“Oh, my God,” she whispered. She loved him. She’d been building up to it, but there it was. Totally. Unquestionably. She loved Rick with all her heart. Would it make a difference if she told him? She couldn’t do it now. He’d think she was trying to trap him into staying with her.
“I’d better go,” he said, but at least now she saw regret in his eyes. Still, she was too proud—and too hurt—to ask him to stay.
“I’m sorry about the trouble you went to with dinner. You don’t need to see me out,” he said, and with a final long look at her, he walked out of her house.
* * *
RICK SAT AT a back table at Buster’s Beach House Bar. He just wanted a coffee, a light dinner and to get home to bed. He hadn’t done much other than work, eat and sleep in the days since he’d broken up with Madison.
He knew he’d hurt Madison badly, but he’d had to do it. He loved her too much to risk seeing her get hurt by the cartel because of him. Ironically, to keep her from harm, he’d hurt her himself. But the pain he’d caused was the lesser of the two. And he’d had to lie to her. If he’d told her it was to keep her safe from the cartel, he knew she wouldn’t have let him break up with her. So he’d had to do it in a way she couldn’t question or refuse. She’d get over him in time, he was sure of it, but would he get over her?
Rick glanced around the room. He hadn’t seen Cal Palmer when he’d entered the bar, but obviously Cal had been there and must have seen him, because he was walking in his direction.
“Mind if I sit?” Cal asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out a chair and dropped into it.
“That’s a rhetorical question, since you’ve already made yourself comfortable.” Rick knew Cal wouldn’t take offense. They’d known each other too long, both professionally and personally.
“Not to worry. I don’t plan to interfere with your brooding. I won’t stay for more than a few minutes. I’m here with Jess.”
Rick looked in the direction Cal indicated, saw Cal’s wife and lifted a hand in greeting. “If I were you, I’d certainly pick her over me.”
“No contest,” Cal said cheerfully. He waved off the waitress when she headed their way. “It was actually Jess who suggested I come and see you.”
The surprise must have shown on his face because Cal continued to grin at him.
“She saw you come in—and this is not a professional medical opinion—but she thought you looked, um, haggard.”
“Maybe because that’s how I feel.”
“Does it have anything to do with you and Madison breaking up?”
This time his gaze flew to Cal’s. “Not that it’s any of your business, but what gave you that idea?”
“Jess had lunch with Madison.”
“And Madison told her?” Rick didn’t know why that annoyed him so much; after all, they were friends, so it seemed natural enough.
“You could’ve told me, too.” The reprimand was mild but it was unmistakable. “And no, she didn’t tell Jess, at least not of her own volition. Jess asked how your relationship was going, and she basically broke down.”
Rick stared into his coffee cup. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Madison. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He still thought this was the only way, until they’d dealt with Los Zetas.
Cal remained silent for a long moment. “According to Jess, Madison didn’t seem terribly happy about it. So being the brilliant investigator I am, I surmised that you did the breaking up. Looking at you now, I’m not so sure.”
“It was me,” Rick admitted.
Cal cast a glance over his shoulder, signaling to Jessica that he’d be a while longer. She smiled and nodded. “What prompted that? It doesn’t seem to be making you happy.”
“It’s my problem. Don’t keep Jessica waiting.”
“She’s on her cell phone, writing an email to someone at work. Looks as if she’s still at it, so I’ve got plenty of time.” Now he did motion to the waitress to bring him a coffee. “You know you can level with me, and it won’t get back to Madison. Or even Jess.”
Rick could trust Cal, and maybe he needed to let it out. “We know that I’m being targeted by Los Zetas.”
Cal nodded.
“You’re obviously aware of the recent incidents with Madison. In addition to the break-in, there was another incident last week. I spoke to Logan, and although it still doesn’t entirely make sense, he and I kicked it around some more. We keep circling back to one thing—that the cartel wants to get to me through Madison.”
Cal seemed to think that over. “But why ransack her place?” he asked.
“The ransacking... Maybe it was to make sure we knew they’d been there.”
“So you figured she was in danger because of you and decided to end it?” Cal concluded.
“That about sums it up.”
“And you didn’t level with her? Give her a choice, did you?”
“No.”
“Idiot.” Cal’s expression was grim.
Rick raised his eyebrows in response.
“Do you really think she’d want you to try to protect her like this? Make an arbitrary decision about your future together without consulting her, well intentioned—although, in my opinion, misguided—as your actions might be?”
“No.”
Cal’s voice dropped. “The division can protect her. You know that. Just like your family.”
Rick exhaled. “It’s bad enough with my family, but I can’t distance myself from them. As far as protecting them goes, all I can do is plan for the worst and hope for the best.”
“And Madison?”
