L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (17 page)

Jillian’s heart battered her ribs, blood raged through her veins. Her gaze darted, still searching for a way out. She jabbed Adam, angled her head to indicate they should run into the jungle while the bandits were arguing. But Adam held her arm to stay put.

The shouting continued until Elbanco’s face reddened and his eyes bulged. He spat out a long string of words that included estupido and idiota then without warning smashed his fist into another man’s face…and as the injured man stumbled forward, Elbanco slammed the injured man in the head with the butt of his gun.

The guy dropped like a brick into the mud, but Elbanco bounced around like a prize fighter, a crazed look in his bulging eyes, face purple with rage and spewing epithets, kicked the other man in the ribs and then his head and he just kept on kicking, three, four ... five…  Blood splattered everywhere. She cringed and turned away, unable to watch. The man was a psycho lunatic. Were they next? She clutched at Adam’s arm.

He shook her off and using the chaos to his advantage, Adam snatched up his gun, took two steps, shouted something and at the same time rushed Elbanco and got him in a choke hold, gun jammed at his temple.

Within seconds, the raucous shouting quelled to a low hush.

Adam shouted something at the men and then to Elbanco, but his voice was so low she couldn’t hear what he’d said.

But the man was nodding, answering, and moments later, Adam released his hold, still keeping his gun on the guy. A few moments later Elbanco barked some orders to his men and they picked up the injured man from the mud and disappeared into the forest as quickly as they’d materialized.

Bile crawled up Jillian’s throat. She leaned over about to puke when Adam said, “C’mon, we need to hustle. If they find out I was lying, they’ll be back and we’ll be a lot worse off than that guy.”

Holy crap. She spat on the ground, wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “What—”

“Don’t worry. We should be long gone before that happens.”

After collecting the supplies he’d dropped on the ground, he handed her the backpack she’d been carrying. “You okay?”

She nodded, but okay would be the last thing she was feeling. Scared spitless, horrified, and riddled with fear the men would come back were but a few of the emotions that would apply.

He began walking.

She slogged along next to him, this time staying glued to his side, all the while glancing around to make sure they were alone. Surprised she managed to get her feet to move at all, after a half mile or so, she could finally think clearly enough to ask, “Who’s their boss? And how do you know him.”

“I don’t. But from working in Narcotic and some research before I left L.A., I know who runs things and I guess I was pretty convincing. They wanted to know what we were doing here, so I told him who we were looking for and that if anything happened to you, they’d be in deep shit.”

“And they believed you?”

“Of course. I was very convincing.”

That was apparent. And she had him to thank for saving her from whatever those men had planned. Maybe even saved her life. She shivered just thinking about it.

Just then, as they came around a bend, she saw another clearing ahead. Thank heaven. As they got closer, the rutted road inclined a bit and the mud quickly disappeared. On a level spot near the edge of the road, several crude tin buildings nestled against a large tree with gnarled and tangled roots that spread like tentacles. A few goats milled around behind a fence made of twigs. A child scurried off behind a building.

A moment later an old man came out from behind one of the buildings. The little child was with him, clutching onto his shirttail.

“Buenos días,” Adam said as he grasped Jillian’s hand. He engaged in conversation with the old man, who then pointed to the right and rattled off something that somehow seemed important.

Adam turned to Jillian. “The village is down the road less than an hour from here by foot. He doesn’t know if the boy is there or not. But there’s a mechanic who can help us with the car.”

All Jillian really heard was that the man didn’t know if the boy was there or not. If he wasn’t, that meant his father must’ve come for him, and the likelihood that they were going to find him was looking slimmer. “If he’s not there, then what?”

Adam caught her gaze with his. “Then it’s time to go home.”

That was not the way she wanted the trip to end. She’d come all this way to get answers, and if she went home empty-handed, she would always wonder.

But there was no point in speculating. They’d either find the boy and his father or they wouldn’t. Maybe they’d get lucky.

“Well, so be it. You can’t say we didn’t try.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MOVING ON, ADAM SMILED to himself knowing Jillian didn’t understand what the old man had said.

If they got help with the car, maybe he could find someone to take Jillian back to San José while he continued on. He couldn’t be this close and not make contact, but there was no question it could get even more dangerous. If she stayed, she could get hurt.

The old man said he knew Jack Sullivan by reputation, and he’d heard he’d come to pick up his son the week before. He didn’t know if he had or not. What confused Adam, though, was the fact that Sullivan had owned the plantation in Mirador and then disappeared. If he had money, why would his son be shunted off to stay with strangers? Why would he let his wife die alone?

None of it made sense—unless Sullivan knew he was a made man. Unless he knew the police and spooks weren’t the only ones on his trail. But Sullivan couldn’t know all that unless—and this was starting to seem more likely all the time—someone had tipped him off.

