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“If I were describing you for the paper, I’d say prickly as a cactus,” he observed. “Except that it’s a cliché.”
“Cactuses survive pretty well in the desert.”
He renewed his request. “Why not let me ride shotgun…figuratively speaking?”
“The answer’s no.” She couldn’t tell him that she found him a little too handsome. Or that she wasn’t quite as independent as she’d believed. “Much as I hate to break off this little flirtation, I’ve got a couple of lives to save. Enjoy your trip home.” She clicked open her car door.
“I didn’t realize we were flirting.” He appeared amused at the suggestion.
“That was sarcasm.”
“Ah. My favorite means of communication.”
Darn it, she liked him. And wondered again at her vulnerability. Had she really sunk to seeking support from a confessed ex-con? Talk about red flags!
Sonya slid inside. “Goodbye, Mr. Lowell.” She started the engine, and felt his eyes follow until she cleared the lot.
Only as she accelerated did she consider that she had neither a plan nor any idea where to search. Gina and Duke had moved out of their last known apartment several weeks ago. He had no relatives in the area, and she was estranged from hers.
The girl’s mother and stepfather refused to have anything to do with the boy since he’d made a pass at one of her younger sisters. Gina had nearly left him over the incident but had relented, apparently so desperate for an emotional connection that she was willing to believe her sister had lied.
In Sonya’s opinion, the girl was trying to fill the void left by her long-absent father. The well-meaning stepfather had entered her life too late.
If only Gina had grown up in a loving family like the Vegas. Sonya missed her parents a lot.
They’d sold their restaurant in Fullerton several years ago and were spending their retirement traveling in a motor home. Her sister, Franca, and brother Ben, who were close in age and considerably older than Sonya, had bought homes near each other in Arizona. Her brother Don served in the air force, and her once-close group of cousins had scattered around the country.
As she scanned the sidewalks on the slight chance of spotting Gina, Sonya acknowledged that eagerness for a home was part of what had made her susceptible to a romance with an older doctor. She’d ignored the subtle warning signs about Reuben Nestor, a forty-four-year-old internist with hospital privileges at North County Med Center.
He’d been handsome and attentive, with an air of solidity. Like Sonya, he’d longed to have kids. She’d accepted his explanation that he’d divorced his first wife not because she suffered from multiple sclerosis but because they’d argued constantly.
Two years ago, on a clear evening like this, Sonya and Reuben had been heading to dinner when a drunk driver had barreled through a red light and smashed into Reuben’s car, pinning Sonya. Although the seat belt and airbag had saved her life, severe pelvic injuries had required emergency surgery.
She’d awakened to learn that she’d undergone a hysterectomy due to the severe bleeding and tearing caused by her crushed pelvis. Barely into her thirties, she’d lost the ability to have children.
Reuben had assured her it made no difference, and they’d talked about adopting, or hiring a surrogate. But as Sonya endured a painful recuperation and rehabilitation, the two of them had drifted apart.
For a while, she’d blamed herself. Perhaps she was too absorbed in the physical problems and grief over the loss, she’d supposed.
Three months post-accident, without warning, Reuben had announced his engagement to a twenty-something nurse. The betrayal had forced Sonya to face the agonizing truth that he hadn’t truly loved her. Faced with a setback, he’d sidled right out the door and found someone problem-free to marry. He’d abandoned her when she’d needed him, just as he’d dumped his first wife.
Since then, she’d dated a couple of guys. Once the relationships began to grow serious, however, both had decamped after she revealed her inability to have children.
Alone. That wasn’t how she’d pictured her future, especially coming from a large, loving family. Sometimes she ached for a man to hold and laugh with, but most likely she’d eventually adopt a child.
She rarely thought about Reuben these days. Meeting Barry Lowell and experiencing that old tug of longing must be what had stirred the memories.
A rumble of hunger reminded Sonya that she’d missed dinner. Might as well head for Tacos & Burgers, a teen hangout where she could grab a bite while keeping alert for Gina.
She’d rather stop at El Hidalgo, the restaurant her parents had operated for many years and where she used to work after school. Better cuisine, more soothing atmosphere. But tonight she was on a mission.
