Heart of a Hero Page 8

  It sounded like a promise.

  She had nothing else but his word to go on, the word of a relative stranger. Yet something inside her believed him.

  Or maybe she just desperately wanted to believe again. In something. In someone.

  But caution had been her byword for so long. Old habits resisted being broken. So all she said in response was, “We’ll see,” and tried not to hope too much.

  Her obvious caution didn’t annoy him. It was hard to trust anyone after your son was taken by his grandfather. Not exactly a greeting card scenario. “Yes,” he told her quietly, “we will.”

  They inched their way from one street to another, through the heavy traffic. She reached over and turned on the radio. Christmas carols sliced through the silence. Switching to another station only produced more of the same. She and Vinny were supposed to have gone out today to pick out a tree.

  The hollow feeling inside her grew. It wasn’t fair. Restless, Dakota turned the radio off.

  She glanced toward the profile of the man sitting in the driver’s seat. It occurred to her that she hadn’t even had his references checked. But who would she have gotten to do that, to investigate the investigator? Besides, time was precious. She’d already let too much go by.

  Like it or not, she had to trust him.

  The silence was driving her crazy. “How long have you been at this?”

  He was wondering when she’d start talking again. “‘This’?”

  She sighed, impatient again. “Finding kidnapped kids.”

  It was obvious that she just wanted to be distracted. He could oblige. Talking had never been difficult for him, the way it was for his brother. “Since before I graduated from U.C. Bedford. I started doing legwork for Megan. And then Cade and Sam started asking me to do some canvassing for them, too.”

  Because they were departing rather than picking up an arrival, he took the upper ramp as they entered John Wayne Airport. It struck him that the place now looked the way LAX had in its earlier stages. A mind-boggling tangle of lanes all somehow managing to dovetail into one another. There was no stopping progress.

  “When they found out that I like tinkering with audio equipment,” he continued his narrative, leaning out the window to take a parking ticket stub stamped with the time, “they had me cleaning up ransom tapes that came in, things like that. One thing led to another and Cade hired me when I graduated.”

  There had been an unspoken agreement between them that he’d come to work for them as a partner once he had his diploma. Cade treated everyone as an equal partner, not an employee. They all had an equal stake in things.

  Rusty grinned, seeing a parking place up ahead. “If he hadn’t, I would probably have hung around, making a pest of myself until he broke down and took me on, anyway.”

  She watched as he maneuvered cleanly into a spot that would have given her trouble. “Why this kind of work?”

  He turned off the engine. “Finding lost kids, bringing them home, helping heal wounds. Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.”

  She got out on her side, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the din of departing cars. “I’d think it’d be depressing, talking to people whose lives have been ripped apart, looking for kids you might not find.”

  He retrieved their luggage from the back seat, then shut his door. He clicked the security lock into place before looking at her.

  “That’s why we don’t stop until we find them.”

  She fell into step beside him, clutching the bear, aware that he was still carrying her suitcase. “And you’ve never failed.”

  “Nope.” Stepping back, he let her go ahead of him.

  She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Not once.”

  There was nothing hidden in his expression. “Not once.”

  Nothing was perfect. She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  He looked at her, lowering his head slightly so that she could hear him without his having to raise his voice. “I’ll be glad to show you the files once we come back. But maybe by then, I won’t have to.”

  His breath along her neck warmed her and heartened her for some reason she couldn’t fathom. She didn’t explore the rationale behind it, just savored it for a moment. Relying on pure logic was ripping her to pieces.

  Dakota looked around the large terminal. Since it was several days before Christmas, the airport was clogged with pre-holiday travelers and people making trips back home a little early in hopes of beating the last-minute Christmas crowd. It looked as if everyone had had the same idea.

  There were a number of different airlines housed within the terminal. Rusty looked up at the overhead schedule of flights, searching for the ones that were departing for Las Vegas.

  “Pick an airline,” he told her.

  When she did, they located the flight board and went to the appropriate desk to see if they could book seats on the departing plane. With no luck.

  They went through the entire gamut, trying one airline after another. All the flights for that evening were booked.

  Frustration ate away at her. “How can the whole state be flying to Las Vegas on a weekday?” she demanded after they’d been turned away from their fourth airline. “There has to be some way we can get a flight.”

  Rusty thought a second. “Maybe there is. C’mon, follow me.”

  Before she could ask him what he was up to, he was taking the escalator up to the next level. She hurried after him, confused. The second level housed the gates for arrivals and departures, which wouldn’t do them much good without tickets.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded as he walked up the ascending steps.

  “To get us a flight,” was all he said. At the landing, he looked around until he located Gate 23. He stopped short several yards away, depositing the suitcases. “Wait here,” he told her.

  Before she could offer a protest, he was hurrying across to where passengers waiting to board Flight 104 were gathered.

  She began to follow him, then decided to stand back and watch instead. She saw Rusty approach a couple who looked to be in their early thirties. At first she thought he knew them, then realized that he was talking to strangers. Strangers whose expressions went from curious to sympathetic. She was standing too far away to hear what Rusty was saying to them, but whatever it was, it was accompanied with hand gestures and, finally, an exchange of money for two slim folders.

