Aim For Love (24 page)

“My attorney will be here at noon; we can talk with him before you go to the station. For now, let’s get some sleep. You need it, and I have to be up early to see Stacy in the morning about… Well, something personal.”

“Personal
? Like what we’re discussing isn’t?” She’d driven four and a half hours to save his ass, and he was running to Stacy first thing in the morning on
personal
business?

He slammed the glass on the table, startling her. “Yes. Personal.”

She’d never heard him raise his voice. His loss of control scared her more than the jarring words.

He raked a hand through his hair but didn’t elaborate, just shook his head and walked to the sink. Evidently she
really
needed a reality adjustment.

He leaned his palms against the counter. His shoulders heaved with the rise and fall of his harsh breaths. After some moments, he whirled to face her.

“I’m sorry.”

His tone was carefully modulated. She knew that tone, used it herself when she didn’t trust her feelings.

He put his hand on her arm.

She didn’t want to feel relief just at having him touch her, just at feeling connected, but she did. And it was ridiculous. She searched his face for emotion but saw weariness. And something else. Something she couldn’t read.

“I can’t talk anymore right now,” he said.

But he didn’t let go of her arm. He held his hand there as if he were thinking or weighing options or fighting some internal battle. Well, she wasn’t a battlefield. If he was that uncertain about his feelings, she needed to back far, far away.

Except nothing in her wanted to do that. Nothing at all.

Chapter Twenty

In the morning Kaz slipped out of the house before either Sabrina or his grandmother was up and about. He had a hunch that Martin Erickson might know more about the whole meth business; the man
must
have had a reason to meet with Ortega.

Kaz liked Greg, but the evidence stacked against him was too solid to leave the investigation to Greg and his deputies. It couldn’t hurt to do some sleuthing on his own. He knew in his gut that Ortega was the key to finding out who had murdered his nasty sidekick.

And maybe Martin would know more about what Stacy was up to. The spike of warning he’d felt when she’d told him he’d be proud of her had ricocheted in his mind for nearly twenty-four hours. It’d be just like her to try something rash, something to prove herself to the world. Something dangerous.

The gate to Martin’s place was open. Kaz drove up and parked in front of the sprawling Erickson McMansion. Why a single guy needed so much space, Kaz couldn’t figure.

He rang the bell. After several minutes, Martin appeared, fully dressed.

“You here for help with that bail?”

“I have some questions.”

“Might as well come in. I have coffee.” He looked at Kaz. “You people drink coffee? I don’t have any tea.”

You people
. Normally a comment like that would rile Kaz, but he had more important issues to focus on.

“Nothing, thanks.” Kaz stopped just inside the high-ceilinged foyer. “What do you know about Tuco Ortega?”

“Not much. He lives out in the west county. Has a couple kids.”

“You know what I mean,” Kaz said, not hiding the impatience in his voice.

“I’m not sure I do.” Martin leaned against the heavy wooden table at the center of the foyer. “Care to clue me in?”

“I saw you with him that evening in town. The night you were with Stacy.”

“He joined us for a glass of wine.”

“You in on the meth deals?” Kaz hadn’t meant to be so direct, but he’d lost his patience.

“Excuse me?”

“Meth.”

“
Hell
no. I bought a mare and a stallion from Ortega. Your man Roberto is breaking them in for me.”

Kaz heard Martin’s answers, but they didn’t sink in.

“Why was Stacy there that night, with you both?”

“We were having dinner. If you want to know more about Ortega, ask Stacy. She seems to know a whole lot about him. I think she’s afraid of him from what I saw that night. But I haven’t gotten much out of her. She’s being secretive, and it worries me.” Martin paced the foyer. “Meth? Ortega’s involved in meth?”

“And extortion.”

“Hell.” Martin raked a hand through his hair. “Stacy was really worked up about something the past few days. Maybe you can get more out of her. But I warn you—I’m going to marry that girl, so don’t get any ideas. But I figured since you landed Miss Hollywood—”

“I haven’t landed anything.”

