Layers Deep (15 page)

“Are you all
right? You look a little pale.” He paused. “Oh, shit! I didn’t
realize this, I’m so sorry. I should have known.” Tristan’s gaze
flew from me toward the doorway Emma had left.

“It’s all
right. I’m fine. I think I’ll be just fine.” I smiled.

“She hasn’t
said anything inappropriate to you, has she?” he asked, finally
coming to my side.

“Not at all.”
I shook my head. “She’s just so perfect. You’re a lucky brother.
So… boyfriend?”

“Is that too
forward?” He lowered his hands on my hips and kissed me full on the
lips. I could have gotten lost in those lips for the rest of the
day, but I had a feeling Emma would keep me occupied.

When I finally
pulled away I said, “No, it’s not too forward.” In fact, the single
word meant more than gravity – although at this moment, I felt like
I was floating and nothing could keep my body connected to the
ground. “I didn’t know your mom was a hairdresser.”

“She’s not,
but it’s one of her many talents. She took courses and worked at a
salon once, spying on some employees when my father started the
business.” He ran his fingers through his hair. I found this very
sexy and very distracting. It made my heart go pitter-patter and
made it difficult to concentrate. “You’ll find our family has quite
a few skills in different vocations. I promise she’s solid with the
hair.”

“Why do I need
a haircut?” I asked.

“Not a
haircut. We’re both getting a small makeover for the job. Don’t
worry, you’d look beautiful even bald.” He kissed me on the lips,
pulling me into his body again. I hoped shaving my head wasn’t part
of the makeover. Of all things,
that
I couldn’t agree
with.

“Arghm...”
Someone cleared his throat.

“And you know
Julian already.”

Tristan’s
older brother could have passed for his twin. He wore a v-neck
sweater with nothing underneath. I’d say the Indian summer didn’t
call for a sweater just yet, but the light knit fabric fit him so
perfectly, it was difficult to take my eyes away.

“A little
better than I should.”

“How do you
know Julian?” Emma asked, back in the hallway pulling on my hand,
and I was forced to let go of Tristan. I hadn’t even noticed when
she sneaked in.

“Allie here is
refusing to greet me as nicely as she did before,” Julian
teased.

Emma stopped.
“Why?”

“We ran into
each other at the same hotel, and I mistook Julian for
Tristan.”

“Oh, it
happens all the time. The girls usually like one and think it’s the
other. They used to double date, but I don’t know if it counts if
one goes out with a girl and then the other goes out with the same
one next week. They said ‘sharing is caring.’ Boys are confusing
sometimes. They look a bit different now. And they don’t fight as
much about girls anymore. Except for...”

“...how do you
like your new toy, Emma?” Tristan interrupted.

I raised my
brows at the brothers, widening my eyes. Both had the
‘you say
anything else and I’ll kill you’
look, but Emma didn’t seem to
care a bit as she pulled me toward the other end of the house.
Given the aroma of delicious scents, I assumed we were headed for
the kitchen.

“Love it. And
I intend to find out how it works on both of you.” Her innocent
gaze flew from Tristan and then to Julian with a hint of threat.
This girl had them wrapped around her finger and they didn’t know
it. Or perhaps they did and simply allowed it. I think it was the
latter.

The smell of a
barbeque marinade and fresh fruit filled the air the moment we
stepped into the kitchen. A familiar smile greeted me. Tristan
hadn’t told me she would be here; I’d assumed she’d been
transferred to the safe house already and we’d visit her after the
dinner.

“Mom!” I
rushed toward the sink where my mom was drying the dishes. “You all
right?”

“Of course I’m
all right. She’s something else, isn’t she?” My mom motioned toward
Emma.

“She sure is.”
I wondered whether my mom’s thoughts headed in the same direction
as mine.

“I’ve been in
this beautiful guest house and I really don’t want to be a burden,”
she continued.

“Oh, Peg,
don’t be silly. We love having you here.” A lady with a funky
reddish hairstyle and blonde streaks turned around and wiped her
wet hands on a towel.

“Guest house?”
I whispered to Tristan.

“The safest
safe house there is.” He grinned. “Hi, Mom,” Tristan embraced his
mother.