  As he turned around, he waved the folders at her, the look on his face nothing short of triumphant.

  “What did you do?” she asked as soon as he returned. Behind him, she saw the couple wave at her.

  “I got us tickets to Las Vegas.” He handed her one, then picked up the luggage again. “Get ready, we’re about to board.”

  He was moving a little too fast here. “But how—The woman at the desk said the flight was all sold out. And even if it wasn’t, there were ten standbys in front of us.”

  He nudged her along toward the front of the crowd. “I know, I just went to the most likely looking couple and asked to buy their tickets.”

  She twisted around to look at him. “Just like that?”

  “Well, not just like that,” he allowed, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. “We’re flying to see your sick grandmother. The doctors aren’t sure how much longer she can hold on, but her dying wish was to see you. It being the season of good will, Jill and Harold insisted I take their tickets. They figured they could go on standby and wait for the next flight.” The good deed had not come without a price, which had put a huge dent in his wallet, since he’d used cash. “Especially since I paid them twice what each ticket was worth.”

  She heard only one thing. “You lied to them.”

  The note of disappointment he detected in her voice bothered him. Still holding the luggage, he turned to look at her. “I did what had to be done to get us on that plane. The sooner we get to Las Vegas, the sooner we can check out if Del Greco has your son.”


  “There is no if,” she said emphatically. “He has my son. I know it.” To believe anything else would mean that some unknown person had kidnapped Vinny for who knew what reason. She couldn’t go there.

  “And Jill and Harold now have an extra two hundred dollars to spend at the tables once they get there,” he concluded. “This way, everyone got what they wanted.”

  “Flight 104 for Las Vegas, now boarding at Gate 23,” a disembodied voice announced over the loudspeaker.

  “That’s us,” he said, nodding toward the inner doors being opened. He shifted the luggage, getting a stronger grip. “Now wave to the nice people.” Nodding, he indicated the couple that had dropped out of the group. They were standing by the double rows of seats.

  Dakota forced a smile to her lips as she passed the other couple.

  “You’re not as innocent as you look,” she whispered to Rusty between lips that barely moved.

  Tucking her suitcase under his arm, he showed the attendant at the gate his boarding pass, then looked at Dakota pointedly just before moving down the connecting hall. “I assumed you already figured that out.”

  She knew he was referring to the kiss and decided it was best if she made no comment on that and just concentrated on the fact that his resourcefulness had gotten them on board.

  Their seats were in the middle of the plane. Rusty tucked their luggage away and sat beside her. She looked, he thought, a little paler than she had a few minutes ago. The captain came on over the loudspeaker, telling them they were cleared for takeoff. As the plane began to taxi, Dakota gripped the armrest between them. Her knuckles were white.

  “What’s the matter?”

  It bothered her to admit to a weakness, but anyone with eyes would have seen how uncomfortable she was. “I hate to fly.”

  To her surprise, he took her hand from the armrest and gripped it in his own. “Here, hang on to me. We’ll be there before your stomach has time to reconnect with the rest of you.”

  She said nothing, but he noticed she kept her hand in his. And squeezed hard as they took off. He might not be as innocent as he seemed, he thought, but she wasn’t nearly as tough as she tried to pretend.

  Since she had long nails and her hand was firmly wrapped around his, he thought it prudent not to mention his observation at the moment.

  Chapter 7

  They were the first ones off the plane.

  His right hand somewhat numb due to the death grip she’d kept on it for the duration of the bumpy flight, Rusty led the way, still carrying their luggage. He shouldered a path for them through the crowd until they reached a small island of space away from the loading gates.

  Relieved to be off the plane and on solid ground again, Dakota ran her hand through her hair and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  “Now what?” she asked, inclining her head toward him so he could hear her above the continuous din.

  He’d been to Las Vegas twice, both times on business, and was only marginally familiar with the airport. “The first thing we do is rent a car and get a couple of rooms for the night.”

  Rooms meant being stationary. She didn’t want to be stationary, she wanted to be moving, to be doing. “But it’s only nine o’clock.”

  “My point exactly.” It was too late to do anything now. The main objective for tonight was getting here and they’d accomplished that. A fresh start in the morning was the only way to approach the situation. Besides, Dakota looked tired. “We’ve got to get organized, come up with a plan.”

  Someone bumped up against her, pushing her into Rusty. She was quick to recover her ground. “You don’t have a plan?” she asked, looking at him incredulously. She had just assumed that he would have everything all arranged.

  “Not yet,” he told her honestly. Although there was always a master plan in place, working plans came into existence as the action unfolded.

  She set her jaw hard. “Well, I do.”

  Something in Dakota’s tone made him uneasy. “And that is?”

  She was tired of waiting, tired of games. The only way she knew how to deal with things was head-on. “Confront the bastard.”