Rounding a corner, she glanced in the rearview mirror. A silver sedan swerved in her wake.
No mistaking the driver, who didn’t even bother to keep a distance. Had she not been so distracted by her thoughts, she’d have noticed him sooner.
Grimly, Sonya hit her signal and pulled into the restaurant lot. If Barry Lowell imagined he could force her to accept his misplaced charity, she had news for him, and it wasn’t the kind he’d want to put in his paper.
Chapter Two
Barry had done some foolish things in his life and had paid the price. He was well aware that chasing a woman who’d told him to butt out could bring unpleasant consequences. But much as he respected Sonya’s courage, she came to all of a towering five feet four or five, and he hadn’t noticed her toting an Uzi.
His interest had started with the spark he’d felt the first time their gazes had met, and the confrontation in the park had aroused his admiration. He’d witnessed firsthand the risk she ran by continuing to pursue the girl.
He’d grown up shielding his sister from her occasionally zany impulses. Now, like an idiot, he was watching over a stranger. Crazy. Stupid. But the woman intrigued him. Simultaneously vulnerable and mad at the world, she reminded him of himself.
Barry didn’t intend to stick around any longer than necessary. He had no interest in romantic entanglements until he cleared his name and righted an egregious injustice.
He’d been railroaded. And the fallout dogged him to this day.
At the age of eighteen, he’d been sent to prison for five years. The cut on his forehead, from attempting to break up a knife fight, was only an external sign of the scars he bore. Following his release, he’d traced a fruitless odyssey in an attempt to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming an international reporter. Although he’d earned a journalism degree, his status as an ex-con had relegated his résumé to the bottom of every heap in a highly competitive field, and while he’d managed to sell some articles, they paid too little to live on. He’d spent years traveling and freelancing while working odd jobs, hoping for a break that never arrived.
He supposed he’d been lucky to inherit the editorship of the Downhome, Tennessee Gazette after his father’s death and mother’s disability. Nevertheless, he chafed at the tedium of covering city council meetings and town squabbles.
Although the residents generally accepted him, he still caught suspicious glances, and even the town’s new, fair-minded police chief had declined to reopen the case. The only people who believed in him were his mother and his sister, Karen, director of the local nursing home.
Barry would never truly fit into his hometown. He was moody and sharp-edged in a community full of cozy characters, the scar on his forehead a visible reminder of those years in hell. And no matter how his sister urged reconciliation, he refused to forgive the man whose testimony had sent him there, the man who’d once been his best friend.
Sonya gave the impression that, at some level, she’d undergone a devastating experience of her own. Not prison, surely. But for the first time in quite a while, he felt neither impatient nor caustic with a woman.
Curious, rather. And a little protective.
He stuck to her tail all the way to the fast-food hangout. From her irritated expression as she exited the car, she didn’t appreciate the interference.
An unaccustomed impishness propelled Barry to shout, “Hey! Thanks for showing me where to eat.”
Glaring toward his window, she snapped, “There are laws against stalking.”
He feigned innocence. “A guy’s gotta have dinner.”
“Use the drive-through lane. Stay away from me.” Her frown didn’t waver. “You set one foot inside that restaurant and I’m calling the cops. At a guess, that’s the kind of trouble you don’t need, right, Mr. Ex-Con?”
The rebuke stung. “Have it your way.”
Barry drove past, disappointed and angry that his well-intended gesture had met with such revulsion. Yet why was he so wound up about a woman he’d barely met?
He joined the drive-through line. In addition to burgers, the menu board listed several odd entries that some California maniac must have invented, like fish tacos with guacamole. For the heck of it, he ordered one.
While waiting, he reviewed the stories planned for next week’s Gazette. Via e-mail, he’d already filed an article about the Anaheim newspaper conference to his assistant, Brent Wichita. Today’s interview with a family who’d moved from Downhome to Fullerton remained on his tape recorder and camera. He planned to write it tonight at the hotel room.
The car ahead departed and Barry rolled to the cashier’s window. The opening gave a clear view of the restaurant’s interior, with orange booths crowded at this dinner hour.
“That’ll be three seventy-one,” said the cashier.
