the grace of a charging bull.
Molly bit the inside of her cheek.
“Just once,” he muttered, snatching his keys off a peg by the phone. “Just once I’d like to win an argument with you.”
She laughed.
He shot her a look. “Go ahead and laugh now that you’ve gotten your way,” he griped.
Molly saw the reluctant amusement in his eyes, the acceptance. “I like to get my way,” she tossed back.
THE RAID WAS already under way by the time they got there. With the streets barricaded, they could get no closer than a block away.
Molly had the car door open before the Porsche had come to a complete stop.
Adam swore. “What are you trying to do—get your foot run over?”
She ignored him, her heart racing, her gaze scanning the milling crowd—curious bystanders speculating among themselves, hoping for a glimpse of danger, excitement.
“Excuse me.” She pushed through the throng, aggravated that she couldn’t see past the mass of lookyloos.
Adam grabbed her arm from behind. “Hold your horses, spitfire. They’re not going to let you through.”
“Well, don’t you have a badge or something to flash?”
“Not anymore. I’m just a lowly guidance tech.”
“Bull. You made the call. You can get through.” She clutched at his T-shirt. “At least hoist me on your shoulders or something.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
She followed the direction of his gaze. Lamar stood at the edge of the crowd, his fists clenched, looking like a scared ten-year-old rather than a teen with too many responsibilities.
Molly felt some of her tension ease. At least Lamar wasn’t inside the factory, caught up in the confusion of explaining citizenship and proof of age.
She slipped her hand in Adam’s and let him lead the way toward Lamar. His shoulders were broader. And the brooding, mysterious air that came over him when he single-mindedly focused on a goal made people automatically turn and step out of the way as if in a trance.
If she hadn’t been so anxious to get to Lamar, she might have enjoyed standing off to the side to watch Adam in action.
Lamar was still staring at the signs being posted on the warehouse door: Closed.
He jumped when Adam tapped him on the shoulder.
“How come you’re not in school?”
Lamar’s frightened eyes focused first on Adam, then Molly, then back to Adam. “Don’t like the hours.”
“Oh, Lamar,” Molly said. It wasn’t like him to speak so belligerently. “Honey—” She reached for him, but he shrugged her off.
“Do you know what’s happening here?”
“Looks like they’re getting closed down,” Adam said.
Lamar’s face was set harder than granite as he stared at the commotion taking place a few yards away. He watched some of his co-workers being loaded into sheriff’s wagons.
Slowly he turned, his eyes wild with a panic Molly didn’t understand. Anger, she might have understood. Panic of this magnitude, she didn’t.
“What have you done?” Lamar whispered harshly.
“It’s for the best, kid. Places like this take advantage, paying less than minimum wage. It’s not a good scene.” He pulled a card out of his pocket with his home phone number on it, held it out. Lamar just stood there, frozen, his eyes unfocused. Adam stuffed the card in Lamar’s shirt pocket.
The teenager jolted, came alive like a wounded dog who’d bite when in pain. “You did this,” he accused, staring hard at Adam. “You’ve messed up everything! I needed that job. I need money! Don’t you see, man? Don’t you see? You said you were somebody I could trust, but you’re not!” He let out a feral growl of helpless rage, spun on his heel and took off running.
“Lamar!” Molly started to give chase, but the steel band of Adam’s arm around her waist hauled her up short.
“Let him go. He’ll cool down, then we’ll reason with him.”
“Did you see the look on his face? Adam, it was the look of desperation.”
Adam nodded. He’d seen it, and it made him edgy. “Seems we need to make a house call on Mr. and Mrs. Castillo.”
LAMAR DIDN’T SHOW UP at school. Molly hadn’t expected him to. During her free period, she tried calling his house but got no answer. To take her mind off the helpless look in Lamar’s eyes, Molly settled on the old plaid couch in the teachers’ lounge and pulled out a stack of papers to grade.
The door opened, and Adam walked in. He glanced at the coffeepot. “Ah, I see some resourceful person has made a fresh pot. Was that you, Miss Molly?”
“Do you see any severed fingers lying around?”
He chuckled and winked. “I love it when you talk tough.”
“I better warn you I’m in a mood.”
“Uh-oh. Should I put a warning sign on the door?”
She shrugged and set aside her papers. “Only if it says Privacy, Please. I need…” She turned beseeching eyes on him. “Could you just hold me?”
She saw him hesitate, felt her stomach twist. “Damn it, Adam,” she snapped. “I’m fairly certain you’re not going to keel over in the next three minutes. Just a simple human touch is all I—” Her hand slapped over her mouth. She felt her eyes brim. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. That was nasty.”
He eased down beside her on the sagging couch, gathered her into his arms. “Is this one of those days where everything’s going wrong?”