“Looked like it to me.” Martin stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “Like I said, Stacy’s
my
worry now. At least you can knock that one off your plate.” He glanced at his watch. “I have meetings this morning, but I’ll head over to her place after.” A more relaxed look crossed his face. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “And I meant what I said about that bail. I know you’re good for it. I know you didn’t kill that man.”

“We have the bail handled.” He heard the abruptness of his tone, an insolence Martin didn’t deserve. “But thanks for the vote of confidence,” he added as he turned away.

Kaz’s boots rang hollow on the tiles of the marble-floored foyer as he strode out of the house. He hadn’t considered that Martin and Stacy were an item. Or at least that Martin wanted for them to be. Kaz might not like him, but Martin struck him as a man with the strength to help Stacy destroy her demons. God knew she probably needed the help.

He’d grown up since high school, grown up and moved on. Stacy still had some growing up to do.

The sun was just clearing the mountains when he turned his car onto the road that led to Stacy’s cabin. Maybe he could talk her into telling Greg whatever she was up to. Maybe it would help his case. Maybe he could stop her from doing something stupid, something risky. Stacy had always considered herself invincible. It was a trait he begrudgingly had loved.

Chapter Twenty-one

Sabrina leaped out of bed. She grabbed her phone. Seven fifteen. She threw on her clothes and tiptoed down the hall. The door to Kaz’s room was open. She peered in. No Kaz.

As quietly as she could, she descended the stairs. Kaz’s grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table.

“He’s gone off,” Obaa said. “I heard the car about half an hour ago.”

“I need to find him. I had a dream. And not a good one.” The reality of the dream had shocked her. Maybe the ritual she’d participated in had ramped up the mystical in her. In the dream she could touch people, feel the heat of them, catch their scents as they moved.

“I put the
baku
spread on your bed. Usually it works. The
baku
elephants eat nightmares.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. This was different. I saw a man in a small house. It had potted flowers lining a cement patio, with horses and a new barn nearby. His sister—I think he said sister, but I’m not sure and her back was turned to me—was being attacked and tortured, maybe drugged. I don’t know these people, but I saw them.” She pressed her palms to the table. “They seemed real. Too real.”

Kaz’s grandmother stood as a clouded look came into her eyes. “I know this place you dreamed of. It’s Roberto’s house, Kazi’s foreman. I should go to them.”

The morning dew glistened in the grasses as Sabrina sped out of the drive with Obaa in the seat beside her. Neither of them brought up the murder.

When they arrived, Obaa knocked at Roberto’s door. Introductions were brief. Yolanda, Roberto’s wife, seemed to appreciate the urgency that Sabrina’s dream cast.

Inside, Sabrina told Roberto of her dream. “The woman had blond hair,” she said, adding a detail she’d just remembered.

A pained look pinched into his face. “It’s not my sister you saw, though it could’ve been. I think the woman in your dream was Stacy Kingston.”

It made no sense that she’d dream of Stacy. But as she remembered the shock of her reaction to seeing Kaz with her, maybe it did make sense. Maybe the image had lodged in her, festered, and risen as a dream.

Roberto looked to Kaz’s grandmother.

Obaa nodded.

“She may need help,” Roberto said. “Maybe we can change the outcome.”

“Wait.” Sabrina wrestled with the embarrassment riddling her. “Perhaps it’s nothing. I’ve had strange dreams lately. Lots of them.”

Obaa patted her arm. “You saw; I can feel it. We would be wrong to do nothing.”

“Take this,” Yolanda said as she handed Roberto a red scarf. “Tie away the spirits.”

He took the scarf. And then he opened a drawer next to the refrigerator and took out a gun. Yolanda wrapped her fingers around his arm.

“In case,” he said. “Just in case.”

Yolanda lowered her eyes and didn’t say anything as they hurried to Sabrina’s car. At the car, she kissed her husband.

“You remember what’s important,
querido
.”

“Yes,” he said, hugging Yolanda. “Of course.” He pressed her scarf to his chest. “This may be all we’ll need.”

Sabrina backed out of the drive and hoped he was right. Just in case he wasn’t, she called the sheriff.

