Madison stared out the window again and grappled with the overwhelming fear she had for the well-being of the man she loved.
* * *
RICK HAD BEEN on border patrol all night. He’d expected it to be a quiet one, since they hadn’t heard any rumblings about major drug runs. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen, but it was less likely that there’d be anything on an organized scale. He was close to the spot where he’d caught Matías, and he spent the early, uneventful hours of his shift thinking about the kid, with no small measure of pride for what he planned to make of himself. Yeah, Rick told himself, he’d do it all over again, if the need arose.
He thought about those words—doing it all over again, given the opportunity—as he drove home in the first watery glow of sunrise at the end of his shift and wondered if they’d been a premonition.
He’d caught another kid running across the border. This one was younger, yet had more conviction than most of the others.
He’d dared to defy the cartel.
Rick glanced at the thin boy in grubby clothes huddled against the passenger door of his Explorer. He twitched and occasionally whimpered in his sleep. Rafael was his name, and Rick had really stuck his neck out this time, but he’d felt he had no choice. The kid’s life had been in imminent danger because he’d dared to oppose the cartel by ditching the drugs he’d been entrusted with and making a run for the border.
Rick had to acknowledge that the kid had guts. But by doing what he had, he’d incurred the wrath of the cartel, and they’d been after him. Rick didn’t think they’d worry about Rafael for long—he was too insignificant, too inconsequential, in the grand scheme of their operations—but the immediate threat was real. Rick had to protect the kid. He couldn’t take him into the division and he couldn’t leave him with Child Services.
Rick had decided to take the kid home with him. He had a couple of days off and he’d have time to figure out what to do about Rafael. But today and tonight, he’d keep him at his house. The kid trusted him. And he didn’t think Rafael trusted easily—with good reason. For now, the kid could sleep easy, or as easy as it was possible for him to do.
He really had crossed the line this time, Rick thought as he pulled into his driveway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RICK MUST HAVE just dozed off on his sofa when he was startled awake by the banging. Disoriented, he tried to place the sound until he heard it again.
It was someone knocking on his door. He glanced at his watch. Almost ten in the morning on Sunday. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
“Who is it?” Rick called when he heard the knock again.
“It’s me,” Madison called through the door.
Rick stared up at the ceiling. The fates were conspiring against him. He couldn’t very well not open the door for her. If he hadn’t called out, he might’ve been able to pretend he wasn’t home. But that horse had left the barn.
“I’ll be right there,” he called back, and rose, somewhat unsteady on his feet. Lack of sleep could do that to you.
He took a quick peek into the spare bedroom. Rafael lay on the bed, long dark lashes resting on the pronounced hollows under his eyes, his chest moving rhythmically in his sleep. Instead of resting his head on the pillow, he had it clutched to his chest. For comfort? For security? As Rick watched, Rafael let out a little whimper and tightened his hold on the pillow.
Despite how exhausted the kid must’ve been after his ordeal, he still couldn’t seem to escape, even in sleep, the horrors that haunted him. Rick silently closed the door and backed out of the room, just as the knocking on the front door began again.
“Hey,” he greeted Madison, and lowered his lips to hers, while both Sniff and Nitro danced around them. “We didn’t have a date, did we?”
“No. I was at the rehab center this morning, and thought I’d stop by to see if I could buy you brunch.”
Keeping one arm extended and a hand on the edge of the door, effectively blocking her from entering, he forced a smile.
“So can I entice you to have brunch with me?”
He rubbed a hand over his stomach. “Actually, I’m not all that hungry. I think I ate something last night that didn’t agree with me. I should just stay home.”
“Okay.” She looked at his outstretched arm. “Are you going to invite me in?”
What choice did he have? Rick released his hold on the door and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Ah, you know, I was...” He was interrupted by the creak behind them and a child’s cough. They both watched as Rafael, wearing one of Rick’s old SDPD T-shirts that skimmed his calves, walked into the hallway.
Madison glanced from the boy to the man.
“¿Puedo tener un vaso de agua por favor?” the boy asked, rubbing his eye with a fist.
“Sí. Claro,” Rick replied. “Of course you can have some water.”
“I’m sorry,” Madison murmured. “I’m interrupting. I’d better get home to Owen,” she said, and turned to go.
“Wait!” Rick called. He grabbed her arm, but she pulled away and ran down the steps.
Rick rushed after her and placed a hand firmly on the door of her SUV before she had a chance to open it. “Can we talk about this?” he asked.
“That boy?” she said, pointing toward Rick’s open front door. “He’s not a relative or the son of a friend, is he?”
“No, he isn’t.”
She looked furtively around and lowered her voice. “Then, he’s here illegally, correct? You caught him coming across the border?”
“Yes.”
“I know he’s just a young boy and I’m sure he’s got a sad story, but you have him staying with you...”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but doesn’t that make it worse? You’re not just letting him into the States, you’re harboring an illegal alien.”
