“So what do we do?”
Genevieve went from looking the commanding agent in the eye to her son. “How traumatized do you think your girlfriend was the last time she went undercover? Because I have an idea.”
Jim made a fist of authority on the table. “I knew it. I knew they were boinking,” he muttered in glee.
Joseph ignored him. “I’m sure she was shaken up, but as you can imagine… she’s strong about it. I think she’s been through worse.”
The only one at the table not clearing their throat or looking away was Genevieve, who twiddled her fingers in thought and considered Agent Montoya’s answer. “Remember what I said about Stanley wanting us to all have dinner again? How about tonight?”
Is she kidding me? Talking personal shit during a meeting? Oh. Oh, wait. “I think she’s free on Mondays. What did you have in mind for dinner, dear Mother?”
Genevieve grinned. “Some Take-Down Casserole with a side of Billionaire Humble Pie.”
“Our favorite.” Joseph would text his girlfriend right now. He didn’t care how much the agent technically in charge of the investigation sputtered in disbelief.
“Let’s discuss this in my office.” The commander turned to the rest of the table. “I need you all to start digging as much as you possibly can. Jim, get some new surveillance equipment together. It needs to be the best you’ve ever assembled, completely untraceable. Got it?”
“Yeah, good luck to me.”
Genevieve delegated the last of her orders before motioning for her son to follow her out of the conference room. Whatever they were going to discuss in her office had the potential to jumpstart Joseph’s career once more…
Assuming the man standing around the main office didn’t make them both too jumpy to parse information.
“Dad!” Was Joseph seeing things? Was that really Horatio Montoya standing near his desk, dressed in a three-piece Italian suit, coat draped across his arm? And why did he look at least ten years older than he really was? The man was barely older than Genevieve. Oh, shit. The moment Joseph approached his father, he became instantly aware that his mother still hovered behind him.
These two hadn’t been in the same room together since Joseph graduated college.
He never got the full story about his parents’ relationship, although he had been able to put together his own clues over the years. All his mother had told him was that they met at a party when she was nineteen. Which was ridiculous, because Genevieve Stone did not attend the kind of parties Horatio was often seen at in his youth. If it really had been a party that brought them together for a few dates, then it was the high-society kind, probably thrown by Joseph’s maternal grandparents. Rumor was that they had been fishing for a husband for their daughter for a few years. Like my mother would have ever gone along with that. Stanley was the closest Genevieve had ever come to being engaged, let alone married.
At some point, Genevieve became pregnant with Joseph. And at some point, she decided to keep him and have him with or without her parents’ approval (which they never gave.) The more Joseph thought about it, the more he wondered if he had been his mother’s chance to break away from her family’s expectations. It was after he came into the picture that Genevieve started taking more control of her life, all the way up to enrolling in the police academy and starting the career of her dreams – which her parents would have never approved of.
That didn’t mean Joseph understood the attraction between his parents. Genevieve had always been cold, and Horatio had always been married to Verónica for as long as Joseph could remember. Their marriage was passionate behind closed doors, as Joseph often had the misfortune of witnessing when he stumbled into the wrong room or had to share a thin wall on a family trip. There’s something for my soon-to-be shrink. That made the union between his father and mother even more perplexing. Genevieve falling for a suave Latino who made his wife often say raunchy things in the slangiest Spanish she ever let herself speak when she thought the kids weren’t listening? Yeah, right.
Yet here they were, standing five feet apart.
“Son,” Horatio said, foregoing the usual Spanish they spoke to each other. Perhaps it was for Genevieve’s benefit. You know, the woman my father keeps glancing at. “Genevieve…”
“Horatio.” She put her hands on her hips, spreading her jacket wide open. Yes, that was a badge on her hip. And yes, that was a Glock, too. “What can we do for you?”
“I was hoping to ask Josef… I mean, Joseph…”
“Ask me what?”
The man practically fell against his son’s desk. “Have you seen your sister? Nobody can get a hold of her, and we’ve been trying for two whole days now.”