Chapter Twenty-two

The gnawing unease Kaz had felt at Martin’s morphed into dread as he drove the last half mile to Stacy’s. If she had dealings with Ortega as Martin had indicated, she was in danger. He might not be able to wangle out of her whatever harebrained plan she’d cooked up, but he could warn her to be careful, maybe even convince her to leave the region until Ortega was behind bars. Maybe she’d listen. But she’d always been impulsive. And he’d once liked that wild quality in her. But dealing with extortionists and drug dealers was way out of her league.

He didn’t recognize the beat-up truck parked in her driveway. Cautious, he stepped toward the door. Then, changing his mind, he decided to have a look in the kitchen window.

What he saw nearly stopped his heart. Stacy, half-naked, was bound to a chair. A burly man stood over her with a gun held to her head. Faint bruises showed on her face and arms. Her head was tipped down, and Kaz couldn’t see her eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was conscious.

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

The man tightened the cord binding her hands, and she cried out. The man said something in Spanish and then knelt in front of her and flicked the gun across her nipple.

Rage poured through Kaz, leaving him icy.

He resisted the urge to storm in. He needed a weapon. Or he’d have to disarm the man in one stroke if he was going to protect Stacy from harm.

The man pinched Stacy’s other nipple. She grimaced, but didn’t scream. Smart girl. To Kaz, the man looked like the sort that got off on hurting his victims. Any reaction from Stacy would just jack him up and escalate the violence.

Kaz willed his nerves to calm as he scanned the kitchen. A broom leaning against the fridge gave him his plan.

He eased around to the door, crouching low beneath the window. He kicked open the door and raced to the broom. The man swung toward him.

“Kaz! He’s on meth!” Stacy screamed. “He’ll kill you!”

Kaz clutched the broom, brandishing it like a
yari,
and charged the man. His blow landed precisely on the man’s elbow, and the gun flew from his hand.

But before Kaz could react, the man pulled a knife from his boot and reached for Stacy. Kaz charged him, blocking him, and swung the broom at the man’s head. He dropped the knife to deflect the blow. The broom handle cracked as it caught him just under the jaw. He charged Kaz and kicked him in the groin, apparently feeling no pain.

Kaz bit down his pain and nausea and used the roar of his reaction to fuel himself as he grabbed the man’s foot. The clean snap of the bone followed by an agonized scream told Kaz that he’d reached through the drug haze and hit the pain button. He twisted the man’s leg and torqued him to the floor. With a swift jerk, he pinned the man’s arm behind his back.

Kaz slid his hand to the gun and slipped it into his belt. He kicked the knife toward the door, away from them both. With a murder rap on his slate, the last thing he needed was to kill the guy.

“Face down, both of you!”

Greg’s booming voice shot through the tiny kitchen.

Stacy’s assailant broke Kaz’s hold and sprang up, lunging for Greg’s gun. Kaz tackled him and twisted him back to the floor. He locked him in a death grip.

“One move,” Kaz said to the man in Spanish, “and you’re dead.”

“Take these.” Greg handed Kaz his cuffs. Kaz snapped them onto the sputtering man’s wrists while Greg wired his ankles. “And for God’s sake, don’t kill him.”

“Don’t worry, I already had that same thought,” Kaz said.

Once the man was clearly subdued, Kaz grabbed the knife from the floor. He flashed a glance to Greg as they both stood. Sweat poured down Greg’s face and his hands shook. Kaz had never considered what Greg had to face every day just doing his job. The stress had to be unbearable.

Kaz raced to Stacy. His hands trembled as he slashed the ropes binding her hands and feet. He closed her in his arms. He tried to calm her by stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words, yet uncontrolled sobs racked her body.

“I see we are in time.”

Obaa-chan’s voice was the last voice he expected to hear.

His grandmother, Roberto and Sabrina burst into the kitchen.

And they were the last people he expected to see. How were they together?

Stacy burrowed closer against him, hiding her face.

Greg put his hands to his hips and let out a whistle. “No one in this county pays attention to
anything
I say. No one.”