I mouthed a
‘thank you’ to Tristan as his mother squeezed him tight.

Above the
window over the sink a wooden sign caught my eye. It was so out of
place among all the gadgets, I bet it had to mean something to the
family. It said,
Welcome to Bedrock
.

Cute,
I
thought.

Small glass
bowls full of spices lined the marble counter. Something simmered
on a pan and I took another whiff: mushrooms and onions. Mrs. Cross
lifted the lid, stirring for a moment before turning down the
gas.

Further back
on the counter, a fruit bowl, which looked more like it belonged at
a wedding, displayed a peacock made out of fresh fruit. Had they
catered especially for today?

Tristan leaned
into my ear, whispering, “Mom posed as a chef once too, in a top
New York restaurant. She could have run the place forever.”

Cross
Enterprises really was a family business.

My mom picked
up a knife and started peeling potatoes. Now she was beginning to
blend in among all the Crosses.

“So you’re
Allie. I’ve heard so much about you.” Mrs. Cross finally approached
me and pulled me in for a full hug, which I wasn’t expecting. The
embrace truly welcomed me to her house.

“All good, I
hope.”

She let go.
“Of course all good. Tristan would never say anything bad about a
woman. And if he ever does, let me know so I can wash his mouth
with soap.”

I laughed,
looking at Tristan who whispered, “She’s serious, too.”

“I don’t doubt
it. Do you need any help?” I asked.

“You just make
yourself at home. I believe Tristan has some business first. We’ll
have dinner and then I’ll work my magic.”

I assumed she
was referring to the makeover but had no time to ask. She rushed
over to the stove where another pot was boiling and about to spill
over.

“Willmaaa!”
Someone yelled from the back yard.

“Are we
watching
The Flintstones
?” I asked Tristan.

“It’s a
thing
my parents have. An inside joke no one knows about. He
calls her Wilma and she calls him Fred when it’s just the family
around. Otherwise it’s Maggie and John.”

I felt honored
to be privy to such an intimate exchange; but then again, he didn’t
know I was here.

“I thought I’d
heard you on the monitor! Is this the lovely Allie?” He embraced me
before hugging each of his sons. Perhaps he had known I was here
after all. His bear arms caged me in and held me there for a longer
moment than I’d expected. Something deep welled inside my chest,
and I imagined myself lingering in his arms as if he were my
father. I missed Daddy.

When he pulled
away, an odd feeling passed between me and Tristan and his father,
but I couldn’t quite place it. It was as if with his expert eyes,
Mr. Cross looked deep into my soul and at that moment decided I was
part of the family. Shivers ran down my arms at the thought.

“It’s nice to
meet you, Mr. Cross,” I said.

“Don’t let
this boy boss you around too much, and listen to your instinct.
There’s nothing better than a woman’s instinct.”

“Agreed,” Mrs.
Cross said, stirring at the stove with one hand and reaching for
something on the counter. Mr. Cross passed her a lid for the
boiling pot without having to be asked.

I caught my
mom’s gaze because she knew firsthand the importance of a woman’s
instinct. She’d repeated the same thing over and over again as I
grew up:
Listen to your instinct. It’s the most honest warning
you’ll ever have.

“Let’s get our
work out of the way before dinner. Mom?” Tristan kissed his mother
on the cheek.

“Thirty
minutes. Outside,” she answered, as if she knew what he wanted to
ask without asking.

This family
had a way of communicating without communicating, and it made me
feel all nice and warm inside. I wondered how many weekends they’d
spent working together like this, learning each other’s moves and
gestures and signals. I understood why Tristan missed living at
home.

“Thank
you.”

And with that
Tristan took my hand and led me to a kitchen cupboard. Expecting
he’d pull out condiments or pass something to his mother, it
surprised me when he opened the pantry leading to a staircase
downstairs.

I gasped and
followed without a question. Julian was right behind me and locked
the door. Had he been near the entire time, watching me? As soon as
we were down, the staircase dimmed like in a movie theater, and
Tristan pressed a few green buttons on a keypad. The whole room
illuminated.

