Sweet Reward (11 page)

“Yeah, the food’s good.” Hell, he sounded like a caveman. All he needed was a grunt and a scratch and he was right there.

If she’d noticed that his manners were nonexistent, she didn’t let on—her smile was just as easy and open as before. “I didn’t have time to make dessert, but I have ice cream, if you’d like some.”

He shook his head. “No thanks.” He nodded at the folders she’d set on a low buffet beside the table. “You said you had already done an initial investigation on a couple of the suspects?”

Pushing her plate away, she grabbed one folder and opened it. “One is a man who’s been suspected of being a player in human trafficking for years. As far as I can tell, he’s never been arrested, just brought in for questioning. But the cases he’s thought to have been involved with were of young children, not infants.”

“Maybe he’s got a new game.”

“Could be. We can put him in two of the countries that Fuller was in, at about the same time.”

Jared stood and began to clear the table. With his mind totally focused on their discussion, he didn’t notice for several seconds that Mia was looking at him strangely. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to be so domesticated.”

He shrugged. “That was my only job when I was married. I sucked at everything else.”

“You’re divorced?”

“Yeah.” He turned away and resumed his task. Talking about his ex-wife might be necessary to the case, but their failed marriage wasn’t up for discussion.

The silence following that brief, uninformative answer was telling. He was sure she had questions she wanted to ask; however, when he glanced over at her, she was biting her lip and looking at the folder in her hand.

“Something wrong?”

Mia felt angry on two counts, and she wasn’t sure which was worse: that she hadn’t read the attached information or that no one had bothered to mention it. Noah had provided the case details of Mandy Dennison, the missing child in Paris. Most of the things documented were items she’d been aware of, with one major exception. Why the hell hadn’t anyone mentioned that to her?

Maybe no one had thought it mattered to the case as a whole, but it sure as hell mattered to her.

She raised her head and considered the man who had made it more than clear that personal issues were completely off the table in their discussions. That’d been no problem until she realized he had a tie to the victim. “At what point were you going to tell me that Lara Dennison is your ex-wife?”

He stood in the kitchen, looking surprisingly comfortable rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. Her question barely even garnered a shrug of those broad shoulders. “Has no relation to the case.”

“Of course it does.”

“How so?”

Unable to sit still, she got up and began to put away the leftovers from their meal. “For one thing, you’re personally involved with the victim. That can skew a lot of things.”

“I’m not personally involved with the victim. She’s my ex-wife. We have no relationship.”

His cold tone told her more than his words. Divorces were rarely friendly affairs, and Jared’s attitude indicated his certainly hadn’t been.

“Ever given any thought to the idea that someone you know—like a past associate—might have abducted the child because of you?”

He snorted. “That’s a million miles past a stretch.”

“Why?”

“Because the man she was married to never existed outside the marriage.”

Mia paused for only a second before she resumed placing plastic wrap over the bowl of pasta. Jared was too careful and controlled to admit something he didn’t want her to know. However, if she dug deeper, he’d shut her off completely. But of all the things she’d learned about him, that one sentence gave away so much. Angela had told her that Jared had only worked for LCR for about a year, which meant that before he was married, he had been involved in some kind of undercover work.

As if key information hadn’t been shared, Mia shook her head. “I still think being involved in a case where there’s a personal stake can skew your thinking.”

“It can focus it, too.”

That was true. And Jared seemed able to compartmentalize better than most. She acknowledged his statement with a nod and a muttered “Fine.” Not a rousing endorsement and it held more than a tinge of pique; there was something about the situation that still disturbed her. The fact that he obviously had no intention of sharing more didn’t help. And that bothered her, too. Not that he wouldn’t share—she hadn’t expected that he would. It bothered her that she was bothered.

They continued their tasks in silence. Finishing at the same time, she and Jared headed back to the table where their files lay. Everything, including this inconvenient fascination with him, had to be set aside. The longer it took to find the people responsible, the less their chances of saving the children. And if there was anything they could agree on, it was this—nothing was more important.

