JESS LISTENED to the clang of the old water pipes and tried hard not to envision Mike Madrid naked beneath the spray. As far as she was concerned, she’d seen far too much of him the night before when she’d treated his gunshot wound. She told herself she had no desire to see more. But Jess had always been truthful with herself; she wanted to see more of him. A lot more. She just didn’t like the edgy need that engulfed her every time she laid eyes on him. She’d screwed up enough relationships in her lifetime to know anything more than the tentative friendship they’d forged would never work.
She busied herself studying the photos as he showered. She wanted to call Father Matthew to check on Nicolas, but wouldn’t do that without clearing it with Madrid first.
“Jess.”
At the sound of Madrid’s voice she spun around to see him standing in the kitchen doorway. His hair was damp and curling at the ends. Even though he’d had to put on the same shirt and jacket he looked…sexy.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about Nicolas. I want to call him. Is it safe?”
“As long as we keep it short.” Unclipping the cell phone from his belt, he punched numbers, then put the phone to his ear. “It’s me. Everything okay?” His eyes met Jess’s. “Good. I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”
He passed the phone to her. He smelled of soap and man, and a string of tension wound through her at his closeness.
“Father Matthew?”
“Hello, Jessica. How are you?”
“I’m okay. How’s Nicolas?”
“He’s doing fine. One of the sisters has been spending quite a bit of time with him.” He chuckled. “The boy has a healthy appetite.”
She smiled. A boy’s appetite was such a normal, wonderful thing. She wished she could speak to Nicolas, but didn’t think he would talk on the phone.
“I can’t quite make out the words, but I think he’s trying to say something.”
In the background she could hear Nicolas. “Mah-mah.”
Remembering, Jess closed her eyes. “We think he’s asking for his mother. For Angela.”
The priest made a sound of sympathy. “Poor child.”
“Father Matthew, we think he saw what happened to her.”
“What a terrible thing for a child to see. I’ll do everything I can to give him comfort.”
“Thank you for keeping him for us.”
“My pleasure. Be safe.”
Jess felt better after talking to Father Matthew. At least Nicolas was safe and in good hands. Now, if she and Madrid could find the people responsible for murdering his mother, all of them could get on with their lives. Maybe even find some closure.
Madrid sat at the table, going through the scant evidence they’d managed to smuggle out of the police headquarters the night before. He looked up when she handed him the phone.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Your brother is a lifesaver.”
“He’s saved my ass on a couple of occasions.”
The thought made her smile. The contrast between the two men was stark. Though their physical characteristics were similar, their personalities and lifestyles couldn’t have been more at odds. “You’re lucky to have him.”
He grinned. “He doesn’t think so sometimes.”
She glanced down at the photos spread out on the table. “Did you find anything else?”
“Just the name of the ship. But I think we’re onto something big, Jess. Something dangerous someone doesn’t want exposed.”
“Who?”
“Lighthouse Point PD. We know they’re involved, but we don’t know who.” He grimaced. “They’re not the main players.”
“How do we find out who the main players are?”
He looked at her and frowned. “First of all, there is no ‘we.’”
She frowned back. “I’m involved in this whether you like it or not.”
“What I’d like,” he said, “is for you to go back to the church and stay with Father Matthew.”
It would have been easy to say yes. She was frightened. In the past two days she’d dodged more bullets than most people did in a lifetime. She was worried about Nicolas. Not only was he alone after having so recently lost his mother, but she worried about his safety, too. Nicolas, after all, might have witnessed the murder.
Then Jess remembered Angela’s last request—to keep her son safe—and she knew there was no way she could walk away. She couldn’t bury her head in the sand and hope everything turned out okay. She’d done that too many times in her life and only made things worse.
“I want to finish this,” she said.
He scowled at her. “Things could have turned out a lot worse than they did last night.”
“I’m well aware of the dangers.”
“You have no idea what we’ve walked into or what these people are capable of.”