“No. But your wife did call me yesterday about that. Still nothing?” That was unlike Reina. She may blow off her mother for a few hours, but the guilt always got to her eventually. The latest she would have gotten back to the Montoyas was sometime Sunday afternoon.
“No. Nothing.” Horatio glanced at Genevieve. “I know you two are very busy with important matters. But this is… this is giving me a terrible feeling. Something’s wrong. We called her friend and even she can’t find your sister.”
Joseph’s heart sank to his stomach, where it threatened to come back up his esophagus and vomit all over his desk. His mother must have noticed his paling face, for she placed a firm hand on his arm and said, “We will put out an APB for her, Horatio. If she’s in Portland, one of the cruisers will find her before the night is over.”
Their eyes met over their son’s shoulder. What was that Joseph felt? Understanding? Longing? He had never seen his parents fight, or at least not in his presence. But they rarely spoke to begin with. They had a fling. It wasn’t serious. If it weren’t for me, they would’ve never seen each other again…
“Thank you, Genevieve. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was in the neighborhood for work, and Joseph wasn’t answering his phone. This is making us all sick with worry. I assure you it’s completely unlike my daughter.”
“You don’t raise children who disappear with no word, no. We will look into it, even if we can’t follow through personally.”
That off-handed compliment at the beginning of her promise made Horatio trip over his own feet. “Uh, yes. Thank you, Genevieve. I genuinely appreciate it. Forgive me… I should be going… I’ll leave you two to your work.”
“Dad,” Joseph said. Genevieve nodded to them before heading to her office. Once father and son were alone, Joseph continued, “I’ll make sure Reina is found. You know how much she matters to me too. Besides, I was apparently the last one we know who saw her.”
“Si. Of course I do. Ah, this is so hard on your stepmother. She was crying all last night.”
Verónica could be emotional, but the thought of her crying like that unnerved Joseph. The whole Montoya clan had such a bad feeling about their only daughter, didn’t they? And Reina, for all her immaturity, was not stupid. She knew when to call her mother. She knew how to get out of most situations, or how to avoid them altogether. I don’t like this. At all. Joseph had to set aside his personal feelings for now. “We’ll find her, Father. You have my word.”
“And I know your word is good.” They hugged, briefly, Horatio planting a light kiss on his son’s cheek. “And I know your mother is good at her job. I trust her.” He sighed. “I could use some good news right now, though.”
Joseph forced a smile. “I can think of something that might cheer you up. I, uh, sort of have a girlfriend now.”
Horatio’s white eyebrows rose. “That so? What’s her name?”
“Sylvia.”
“Ah, another gringa.”
“This one’s nothing like Stella.” Haha, I’m a liar. A dirty, dirty liar. Sylvia was quickly becoming the best of both Stella and Angelica rolled into one. “She’s not even blond.”
“I said another gringa, not another guera.”
“You’ll like her. I think the family will all like her, even abuela. She�
��s very funny.”
“Once this is all sorted with your sister, we would love to have her over to meet everyone. Your stepmother often says that you need a good woman.”
“Don’t I know it.”
They shared one last look before Horatio pulled his coat on and showed himself out of the station. Joseph promised to call him later that night regardless of the outcome with Reina. Now? He needed to head into his mother’s office and find out his and Sylvia’s fates for the next two long days ahead.
Chapter 29
Sylvia
Sylvia had never been to Washington Park before. She had been to the West Hills plenty of times during her short tenure in Portland, but Washington Park was a different ballgame.
The neighborhood was an eclectic mesh of upper middle class and higher society looking for a more suburban feel. But the blocks of large houses were hardly suburban. They carved into the foundations of hills older than the city they watched over. For decades families with means had settled in this area, conveniently located to downtown Portland while remaining in their foresty, quiet blocks. Some houses were old, but colorful, building high into the sky and flirting with the tops of trees. Others were short and squat, yet taking up considerable acreage even when it looked like there wasn’t much more space to spread out across. Victorian homes. Bungalows remodeled to be more expensive than ever before. Georgian columns and Mediterranean shades. Each house was different from the next, but somehow they blended together into one large, cozy neighborhood that invited the sports cars and decked-out SUVs driving up and down the hilly roads to pull up for the night.