Josette Fitzgerald took a giant bite of her tuna sandwich, followed it with a bite of pickle, and munched contentedly as she reviewed the entries she’d just made. Hopefully, the meal would give her the stamina to go on for a few more hours without making her too sleepy. Her day job as a salesclerk for a small dress shop wasn’t usually overly taxing. However, several city celebrations were coming up, so the shop was even busier than usual. One particularly demanding customer had taken almost three hours of her day, and then the woman had left without buying anything.

Since she wasn’t paid on commission, she hadn’t lost any money, but still, the time and care she’d given the woman had exhausted her. For the first time ever, she’d had to force herself to come to her part-time evening job.

This was actually her favorite of all the part-time jobs she’d had. Inputting numbers and checking data for a large children’s charity felt like she was doing something helpful. She couldn’t afford a donation, and she couldn’t afford not to be paid. However, the pay wasn’t much compared to the effort she put into her job, so, in her own, very small way, she was making a contribution.

And no job could be less stressful. She’d been working at the Ricard Foundation for almost three months, and so far she had seen only a handful of people. Usually by the time she got here, almost everyone had gone home for the evening. Josette liked the quiet. Living in a small house filled with a variety of relatives made the silence all the more peaceful.

She took another bite of sandwich and washed it down with a swallow of soda. She scanned the screen, frowning as her eyes stuttered over an oddity. A large amount of money had been deposited into an old, dormant account and then withdrawn a few hours later. Probably someone had just entered the information wrong, but where had the money gone?

Josette clicked through several pages of entries, looking for the funds. Could they have been divided up and posted to separate accounts? That was a possibility; still, she’d better mention it to someone. Trying to bilk a charity out of 100,000 euros was just wrong. She’d tell Paul Raymond, her supervisor, tomorrow. He would know what to do.

   Jared couldn’t believe how quickly Mia had fallen asleep or how beautiful she looked. She’d been in the middle of a sentence and had just stopped talking. He’d been sitting across from her, reading an article about one of the abductions. When she’d stopped talking, he’d automatically looked up, wondering why she hadn’t finished. And there she’d been, her head collapsed on the pillow she’d been leaning against, the pen she’d been using to write notes still clutched in her hand.

Stupid really, but the fact that she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence touched him somehow. He didn’t inspire restfulness or trust in most people. He could
count on one hand the number of women who’d fallen asleep while he’d been around. Of course, some of that had to do with his self-imposed rule of not sleeping with his bed partners. Since he wasn’t one for after-sex cuddling, most of the women were never given a chance to fall asleep.

Now that he knew Mia was a trained operative, he was even more curious about her. Each time she revealed something about herself, no matter how small, he came up with about twenty questions. He didn’t like that. Who people were and what they did with their own lives were their business. Knowing others’ secrets created an intimacy … a connection. So why the hell did he want to know Mia’s?

He told himself it was because she was such an enigma. Who wouldn’t want to know more about a woman who had the skills and training to kill but looked as though she should be reading a fairy tale to a bunch of toddlers? Yeah, he’d worked with beautiful women who were damn dangerous too, but they’d had an air of danger about them. Mia seemed sweet and artless—too damn vulnerable.

Inwardly cursing his absorption with her, he went back to the words on his laptop screen. They’d been working on the list for hours and had narrowed it down to three organizations. Two were legitimate corporations that had a few questionable dealings with underground organizations. Nothing could be proven. So far, other than nasty rumors that had created some doubts about their ethics, the corporations continued to function profitably. The third one made the other two look like church groups.

