Part 18 (1/2)
The waitress returned and took their order, conversing in Spanish with Gena.
”I forgot you were so fluent,” Rocco said. ”Look, I'm sorry if I sounded harsh a minute ago. You said you hadn't known Lupe long, yet it seemed you were close.”
”Everyone at the shelter grew close, even if they were only there a short time.”
”You volunteered there, right? And you also worked for the construction company building the new shelter?”
”Yes. Why?”
”I'm curious how you ended up in construction.” Rocco linked his hands in front of him on the table. ”I mean, of all the things I might have imagined you doing, construction wasn't one of them.”
Of all the things I might have imagined.
That didn't mean he'd been thinking of her. It was a figure of speech. Every time she'd thought of Rocco, she'd known exactly what he'd been doing. Being a field operative was in his blood.
Gena started to give him the same standard no-big-deal reply that she gave anyone who expressed surprise that a woman did what many still considered ”a man's job.” Except Rocco's question was based on the Gena Armstrong he'd known a long time ago.
”It was no secret that I was in pretty bad shape when I left Harry,” Gena began. By that time, her battle with alcohol had been common knowledge. ”On top of that, my father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, so returning to Texas seemed like my only option. Unfortunately, he died before I got there, in a pauper's hospital. I didn't know he'd lost everything.”
”That had to be hard.”
She shrugged. ”A childhood friend of mine came to his funeral. Vianca and I had been like sisters from kindergarten through high school. We'd planned to go to college together, except she married and stayed behind. We lost touch for several years. Her marriage failed and she decided to take over her husband's construction business after he ran off with his secretary. Vianca pushed me into rehab, and then she took me under her wing and put me through a very physical crash course in construction. Vi believed hard work and fresh air could cure anything.”
”She sounds like an amazing friend. How did she die?”
”A construction accident. A crane malfunctioned and dropped a roof truss on her.” Gena blinked away tears. Vi had died instantly. That she hadn't suffered meant little.
”You've lost a lot. I'm sorry.” Rocco ordered two coffees when their waitress drifted close, then asked Gena, ”Would you prefertotalk about something else?”
”No.” Vianca was a safe subject.
”Did you take over her business at her death?”
”Not really. I'm not licensed, though I can do almost anything a contractor can, thanks to Vi. Her cousin stepped in. He's a contractor, too, and lent his name to Vi's incomplete projects. I pretty much handled the shelter job. I knew how much it meant to Vianca.”
”What was her connection? Had she stayed at the shelter?”
”As an adult, no. Her parents were alcoholics. Vi spent time at the shelter during her teen years when her parents battled violently. The acceptance Vi felt there had a profound impact on her.”
”Will you return to Sugar Springs and rebuild the shelter?”
His question surprised her. ”I don't think I could do it again. I had planned to leave Sugar Springs once it was complete, to go back to school. I may make a donation and let someone else rebuild it.”
Rocco touched her hand but just as quickly withdrew it. ”I'll help financially too.”
”I had initially considered donating the proceeds from Harry's father's estate, but if Harry is alive, the estate should go to him.”
The waitress delivered their coffee just then. When they were alone, Rocco cleared his throat, then said, ”I really can't comment on that. I'm sure you remember that there was no love lost between Harry and me.”
Rocco's phone vibrated then. Gena concentrated on doctoring her coffee as he answered.
For a moment when they'd talked, it had been easy. Until he'd mentioned Harry. Rocco and Harry's dislike of each other had always been apparent, even back when she'd thought Harry was her friend. In retrospect, she realized she never knew the reason for the two men's animosity.
”When did Travis receive this?” Rocco said.
Rocco's tone caught Gena's attention, but at his next words, she dropped her spoon. It clattered against her ceramic mug.
”No, it's not mine! But Minh Tran can't know that,” he said.
It's not mine. Gena had heard those words before, was stunned by the sting that memory still held.I'm taking it out of context, she reminded herself. Rocco could be denying a lot of different things. she reminded herself. Rocco could be denying a lot of different things.
”Keep me posted.” He disconnected but almost immediately his phone rang again. ”Taylor,” he snapped. ”Fine. We'll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
When Rocco ended that call, he signaled the waitress to bring their tab.
Gena waited until they'd left the restaurant to speak. ”Are you going to tell me what that phone call was about?”
”We're meeting our contact at a corporate hangar. He's arranged a private plane to ferry us to Acapulco. The safe house is a small villa near the ocean, comfortable but private. Remember our cover story?”
”Executive wife who knows little about what her spouse does.” Gena increased her stride to keep pace with him. ”I meant the other call you got. The one that upset you.”
Rocco slowed. ”A new demand has been received for Maddy. And her unborn child.”
No, it's not mine. ”Maddy is pregnant?” Gena asked. ”Maddy is pregnant?” Gena asked.
He nodded. ”It's quite a surprise. No one, including Travis, knew she was pregnant. I'm guessing she's not very far along. Minh Tran, of course, believes I'm the father, and that sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d has threatened to take Maddy's child as recompense for the loss of his son. We've got less than forty-eight hours to find her.”
His phone rang again and he motioned for Gena to keep walking as he answered it.
A knife twisted in Gena's heart for Madison Kohl-meyer. For two people who had never met, they had surprising commonalities. Both women had loved Rocco Taylor. Both had moved on.
And Gena knew exactly what it felt like to be pregnant and all alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two.
Five Years Earlier Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.
Gena checked the dining room with a critical eye. Fresh flowers. Candles. Table linens, pressed. Silver, polished.
She couldn't cook, but her mother had made certain Gena knew the proper way to set a table.”How else can you correct the staff, darling?”
Gena moved a plate a fraction of an inch and nodded. Not bad for two hours' notice and no staff.
She plucked the empty winegla.s.s from her place setting and then retreated to the kitchen before she changed her mind again. Would Rocco notice she wasn't drinking before they sat down to eat?
She rechecked her menu. The entree she'd ordered from The Crusader was ready to pop in the microwave alongside the asparagus and new potatoes. Salads were in the fridge, along with two slices of chocolate mousse cake, though the thought of chocolate, or any food for that matter, nauseated her.