It wasn’t an apology, but then he probably didn’t deserve an apology. Still, he appreciated the fact that she wanted to work with him on this.
“It might be important. Hard to say.”
“Can we make a deal then? I’ll show you my files if you let me look at what you have on Cárdenas.”
He started to object, but she talked over him.
“I’m not asking so that I can report on it. In fact, we can say this is strictly deep background, off the record. I just think it might be helpful to your investigation if both of us were familiar with both sides of this.”
He thought about it for a moment, weighing the risks against the possible benefits. He glanced over, met her gaze. “It’s a deal.”
“I JUST DON’T see what sexual assaults at a Denver boarding school could have to do with a Mexican drug cartel.” Natalie finished arranging her documents in neat piles on the coffee table, almost painfully aware of the man who sat beside her.
It didn’t help that Zach had left his shirt unbuttoned, exposing that amazing body of his. Even the fact that he hadn’t showered seemed to make it worse, the natural scent of his skin arousing her, his tousled hair and the stubble on his jaw giving him a manly, earthy look. But there were also dark circles beneath his eyes and lines of fatigue on his face. Had he had another nightmare?
She regretted what she’d said to him last night—or at least she regretted the way she’d said it. He was a hero many times over, a man who’d sacrificed so much for the sake of his country. He didn’t deserve to be called “chicken.”
And yet the heart of what she’d said felt true to her. He had an easier time facing down men with guns than his own memories, and those memories he couldn’t face were holding him back, depriving him of companionship, laughter, love.
Just like your grief over Beau held you back.
No. For him it was worse. She hadn’t believed herself capable of love. He didn’t seem to believe he deserved it.
Fighting to stay focused, she gave Zach an overview of her investigation, then left him to read through the stories she’d written so far, along with police reports and other documents, while she took a shower and shaved her legs. She dried her hair, put on a bit of makeup, then dressed in clothes he’d bought for her—linen pants and a violet V-neck tank top. She couldn’t wear them without thinking of their time together in the desert. Would he have the same reaction?
Are you trying to catch his attention, Benoit?
Maybe. Was there anything wrong with that?
She came back downstairs to find him sipping his coffee, his gaze fixed on the soccer coach’s mug shot. “Find anything?”
He shook his head, looked up, his gaze sliding over her, his eyes going dark. “Nothing yet.”
“What are we searching for anyway?” She went into the kitchen, poured herself another cup of coffee.
His voice—and his gaze—followed her. “Most of the time when cartels kill it comes down to protecting their business. In other words, money.”
“So money reallyisthe root of all evil.” She poured cream into her coffee, added a teaspoon of sugar, and stirred, then walked back into the living room. “I sent everyone’s tax documents to a forensic accountant. If there’s anything strange going on with their tax returns, she’ll spot it. I expect to hear from her soon.”
“Good idea.” There was a note of appreciation in his voice. “If anything pops, I’ll have Rowan search their financials.”
She sat across from him, a nervous trill in her belly. “So where do we start?”
“Let’s take a step back here and look at the big picture. Either your abduction is related to this investigation, or it’s not. If itisrelated, then someone had something to hide that your investigation threatened to reveal, something that was connected in some way to the Zetas. If it’snotrelated then what we’re dealing with here is Cárdenas trying to kill you in an effort to avenge his ego.”
“Because I escaped?”
“Because you escaped.”
Natalie thought about this, tried to wrap her mind around it. “I just can’t see how anyone at Whitcomb could have ties to the Zetas. It’s a very exclusive school—lots of girls from wealthy families whose ancestors probably came over on theMayflower. Isn’t the simplest scenario more likely? Cárdenas looked on the SPJ website to see which Mexican journalists were on the tour, saw my photo, and decided to kidnap me for his sick little ritual. Now he’s angry because I got away.”
Zach frowned. “Yeah. Maybe this is a waste of time, but I still can’t believe that Cárdenas would reach all the way up to Denver to try to kill you unless he had a bigger motivation than that. He’s a narcissist, to be sure, and we know your escape had him tearing apart his own country to find you. But he’s also a businessman. Trying to kill an innocent American woman deep in her homeland—that’s a bad move forsomany reasons.”
“What do we look for then?”
“Let’s determine who stood to lose the most from your investigation and focus on them.”
She shrugged. “Well, that’s easy. The district attorney. The sheriff. If either one of them were caught dropping the case for bribes, their careers would be over. There’s the alleged rapist himself. He would’ve spent the rest of his life in prison if he’d been convicted. The school. It’s bad PR when students get raped by a coach. Whitcomb Academy would probably have lost a lot of revenue if the coach had been convicted.”