Jillian was one possibility. But if she’d already warned Sullivan, she’d have no reason to be out here now. Unless it was her job to keep tabs on Adam, maybe even throw him off the trail. But whenever he tried to reason that out, he couldn’t. It wasn’t logical.

Adam didn’t understand men like Sullivan. They didn’t believe that selling or transporting drugs was a big deal. To them, the addicts were their own worst enemy. So what if they overdosed and died? So what if their families were left with nothing but indescribable grief, their lives forever altered?

He’d seen it too damned many times to remain unaffected. And since he’d gotten his act together, nailing scum like Sullivan had become a mission. He and all the other blood-sucking creeps like him who trafficked in drugs were no better than assassins.

“Well, at least the mud is gone,” Jillian said, breaking into Adam’s thoughts. “It’s a lot easier to walk when I’m not getting stuck every other second.”

He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Right.” He didn’t feel like talking anymore. He had to work out his plan of action. If Sullivan—

“So how about you?” Jillian asked.

He glanced at her. “How about me what?”

Frowning, she marched ahead. “That’s exactly what’s wrong with society today. No one really listens to anyone anymore. Marriages crumble for that very reason. If more people communicated with each other, we might not have the problems in the world that we do toda—”

“Whoa.” He stopped her. “How did my not listening land on the same level as the national divorce ratio and the problems of the world in general?”

“Because when a person doesn’t listen, it sends a message that he doesn’t care what the other person is thinking or feeling and if we, in general and as a population, don’t know what the other person is thinking or feeling, how can we ever solve any problems?”

He smiled. “I think it’s best to solve the problems at hand and leave broken marriages and world peace to those who have the ability to do something about it.”

She huffed. “You know what I mean.”

He wasn’t so sure. And he didn’t want to know. Because the more he knew about her, the more intrigued he became. The more intrigued he became, the more he wanted to know, and when he found out more, he liked her even more. Fuck. He was as messed up as she was.

And then, there was that whole other thing going on—the more he was with her, the more he wanted her.

Not good. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure he couldn’t handle, it was another woman who made him crazy. With all her Pollyanna solutions and platitudes, she made him crazy enough to want to kiss the words right out of her mouth.

Hell, she was right that he wasn’t listening to her. He wasn’t communicating because he was too damn busy thinking about doing her right there in the mud.

They kept on walking. She sulked for the next fifteen minutes or so. At least it seemed that long, and then she finally asked, “Do you see your family much?”

“As much as I can. Why?”

“I was just wondering. That old man and little girl made me wonder why they were together, and then I started thinking about your big family and how lucky you are to have that. But then, I thought if most of them live in Kentucky and you live in L.A., I guess you don’t see them much.”

“We communicate.”

She smiled, but it was a questioning smile. “Except you can’t communicate when you’re on a job, right?”

“Right. It’s tough to mix business with family and personal stuff. It’s too distracting.”

“I’d find that kind of life very lonely.”

“Well, that’s where we’re different, sweets. I find it easier to focus. I’ve learned that you can’t have it all.” It was a fact. He couldn’t have it all, not if he wanted to be a good cop. And being a good cop was all he’d ever wanted to be—since he was six and had watched a police officer save his dad’s life.

They’d been in a grocery store during a robbery, and his dad was taken hostage to help the thieves get away. He’d watched in horror and in awe as the SWAT team and a team of LEOs moved in to save his dad. He’d thought those cops were the bravest men in the world, and after that, he’d never wanted to do anything else. Still didn’t.

Just then he saw what looked like a village in front of them. “Look. We’re here.”

Jillian stopped abruptly.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I just got the willies. You know…how the bottom of your stomach seems to drop out when something makes you really anxious?”

“Nerves.”

“I guess. I mean, even seeing someone who looks so much like Rob will be unnerving.” Giving a deep sigh, she added, “And, I suppose I’m a little worried I might find out something I don’t want to find out.”

If that happened, she was going to be hurt. More than hurt. He wished he could spare her from the knowledge of what a creep her maybe-not-so-dearly-departed was. But he couldn’t.

It was his job to do just the opposite. And, dammit, if she hadn’t taken it upon herself to make this trip, he wouldn’t have had her tagging along and wouldn’t have had to deal with her feelings.

Now he felt responsible for her, and culpable. And there was no reason in the world he should feel like one of the bad guys. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping a solution would come to him. “There’s always that chance,” he said, feeling like the bastard he was.

“Yes…what will be, will be,” she said softly, and gave a little shrug before moving onward.

She seemed so vulnerable! Was all her bravery just a facade? He moved closer, draped an arm around her shoulders and walked with her. “Stay with me, okay?” Yeah, like that was going to help.

She nodded and kept walking. As they neared the village, he could see it was larger than he’d first thought. It wasn’t L.A. or Chicago, or even Henderson, but it had shelter and food and he hoped a phone…and a way to send her back home.