Boyd Fuller, the dead sleaze who’d tried to kill Mia and who’d apparently been responsible for the missing children in Chicago, had connections to all three. He’d
worked directly but briefly for one, and for two others had done some freelance work. All seemingly legitimate work, but again, the intersection of their questionable ties and his obvious guilt was too damn coincidental.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. Mia shifted slightly as her head burrowed deeper into the pillow. He should probably go home and try to grab a few hours himself. When she shifted again, he wondered if she was cold. The temperature was comfortable for him, but more than one lover had told him that he had some kind of internal furnace. The cold never bothered him.

Jared went to his feet and grabbed a throw she’d draped over a chair. The thought hit him that he could carry her to her bed, where she would rest easier, but he knew better than that. The woman was a trained operative and would be alert in a flash, ready to fight. He’d just as soon not have an aching jaw to go along with his sore nose.

Gently, so he wouldn’t wake her, he covered her body and backed away. The temptation to brush his fingers down the creamy skin of her face was a surprise. A prelude to sex was the only reason he touched a woman. Not that he didn’t find her desirable. Hell, just being close to her caused way too many feelings of the sort he’d successfully suppressed for years. Damned if he needed the complication of getting involved with a woman like Mia Ryker.

Jared headed to the door and then stopped at the sound of a soft sigh. Turning back, he watched as she snuggled deeper into the sofa, pulling the throw tighter around her body. Something clutched in his chest. It was probably only because of her exhaustion that she hadn’t woken. Still, the level of trust she was showing him did something to him.

He checked his watch: a little after three. If he went home now, he’d be too keyed up to sleep. Might as well do a little more research and catch a nap later on today. As he settled back into the chair, he refused to consider that one of the reasons he wanted to stay was because of the woman sleeping across from him. She was a co-worker. Nothing more. Besides, she’d probably wake early, which meant they could get to work sooner.

With his laptop back in front of him, Jared went to another search engine and continued to follow Boyd Fuller’s trail. An interesting article caught his attention, one that seemingly had nothing to do with Fuller. Probably just another dead end, but he followed the thread. The longer he followed and the more he dug, the more interesting things became.

A video recording of a speech made a couple of years ago caught his attention. Jared plugged in earphones and listened, becoming even more intrigued as an idea formed in his head. Was this really possible?

He sat up straighter, grabbed pen and paper, and began to jot locations and ties. When he finished writing, he tore the sheet from the pad and went to a white flip chart Mia had set up earlier. His drawing skills were meager at best, but twenty minutes later, he stood back and stared hard at what he had created. Hell, either his brain was so tired it was seeing connections that weren’t there, or he was right, and they had themselves a brand-new suspect. And if so, they also had a damn big problem.

   Mia blinked her heavy eyelids and looked blearily around to gather her wits. Where was she? When her eyes stopped on the man only a few feet from her, comprehension and memory returned. She and Jared were working together to narrow down suspects. And she had fallen
asleep with him still in the apartment? Would wonders never cease?

He was frowning at the screen of his laptop, totally unaware that she was awake. Taking advantage of this opportunity to fully appreciate the beauty of the man was something she couldn’t resist. His coal-black hair was shorter than when she’d first met him and looked incredibly thick. Those silver eyes, when focused on her, did something to her blood pressure and she had the hardest time concentrating. He had a swarthy complexion and exotic cheekbones that brought to mind visions of pirates from centuries ago. The stubborn, almost squared chin was a good indication that he rarely backed down. That wasn’t a surprise … the dimple in that chin was. And though all LCR operatives were in excellent shape, Jared’s broad shoulders were an indication of amazing strength.

Yes, he was an extremely handsome man—incredibly easy on the eye. Years ago, Mia had learned that good looks were inconsequential. Character mattered much more than a handsome face. So why was she so attracted to him? He was rude, seemed to have no sense of humor, and had made it more than clear that he didn’t trust her. Still, she remembered that he’d held her when she was crying about Spunky’s death; he had wanted to stay and make sure she was okay. And he’d been a good sport about being knocked to the floor. Had even barked out a rusty-sounding laugh of approval. If that had happened to her, she was sure she wouldn’t have been amused.