Wiggling free, she scampered down the hall to her bedroom. Ben watched her disappear, then turned to Alex and the man beside her.
“This is Dr. James Silverthorne,” she explained. “He’s the team psychologist.”
“She okay?” he asked the doc softly.
“She appears to be. I want to talk to her again in a few days, privately. What’s the status on her father?”
“He’s in custody.” A small, tight smile played at the corners of Ben’s lips. “The detective in charge is going to swing by the ER before they head downtown for booking. Seems the bastard tripped and hit his jaw. He might’ve cracked a few teeth.”
Silverthorne’s gaze dropped to the bruised knuckles, lifted again. “Right.”
“I hope you knocked every single tooth in his head loose,” Alex said fiercely.
“Not every one. He’ll be spitting out chunks of enamel for a while, though.”
“Good!”
With a nod to Ben, the doc shook hands with Alex. “You have my card, Ms. Scott. Call me if Maria exhibits symptoms of delayed trauma. Fear, anxiety, nightmares, sleepwalking, bed-wetting. Otherwise, I’ll have my people call you to arrange a follow-up.”
He was on his way out the front door, but pulled up short to avoid colliding with the dust-covered stranger just stepping onto the stoop. Frowning, the doc eyed the man’s unshaved cheeks and reddened eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Major Kincaid. Is he...?”
“I got this, Doc.” His boot loud on the tiles, Ben stumped forward without the aid of his cane and pumped the newcomer’s hand. “Thanks for coming, Dingo. You didn’t need to, though. The situation’s been resolved.”
“The kid okay?”
“She’s fine.”
“Thank God!”
The doc departed and the two men came inside.
“I left a message on your phone,” Ben said.
“Damned thing ran out of juice right after we lifted off. Couldn’t check my messages until... Yowza!”
He broke off, his glance riveted on something just over Ben’s shoulder.
“I met your missus at the Badger Bash,” he muttered. “Please tell me that glorious creature with her is an unattached and eminently available sister.”
“An unattached and possibly available best friend,” Ben corrected before he turned to offer introductions to the two women who’d gathered at the end of the hall. “Alex, you remember Dingo, don’t you?”
“I do.”
To the ex-cop’s startled surprise, she rushed down the hall and threw her arms around his shoulders. The tears she’d held in rigid check for the past hours thickened her voice.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, but I came too late to the show to be of much help.”
“You told us what to expect,” she said, gulping. “That helped. More than you know.”
“Okay, well. You’re welcome,” he said again, flashing Ben an SOS.
Grinning, Ben detached his wife and made the second intro. “This is Alex’s former roommate, our recent maid of honor and a soon-to-be headliner in Vegas.”
“Not a headliner,” the dancer protested with a provocative twitch of her full lips. “Yet.”
Her ink-black mane was still tangled and she hadn’t swiped the mascara streaks from her eyes. But the roll was back in her hips and a smile teased her lips as she sauntered forward.
“First Pink, now Dingo. You and your friends have some interesting handles, Cowboy.”
* * *
Dingo’s arrival helped erase some of the gut-twisting tension of the afternoon. Not all of it. But enough for the adults and Maria to sit down with a semblance of calm to a hurriedly thrown-together dinner of salad and pizza a few hours later.
Alex picked at her meal, trying not to think about whether Judge Hendricks would hold her at least partially responsible for an incident that could’ve resulted in disastrous consequences. She made a mental note to call her attorney’s hotline after dinner to ask for an appointment as soon as possible.
Maria’s surprisingly artistic underwater photo montage featuring a silver-scaled mermaid with flowing black hair and laughing eyes had restored much of Chelsea’s usual ebullience. Dingo’s unconcealed admiration helped, too.
Ben sounded the most normal by entertaining the group with explanations for the treasures they’d brought home from Santa Fe. “We didn’t have time to buy you anything,” he apologized to Maria, “but we scored some great stuff.”
“Right,” Dingo drawled.
He’d already been presented with the buffalo robe but both he and Ben had resisted all questions relating to the reason for the bulky, smelly gift. Maria was more interested in the kachina now occupying a place of honor on the living room mantel.
“The artist who carved it said the Eagle Dancer is the king of the skies,” Ben informed her. “They’re sort of spirit beings who connect humans to the other world.”
“I know. We learned about kachinas in our New Mexico history class. There are a bunch of them. Like the corn grower and the bear hunter and a black-and-white-striped clown guy.”
“A clown guy?”
“I can show him to you on my iPad.”
“Deal. Right after we finish dinner and the troops pull KP.”
Maria giggled at the acronym Ben had explained stood for “kitchen patrol.”
After the frightening afternoon, the happy, girlish laugh acted like a balm on Alex’s lacerated nerves. Still, she was quiet through the rest of dinner and voiced no objection when Ben sent her and Chelsea out to the patio with their coffee while he, Dingo and Maria performed KP.
* * *
Alex made a call to Paul Montoya first. After leaving a brief message for the attorney, she requested an appointment as soon as possible. Then she and Chelsea settled at the patio’s wrought iron bistro table with its colorful inlaid tiles. The evening air still shimmered with the heat of the day, but the slanting beams of the pergola drenched them in jasmine-scented shade.