Barry handed over a five. Inside, he spotted Sonya at the counter. The sculpted eyebrows gave character to her heart-shaped face, and her full mouth pursed with worry.
Why did she care so much about Gina? They didn’t appear to be related, as he’d first assumed. Of course, a baby’s life might be at stake, and despite the girl’s bravado, she was young and confused.
He of all people ought to empathize. But Sonya had made it plain this was not Barry’s concern.
Good. He had enough problems without adding to them.
The cashier was handing him the order when, through the window, he saw three men in gang clothing enter the restaurant. One of them was Frankie.
Beside Sonya, Frankie leaned down and said something Barry couldn’t hear. Her face a frozen mask, Sonya shook her head.
The men left. Relieved, Barry collected his food and moved forward.
In the front lot, two of the men piled into a jalopy while Frankie strolled off. The vehicle backed into a slot right beside Sonya’s compact, easily identifiable by the hospital parking sticker.
Their actions gave Barry a bad feeling. Frankie had made tracks, probably because he already faced arrest for the earlier attempted robbery, leaving his buddies to wait.
What did they plan to do? Presumably, they’d already asked about Duke’s whereabouts. More alarmingly, they might assume Sonya had identified Frankie to the police. As he’d learned in prison, guys like this tended to exact revenge for the slightest offense.
He considered calling 911. The men hadn’t committed a crime yet, though, nor had Barry forgotten Sonya’s threat to report him for stalking.
He parked at one side and tried the fish taco, which wasn’t bad. He finished it in a few bites, although his ribs ached with every swallow.
Cars came and went. Busy joint for a Monday night. Barry kept hoping a cruiser might arrive unbidden and scare the guys off, but no such luck.
Sonya emerged at last. The two gangbangers eased out of the car.
As Barry weighed his response, an SUV blocked his view. Rap music pounded from the speakers, obliterating other sounds.
At last the SUV departed. In the spotty illumination, he saw Sonya struggling as the two men hauled her toward their vehicle. Despite the earlier activity, there was no one else around. Not a single witness except him.
Barry put the sedan into gear. Hitting both the gas and the horn, he screeched to within inches of the men’s bumper.
Startled, they released Sonya. As they reached inside their jackets, probably for weapons, he flicked up the car’s locks.
She grabbed for the door. Saw him, and hesitated.
“Get in!” he bellowed.
She had the sense to obey. Kept her head low, too. Smart lady.
Barry stomped the accelerator. “Hang on.”
They peeled out. Behind them, one thug stood waving a gun indecisively as the other dived into the jalopy.
“Phone the cops.” Barry zoomed onto a side street.
“Not until we find Gina.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Those guys tried to kidnap you.”
“We can’t afford to delay.” She peered into the side mirror. “No sign of them.”
Although he suspected the men had been too disorganized to catch up, he took nothing for granted. “They could be planning to cut us off. You know the town. Tell me where to go.”
She guided him through a series of turns. Finally, it became clear they really weren’t being pursued.
Barry’s pulse still pounded with a mixture of excitement and fear. Beside him, he felt Sonya trembling.
“Cold? Rentals don’t come equipped with blankets, I’m afraid.” But most likely her shivers had another source. “That must have been a traumatic experience, two men grabbing you.”
“I’m fine.” She hugged herself. “Don’t worry. If I’m about to go into shock, I’ll recognize the symptoms.”
“Name three.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Confusion, clammy skin and dizziness. Also profuse sweating, a thready pulse, shallow breathing and chest pain.”
“Sure you didn’t omit anything?”
“Unconsciousness.”
He ought to let well enough alone, but that wasn’t Barry’s nature. “Still planning to report me as a stalker?”
In the lowering darkness, streetlights glittered off her large eyes. “Not if you behave.”
“How’m I doing so far?” When she hesitated, he added, “A little appreciation wouldn’t go amiss.”
She searched for a moment before coming up with, “Thank you. I was really in trouble.”
“You’re welcome.” They cruised a boulevard between rows of shops. His sister would have gone on a spree had she been with him, he mused, with so many art galleries and fine restaurants as well as boutiques offering clothing, antiques and furniture.
Sonya stared out. “I don’t dare go back for my car. I could use your help.” The request obviously didn’t come easily.