“That’s different. If she has no involvement with me, she’s safe.”
“What if she was your wife?”
“Well, she’s not.”
“But if she was, you’d protect her, same as you’re doing with your family. You wouldn’t push her aside, hoping to keep her safe.”
“No,” he conceded.
“You care about her. She cares about you. Don’t do this. At least be honest with her. Give her the freedom of choice.”
Rick was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “I can’t. I’ve seen the effects of drugs and the drug trade firsthand. The violence.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The senseless loss of life, what it does to families...”
“If you’re talking about what happened to your birth parents...”
Rick raised a hand. “I can guess what you’re going to say. Their murder was different. Yeah, they were involved with the drug trade. Madison isn’t. All the more reason for me not to take violence and possibly worse to her doorstep.”
Cal shook his head slowly. “I’ll never be able to understand what it was like for you when you were a kid. For that reason alone, I can’t argue this point with you.” He finished his coffee and rose, but rather than walking away he placed his palms on the table and leaned forward. “All the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you with another woman the way you were with Madison. I can’t imagine my life without Jess, and to think I almost screwed that up...” His lips compressed into a straight line. “Do me a favor? If you believe Madison could be right for you, think about it at least.” Cal gave Rick’s shoulder a pat and headed back to his wife.
Rick’s appetite was gone. The cold sandwich sitting on the plate in front of him had lost its appeal.
Yes, he loved Madison. She was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But that didn’t change a
nything in the here and now. Especially because of the way he felt about her, he couldn’t allow her to be touched by the darkness he was dealing with. Maybe after they dismantled the cartel, he’d go to her, explain everything and ask for her understanding and forgiveness.
He stood up, dug into his pocket for some bills and left a generous amount on the table.
Who was he kidding? Cal was right. She wouldn’t approve of what he was doing to keep her from harm. And after the fact? She wouldn’t forgive him.
He’d have to live with that.
If he told her the truth now? She’d almost said she loved him. He was sure of it. If he told her what was going on, she’d insist on staying with him. She wouldn’t let him distance himself from her, and they’d be back at square one.
Despite what Cal had said, his situation was different from Rick’s. Cal dealt with search and rescue, not narcotics.
Madison’s safety and well-being came first, and he wouldn’t do anything that might compromise that and put her in jeopardy. Not now and not in the future.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“YOU’VE BEEN EVEN more generous with your time lately, Madison, and we appreciate it,” Allison Hartford, the head of pediatrics at Ocean Crest Hospital, said to Madison. They were walking down a corridor toward a common play area for the kids. Madison thought of all the spare time she had on her hands since she and Rick had stopped seeing each other a few weeks ago. She was glad she could at least do something productive that gave her pleasure, despite the constant pain of her broken heart.
“I might have a special challenge for you today,” Allison continued. “I believe you and your malamute will be a perfect fit for the two boys I have in mind. They’re siblings, victims of drug abuse and associated violence. What these kids experienced is horrific. They have physical issues, not surprisingly, but their emotional wounds are far deeper and more debilitating. Even though they try to act tough, my assessment is that they’re two terrified, lonely kids, hurting a lot but not wanting to show it.”
It didn’t take Madison long to agree with Allison’s assessment of Miguel and Diego. They were two skinny, angry brothers with dark complexions, long stringy hair and coal-colored eyes that had seen too much. At nine and eleven years of age, they should’ve been playing and laughing rather than snarling and talking back. But Allison had also been right about Owen’s effect. The large dog caught their interest, and she glimpsed the children they still were despite the tough outer shell. With Owen, Madison was able to reach the boys. The stories they told her broke her already fragile heart. But in that heart, tender shoots of love started to sprout for the two boys who’d endured so much hardship in such short lives.
Madison and Owen began to see the boys weekly, and she learned more about them. She was infuriated by the abuse they’d been subjected to. But every session she spent with Miguel and Diego provided her with greater insight into the man she loved, the man who’d left her. It enabled her to see Rick’s actions from a different perspective. From Rick’s viewpoint as a child who’d lived it.
Miguel and Diego’s parents were both involved in the drug trade in Tijuana. Through the boys’ stories, Madison started to piece together more clearly the horrors Rick must have experienced when he was a child. He’d lasted longer with his parents than these kids had. She wasn’t certain, but she suspected that would have made it harder for him. He’d likely been exposed to more atrocities and greater abuses. Her heart continued to embrace the two young boys, and the importance of what Rick had chosen to do—and why—began to make even more sense to her.
These boys were alive today because they’d been able to escape their circumstances. Their parents—the very people who should have been protecting them—had been exploiting them. If they’d been turned back at the border or handed over to the Mexican authorities, where would these boys be now?
