The Killing Game(18)
“Why? So you can meet your date?”
“Helena, Carlos hasn’t shown any indication that he’s anything but a model parent. I never found anything that said otherwise. I’m not a lawyer, but—”
“You didn’t try hard enough. Now he’s going to take Emily away from me!”
“He can’t do that. Neither of you can.”
“I’ve got to get away from him. He’s a crazy man. You just don’t see it.”
“Don’t do anything rash. You need a good lawyer. Why did you file for divorce? You never said anything about filing.”
“What does it matter?”
“Well, because now things can escalate. You’ve thrown down the gauntlet.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying. If I don’t do something, Carlos wins. He’ll take Emily back to Colombia and that’ll be it. You’ve got to help me!”
“Myrna Mintz is an excellent divorce attorney. I’ll give you her number.”
When Luke turned toward his desk, his eye fell on the note left for Andi. Little birds need to fly . . . He was momentarily distracted until Helena grabbed him by his sleeve. “I don’t want a f*cking lawyer. I want my daughter safe with me.”
“Helena,” he warned.
“If you won’t help me, I’ll get someone who will.”
“C’mon. Take a moment.”
“You haven’t helped me at all. You just tell me what not to do.”
“I don’t think Carlos is trying to kidnap Emily.”
“Good-bye, Luke. Thanks for nothing.” With that, she stomped out of the office and slammed the door. Luke carefully put Andi’s note back inside the envelope and tucked it beneath a few papers that were already inside his in-box.
*
Asian World was a rectangular room with a series of booths arranged in blocks with wooden half walls, painted black. The half walls rose three feet above the red Naugahyde bench seats, offering privacy. The smell of the restaurant’s dishes made Andi’s mouth water. She figured that was a good sign. Hunger. Even with everything that was going on, her body was signaling that she needed to take care of herself.
She wasn’t sure what she thought of Lucas Denton. He’d seemed approachable from the pictures she’d seen on television and in the paper, but in person he exuded a strength of character that hadn’t come through on screen. She’d been shocked by how much she wanted to just fold herself into his arms and let him take care of her.
Good. God.
An Asian waitress waved to her to take any seat, and Andi chose one of the booths near the front door. The thin metal blinds were drawn across the window against the heat, but there was a tiny vertical strip along the edge where she could just see Luke’s client slam out of the office and stalk toward her Escape.
Whatever her deal was, things must not have gone well.
“You like something to drink?” the waitress asked her, dropping off a menu. “Tea?”
“Two menus, please, and um, water would be great.”
She left abruptly, but Andi called after her, “Do you have decaf tea?”
A brief nod without a look back said she’d been heard.
The door opened and Luke stepped inside. He spied Andi immediately and slipped inside the booth across from her.
“That was your eleven-thirty?” she asked.
He glanced at the large watch he wore on his left arm. “More like a twelve-ten.”
“We’re on the clock, then. I assume I’m footing the bill for lunch.”
She said it matter-of-factly, and for some reason it pissed Luke off.
“Now see, that attitude really stinks. I was planning on going Dutch, unless you really want to fork over your hard-earned money.”
“Dutch is fine.”
“Relax,” he told her. “We’re going to get the Carreras.”
“Are we?” To her consternation, she suddenly felt tears burn her eyes. Oh God . . . oh, please, don’t let me cry.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
And that’s when the waterworks started.
*
She couldn’t believe this was happening, especially in front of Luke Denton. It was mortifying. She desperately tried to keep from crying, but her throat grew hot and her eyes filled with tears. She ducked her head, horrifically embarrassed, and when he said, “Hormones,” she started laughing, swiping at the wet tracks on her face.
“I don’t think that’s strictly true, but I’ll take any excuse.”
She picked up her menu with its pictorial depiction of the available dishes.
“No excuse,” he said. “Fact.”
She couldn’t look up from the menu yet. She needed some time to collect herself. She finally managed a brief glance in his direction and was disconcerted to find him staring back at her. His eyes were blue, a deep cerulean shade she was a sucker for, and his hair was brown, a couple of shades darker than her own. He had a dimple and a really nice smile. She had the deep, dreaded feeling that she’d made a mistake with him. He was the kind of man/boy type she generally couldn’t stomach, the kind that oozed charm and cleverness, when in reality they were just a shade or two above empty-headed. But Denton had quit the force in his loyalty to his partner, and that showed character.