Fixed Up with Mr. Right?

by Marie Ferrarella

  Jackson laced his fingers through hers and then began to gently guide her toward the stairs. “You know, I never would have thought that a bossy woman could turn me on.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. “I was wrong.”

  Kate glanced over her shoulder toward the front door. “Aren’t we going in the wrong direction?” she asked more seriously.

  He stopped for a moment. “You want to make love in the driveway?” he teased.

  “No,” Kate laughed, “but didn’t you say you had reservations for dinner at The Belle of the Mississippi?” The exceedingly popular restaurant was usually heavily booked.

  “I did. I do, but I can get new ones,” he assured her. He was coaxing her up the stairs, taking one step at a time because he was going up backward in order to face her. “I know people.”

  “And if these ‘people’ you know say, ‘Sorry, Jack, we’re all booked up’?” she teased.

  “First of all, nobody calls me Jack. And second—” Jackson lifted his shoulders in a careless, que sera sera gesture. “Worse comes to worst, there are leftovers in the refrigerator. Rosa made a pot roast yesterday,” he told her.

  “I love pot roast.” Kate said it with such feeling he suspected that she wasn’t really referring to the pot roast.

  Jackson could understand her hesitation in making a real declaration about her feelings. He felt that way himself. He had feelings for her. He knew he had feelings for her. The hesitation occurred when it came to giving voice to those feelings. This was hard for him. He’d been in this place before and it had all blown up on him. He needed to go slow. Make certain that it was what it was and not something that would pass. Until he was sure, the less said, the better.

  Or, what if he said it to her, told her he cared about her, and she only echoed the words back out of pity, or because it was too awkward not to?

  Or, worse yet, what if she didn’t echo the words? What if there was only silence hanging between them like some huge, unmanageable, blazing albatross?

  “Yeah, me, too,” he told her. “I love roast beef, too.”

  And for now, that would have to do. Until, at the very least, he had some kind of indication from her that it was all right to give voice to his feelings because she felt the same way.

  The moment he drew Kate up to the landing, Jackson began undressing her. She’d thought that he would wait until they got into his bedroom. It thrilled her that she was wrong.

  Laughing as he slid the zipper down her back, she twisted out of range. “What are you doing?”

  “Utilizing my time efficiently,” he told her with a straight face.

  The next moment, he swept her up into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, ending any further discussion, relevant or otherwise.

  “You’re sure?”

  Sitting at his desk several weeks later, Jackson looked at the report Jewel had just brought to him. Kate was in the office, as well, but for the moment, he was only aware of the ambivalent feelings racing through him.

  How was this possible? The person behind the missing funds was the last person he would have suspected.

  That was why it was possible. Because the thief looks so innocent.

  “I’m sure,” Jewel assured him.

  Technically, her work had been concluded when she finished compiling the financial scan of the branch tellers’ accounts and their current spending histories. But, being Jewel, she had gotten engrossed in the problem and gone the extra mile.

  More accurately, the extra several miles. She’d continued conducting the investigation to satisfy her own curiosity because she’d come across suspicious dealings that had piqued her interest. And she had been right.

  Jackson glanced up at her after reading the second page. “It says here that Elena Ortiz was turned down by Lincoln Mutual for her request for a loan of fifteen thousand dollars.”

  Jewel nodded and summarized the rest of her report. “Elena goes to this fast-food restaurant on the corner of Alton and Jeffrey every Friday at one o’clock. She gets a soda and sits down at one of the tables. In a few minutes, this man with the blackest hair I’ve ever seen joins her. They exchange a few words, then they exchange an envelope. She passes it to him,” Jewel added before he could ask. “And then she gets up and leaves. She never finishes her soda.”

  Jackson gave voice to the first thing that came to his mind. “Blackmail?”

  Jewel nodded. She glanced in Kate’s direction before saying, “That would be my guess. I tailed him and copied down his license. The car’s a rental. According to the rental agent, he always rents a different car on Fridays and he always pays cash.”