“Yes, and I’m absolutely horrible for taking it out on you.”
“Hey. I’m a pretty tough guy. Beat on me all you want.”
“I don’t want to beat on you, Adam,” she said softly, turning her face into his chest.
He kissed the top of her head. “No, you just want to wave your fairy-godmother wand and cure the world of all its troubles.”
“I’m going to send my wand back in for warranty repairs,” she complained. “It’s not working right.”
“Oh, baby, it works right. But you can’t save the whole world.”
“I can try.” She leaned back and looked at him, feeling the unstoppable current of love that passed through them each time t
heir eyes met. “I can save you, too, Adam, from that dark place you keep going when you don’t think I’m looking. I can make you happy. I can give you hope.” She was grasping right now, jumping from one thought to the next. “Maybe they’ve found a cure—”
“Shh.” He placed a finger over her lips, then replaced it with his mouth.
Molly clung to him, forgetting they were in the teachers’ lounge, that anybody could walk in at any moment. She didn’t care. She felt as though her lifeline was fraying. She didn’t know why; she only knew that despair was pressing down on her, even though she tried to beat it back.
“Shh,” he whispered again.
Dear heaven, she adored this man. She wanted to look forward to these strong arms waiting to hold her at the end of each day, yet knew it was way too dangerous to think past today, to think past right now.
Chapter Twelve
Elena Martinez stood on the porch, staring at the mansion in awe. Eddie had a similar expression on his face, but did his utmost to hide it behind the way-too-cool bob of his head under a set of earphones attached to a baby boom box.
Molly swung the door open wider. “Elena. I’m glad you could make it. Come in.”
The woman wiped her feet on the mat and reverently stepped over the threshold. Eddie followed, his baby face splitting into a wide grin when Molly whipped the headphones off his ears. His shoulders never paused in their silent rhythm.
“Nice digs,” he said.
Molly arched a brow. “Ah, a master at understatement.” The foyer alone was bigger than what Eddie was used to living in. Bigger than Molly was used to, for that matter. She had to pinch herself every once in a while just to make sure she was really here—that it wasn’t some fairy-tale dream.
“Let me give you a tour. Like I told you, this house is sort of split in two. To the right of this staircase is—” She almost said her and Adam’s room. She wasn’t sure how the staunch Catholic lady would take to that statement. Best to skirt it for now. “…where Adam’s suites are,” she continued. “To the left here—” she led the way “—is the east wing. There are eight bedrooms and four bathrooms.” She saw Elena’s eyes widen.
“I know. Sinful, isn’t it? Sometimes I think I should be leaving a trail of bread crumbs or something. Anyway, the kitchen’s a dream. You’ll love it. The stove’s a monster, but from what I’ve heard about your cooking, I know you’re up to the challenge.” She tossed a look over her shoulder, noticing Eddie poking behind every closed door they passed. Elena gave him a gentle swat, and he shrugged.
“It is a palace,” Elena whispered.
“A messy palace at the moment. There are certain requirements to be met before we can legally open. I was hoping you’d agree to start early, to oversee the work going on.”
Molly had a small jolt of reservation. Elena was timid and cowed by her abusive husband. How would she deal with male construction workers?
She saw Adam leaning against the counter in the kitchen. Alone, he wore a brooding expression on his face. He did that a lot when no one was around, when he let down his guard and didn’t feel the need to present a front.
Molly watched Elena, wondering how the woman would react to his moodiness. After all, he was a virtual stranger who looked like he ate nails for breakfast.
But when she saw Elena bustle right into the kitchen, taking in all the fancy gadgets, she relaxed.
“Good morning, Mr. Walsh,” Elena greeted. “Your North Haven is quite grand.”
After only a slight jerk of his shoulders, Adam set down his coffee cup and pushed away from the counter, his features slipping right into the friendly-guidance-counselor persona, tucking the brooding scowl away as if it had been imagined.
“Mrs. Martinez. I’m glad you came.”
“’Elena.’ Please call me Elena.”
Adam nodded. Eddie, who’d gotten sidetracked exploring, sauntered into the room, his lips pursed in a silent whistle.
“Hey, check out that table. Probably get twelve dudes around the thing.”
“Eduardo, mind your manners,” Elena admonished.
Molly had trouble following the exchange. She was too busy watching Adam, who was watching her in return. Yes, her eyes telegraphed. You do owe me a rain check.
The sensual images zinging back and forth between them were thick and powerful. And private. Heat crept up her neck as she realized what she was thinking about with a near-stranger and adolescent boy in the room.
Elena Martinez didn’t appear to notice anything amiss. From the center of the room, she simply turned in a wide circle, taking in the grandness of a kitchen that alone was bigger than her entire apartment.
