Cry No More by Linda Howard
She would have to be a fool to consider anything other than a working relationship with him—and that was assuming he was capable of having a relationship. Sex, yes—relationship, no. That would require an emotional bond she didn’t think he wanted to make, or was even capable of making. Besides, did she really want to crawl into bed with a man she was half afraid of?
Maybe just once, her libido whispered, which told her how tempted she truly was, because she’d never before had a problem refusing personal gratification if it interfered with her relentless search for Justin. Diaz was the best shot she’d ever had at finding out what had happened to her son, and she didn’t dare do anything to upset the status quo.
Once she acknowledged the dangerous attraction she felt for him, she became even more nervous as she waited for him to turn up in that unexpected way he had. Part of her, the deeply feminine part that yearned for the touch of a strong male, wanted to see if the tug of desire was there in person, or if she had just imagined it in the safety of his absence. Logically, however, she knew she should never give him the slightest indication that she saw him as a sexual being, and the best way to do that was to stay away from him. Since that wasn’t possible, the big question was could she clamp down on her response and keep him from seeing the slightest glimmer of interest? In view of his acute awareness of his surroundings and the intense way he watched people, she would have to be doubly careful.
After he located Pavón for her, perhaps—
No. She couldn’t let herself even think that. She couldn’t hang the possibility out there like a constant temptation, a reward at the end of the trail. She had to put her physical responses in deep freeze and concentrate on only one thing: Justin. That had worked for ten years, and it would work again. The only relationships she had allowed herself to have were with men who didn’t elicit a strong enough attraction that she wasn’t always in complete control. She could and had put them in second place without a moment’s thought. With Diaz she was afraid she wouldn’t have that control, and now of all times, when she finally had a concrete lead to Justin, she couldn’t afford to give that control up.
Because she was so nervous, when Susanna happened to catch her on a night when she didn’t have anything to do and asked her out to dinner with them, she gladly seized the chance to get away from her own thoughts for a while. Normally she preferred to enjoy her rare free evenings at home, but she felt as if the other shoe was waiting to drop and the mental tension was driving her crazy.
Determined to enjoy the evening, she put on one of her favorite dresses, a pale, creamy yellow sleeveless silk, with a swingy skirt that flirted with her knees when she walked. Though rain had indeed broken the heat wave and eased temperatures back down to normal, normal in El Paso in August was still hot, and the dress was wonderfully cool. Back when she and David were dating, they had often gone dancing, and this dress reminded her of the dresses she had worn then. Now that she was older, she realized what an effort David had made in his courtship of her, because he’d been in his residency program then and perpetually short of sleep. She loved to dance, though, so he had used his precious off-time to take her dancing.
The memory had her smiling as she opened the door to Rip when he and Susanna came to collect her. She had offered to drive herself and meet them at the restaurant, but Rip was protective of her, had been since the day Justin was stolen and she herself had nearly died from her wounds. He nearly always insisted on picking her up and making certain she was safely home whenever she had dinner with them.
“Hi there,” he said, smiling at her. “Spiffy dress.”
“Thanks.” She returned his smile as she switched on a lamp in the small foyer for her return; then they stepped outside and she locked the door. “It’s nice to dress up sometimes and not have to make a speech.”
“You’ve been doing this a long time.” He opened the back passenger door for her, and she slid inside. As he got under the wheel he said, “Can’t someone else at Finders take on some of the PR duty?”
“I wish. I’m the face everyone associates with lost children, though, so I’m the one they ask for.”
“But you need a life of your own,” Susanna said, turning around in the front seat and regarding her with somber eyes.
“I have a life,” Milla said. “This is it. This is what I’ve chosen.”
“Or what was chosen for you. You don’t have to keep doing it, you know. You could step down from the day-to-day grind at Finders, only do fund-raisers. The stress you’re under . . .” Susanna shook her head. “I don’t know how you’ve gone on as long as you have. You should at least take regular breaks.”
“Not yet,” she said. Not until she found Justin.
Susanna sighed. “At least get regular checkups, and take vitamins. Prenatal vitamins would be a good choice for you, since you’re under so much stress.”
“Yes, Mother,” Milla parroted, making both Rip and Susanna smile. Vitamins were a good idea, though. She didn’t want to get sick now, when she had the feeling that some breakthrough could happen any day. She had to be ready, had to be in good physical condition.
Susanna gave up nagging, and they began talking about mutual friends, catching up on gossip. Rip made a few comments, but it didn’t take long for Milla to notice that he wasn’t his usual self. His voice and smile were warm whenever he spoke to her, but there was an almost palpable tension between him and Susanna. They had obviously had an argument, which made her uncomfortable. She would rather they had canceled than force her and themselves to sit through a stiff, awkward dinner, but she was caught now.