  “Didn’t he have to show them his driver’s license before he got the car?” Kate asked.

  “He did and they had a copy on file. I flirted my way into getting a copy of my own.” She looked at Jackson as she reached into her purse. “Want to see it?”

  Jackson was already putting his hand out. “Absolutely.” Jewel pulled the sheet out of her purse and gave it to him. Jackson read the name out loud. “Diego de la Vega.”

  Kate recognized the name instantly and frowned. “Looks like we’re hunting Zorro.” When Jackson looked at her, puzzled, she elaborated, “That was Zorro’s Clark Kent name. His secret identity,” she explained, then sighed, frustrated. “Looks like this guy has a sense of humor.”

  “Maybe,” Jackson allowed, his face grim. How far did this extend? Or was it just a two-character drama? “But I don’t. Not when it has to do with stealing from the bank.” He looked up at Jewel as he opened the middle drawer of his desk. “You’ve done a great job, Jewel. I really appreciate it.” Taking out his personal checkbook, Jackson wrote down the fee they’d agreed on plus a bonus for her extra time and work. Finished, he tore the check out of his book and held it out to her. “Why don’t you give me a few of your cards? I’ll hand them out to people who might find themselves in need of a good private investigator with initiative.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Jewel told him, taking several cards out of her purse. They did an exchange, he taking the cards and she the check. When she glanced at the sum, she stopped. “You wrote it for too much.”

  “No,” he contradicted, “I wrote it for the right amount.” He smiled broadly at her. Because of her, he had his thief. The bank was safe again. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Jewel emphasized. Crossing to the door, she stopped for a second and looked at Kate. “I’ll call you,” she promised. The next moment, she was gone.

  Kate nodded in response, but her mind wasn’t on Jewel. It was on Jackson’s teller and what was about to happen next. Her empathy instantly went out to the petite woman she’d met at the catered party Jackson had thrown. It felt like a million years ago now.

  “Talk to her, Jackson,” she urged.

  His expression darkened ever so slightly. “Oh, I fully intend to.”

  She caught his tone instantly. “No, talk to her,” she emphasized. “Find out what’s going on. Give her a chance to explain,” she implored.

  He shifted to face her and she saw the contained anger. She knew him. Jackson felt responsible. He was in charge and anything that went wrong was on him. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. She’s stealing.”

  “But there’s probably a reason.”

  He shook his head, shutting her out. “Not my problem.”

  He began to walk toward the door and she put herself in his path.

  “Technically,” Kate underscored. “But this isn’t just a bank teller,” she insisted. “This is a person. Someone who doesn’t look as if she’d steal unless it was a last resort.”

  His expression was impassive. “And you can tell all this by looking at her?”

  She heard the unavoidable touch of sarcasm in his voice, but told herself not to take it personally. He was just upset.

  “I have good instincts, at least in some areas,” she amended, thinking of her penchant to be attracted to the wrong men until now—she hoped. “Call Elena
in,” she urged. “Talk to her.” And then she thought of a better idea. “Or let me talk to her.”

  “Can’t do that,” he told her flatly. “You’re my lawyer, not the bank’s.”

  He had a point, but she wasn’t giving up. “Then let me at least sit in.”

  What possible justification did she have for that? “As what, my conscience?”

  Kate inclined her head. “If you wish.” But she did have a better negotiating chip to play. “Think of it this way—if she decides to shout ‘harassment,’ I can be your witness to the contrary.”

  That at least was a valid argument, although he had a feeling that wasn’t why Kate wanted to be there. She could temper him if need be. Did she believe he was going to roast the girl on a spit? “You won’t give up, will you? Are you always this tenacious?”

  “It’s my job,” she told him with a small smile. “Speaking of which, how’s Jonah coming along?”