“And here I planned to spend a fascinating evening in a hotel room working on my laptop,” he joked.
“Sounds like a hot time.”
Barry enjoyed being around this sharp-edged woman. He had a fleeting image of her in bed, a high-voltage bundle of sexual impulses. Tantalizing. And dangerous to reflect on. “I’m at your disposal.”
“I apologize for threatening you earlier, Mr. Lowell.” She released a long breath. “Under normal circumstances, I don’t act that way.”
He stopped at a red light. “Nobody addresses me as Mr. Lowell except my lawyer, and I prefer to hear from him as little as possible.”
If he’d expected a smile, Sonya failed to comply. “Gina’s in labor. She’ll deliver tonight or tomorrow, and it’s not going to be pretty. Sorry, but I’ve temporarily lost my sense of humor.”
“I understand your concern, but you could have been killed,” he reminded her. “Other doctors don’t risk kidnappings and gunfights to pursue their patients. Why’s the girl so important?”
“A friend of mine died from a messed-up pregnancy when I was in high school.” With the back of her hand, she brushed aside a tear. “Those guys and their stupid argument over a debt! Can you believe them? As if it mattered!”
“It matters to them,” Barry noted. “I’ve seen men kill for less.”
In prison, he’d had to adapt to an entirely new culture, and fast. Fortunately, his fellow inmates had valued his help in writing pleas for money, visits and retrials. Although his balancing act hadn’t always worked—witness the scar—he’d mostly managed to stay on the right side of the various factions.
Her hands clenched. “Just help me find Gina, okay?”
“Sure thing.” He entertained no illusions about where he stood. If he got in the way of Dr. Vega’s rescue attempt, she’d sacrifice him without a qualm. Okay, maybe with a slight qualm.
The journey might be worth his while, though. He’d like to find out what knife had twisted inside Sonya’s gut to make her so guarded. And he wouldn’t object to saving a life or two, either.
Thank goodness word of his soft side wasn’t likely to travel back home. He’d hate to ruin his reputation as a curmudgeon.
When the light changed and Barry started forward, Sonya grabbed the edge of her seat. Startled, he looked for whatever had frightened her, but saw only a placid flow of traffic. “Does my driving bother you?”
She released her grip. “I was in a bad accident a couple of years ago. We got hit without warning.”
That might explain the darkness he sensed. “We? Was someone killed?”
“No. The other motorist had a few bruises, and I went to the hospital for several weeks. The man I…the driver in my car emerged just peachy.”
He noted the hesitation in reference to her male companion. A key to the past, indeed. “You recovered.”
“It took a while.”
He had a good grasp of the arduous process involved in physical therapy. “Something similar happened to my mother. A tractor smashed into her car and left her a paraplegic.” She’d been on the way home from conducting an interview at dusk. In the aftermath, Barry had moved home to take over the family paper.
“Was anyone else hurt?” Sonya asked.
“No. The farmer got off without a scratch, and Mom was alone in the car.” Although her injuries restricted her ability to write, Barry treasured the insightful articles she still occasionally contributed to the Gazette. “I’m glad you survived in one piece.”
Sonya tapped the dashboard. “We have to figure out where they’ve gone.”
He refocused on their target: a pregnant girl about to give birth. “If she’s in labor, why not a hospital?”
“Her idiot boyfriend has convinced Gina that childbirth is a natural process, which I guess means she’s supposed to drop the baby in the field. In truth, I think he wants to keep her under his thumb.”
She continued explaining as Barry navigated the busy downtown. Apparently, Duke was a drug user and occasional dealer who’d run afoul of several suppliers, including Frankie. He moved frequently and never left a forwarding address.
The doctor got busy instant-messaging Gina’s friends. She was too thin, Barry thought, stealing a sideways glance. Worried too much, didn’t eat properly and worked long hours, he guessed.
While scanning the sidewalk on the off chance that Gina was simply wandering through the area, he mulled her options. What about a midwife? A few years ago, his community had lost both its doctors, a married couple, when they’d retired. Until a new physician had arrived, a registered nurse midwife named Estelle Fellows had handled routine cases and referred complicated pregnancies to specialists in a nearby town.
