“He can find us there.”
One of the boys shrugged. “Don’t even know if we’ll see him.”
“Make a point of it,” Madeline advised. “Because if he doesn’t talk to us today, we’ll have to go looking for him. And if we do go looking for him, we’ll bring his parole officer with us.”
A few of the young men glanced at one another, and then away. No one responded, but Madeline and Cruz, sure the message would be delivered, walked back to the car.
“Tough lady,” Cruz remarked as they drove away.
“When I have to be.”
“Need I ask how you knew he was on parole?”
“The file,” she answered shortly, and Cruz shook his head in amazement. He had given her an hour to read two files, both of which had been at least two inches thick. He wondered if she’d committed the whole thing to memory, or just the highlights. “He served two years for breaking and entering,” he tried, testing her on some of the details.
Her eyes never left the road. “He served thirty-three months for aggravated assault, and the only reason he’s out is because some ACLU lawyer managed to convince a parole board that he should never have been tried as an adult in the first place.”
Madeline listened to his directions to the Blue Pelican, and drove silently. She was aware of what he’d been doing just then, and it neither angered nor amused her. She was too used to it to give it much attention. She’d been born with an uncannily accurate memory, and she accepted it the way others accepted their hair or eye color. She’d learned to trust it, then rely on it as she grew older. And she blessed it now, because she knew she would be needing it more than ever. As her father had pointed out, her instincts, at least when it came to men, had not proven to be the best. The fiasco with Dennis Belding had come very close to ending her career, all because she had trusted the wrong man. The experience, though, had taught her a valuable lesson. Instincts could be faulty, clouded by emotion, but her memory never was. And she had the remarkable ability to remember every bit of the hell she had gone through the last time she had misjudged a man. It would never be allowed to happen again.
Of course, she added silently, she would be greatly aided in that vow if she could refrain from kissing Cruz Martinez. Her palms still moistened when she remembered the look of intent his face had worn as it had neared hers. The lingering amusement on it had been wiped away, to be replaced with the most compelling expression of masculine desire that she’d ever witnessed. Desire that she was sure had been reflected on her own face.
Even if she wasn’t working with him, even if she wasn’t investigating him, Cruz was not a man she would ever consider getting involved with. He was glib and oh-so-charming. And he was too damn gorgeous by half. With those perfect features and well-honed body, he’d be right at home on a Hollywood screen set, and she’d bet a month’s pay that he had as many adoring fans as any movie star. A woman would have to be crazy to fall prey to that easygoing manner and bone-melting grin. He was the most dangerous of men; he radiated a vibrant sexuality that would normally frighten some women, even as it drew them. But he could be so easy to talk to, so fascinating with the combination of those blatantly bedroom eyes and aw-shucks manner, that even the most sensible women might be tempted to cast caution aside.
Luckily she had more than her share of good sense. And up against the temptation of Cruz Martinez, she was going to need every bit of it.
“It’s right here,” Cruz said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Looks like a real dive.” She wasn’t especially surprised, but she wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few hours in such an establishment.
“Don’t worry,” he teased as they parked in the small rutted lot next to the bar and got out of the car. “I’ll protect you.”
She rolled her eyes at his remark and he laughed. When they entered the place, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. The aromas of stale beer and unwashed bodies hung in the air. It was surprisingly full for midafternoon, but from the looks of the disreputable occupants, it wasn’t as if they had jobs to go to. It was more likely that any business these people conducted was done right here in the bar. Or out of the trunks of their cars.
There were a few tables scattered about, but they were all taken. Madeline followed Cruz to a booth in the back, where they would have a view of anyone entering through the front or rear door. He stood while she scooted in one side, but she looked up, openmouthed, when he slid in after her.
“There’s plenty of room over there,” she said pointedly, indicating the other side of the booth.
“I’d prefer to keep my back to the wall in a place like this, and Cantoney isn’t going to join us if it means he has to sit next to either of us. He’s too wary for that.”
Though his explanation sounded logical, she still looked at him suspiciously. The length of the afternoon seemed much longer now that she knew she was going to spend it with him pressed against her side like this. “Well, quit crowding me,” she ordered shortly. His big body seemed to take up much more than its share of the small seat, even when she shrank into the corner.
He paid no attention to her, his eyes scanning the bar carefully. His lack of awareness of her made her relax a bit, even as it made her want to kick him. It was impossible for her to feign a similar unawareness of him. He was so close that his muscled arms brushed hers. Though he was wearing a long- sleeved shirt, again roiled up to just below the elbows, she could recall in detail what those arms looked like bare, and mentally groaned. This was not her idea of how to spend a productive afternoon. Or of how to remain immune to this man’s charm.
Cruz relaxed imperceptibly when he satisfied himself that Cantoney wasn’t there. He recognized a few of the customers, and either they hadn’t seen him or they were doing their best to pretend they hadn’t. He’d rousted a few of them on more than one occasion, and he’d busted two of the men at the bar for petty theft. He didn’t know if this was an establishment that Cantoney usually frequented, but it was on turf claimed by the Lords. And it was exactly the kind of place that a two-bit punk like Dirk would feel at home in.
He shifted his weight to a more comfortable position, aware for the first time just how close he was to Madeline. He moved again, uneasily. This might not prove to be the brightest plan he’d ever had. Passing the next few hours pressed up against Madeline Casey’s slender body might be just enough to turn him into a eunuch. Because if the agony didn’t do the job, he was sure she’d be glad to, if he lifted one finger in her direction.
Not that he had any intention of doing that. He was the first to admit that he had an eye for attractive women, but it was plain to see that this one had Hands Off written all over her. And he had done his best in the short time they’d been working together to put her at ease, to show her that she had nothing to fear from him.
Well, okay, he’d almost made a little slip this afternoon. He frowned slightly. He had come damn close to kissing Madeline then, and finding out at last if those delectably full lips were as soft as they looked. He knew exactly what had made him almost abandon his careful distance from her. She’d been too darn inviting, standing there savoring that damn hot dog, smug because he was having to eat one, too. She’d looked more approachable than he’d ever seen her, and it hadn’t taken long for their bantering to turn to awareness. At least, it hadn’t taken long for him, and her Hands Off sign hadn’t been anywhere in sight.
A slovenly-looking waitress meandered over to take their order. “What can I get for ya, big guy?” she asked with a wink, her eyes never touching Madeline.
“Two Coors Lite bottles,” he said shortly. Madeline raised her eyebrows at him and he waited for the waitress to leave to forestall her argument “We don’t have to drink them, but this isn’t exactly the kind of place where we can order cups of coffee.”
The woman came back with two lukewarm beers and set them down. “That’ll be eight bucks, handsome,” she cooed. She placed both elbows on the table and leaned toward Cruz, affording him a revealing view of her ample breasts. To Madeline’s amazement he looked distinctly uncomfortable at the attention, a dull red stain reaching his cheekbones as he pulled the bills out of his pocket. The waitress took her time collecting the money and swayed slowly back to the bar.
“Don’t worry, handsome,” Madeline couldn’t help gibing, “I’ll protect you.”
He grinned at her use of his earlier words. “Ah, subtlety doesn’t seem to be her strong suit, does it?”
“I doubt she unbuttoned half her blouse to show her ‘subtlety’ off to advantage,” Madeline agreed dryly.
“Did she? I didn’t notice.”
Madeline snorted inelegantly. “And birds don’t fly.”
He affected a wounded expression. “Somewhere along the line you’ve gotten the wrong impression of me. I wouldn’t lie to you. I still go to confession every Saturday.”
“I’ll bet that’s a real trip for some poor unsuspecting priest. He probably needs a stiff drink afterward to