  For the first time in a long time, Jackson felt he had reason to entertain a little hope. “He’s scheduled to come out of rehab this weekend. I’m picking him up and having him stay with me for a while.” He wanted to be there in case Jonah began to backslide. The moment he framed the thought, Jackson realized that he had used the words “in case,” not “when.” It felt good. “I’m trying not to be too optimistic, but he sounds really good,” he confided.

  “Be optimistic,” Kate encouraged. “Show Jonah that you’re rooting for him to succeed.”

  “Isn’t that putting too much pressure on him? Jonah doesn’t do well under pressure.”

  Kate naturally gravitated to the positive side. “Better that than his feeling that you’re just waiting for him to mess up.”

  Jackson thought it over for a moment. “Maybe you’re right,” he allowed.

  “Of course I’m right,” Kate assured him cheerfully. “I’m your lawyer.” She glanced toward the door and envisioned the tellers on the other side. “Now call Elena in.”

  Jackson put his hand on the doorknob, his mouth set grimly. Kate was glad he was letting her stay. She had a feeling she might be needed for moral support if nothing else.

  Elena Ortiz was barely five feet tall and looked as if the only way she could come close to weighing a hundred pounds was if she had a friend stand on the scale with her. Her shoulder-length blue-black hair was as straight as a razor and she wore it up, as if to appear older than her twenty-two years.

  Her brown eyes were huge as she walked into Jackson’s office. She seemed fragile, as if she was ready to break in two at any moment.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. Wainwright?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Yes, I did, Elena.” Jackson gesture to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, sit down.” He turned toward Kate and made the introduction. “This is my lawyer, Kate Manetti.”

  “Your lawyer?” Elena echoed nervously. She extended her hand to Kate only after the latter had put hers out first.

  “I asked to sit in,” Kate explained, instinctively knowing that the young woman would immediately think the worst and become frightened. Kate couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. As if to confirm her suspicions, Elena’s hand was icy cold when she shook it.

  Jackson began his interview quietly. “Elena, are you happy here?”

  Kate noted that a smattering of relief filtered into the young woman’s eyes. Poor thing obviously thought this was an evaluation. Or at least she was praying for that.

  “Oh yes, very happy,” Elena responded with enthusiasm.

  Jackson nodded and immediately got down to the heart of the matter. “Then if you are so happy here, why are you stealing from the bank?”

  Elena’s eyes widened and her face paled visibly. She looked as if she would pass out at any second.

  “What? No, no, I’m not stealing,” she cried. Distress vibrated in every syllable.

  “There’s no point in denying it, Elena,” he said calmly. “I’ve had you followed.” Her distress mounted prodigiously, every thought reflected in her face. “Who is the man you give envelopes to every Friday?”

  Instead of answering, Elena covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

  Kate couldn’t maintain her silence. “If you tell us, we can help you,” she interjected. She exchanged a glance with Jackson. He didn’t seem all that pleased with her light touch. But she sincerely felt that coaxing instead of threatening would work best with the frightened young teller. “Elena, you have to talk to us.”

  After a beat, Elena raised her head. Tears streamed down her face. “If I don’t give him the money, he will kill her.”

  “Kill who?” Jackson instantly demanded.

  “My sister. Lupe.” Every word seemed an effort for her. Sobs wove themselves through every breath she took. “I told her to wait. Begged her to wait. I said that I would send for her when I had the money.” Her eyes shifted to Kate, appealing to her maternal instincts. “But she is seventeen and impatient.” Elena pressed her lips together before going on. “She paid this organization to bring her into California.”

  “A coyote?” Kate guessed. Coyotes were cold-blooded men who charged a great deal of money to guide desperate people across the border in the dead of night. A good many never completed the journey. The desert was strewn with the bodies of former coyote clients.