Photos, maps,
and sketches decorated one wall. A sequence of shots of the
auburn-haired woman, Kendra, had been pinned in a row. The
progression twisted my stomach. In the first one she looked like
any other girl, as in the photograph Tristan had shown me on his
phone; but the second and third displayed a different woman. Eyes
hollow, face dappled with sun spots, cheeks sagging not from age
but from despair. The empty look in her eyes in the last one held
no hope. I felt a lump in my throat before looking away. Getting
emotionally attached was the last thing I’d wanted.

Just below was
a photo of the guy I remembered running into in the park about a
month or so ago.

“Martinez?” I
asked.

“Yes,” Tristan
replied.

I memorized
his face, trying to remember the bushy eyebrows, cigarette-stained
fingers, and thick Spanish accent.

A desk with
three computers was set up in the corner. Another station stacked
with various sized and colored folders was assembled to the
left.

“Have you
tagged her yet?” Julian asked.

Was that
another code word for ‘shagged’?

“I wanted to
do it here.” Tristan answered before looking at my puzzled face.
“We’re going to implant a tracking device in your neck, just
underneath your hairline.”

“Wouldn’t a
button on a dress work just as well?”

The brothers
looked to one another, and Julian finally spoke. “We find buttons
and jewelry have a way of getting lost. And, what if they strip you
naked?”

“Strip?”

“Has my
brother not explained the whole job?” Julian put on a pair of latex
gloves and picked up a metal syringe.
Was that thing made for
elephants?

“He has...” I
started.

“...not the
tracking device.” Tristan interrupted. “It’s for your safety,
Allie. Nervous?” he asked.

“A little.
Can’t say it doesn’t creep me out that you’ll know where I’m at the
whole time.”

“We can remove
it as soon as the job is done. Until then we’ll do anything we can
to keep you safe.” Tristan led me toward a cushioned bench closer
to the wall.

“Don’t be
nervous. Julian’s a pro. He’s been on this case since the
beginning. Lie down on your front.” He pointed to the seat. “Hair
up.”

Tristan sat at
the end closer to my head. He held my hand, even if he didn’t have
to, but I was glad he did. He always made me feel at ease. A cold
dab of alcohol was smoothed on the back of my neck before a sharp
pinch. The pressure was uncomfortable but not too painful. It
reminded me of the feeling when you have something stuck between
your molars and can’t get it out. You know it doesn’t belong there,
but neither floss nor a toothpick will do the job. After a few
seconds, Julian took the thick needle out and disposed of the tip.
He removed his gloves and picked up his phone.

A string of
beeps sounded.

“It’s working.
The bruise will go down in a couple of days,” he said. “Allie,
thank you for doing this. If Tristan trusts you, so do I.”

“I promise
we’ll find her.”

“I know we
will.” Julian was holding something back, but covered it up well.
“And then we’ll party like there’s no tomorrow.”

Somehow that
didn’t convince me. I had a feeling Kendra needed a lot more help
than just being rescued; at least that was the impression I got
from the pictures posted up on the wall. Some names I read, other
than hers, sounded familiar. I’d recalled the most-wanted posters
at the force. The people we’d be dealing with were pros, but so
were we.

“When was the
last time you practiced jiu-jitsu?” Julian asked.

“I work out
every day. I can guarantee I’m quite capable of defending
myself.”

The older
brother walked around the bench in a circle. His arms crossed at
his front. If he wanted to intimidate me, it wasn’t working. He’d
have to do much better than that. Tristan moved away to the side
and watched me with intent. Was this part of a test? As Julian came
behind me, something shifted in the air, and as if on command my
instinct woke up all on its own. I ducked from under his arm as
Julian tried to grab me, and then reached back before he stood tall
and wrapped my arm around his neck. Using the bench to brace, I
pulled his entire weight over my shoulder and down to the mat.

He yelped in
pain, but I felt no mercy. I knew I hadn’t hurt him. I would have
if I’d wanted to. Now he would have a bruise or two to heal as
well. I stood up and tapped my bare foot on Julian’s chest. “If you
want another kiss from me, you’ll have to do much better than
that.” I winked at my victim, lying down on the floor.

A grin
stretched across Tristan’s face before he burst out in a deep
laugh. “I told you she’s good.”