Then there was Genevieve Stone’s imposing abode.
True to her name, it was made of stone, or at least the façade screamed cold and indestructible. Impeccably trimmed hedges lined the narrow sidewalk, while a U-bend driveway paved with pale bricks grazed the columns holding up the master suite’s impressive balcony. Joseph eased on his sedan’s gas pedal as he quickly ascertained which entrance to take. Two cars pointed to the south. Look at him, being so contrary. Joseph took the entrance that had him facing north. Only then did Sylvia see the exquisitely petite fountain surrounded by rose bushes.
“Your mom’s house, huh?” Sylvia pulled down the visor and did a last minute check of her makeup. When Joseph said they were joining Genevieve and her boyfriend for dinner that night, Sylvia assumed it would be in a fancy restaurant. Instead, he had driven her up to Washington Park. She couldn’t even hear the rest of Portland up here. She could, however, hear the lazy crickets chirping away the twilight. “Why am I not surprised it looks like this?”
Joseph moved his hand from the gearshift to her wrist. His light touch settled her in an instance. “Imagine spending part of your childhood here.”
“I’d rather not.” Oh, Sylvia loved houses like these. She dated more than one rich bastard who had a house like this – only bigger, of course. But Genevieve Stone did not seem the type to want too much excess. This small mansion was probably perfect for her. Spacious, but manageable, especially if only she and her boyfriend lived there. “But I would like to see your old bedroom.”
“Pretty sure it’s an office now.”
“Oh. Well.”
Joseph opened his door. Sylvia followed suit, wishing she had worn a warmer dress. The nights were rather cold now, and she had worn the nicest cocktail piece she owned: a classic Chanel. Her purse and shoes were also Chanel. If Genevieve didn’t think she looked like a nice young lady, well… there was nothing Sylvia could do about it.
She didn’t know what this last-minute dinner was all about. Joseph had swung by her place after getting off work, already dressed in one of the nicer suits she had yet to see him in. Here I was hoping he was taking me out on a real date. Or coming by to roleplay some billionaire fun with me. Sylvia was due. Way overdue.
Instead, he had announced they were going to have dinner with his mother, and Sylvia needed to quickly get ready. Would have been quicker, but Joseph had a hard time keeping his hands off her. Every time she tried to pull a dress over her head, Joseph was on her, kissing her skin and rubbing the insides of her thighs. What, did he expect Sylvia to give him a handjob while applying her makeup? Well, she tried…
He said his need for her stemmed from nerves. Nerves from what? Taking his girlfriend to see Mom at home? They already knew each other. Joseph didn’t make it sound like Genevieve had a problem with his choice of girlfriend. So what was there to be nervous about? No wonder he needed that handjob to calm his damn nerves.
Yet he was nervous again, although he did his best to not show it. Joseph took Sylvia by the hand as they approached the imposing front door. His hand? Sweaty. It wasn’t that warm in the car.
Sylvia didn’t know if Genevieve had servants. She didn’t even know exactly how much the Stones had, or even if Genevieve’s rich parents were still alive. Regardless, she did not expect the woman herself to quickly open the door.
She really, really did not expect to see Genevieve dressed like… well, dressed like a well-to-do woman hosting a small gathering for dinner.
Her lavender sweater dress perfectly matched her paler skin tone. The cowlick was decorated with a tiny gold and diamond pin that, contrary to what Sylvia would ever assume about the woman’s hobbies and beliefs, was the scales of justice – and Libra. She is SO a Libra. Oh my God, it all makes sense. A black leather belt cinched Genevieve’s waist, and two sparkly ballerina flats carried her across marble flooring.
If this were her first time meeting her, Sylvia would think she was serious, but approachable. After all, plenty of experience had told her that women who dressed like this in their own homes knew what they were about – and desired to be acknowledged, even if it was with one approving look.