Maybe she’d decided earlier to tolerate what Rick did because she didn’t want to lose him, but now she’d come to appreciate the difference between tolerance and acceptance. Now she finally and truly understood and accepted—but it was too little, too late.
Watching Miguel and Diego cuddled up with Owen, both boys resting their heads on the large dog’s side, Madison smiled. Diego, the younger boy, was snuggled up against his brother, and Miguel was doing his best to read one of the English children’s books she’d brought them.
She wished Rick could have seen these boys with her dog. But that wasn’t to be. Although she’d come to better understand and appreciate him and his actions through Miguel and Diego, she knew there was no possibility of reconciling with Rick. Rick just didn’t want her.
Thinking of her father at least brought a small smile to her face. He’d promised to visit her for the Thanksgiving holidays. She missed him and was glad she’d be seeing him later that week. Talking every couple of days and the frequent emails they exchanged just weren’t the same. She hoped that seeing him would dull the pain of missing Rick, if just temporarily.
When Madison left the hospital, she had a message waiting on her cell phone. It was from Jessica. She called her friend back on her way home.
“Cal and I would like you to join us and the girls for Thanksgiving dinner, if you don’t have any plans,” Jessica said.
“Oh, Jess, that’s sweet of you, but my father’s coming to visit. He’s aware that Rick and I aren’t seeing each other anymore, and he doesn’t want me to be alone. I’m making him dinner.”
“You’re going to cook?” Jessica joked. “We’ve been friends long enough that I know it’s one of your least favorite things to do. Although when you do it, you do it well!” she amended. “Why don’t you bring your father? Haley will be with us this Thanksgiving, and the girls would love to see you again.”
Madison thought how much fun it would be to join them. She knew her father would get along with Jessica and Cal. However... “Jess, I have to be honest. I appreciate the invitation. I really do. But I don’t feel that Cal’s comfortable with me. Not since Rick and I stopped seeing each other.”
“Don’t be silly! You can’t let that bother you. We’re friends, and he respects that. He wouldn’t want to put any strain on our friendship. He’s sorry it didn’t work out between the two of you. So am I. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and spend time together. He knows I’m inviting you to join us, and he’d like to see you, too. Why don’t you think about it?”
“Okay” was Madison’s hesitant answer.
After considerable debate with herself, Madison ended up accepting Jessica’s offer.
She put any worries about loyalties and resentment out of her mind. She was looking forward to seeing her father too much to dwell on negatives.
* * *
THE DAY HAD finally come for the multijurisdictional, multiagency takedown of the Los Zetas Cartel. All the members of the task force wanted to have something else to be grateful for this Thanksgiving.
It had not been without risks and had required complex coordination between a number of SDPD units and other law enforcement authorities, including some cross-border cooperation between the United States and Mexico. Rick had been at the center of it all. Leading up to it, they had restricted communications even more than they had previously. All information sharing was on a strict need-to-know basis.
And their plan had gone off without a hitch. They’d raided Los Zetas in all their strongholds simultaneously in the middle of the night. They had the high-ranking bosses of the
cartel on both sides of the border behind bars. Rick wasn’t kidding himself. It didn’t mean that the cartel wouldn’t regroup and rebuild, but it would take considerable time and effort. They had all the men who’d held the most power and had significantly impaired the source of their funding, as well.
Rick walked into his house. He couldn’t remember being so exhausted but self-satisfied at the same time. He was happy to get home and to be greeted by his dogs, even if his place was a shambles because of how long he’d had to leave them alone. He let them out in the backyard first, and prepared their meals. While they ate, he started to put his living room in order. He went back into the kitchen to get a Corona out of the refrigerator.
He knew the cartel would regroup. Eventually. But for now, the immediate threat had been thwarted. They’d also determined who had put the price on Rick’s head. The boss who’d ordered him dead was one of the ones behind bars and would be staying there for a long, long time. With him out of the picture, without the ability to pay and with the cartel in disarray, no one would be championing the cause, and he was safe. The threat to him, personally, had been neutralized, at least for the immediate future.
And no one else had been hurt. Not members of his unit, not his family. Not the woman he loved—not Madison.
He’d driven her away. He’d hurt her. Was there any going back, as much as he wanted it?
He took a long drink of his beer, rested his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. The knock on his door caused his eyes to fly open. A bit disoriented, he realized he must have dozed off. Another more forceful knock reminded him what had awakened him. “Just a minute,” he called out before the person decided to kick his door in.
Swinging the door open, he was surprised to see Cal Palmer. “What are you doing here?”
“The charmer, as always,” Cal commented without rancor. “Isn’t the proper response when you find a friend at your front door something along the lines of ‘Would you like to come in?’ or ‘Can I offer you a beer?’”