The first street they came upon wasn’t really a street at all, but a narrow, dusty road that twisted between small houses built of crude adobe blocks topped with corrugated slabs of tin. But soon the dusty road morphed into a wider road, which he figured was the main street. No buildings of commerce, only a church that loomed at one side of a small square.

“Siesta time?” Jillian asked.

“Could be. In most places siesta time is somewhere between one and five.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only a little after twelve and there’s not a soul around.”

They kept on walking, but saw no stores, no place they could wander into and ask questions about any of the Sullivans—man, woman or child.

“Why don’t we go to the church? Churches are always open and we might find a priest or someone on the premises.”

“Good thought, Annie.” He tapped her on the head, smiled and pulled her along. “And it’ll be cooler inside.”

Jillian gladly followed. His grip on her hand felt warm and solid, as if some of his strength was being transferred to her. In just this short time together, she’d come to believe he was someone she could count on, someone who would be there for her if…well, if things didn’t turn out as she wanted.

Didn’t turn out as she wanted? The thought jolted her. What did she want? She should be happy either way. If the man was an imposter, she could deal with it. If he wasn’t, there was a reason and she would be happy that Rob was alive. She would deal with that, too. What would be, would be.

But…to her own horrified realization, she knew she wanted something else. She wanted to get to know Adam. At the very least, she’d like the opportunity to get to know him.

Guilt rose up like a demon inside her. No, she didn’t just want to know him, she wanted to know him intimately. Physically.

The feelings, she realized, had been there since they first met in the grocery story—in her subconscious, working on her libido and her emotions. Her wobbly, vulnerable emotions.

That was the problem. Her emotions were all out of whack. And whose wouldn’t be under the circumstances? She was susceptible right now. Uncertain. And feeling that way could cause her to think all kinds of things, things that might not be good for her.

Like making love with Adam.

She was vulnerable, all right, vulnerable to Adam’s strength. Not only his physical strength, but his strength of character. His RoboCop attitude was a facade. He treated people with caring and respect. The same qualities she’d admired in Rob.

Only her blood hadn’t turned hot at Rob’s touch. She hadn’t desired Rob the way she desired Adam. Ever.

She’d never desired anyone like that before. It made her feel wonderful and delicious.

And alive.

Adam, standing in front of the church’s ornately carved double doors, did his routine. He scanned the area before he opened the door and then checked out the inside before giving her the okay to enter.

On entering, the air was immediately cooler. There were no windows, except for two large stained-glass ovals behind the altar, which gave enough light for her to see clearly. Compared to the small town, the church was fairly large, with an elaborate carved-wood and gilded interior.

They set down their gear and Adam prowled the inside perimeter, apparently looking for someone who could answer a few questions. Her muscles aching and her feet burning from so much walking, she sat on the end of a pew close to the entry. When Adam finished his surveillance, he came back and sat beside her.

“What now?” she whispered, even though there was no one to hear.

“Wait for a little while…until after siesta time.” He leaned back, resting his arm across the top of the pew behind her. “It’s much cooler in here, too.”

“It’s very pretty.”

He glanced from side to side, then tilted his head up. “It is. It would be prettier if they had a few frescoes.” He pointed up and to his left. “Angels would work right about there.”

“I never would’ve thought you’d be a fresco connoisseur.”

Smiling, he said, “My dad was a minister. I used to fall asleep in the pew every Sunday looking at the angels. But even with the frescoes, the church wasn’t this elaborate.”

The son of a minister. It took a moment for the surprise to wear off. “I would never have imagined that. You as the son of a minister, I mean.”

He chuckled. “I get that a lot. No idea why, though.” He looked at her. “What would you have imagined?”

The question caught her off guard. “I-I don’t know. Something more in line with what you decided to do as a career?” she said, thinking out loud.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t either, really. Maybe it’s that religion is all about forgiveness, and the justice system is about punishment?” She shrugged.

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Hmm. A matter of perception. ”

As everything in life.

“Others would say the justice system is there to protect the innocent and give some kind of closure to victims and their families…and religion is all about societal control.”

“Oh... I didn’t mean that like it sounded. It’s just…I mean…you asked, and that’s the first thing…”

“It’s okay. I was just curious.”

She wanted to ask what his motivation was, but if she did, she’d probably just make things worse. She had to admit, her perspective had been tainted. Being with Adam she’d become aware that maybe not all cops were like her father.

They sat in silence then, with her wishing she could take back her words. It was apparent Adam’s big, strong detective façade masked a much more complex man… and she was embarrassed at how naive she must’ve sounded.

“A lot of work and talent went into building this church,” he finally said

“Doesn’t it make you wonder why, if there’s someone here with the ability and talent to do all this, that they couldn’t do more with the town?”

He grinned. “You’d think. It’s all about priorities and resources.”

“I can understand that. We all have our own priorities.”

He turned to her. “And what are your priorities, Jillian?”