Sonya checked her cell phone and registered dismay. “Nobody’s heard a word.”
Barry slowed as he spotted two young women walking together. One was pregnant but, on closer inspection, bore little resemblance to Gina. “Maybe she’s consulting a midwife.”
“Licensed midwives around here are usually affiliated with medical groups. When she passed her due date and skipped an appointment, I put out word she’s missing and possibly in danger. If she shows up at one of them or at a hospital, I’m hoping we’ll get a request for medical records and our staff will page me.”
“Very efficient.” Barry considered it reassuring that the institutions in highly populated Orange County at least cooperated. “Does she remain your patient?”
“That’s up to her. She has the right to choose her physician. All I care about is that she receives proper treatment.” Leaning against the seat cushion, she rested her eyes.
“On your feet all day?” Barry hazarded.
“Eight deliveries.”
He whistled and waited for further comment. No elaboration. She was a woman of few words, unlike his sister, who could argue him to a standstill.
What about an alternative healer, someone isolated from medical authorities? “There might be an unlicensed midwife,” he suggested.
Sonya sat up straighter. “I should have thought of that! There’s a woman named Lourdes Garcia who delivers babies with no red tape. I met her once when she brought a woman to the hospital in an emergency.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Mrs. Garcia is smart enough to recognize when she’s in over her head.”
The implicit contradiction aroused Barry’s curiosity. “If she’s operating illegally, why hasn’t she been arrested?”
“A lot of undocumented immigrants in Southern California are scared of authorities. I’d certainly prefer that mothers employ Mrs. Garcia rather than give birth unaided.” Sonya took out a personal organizer, apparently seeking a phone number.
“Got an idea where she works?”
“Usually, she goes to patients’ residences, if they have one. But it’s possible Gina’s girlfriend knows where she lives. Hold on.” After dialing, she spoke tersely and listened for a minute, then hung up. “Okay, I’ve got the address. Turn right at the next corner.”
He followed directions as she guided him through Fullerton, her small body leaning as if to urge greater speed. Eagerness must have displaced her fear of an accident.
“I’ve met some dedicated physicians, but none as involved as you. Don’t you have a private life, Doc?” he queried as he drove.
“Why should you care?” she snapped.
“I’m insatiably curious. It’s one of my finer characteristics.”
“Oh? What are your less pleasant ones?” She indicated an upcoming turnoff. “Right at the real-estate office.”
They veered onto a side street. “I’m antisocial. Hate small talk. Crabby. Sometimes forget to shower on deadline.”
“Women must adore you in—where did you say you’re from?”
They reached a modest residential street lined with cottages and a few duplexes. Across the way, an elderly man walked a dog. On the corner, a couple of kids dodged and squealed as they zapped each other with Silly String.
“Tennessee,” Barry answered. “A town named—”
“There!” she broke in. “The blue house, third from the corner. That’s Duke’s van in front. Obviously, they’ve joined forces again.” As he eased toward the curb, she added, “Don’t stop here. They might get suspicious.”
He found a spot three houses down. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m going in alone.” She started out.
“Whoa.” Barry touched her shoulder. It felt delicate beneath his large hand, and her loose hair played across his wrist. “I’m coming, too.”
“No way. You look like a narc.”
“I’ll get rid of the jacket.” He released her. “Don’t you think I’ve earned a little trust?”
Her expression softened. “You want the truth? I’m scared to march in there by myself. But we can’t force Gina to leave, and I’m having a hard enough time winning her cooperation as it is. I have to handle this alone.”
Barry hated to think of her getting hurt. “This guy Duke seems possessive. He might turn violent.”
She bristled. “Hey, Mr. Reporter, do you have fantasies of playing the hero? Because like I told you, I prefer to handle this solo.”
Only a macho jerk would insist on running the show. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
Her appreciative smile vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ve done your good deed. I’ll have an ambulance transport us to the med center, or get a cab if she refuses. Go home. I don’t want to get used to anyone watching over me.”
She exited abruptly. Her pace along the sidewalk quickened to a near run.
That was odd phrasing. I don’t want to get used to anyone watching over me. As if she feared her own weakness. Preposterous. Barry had never met a person less weak-minded than Sonya.