“Dinner’s about ready,” she said with a lackluster smile. No other greeting. No hugs. No kisses. No handshakes! “Stanley’s in the dining room. I’m sure he’d love to get acquainted.”
Genevieve marched into the other room, leaving Joseph and his girlfriend to lock the door behind them. Joseph removed his jacket and draped it across Sylvia’s shoulders. She had completely wiggled into it by the time Joseph led her into the dining room.
Dark, rich mahogany featured throughout. The table, the eight sturdy chairs, a cabinet full of fine china dishes, and a low coffee table that boasted a fern the size of Sylvia’s torso. A crystal chandelier illuminated the room – and the man sitting near the head of the broad table. He looked up the moment Sylvia and Joseph walked in, a smile cracking his long, wrinkled face.
“Good to see you!” Whoa. Sylvia was incapable of anticipating this kind of welcome in Genevieve Stone’s home. The man standing to shake her hand was tall, lean, and wearing a tweed jacket and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked so stereotypically academic that she was not surprised to learn that he was a tenured professor at one of the local universities. What she did not expect was to hear the word “Women’s Studies” uttered from Joseph’s lips. “The name’s Stanley Jackson. I’ve heard so much about you Sylvia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She took a step back the moment the man shook her hand. “You’ve heard about me?”
“Of course! Genevieve has told me about you. Turns out nobody’s surprised about you dating our Joseph here.”
Our Joseph? According to him, Stanley had only been in the picture for a few years. He never talks about this guy… “Pleasure to meet you too, sir.”
“Oh, no need to be so stuffy. Please, call me Stan.”
“Nobody calls him that,” Genevieve said, entering the room with a platter of dinner rolls. “Not even his own mother calls him that.”
She placed the rolls on the table and gestured for everyone to have a seat. Stanley went back to his previously occupied chair while Joseph pulled one out for Sylvia. Good thing I know my salad fork from my soup spoon. How many courses were they doing? This was not expected for a Monday night dinner.
The whole evening was beyond strange. Sylvia felt like she
had entered an alternate dimension where the names Stone and Montoya took on different meanings. One moment Genevieve chuckled at one of Stanley’s off-color jokes, and the next she frowned to hear her son mention something from the last party the Montoya’s threw. They couldn’t be more different if they tried! And where did Sylvia fit into this? For a woman who had been invited under the pretense of being Joseph’s girlfriend, no one spoke much to her.
Until dinner was cleared and a new round of wine was poured, anyway.
“So, I’m told that you have quite the colorful work history,” Stanley said. His eyes glistened behind his glasses, and every sparkle was reserved for Sylvia’s visage. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Nobody here will tell on you.”
Sylvia dropped her napkin into her lap. Joseph stiffened beside her. Genevieve politely stared at her phone screen and fired a text to someone. “Not sure what you mean, Stanley.”
“I am always looking for new speakers to come into my classes to talk about what it means to be a woman in today’s society. My students would love to hear from a…”
“Stanley,” Genevieve said with that stern tone that made Sylvia feel like she was her mom. “Don’t forget you need to call your brother before eight.”
“Ah, nuts.” The professor stood up with an apologetic smile. “If you will excuse me.”
“No worries.” Sylvia exhaled a sigh of relief when Stanley left the room. “Thank you,” she said to Genevieve.
“You probably want to talk about it as much as we want to hear about it.” Ouch. “Besides, there are other things to discuss. Come, my downstairs office.” She was already up, phone still in hand. “Don’t worry. Stanley has no idea. He’ll think we’re talking private family matters. Assuming his phone call doesn’t last an hour.”
Sylvia was the last to stand up. She took Joseph’s hand and followed him and his mother into an adjacent room overlooking a small flower garden. Genevieve turned on one desk lamp and sat in her large executive chair. Joseph silently sat in one of the chairs before her, while Sylvia took up the other one. I still have no idea what’s going on. Am I going to get shaken down about dating Joseph? Is she going to tell me I’m not allowed to date him, or at least until the investigation is over? What is going on?
Damaged Goods Page 33