Rick dropped his arm. She clearly had a problem with what he’d done. He didn’t want to detain her if she was determined to go. “Something like that.”
“And if I know and I don’t do anything about it? What does that make me? An accessory after the fact?”
Rick remained silent.
“I’m certain you’re helping that child in a crucial way, but... I’m sorry,” she whispered, and got into her car.
Rick stuffed his hands into his pockets again and watched her drive away. Once her vehicle was out of sight, he went back inside.
Seeing the fear and worry on Rafael’s face, he first reassured the boy that he had nothing to worry about. He explained that Madison wasn’t with the authorities and she wouldn’t tell anyone about Rafael being in his house. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.
He brought Rafael the water he’d asked for and got him settled down. He stayed in the room with him until he fell asleep again. Rick could understand why the kid needed so much sleep after everything he’d been through. He thought of the terror he’d seen in Rafael’s eyes when a car had backfired, and later, when one of his neighbors had started up a lawn mower early that morning. Rick understood what it felt like to fear for your life and imagine that every sharp, sudden sound was a gunshot. He’d been there.
He had another day off tomorrow, and he’d take Rafael to Child Services. But today and tonight he’d keep him at home. The kid felt comfortable with him. Maybe it wasn’t even comfort. It was probably as simple as not knowing who else to turn to and the fact that, in his view, Rick was the lesser of two evils. Rick was fairly certain that despite Rafael’s having thrown away what amounted to thirty thousand dollars’ worth of drugs, the cartel wouldn’t bother to search for him for long. Still, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. That was why he hadn’t brought him to Child Services right away; Rick was a cop and he could protect the kid. Tomorrow they’d take the next step.
Rick dropped back down on his sofa.
Why had Madison had to stop by announced today of all days? Yes, she knew what he was doing and had already been struggling with it. But seeing the effect of his actions firsthand in the form of Rafael, her mind had immediately jumped to how that could implicate her, which was obviously an entirely different matter. She’d sure hightailed it out of there.
He was tempted to call her, but he figured it would be best to give her some time to reflect. He’d go see her tomorrow after he’d sorted everything out with Rafael. Maybe he’d take her to that Brazilian churrascaria again, if she was willing. It was hard to be in a bad mood in that environment.
* * *
THAT NIGHT WAS a quiet one, thankfully. Rafael slept right through, not always peacefully, but he didn’t wake. Rick knew, because he’d slept lightly, on alert, and had checked on Rafael a number of times.
Monday morning Rick took Rafael to the county’s Child Services department. He promised the kid he’d visit him wherever they ended up placing him. Child Services agreed to let Rick know, so he could keep his word. Rafael didn’t seem distressed or terrified. He was quietly accepting, although he was shy with the people he met. Rick thought his detachment was natural under the circumstances.
He and Rafael were both relieved that the social worker assigned to his case spoke fluent Spanish, and the agency was hopeful that they could find a foster home where at least one parent spoke the language. Rafael could probably get by with his broken English, but it would give him a sense of comfort. Of fitting in.
Rick was optimistic about Rafael’s future and this time he felt no guilt about what he’d done. His worry was focused on Madison and where yesterday’s occurrence left them.
After Rick finished at Child Services, he called the clinic. Heather advised him that Madison was in surgery. He asked her to tell Madison he’d see her after work, if that was okay with her. No point dwelling on the negative or delaying the inevitable. He had to believe that he and Madison had a strong enough relationship by now that they could work through it. Hoping for the best, he made a reservation at O Touro and bought her some flowers, too.
Madison returned his call while he was at the gym. She left a message suggesting he come to her place at seven. It buoyed Rick, and his optimism persisted through the afternoon.
He arrived at her house right on time. When she opened the door, he held out the bouquet with a wide smile.
His mood was squashed by the look on Madison’s face.
She didn’t seem happy, and she took the flowers with the most perfunctory thanks. He followed her into the kitchen, where she stuck them—cellophane, tissue paper wrapping and all—in a vase she filled with water.
He decided to confront her, rather than allow the situation to fester. “You’re still upset about Rafael? Let’s talk about it if it’s bothering you.”
“If it’s bothering me?” she echoed as she spun around. “You’ve let people come into California illegally. And now you’re harboring aliens. What’s next?”
“The kid threw away the drugs he was asked to smuggle into the country. He’s only ten years old and needed a break.”
His comment about Rafael’s age seemed to give her pause, but after a moment she continued. “He threw away the drugs? What if he hadn’t? Or someone else doesn’t? If they’re smuggling drugs and maybe even have drugs with them when you take them into your home, you’re harboring criminals.”
“That’s a lot of ifs, but I didn’t have much choice with Rafael. The cartel knew he’d ditched the drugs and were after him, probably to make an example of him for his rebellion. I thought it would be safer for him to stay with me than take him to the authorities right away, just in case the cartel was still looking for him. You left in a huff, and I didn’t get a chance to explain.”