  That was what he was afraid of. “That’s not a plan, that’s an action, which,” he pointed out patiently as he resumed walking, “will get you a very bad reaction.” Rusty looked at her as she fell into step beside him. “You’re tired, you’re stressed out and people in that condition are prone to making some pretty bad judgment calls.”

  She didn’t like being criticized, even if the tone was kind. “Oh, and what do you suggest?”

  “A rental car, rooms,” he repeated. He saw the skepticism in her eyes. “Let me make a few calls. You don’t want to go like the U.S. cavalry into the enemy camp unless you know that the rest of the fighting force is just beyond the ridge to back you up. Deal?”

  He waited for her to give him her word. Now that they were here, he had the uneasy feeling that she might do something foolish, such as go off and try to get Vinny back on her own. Del Greco wasn’t the kind of man you called out on the carpet.

  Stopping again, Rusty set down her suitcase, pinning her with a penetrating look. “I’m not going to have to chain you to your bed, am I?”

  “No,” she retorted. And then she relented. He was just trying to help. Chewing off his head wasn’t going to help them get through this. “It’s just that I’m…” Frustrated, she let her voice trail off.

  “Yeah.” His voice was nothing if not sympathetic. “I know.”

  Dakota looked at him sharply. “How could you? How could you possibly know what I’m feeling?”

  The roller coaster ride she was on had to be tiring for her, he thought. “Empathy is a great equalizer.”

  Not wanting to get into a discussion with her here, while they were both tired and the possibility of saying things they didn’t mean loomed large, Rusty started to pick up her suitcase again.

  “I can carry my own suitcase.”

  “Nobody ever said you couldn’t,” he replied mildly, taking it in his hand. He nodded toward the escalator that was close by. “I think there’s a rental agency on the ground floor just beyond the escalator.”

  “There is,” she murmured, matching him stride for stride, aware that he had shortened his for her sake. Walking normally, he could easily outdistance her.

  There were several car rental agencies, neatly coexisting side by side. Their counters were all but obliterated from view by the huddled bodies of disembarked passengers in quest of transportation.

  It didn’t look as if they were going to get much of a break tonight, Rusty decided. He looked over his shoulder at Dakota.

  “Maybe you want to sit down. It looks like it’s going to take a while.” Even the shortest line had eight people in it.

  “I’ll stand,” she replied stoically. Holding the teddy bear to her, she stood beside him. When he turned to say something further to her, he realized that she was scanning the crowd.

  He looked over the sea of people, mostly incoming, and saw nothing that appeared out of the ordinary. “What are you looking for?”

  “Vinny.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his expression. He was going to say something kind, a charitable remark about her overwrought state of mind. She didn’t want pity. Pity only made her angry. “You never know. Maybe Del Greco’s getting ready to fly out of the state. Or even out of the country.” She set her jaw pugnaciously, ready for an argument from him. Something to sink her teeth into to distract her so she could stop worrying for even a few minutes. “This would be the airport he’d go to.”

  Rather than argue, Rusty nodded in agreement. “Good point.”

  She didn’t know whether he was patronizing her or being serious. She didn’t ask. All she knew was that it helped keep her sane to be doing something, no matter how far-fetched and hopeless it might seem.

  So, while they inched their way up to the car rental counter, she stood and scanned, silently praying that for once a long shot would pay off.r />
  But it didn’t.

  Forty-five minutes later they finally made their way to the far end of the lot where Bonanza rentals kept their vehicles. She pulled up her collar as the chilly night air swept in from the desert.

  When they came to the space where their rental car was waiting, Dakota could only stare. The vehicle was just marginally larger than a Yugo.

  “They’re kidding, right?” Very slowly, Dakota moved around the car, eyeing it skeptically. “Do you think it can even run?”

  Rusty fingered the key the clerk had handed him after the paperwork had been completed. “That’s what the man said, although I think that still remains to be seen.” It wasn’t going to be easy, getting into that. Not at his height. “Know the old expression, beggars can’t be choosers?”

  She frowned, looking up at him over the roof of the lime-colored vehicle. “Yes, they can. They can at least get a car meant for two normal-size adults. This is a Smurf car.”

  He opened the driver’s door and glanced inside. There was no way, he thought. “Smurfs?”

  She nodded. “Little blue people.” A warm, secure aura temporally surrounded her as she remembered early Saturday mornings when she was six, spent in front of a television set, eating cereal out of a box with her father while they watched the programs. “It was a Saturday morning cartoon—”

  “I know who the Smurfs were.” He wedged in first her suitcase, then his own into a back seat meant for children. Very small-boned children. “I just didn’t think anyone owned up to watching them but me.”

  The fact that he actually had watched the same cartoons as she had gave them a bond and instantly removed a layer from her armor. “Papa Smurf had a lot of wise philosophies.”

  Rusty grinned, placing the passenger seat into an upright position again. “For a man who was only six inches tall.”

  She looked in on the driver’s side and shook her head. Any way you looked at it, it was going to be a tight fit. “One thing’s for sure, he would have had no trouble reaching the pedals in this car.”