Chelsea wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. The first words out of her mouth were another apology for her part in the afternoon’s drama.
“I’m so, so sorry, Lex. It’s all just beginning to sink in, but I swear, I was only in the house for five minutes.”
“It’s okay, Chels.”
“No, it’s not. The police report will say that Maria was outside, unsupervised, when her asshat father snatched her.” She shuffled the mug around in circles. “How do you think that will play with the judge?”
“I don’t know.”
The question tapped into Alex’s deep-seated worry. She let her gaze drift to the patio doors and the lit kitchen beyond. Ben had his hip propped against the counter, supervising while Dingo carted dishes to the sink and Maria loaded the dishwasher. Chelsea followed the direction of her gaze.
“All that raw masculinity,” she murmured appreciatively.
“Mmm.”
“You wouldn’t think either one would be that patient with a seven-year-old.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
The too quiet reply brought her friend’s head around. “Doesn’t that make you happy? That Ben’s so good with her?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
Alex didn’t answer for a moment, her eyes on the three in the kitchen. The men seemed to shrink the compact space with its sunshine-yellow walls and colorful tile backsplash. Dingo reminded her of a lean, predatory wolf, but to her mind Ben oozed more of the raw maleness Chelsea had mentioned. He still wore the jeans and collared black polo shirt he’d pulled on after their lazy lovemaking early this afternoon. The knit shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, and the dark color made the tan on his neck and arms appear even deeper. By contrast, the bandage
on his skinned knuckles stood out white and stark.
“Alex?”
“Huh?”
“What do you mean, ‘you guess’?”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Do remember the movie Jerry Maguire?”
“The sports flick with Tom Cruise and Renée Zellweger? Of course I do. We must’ve watched it a half-dozen times.”
“Then you remember how Zellweger’s character described her marriage. That she’d hooked up with a great guy who loved her kid and really liked her.”
“Are you serious?” Chelsea threw an incredulous look across the bistro table. “You really believe that hunk of beefcake in the kitchen cares more about Maria than he does you?”
“Oh, he cares about me. And that’s the problem. He deserves more than ‘care’ in a marriage. So do I.”
“Whoa!” Her friend flung up a palm. “Let’s back up about twenty paces. You proposed to Major Sweet Cheeks, right?”
“You know I did, but...”
“And as I recall,” she interrupted ruthlessly, “you told him flat out that sex was not part of the deal.”
“Yes, but—”
“Now you’re bumping like bunnies every chance you get, correct?”
“We are,” Alex returned, a little peeved at her friend’s hectoring. “But you of all people know sex isn’t the answer to everything.”
“We’re talking about you, Miss Priss. Not me. And I don’t believe for a moment that Ben’s going to buy that ‘he deserves more’ line. Hell, he’s a guy. He probably thinks he hit a royal flush when a hot wife and a ready-made family dropped into his lap with zero effort on his part.”
“Maybe. But—”
“Would you stop with the buts!” Anger flared in Chelsea’s cheeks. “Christ, Alex, the guy’s nuts about you. If you’d open your damned eyes, you’d see it.”
“Hey!”
“What’s more, you’re nuts about him. Problem is, you’re so wrapped up in worry about Maria that you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose. Or won’t let yourself see,” she added with a sudden, shrewd guess.
Head cocked, she studied a now silent Alex.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re in love with the guy, but you’re so worried about the adoption and feel so damned guilty for fast-talking Ben into marriage that you won’t admit it. Just like you won’t admit, even to yourself, that he might be in love with you.”
“Might being the operative word!”
“Oh, for...! Talk to the man, Alex. Tell him how you feel.”
“I was going to! Up in Santa Fe. Then you called and...oh, hell. I can’t sort it out with him now. After this afternoon, none of us need any more drama.”
“True enough.” Her brief spurt of annoyance spent, Chelsea sighed and pushed back her chair. “What I need is a stiff drink and a long soak. Oh, and I moved my things into Maria’s room. I’ll bunk in with her tonight.”
“You’ll never fit in that girl-size bed.”
“I’m a dancer,” she reminded Alex with a lofty flick of one hand. “I routinely contort my body in ways that would cripple most folks. Some of which,” she murmured as her glance zinged to the brightly lit kitchen, “I might be convinced to demonstrate to Ben’s pal.”
“Chelsea!”
“Okay, okay.” She gave the two men a final, regretful look. “But El Paso’s not that far from Vegas, is it?”
* * *
When they went back into the kitchen, Dingo was on the phone with a contact at APD. He waited until Maria was out of the room to report that her father was being held without bail pending his arraignment on charges of kidnapping, child endangerment and parole violation.
“They’ll keep him until he pleads or goes to trial. Either way, odds are your boy will be heading back to Los Lunas in the very near future.”
“Good!” Alex said fiercely.
Dingo checked his watch and grimaced. “Hate to bail on you but it sounds like everything’s under control and I need to get back to the deal I was negotiating. I’m in Vegas fairly often,” he added casually, his glance shifting to Chelsea. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime.”