Madison’s eyes were wide, her mouth agape. He might have been a bit harsh, but he was feeling the effects of not having had much sleep, and he was getting tired of going around the block with her on this subject again. He’d thought she’d understand and would appreciate that he wanted to help a kid whose life was in peril. He loved her for who she was. Couldn’t she do the same with him?
He loved her...
Great. He had to pick the worst time to realize that. “What?” he asked when he’d missed what she’d said.
“I wasn’t in a huff! I don’t know how to deal with what you’re doing.”
Rick had just about had enough. If she wasn’t worrying about the dangers of his job, it was this. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together. “No one asked you to be involved—and you’re not!” he retorted. He shook his head in frustration and confusion. Owen had moved to her side and Rick wasn’t entirely comfortable with the steady stare the dog leveled at him.
He stepped forward and around the dog. He wanted to touch Madison but was afraid she’d shrug him off. “Rafael hasn’t had it easy. He deserves a chance,” he said in a quieter, soothing tone. He was being entirely reasonable, he thought. He knew Madison had a good heart. How could she not feel for the kid? “You can’t imagine what his life has been like to this point.”
“Where is he now?” She didn’t seem to be swayed.
He checked his watch. “If he’s lucky, he’s meeting his foster parents.”
“If he didn’t have drugs, why was he running?”
“When you dump roughly thirty thousand dollars’ worth of drugs, the cartel doesn’t take that lightly. According to Rafael, they wanted to make an example of him. He said he was running for his life.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged and the indignation seemed to melt away. “But why didn’t you take him to Child Services as soon as you got back to the city?”
Rick rubbed his temple, where a massive headache was brewing. They’d have to go through all this again, he thought, and see how Madison with the federal court judge father would feel about what he’d done. “Can we get some coffee first?” he asked, stalling.
With mugs of coffee in their hands, he told her about the stakeout that night, the drug busts made by other members of his team and about the terrified, near hysterical boy who’d stumbled upon him and Nitro. The kid, having been raised in a family that earned its livelihood by smuggling drugs, didn’t trust police any more than he did the cartel. Rafael had genuinely feared for his life. Rick went on to describe Rafael’s reaction when he’d suggested taking him to the division for protection.
“So I brought him home with me.” Rick remembered the discussion—no, argument—he’d had with Patrick Long about the law and leniency, and he had a good idea what Patrick’s opinion would be. His concern was whether the man’s daughter would feel the same way.
Madison’s expression was inscrutable. She didn’t appear to be angry any longer, but she wasn’t cheering his good deed, either. She must’ve been mulling over what he’d told her, if the creases on her forehead were any indication.
“Was his life truly in danger?” she finally asked.
“Based on the information he gave me, I believe it was.” He watched her carefully. How she judged him would predict whether they could have a future together.
“What you did was illegal, wasn’t it?” Her eyes were clouded, troubled. “Aiding and abetting?”
Rick inclined his head. “Yes.”
“And the fact that you harbored him for only a day doesn’t negate the seriousness of that, either. The law doesn’t differentiate based on duration.”
“Correct.” He felt a constriction in his chest. She was her father’s daughter, it seemed, and Rick’s judge and jury.
Madison nodded.
The constriction intensified. He could feel every beat of his heart in his throat. He didn’t want this to be the end for them. He loved her.
“This is something you’ll never stop doing, is it?”
Rick
shook his head.
“I saw Rafael. I can’t deny feeling sympathy for the boy, and I can’t say I’m not touched by your kindness.”
“There’s a double negative in there,” he observed, wanting to lighten the mood.
“Hmm. The thing is, people can’t pick and choose, even for a good reason, when to obey the law and when not to. I know your actions were well intentioned and probably in the best interests of the boy, but you are an officer of the law. Shouldn’t you be held to the highest standard?”
He exhaled deeply, but remained silent.
“As much as you’re a product of your upbringing,” she continued, “so am I. I have a deeply ingrained respect for the law.” She managed a short laugh. “It’s not that I’m putting my father ahead of you, but can you imagine his reaction if he knew what you did?”
She paused. He could see the twitch of the pulse at her temple, and he could tell she was struggling with what he’d done.
“When does lenience become vigilantism?” she challenged.
“Come on...” Rick objected.
She raised a hand. “Isn’t it just a matter of degree?”
Rick had no words in his own defense.
“Where do you draw the line, then? If we leave the law open to interpretation—if we selectively decide when it should apply—that would invalidate everything my father stands for. Everything I’ve always believed. How can I say that’s okay?” Her eyes shone with fervor. “I accept that there are times we might not fully agree with the law, but we have to trust the system to work as it should. Rafael should’ve been turned over to the proper authorities from the start.”
“Laws aren’t always just or fair. You know that. In those cases, they eventually get changed. As for Rafael, what if he’d died as a consequence? Or simply ran away because he was so scared the cartel would get to him?”