The restaurant they chose was casually elegant, the type where a tie wasn’t required but jeans were definitely unwelcome. It was, in fact, one of Milla’s favorite places to eat, because they had a wonderful grill. She chose the salmon, which was grilled on a cedar plank, and set about plowing through the evening with relentless small talk. She could enjoy their company even if they didn’t enjoy each other’s.
The meal dragged on, but at last they were almost finished and had just ordered coffee when Milla felt a presence beside her and glanced up into True Gallagher’s lean, weathered face. “True!” she and Susanna said simultaneously. She shot a suspicious look at her friend. Had Susanna set this up, when Milla had specifically told her she wasn’t going to go out with True?
“I just happened to see you,” he said, putting his hand on the back of her chair and touching the back of her shoulder. “Susanna, Rip, how’re y’all doing? Too bad I didn’t spot you earlier, or you could have joined me.”
“We’re fine,” Susanna said, smiling. “Overworked, as usual. You?”
“The same.”
“We just ordered coffee; why don’t you join us, if you aren’t in a hurry?”
“Thanks, I think I will.” He settled his tall frame into the empty chair between Milla and Susanna and slanted one of his intense looks at Milla. “I haven’t seen you lately; is anything new going on? You look—”
“If you say ‘tired,’ I’m going to swat you,” she said firmly.
He grinned. “I was going to say you look great.”
“Um-hmm.” She wasn’t convinced. “And, no, nothing new is going on. Looking for lost people, trying to raise money. I did pick up a new sponsor in Dallas, a software company.”
True said, “That’s good.”
Rip hadn’t contributed anything to the conversation, hadn’t even greeted True. Milla glanced at him and saw that his expression had lost all its usual warmth; his gaze was hooded in a way that reminded her of Diaz.
Damn. She had gone out with the intention of forgetting about Diaz, not being reminded of him. But what was going on with Rip? He was normally a very friendly man. What had True done to get sideways with him?
A beeping noise suddenly erupted in Susanna’s purse. She groaned. “At least it waited until I was finished eating.” She dug her pager out and glanced at the readout. “It’s the hospital. Let me just step outside and call in,
“A page is never good when you’re a doctor,” True said. His hand was once more on the back of Milla’s chair, and his thumb rubbed gently over her shoulder before he seemed to think better of it and moved his hand back into his own space. Or maybe he was just sneaky, and didn’t want to give her time to move away.
Rip’s jaw was tight, and he didn’t respond to True’s comment. Rather than sit in silence until Susanna returned, Milla said, “Did you find out any more information for me?” If she didn’t ask, he’d be curious.
“Nothing that fits the time frame. I’m afraid it’s a dead end.”
“Information about what?” Rip asked abruptly, and though his question was uncharacteristically rude, Milla realized she had been just as rude in excluding him.
“I thought I’d finally found a name connected with the kidnapping, and I asked True to check it out.” She didn’t have to specify which kidnapping, even though Finders had been involved in many. That awful day was a center of reference for them all.
Rip didn’t even glance at True. “Why not ask the police to run the name? You know they’d do it for you.”
“I know, but True has contacts on the other side of the border—”
Susanna hurried back in, her expression tense as she interrupted them. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Felicia D’Angelo has a fever and her blood pressure is up. She’s only twenty weeks along. I’m meeting her at the hospital.”
“Which one?” Rip asked, since she had privileges at two.
She told him, then leaned down and kissed Rip’s cheek, ignoring the way he stiffened. “I’m taking the car. You can get a cab, can’t you?”
“Don’t bother with a cab,” True said, looking from Milla to Rip. “I can drive both of you home.”
“No, that’s too much trouble,” Milla said. “We live on opposite sides of town.”
“I knew that when I offered. It’s no problem.”
Rip said, “We’ll take a cab. I’d like to see Milla safely home, so I’ll have the cab drop her off and then take me home.”
“That’s rid—” Susanna began, then cut herself off and gave Rip a frustrated look, which made Milla think she had indeed been set up. “Never mind. Arrange things however you want. I have to go; I’ll see you later tonight, I hope.” She grabbed her bag and hurried out the door.
The waiter brought the coffee and poured it, and Milla sat uncomfortably between the two men while she sipped her coffee, they ignored theirs, and the polite tug of war over her continued. True was determined to take her home; Rip was just as determined that he wouldn’t. She saw Rip’s hold on his temper start to shred, and decided she’d better step in.
“Hold it,” she said calmly. “Neither of you have asked me what I want to do.”
Both of them immediately turned to her, and Rip’s expression was faintly apologetic. “Sorry. Were you feeling like a wishbone?”
“A bit.” She smiled at him, because she knew he wasn’t going to like what she said. “I need to talk to True, so I’ll go with him.”
She was right; Rip didn’t like that at all, though he had the grace not to argue once she made her decision. True didn’t look triumphant, but then maybe he was smart enough to realize he wasn’t going to like their talk.
