Blush(75)

Cruz shrugged. “Drunk. Fell down the stairs. I have one for you. Why isn’t he in jail?” Hammell, a slightly overweight fifty-something with a hangdog expression and light eyes that had seen it all, cast Latour an unsympathetic glance. “Cousin twice removed is police chief. Posted bail.”

Shit.

As his men cut away the tape around his chest, arms, and legs, the detective gave a nod of approval. “Nice job,” he told Cruz as the last of the tape was tossed aside and Latour was secured with cuffs. “He’ll probably trip again a couple of times on the way to the squad car. He’s pretty tanked, and some people are just accident-prone.”

Cruz’s lips twitched.





Chapter Fourteen

After Mia grabbed a shower and applied some antiseptic to the scratches and makeup to the bruises Latour had inflicted, they loaded an ecstatic Oso into her truck. Cruz drove, and they went to pick up Charlie from his foster family in Metairie, a suburb of New Orleans located on the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain, then headed to the hospital.

Because of the heat, Cruz stayed with the dog in the air-conditioned truck, letting Mia and Charlie go in together. His heart twisted as the child slipped his hand into Mia’s as they walked.

She was wearing a summery dress the color of crushed strawberries that bared her shoulders, and high-heeled strappy sandals that showed off her toned legs to perfection. He knew where each and every bruise was, but she’d covered the smudges with makeup, and from where he was sitting she looked flawless, fresh, and sexy as hell.

Charlie tugged on her hand, and they stopped at the entrance to the hospital. Mia paused to crouch down, smoothing back Charlie’s hair as they talked. After a few minutes, the little boy flung himself at her, his arms tight around her neck. Mia soothed his back, then rose and took his hand again. They disappeared inside.

Cruz swallowed the damn lump in his throat. “Now what?” he asked the dog, sitting upright and alert in the passenger seat. Oso swiveled his head to give him what Cruz was sure was an inquiring look. “Never mind.” Oso cocked his head.

Never mind because Cruz had no intention of putting anything emotional out into the ether that could come back later to bite him in the ass.

Just like he didn’t tear up at pictures of cute cats and dog tricks, seeing Mia showing an unexpected maternal side shouldn’t have any emotional impact on him. He didn’t do sentimental, and he never noticed shit like that.

Cruz turned up the air, cooling the cab and directing a vent in Oso’s panting direction. “I need to make a couple of calls, then how about we get out and stretch our legs?”

Clearly realizing there’d be more waiting, Oso sighed lugubriously, then lay down with his head on his paws to stare as Cruz took out his phone and speed dialed Lì húa Sòng in Beijing.

“What updates do you have on the factory?” There was a twelve-hour time difference, and since he knew she was a night owl, he wasn’t concerned about waking her at eleven at night.

“Even for you this is no civilized greeting, băobèi,” she responded tersely, still using the endearment she’d used years ago when they’d been lovers. “Five more children died. The investigation appears to be closed. Faulty wiring, unsafe conditions, not uncommon in situations such as this. As of yesterday, Blush China is back in business. More children hired. Everyone working extra hours to make up for the loss of time.”

“Jesus. That’s cold. Will the families be compensated?”

There was a pause. “No. The children were disposable. Most came from— Never mind. No. There will be no compensation. On the other matter. I did facial rec on the woman at the airport.”

Lì húa Sòng’s government contacts had proven invaluable over the years. Cruz no longer wondered in what capacity she worked, just that she had pull and could get answers. Just as she’d never delved into what he did for a living. They’d lived in the moment, and both, he’d thought at the time, been content.

“And?” Cruz clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. Don’t tell me conclusively that the woman was Mia.

“Very similar features and bearing, but the woman who visited here was not Amelia Wentworth.”

He straightened in the seat. “All three times? You’re sure?”

“Positive. I believe the woman who came here wore expertly fabricated prosthetics.”

Jesus. With the sudden lightness of relief came the grind of concern. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to implicate Mia. Who? Why? “Xiè xiè nĭ bāng wŏ,Lì húa.”

“You are most welcome.” There was a pregnant pause. “Why she so important this woman? Are you sleeping with her, Cruz?”