“Well, what do you think, Elena?” Adam said, dragging his gaze away from Molly’s. Little spitfire didn’t give his libido a moment’s peace. “Is the position something you might be interested in?”
He heard Molly’s smothered giggle, knew she’d automatically conjured up an entirely different position than he’d meant.
He sent her a sharp glance that said I’ll deal with you later.
She sent it right back to him. I’m counting on it.
“Yes,” Elena said softly, bringing focus to the confusion Molly could always create within him. “If the job is still open, I would like to take it.”
Molly clapped her hands and beamed. “Excellent! Oh, Elena, you’ll love it here. I promise. You too, Eddie.” She raced over and hugged Elena, then turned to Eddie and treated him to the same affection.
She’d make a hell of a mother some day, he thought, and felt an instant, terrible punch straight to his gut.
Because he wouldn’t be around to see it.
So he would continue his plans, plans to make sure Molly’s future was secure.
“Elena,” he asked quietly, “will there be trouble in your house because of this move?”
Embarrassment and fragile pride tightened Elena’s too-thin face. For an instant, the only sounds in the cavernous room were the steady drip from the faucet the plumbers hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet and the tinny beat of rap music from Eddie’s head-phones.
“Antonio has not been to the apartment this past week. When he comes back, I do not want to be there. He will not care. If I leave all of the things in the house as they are, he will be satisfied. His possessions are all that he cares about.” She sent an apologetic look to her son. Eddie just shrugged, indicating he understood and had accepted the fact many years ago.
By damn, Adam intended to see to it that neither one of these fine individuals would ever again be used as a punching bag by a selfish drunkard.
“How soon can you be packed and ready to go?”
“There is not much to take. Tomorrow, I think.”
“Tomorrow’s fine. If Antonio shows up before then, you call me, understand?”
Elena nodded, and Eddie scooted closer to his mother’s side. “Eddie,” Adam warned as gently as he could, “if anything goes down, you just ride it out and let me handle it, okay?”
“Nothing will go down. We know how to not make him mad.”
“Fine, then. I’ll be by tomorrow with a truck to collect your belongings. In the meantime, just until the air clears a bit, it might be a good idea not to give out this address to anyone. I’ll help you get started on the legal documents if a clean break is what you’re aiming for.”
“It is,” Elena said, her voice stronger and firmer than Adam had heard so far.
Good. They didn’t need irate ex-husbands making trouble in Molly’s house of refuge.
The house of refuge she’d dubbed North Haven. He still hadn’t gotten around to asking about that name.
AN HOUR AFTER Elena and Eddie left, Adam was still locked in a dark mood that Molly didn’t understand. It worried her when he got this way. It usually meant he had one foot out the door.
“Think again, buster,” she muttered.
“Did you say something?” He paused, paintbrush in hand. They’d decided to finish painting the kitchen t
hemselves rather than wait for the contractor, who charged overtime on the weekends. Even though Adam had told her the extra charge wouldn’t break him, it offended Molly’s sense of frugality. She was handy with a paintbrush, she’d told him, and if he wasn’t, it was time to learn.
“I said your face is going to get stuck in that position if you don’t lighten up.”
His scowl deepened. Obviously he was having trouble keeping up. Never mind her penchant for starting conversations in the middle of the subject. She always made perfect sense to herself.
“Seems a shame,” she mused aloud, slapping a swipe of pearl white on the pantry wall. “Plastic surgeons go to all the trouble of making you look like a sexy movie star, and you mess up their work of art with frown lines.”
She scooted by him, bumped him—on purpose—and gave the seat of his jeans a swipe with the dripping paintbrush.
He whipped around and stared at the sticky white streak on his butt. His forehead shot upward in astonishment.
Molly stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Did I get you with the paintbrush?” Turning her back to him, she bit her lips to hold back a giggle, then shrieked when he grabbed her around the waist, spun her around and hoisted her over his shoulder.
The wet paintbrush slapped his behind again, this time purely by accident. “Adam!” She giggled, blood rushing to her head, the tip of her braid turning white where it stuck to the seat of his paint-covered jeans.
“We’ll just see who begs whose pardon.” He plopped her down on the tabletop, kicked the kitchen chair out of his way and wedged her thighs open, pressing against her in a way that made her laughter snag in her throat.
The dripping paintbrush clutched in her hands listed dangerously. Adam removed it from her fingers and laid it on a napkin.
“We’re making a mess,” she said, surprised she had the breath to do so.
“Yeah. And we’re going to make a bigger one. It’s not raining, princess.”
His sexy voice thrilled her, shot her straight past preliminaries into full-blown desire. “Time to collect?”
“And then some.” His fingers made short work of the buttons on her oversize work shirt, then gripped the waistband of her stretch pants. Bracing her arms on the table, she lifted just enough for him to jerk them off her legs.