“Whatever you want,” Rip said as the waiter brought their bills, and he fished a credit card out of his pocket, placing it in one of the folders. True made a motion as if to take the folder containing Milla’s bill, but she stopped him with a glance. She slipped several bills in that folder.
They waited until the waiter had taken both folders away, then returned with Rip’s credit card and receipt for his signature. He asked the waiter to have a cab called for him, and while that was being done, he added a hefty tip, then scrawled his name and pocketed his card.
“The cab company said ten minutes,” the waiter said when he returned.
“We’ll wait,” Milla began, but Rip shook his head.
“No, go on. It’s just a few minutes. I’ll finish my coffee while I wait.” He stood as she and True did, and kissed Milla’s cheek. “It’s been too long since we did this. Don’t be such a stranger.”
She chuckled. “Like yours and Susanna’s schedules are any better than mine.”
“Ain’t it the truth. Be careful going home.” He nodded a good-bye to True, and sat back down as she and True left the restaurant.
“My truck’s this way,” he said, indicating the left and gently steering her in that direction with his hand on her back. “I get the feeling Rip doesn’t like me.”
She made a noncommittal sound, and waited until they were in True’s silver Lincoln Navigator before saying, “I’m not very happy with you, myself. I don’t like being maneuvered and manipulated.”
He sat silently for a moment, the keys in his hand. Finally he said, “That obvious, huh?” as he put the key in the ignition and started the motor.
“Obvious enough.” If he had denied that his being there was a setup, she might have believed him, but she respected him for not trying to weasel out of telling the truth. Something else occurred to her, and she said, “How do you know where I live?” When she had said she and the Kospers lived on opposite sides of the town, he’d said that he’d known that in advance.
“I don’t, exactly. I know you live in the Westside, because I asked Susanna. What’s your address?”
She told him, and he nodded. “I know how to get there.” He was a native El Pasoan; he knew his way around the city.
“Was Susanna’s page a real one?”
He shrugged. “So far as I know. I intended to offer to drive you home regardless.”
“I meant what I said, True. I won’t go out with you. I appreciate the lift home, but that’s all it’s going to be.”
The traffic was fairly light and they caught several green lights in a row. She watched the streetlights cast changing shadows on his face, watched the way his expression hardened and his fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to bury yourself,” he finally said, his tone sharp with frustration. “God knows, I understand what drives you, but it doesn’t have to be either-or. You can search for your son and still have something for yourself. You’ve closed yourself off emotionally; you don’t let anyone in—”
“Because it isn’t fair to let people expect something I’m not willing to give,” she interrupted. “I won’t give you one minute of my time if I think that minute could make the difference between finding out any information that could lead me to Justin, or missing the boat.”
“You take the time to have dinner with Susanna and Rip.”
“That’s a different relationship from the one you’re talking about, and you know it. If I had canceled at the last minute because I had to meet someone—and I would have, if anything had come up—they wouldn’t have been upset. There’s friendship, but our lives only intersect every now and then; they aren’t all wound together.”
“So you’re saying we can’t even be friends.”
She snorted. “As if I believe that’s what you want.”
Despite his annoyance, he grinned. “Damn, you’re tough. But I like a challenge.”
“I’m not challenging you. This isn’t a dance for position. I resent that you’re putting me in exactly the spot I wanted to avoid, which is making you angry by not doing what you want. If I don’t go out with you, you won’t like it; but if I go out with you but don’t put you first, you won’t like that either. It’s a lose-lose situation.”
His jaw set. “What if I promise to help you look for your son? What if I go along with you when you’re chasing down whatever rumor you hear? If you’re dealing with coyotes and other slimy bastards like that, you need protection anyway.”
“I never go alone to any meeting.” She stared through the windshield. Less than two weeks ago she would have jumped at any chance to have his aid, but that was before she met Diaz. Despite h
He swore under his breath, then said, “If you take someone with you anyway, then why shouldn’t that someone be me?”
“Because you have strings attached. Tell me the truth: Will you stop sponsoring Finders if I don’t go out with you now?”
He drew back as if she’d slapped him. “Hell, no!”
“Then my final answer is no.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he didn’t say another word until he turned on her street and said, “Which house is yours?”
She directed him to her condo, which was the last unit on the left, and he pulled into the short driveway, the headlight beams flashing over her front door. Her neighbor’s garage butted up against hers and their driveways were separated only by the line where the sections of concrete were poured. Because she was the last unit, the right side of her condo was graced with trees and shrubbery that somewhat softened the blocky lines of the residences. Her small backyard had privacy fencing around it, to separate it from her neighbor’s. Her front door was recessed in a small alcove, and she had put planters of bright flowers on each side. The yellow porch light made the flowers look more orange than red. Her house was neat and well maintained, but she knew True was comparing it with his own house and probably wondering what she used for brains.