“Maybe we could,” she replied, just as casually.
He got her phone number, then had Ben and Alex walk him to the front door. The rebundled buffalo robe sat waiting beside the hall tree, emanating its distinctly musty scent. Dingo hefted it in one hand and thrust out the other.
“I guess we’re even now.”
“Guess we are,” Ben said, gripping his hand.
“One of you guys has to share the story behind this,” Alex commented.
“Pry it out of your husband,” Dingo replied with a quick, slashing grin. “You’ll probably have to get him drunk first, though.”
“Sounds like some secrets are just not meant to be shared.”
“This is one of them. Text me a copy of the police report,” he instructed. “I’ll look it over and let you know if I find any holes.”
“I will.” Maneuvering around the bulky bundle, she planted a kiss on his whiskery cheek. “Thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome. Again.”
They were just closing the door behind him when Alex’s phone buzzed. It was Paul Montoya’s assistant calling to tell her the attorney could see her at nine Monday morning.
Totally wiped by the day’s emotional roller coaster, Alex showered while Chelsea watched TV and Ben and Maria checked out kachinas on the iPad. Wrapped in an oversize bath towel, Alex was stretched out on the bed and almost comatose when Ben came to check on her.
She heard him come in, felt the mattress dip when he joined her and curled instinctively into his arms. For now, for this moment, her little world was safe and secure and whole. She didn’t want to think about how long it would stay that way.
* * *
The next afternoon Alex, Ben and Chelsea dropped Maria off at her friend Dinah’s house to play while they met with members of the Child Abduction team to review the initial report and sign their statements. Dinah’s mom swore fiercely she wouldn’t let either girl out of her sight.
The FBI occupied a multistory, sandstone-colored building on Leucking Park Avenue, just off I-25. Although the Sunday afternoon was warm and sunny, the air inside the glass-fronted building was chilly and filled with a quiet hum of energy and activity.
One of the team members met them at the entrance. Alex went blank on the agent’s name until she reintroduced herself, signed them in and escorted them through security. When Alex expressed surprise that the initial report was ready so quickly, the agent nodded.
“Unfortunately, we handle more child abduction cases than we’d like to. We’ve got the paperwork part down pat, especially when the cases are resolved as quickly—and as satisfactorily—as this one.”
“Can we get copies of the report?” Alex asked.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. By the way, Dr. Jim left a message for you. He can see you and Maria Tuesday afternoon at three, if that’s convenient.”
Halfway through their meeting with the team, Ben got a call from his squadron. When they exited the FBI building, he apologized for bailing on them.
“One of the simulators just went down. I need to go in and see what the problem is. Then we’ll have to hink the schedule and lay on extra sessions to fill the gap. I’ll run you two home, then change into my uniform and get to the base. Sure you can’t stay a few more days?” he asked Chelsea as she slid into the Tahoe’s rear seat.
“I wish I could but I’ve got my first aquatic session tomorrow.” Her irrepressible smile kicked in. “Is there a water kachina?”
“You bet.”
“You might want to say a little prayer to him or her tonight.”
“Consider it done.”
After they picked up Maria and returned to the casita, Ben ma
de a quick change into his flight suit, dropped a kiss on Alex’s lips and headed for the door again.
* * *
Alex and Maria drove Chelsea to the airport four hours later. When they pulled up at the curb, she reached behind into the back seat to give Maria a hug.
“Take care of Sox, brat. And don’t let her climb any more trees!”
Unfolding her long legs, she emerged from the car with the grace that seemed to be embedded in her DNA and met Alex at the open trunk.
“Come to Vegas after the adoption hearing,” she urged. “You can hoot and holler and stamp your feet when you see me in Cirque du Soleil. Then we’ll celebrate. You, Maria, Major Sweet Ass, me.”
“And a certain ex-cop?”
“Why not?”
As grateful for Chelsea’s unquestioning friendship as she was for her effusive personality, Alex wrapped her in a ferocious hug. “We might just do that.”
“You’d better! It’s anyone’s bet how long I’ll last in the show before my lungs explode.”
Both women were sniffling now, ignoring the cars that had backed up three deep behind them. When an impatient driver honked, Chelsea untangled.
“Go home,” she instructed. “Put Maria to bed and take a long soak. Then slather yourself with that outrageously expensive body lotion I sent for your last birthday. When your man comes home, be waiting for him wearing a smile, that luscious scent and your red lace thong.”
She rolled her weekender toward the entrance, paused and shouted over her shoulder.
“Then talk to him, Lex! Tell him you both hit the jackpot.”
Chapter Thirteen
Taking Chelsea’s advice to heart, Alex put Maria to bed, showered, slithered into the lacy thong with its matching bra, and coated her arms and legs with the sinfully thick, gardenia-scented body lotion. Then she waited. And waited. And finally got a call from Ben.
“Looks like I’ll be a while yet,” he advised. “Once we get the second sim back online, we’ll have to reprogram the tracks and rework the schedule. This might turn into an all-nighter.”
Swallowing a sigh, Alex smoothed a palm down her just shaved and slathered thigh. “Okay.”
Marry Me, Major Page 16