  But Elena shook her head. “No, he is part of some organization,” she insisted. “They smuggle things.” Then, to illustrate what she meant, she said, “Drugs, people. Prostitutes,” she added in a lower, more horrified voice. It was obvious that this last term held special meaning for her. “That is my sister’s choice. If I cannot pay them, she can let them kill her or become a prostitute. Either way, she is dead,” Elena told them grimly.

  “How much did they ask for?” Jackson asked. He had a tally of how much had gone missing over the last two months, ever since he’d taken over. He wanted to see if it matched what Elena was going to say.

  “Fifteen thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand more,” she corrected. “Lupe already gave them five thousand. I don’t know where she got that money from,” Elena confessed, despair vibrating in her voice. She was a woman on the verge of a breakdown, not knowing where to turn, what to do and needing to remain strong. It was obviously tearing her apart.

  She raised her eyes to Jackson, pleaded. “I did not want to do this, Mr. Wainwright. I did not want to steal from the bank. I have always been a good person. But I have no money. I tried to borrow it, but I could not get a loan and she is my only sister—” Her voice broke as more sobs burst from her throat.

  Unable to keep her distance any longer, Kate rose and came over to the young girl. She put her arms around Elena and held her.

  “We’ll get your sister back safe,” she promised, stroking Elena’s head. “And don’t worry about the money. It will be put back.”

  “I will go to jail?” she asked fearfully, clearly hoping against hope that the answer would be no.

  Kate didn’t intend to add to the young woman’s anguish right now. Elena was going through enough as it was. Kate could easily see how fragile her state of mind was.

  “Something can be worked out.” The moment she made the promise, she could feel Jackson looking at her. She’d succeeded in making him angry. That wasn’t her intention, but she had a conscience to follow. A conscience that wanted to alleviate suffering, not inflict it.

  “Right now,” Kate continued, “we need to find a way to get your sister back and put this Diego de la Vega and his little organization out of business.”

  “I would be so grateful,” Elena cried.

  “Elena, would you mind returning to your station?” Jackson politely requested. “I need to have a few words with my lawyer.”

  Elena was instantly on her feet. “Yes, of course, Mr. Wainwright. And thank you, thank you both!” she cried with feeling.

  The moment the door was closed, Jackson turned to Kate. She held up her hand before he could say anything. “I know what you’re going to say.”<
br />
  “No,” he contradicted, “I don’t think you do.” He wasn’t angry about her usurping his position, or even that she’d made assumptions about what he was going to do. Right now, it was Kate’s safety that troubled him. She was the type to sail into the eye of the storm, not away from it. “This isn’t some episode from Law & Order, Kate,” he told her. “These men think nothing of killing people. You can’t deal with them. You can’t try to reason with them. It’s too dangerous.”

  Kate let out a huge sigh. “And I just got my cape out of the cleaners, too,” she lamented mournfully. And then her expression instantly lightened. “Of course I know that these are dangerous men. All the more reason to get them off the street and into custody. I doubt that Elena’s sister is the first person they’ve held hostage for the purposes of extortion. And she’s probably not the only one right now, either. But don’t worry, I’m not about to go riding into their camp on a white horse.

  “I do, however, know a few of the people working at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement department. After Elena pays this vermin the rest of the fifteen thousand and gets her sister back intact, the ICE agents will come charging in and arrest these bastards. Everything will be aboveboard and nice and legal.” His expression told her he was far from convinced. Was he worried about her, or worried about the bank’s reputation? That thought bothered her, but she couldn’t tell. “Are you angry because I told her she wasn’t going to jail?”

  “That’s not our decision to make,” he told her.

  “Sure it is. Because it’s up to you to decide whether or not to call the police in about the embezzlement. You could say that it was just a record keeping error. A glitch in the software. That happens more times than you could believe.”

  “In other words, lie and cover up the theft.” He set his mouth firmly.

  “In other words, give someone a second chance,” Kate corrected. “Elena was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, Jackson. What if it was your sister those slime bags had? What if it was you who didn’t have any money to save her?”

  “I would have found another way.”