Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(74)

“How old, and what is he wearing?” the cop asked, all business now.

Zara turned to consult with the hysterical mother, then relayed the information back to the officer. “His name is Joseph, and he’s three. He’s wearing a red T-shirt and a pair of black shorts. He has black hair and brown eyes. He’s also wearing shoes that light up when he walks.”

The police officer nodded and immediately relayed the information to his dispatcher. “Can you stay here with her?” he asked Zara. “I’m going to talk to the manager and see if we can get an announcement made.”

“Of course,” Zara said. “Maybe I can say something in Spanish over the loudspeaker too? I mean, hopefully Joseph is just hiding somewhere, and hearing someone say it’s okay to come out, that his mom is waiting for him at the front doors, might help.”

“Good idea,” the cop agreed.

Meat watched with pride as Zara took the mother by the hand and translated everything that was going on about the search for her son. The look of gratitude on the poor mother’s face, that someone understood and was helping her, made Meat swell with pride for Zara.

It took almost thirty extremely tense minutes, but finally the boy was found and reunited with the mother. He’d wandered off to look at toys and quickly got lost, then got scared when he couldn’t find his mom. He’d crawled behind a row of stuffed animals on a bottom shelf and hidden.

The mother couldn’t stop thanking Zara, and after exchanging phone numbers and promising to be in touch, the woman left with Joseph.

“Thanks for helping out,” the police officer said.

“It was my pleasure. I’m just glad I was here.”

“Say . . . aren’t you Zara Layne? The woman who was rescued after all that time being forced to be a drug runner for the Venezuelan government?”

Meat tensed. It wasn’t often that Zara was recognized, since she hadn’t done a press conference, but it still happened. A few reporters had gotten some pictures of her getting off the plane when she’d arrived, and they’d spread like wildfire.

“That’s me, although I was in Peru, and I wasn’t forced to be a drug runner or anything else. I was simply lost and waiting for someone to come and find me after my parents were killed.” Her tone was icy.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure on the details. I don’t watch a lot of TV. Regardless, I’m just glad you were here today. If you’re ever looking for a job, we could use more translators.”

“I don’t want to be a cop,” Zara told him.

“You wouldn’t have to be. There are translation services that hospitals and other organizations use. Basically, a number is called, a language is picked from a menu, and a translator comes on and helps communicate with whoever needs the service.” The man looked chagrined. “It’s not something the CSPD uses, for a few legal reasons. But you could help a lot of others.”

Meat’s mind whirled with possibilities. He and Zara hadn’t talked much about what she wanted to do with her future. With the amount of money she had in her account, she technically didn’t have to work, but he had a feeling she would be bored silly before too much longer. She’d found her feet, and now he wanted to see her fly.

“I’ll think about it,” Zara said noncommittally.

The officer nodded, shook her hand, then strode out of the building.

“So . . . ready to shop now?” Meat asked with a grin.

She didn’t return it. “Are you angry? I couldn’t just walk by. She was terrified, and it was obvious the cop didn’t understand what she was saying.”

“Of course I’m not mad,” Meat told her. He framed her face with his hands. He loved the feel of her dainty features under his big ol’ palms, and if the way she latched on to his wrists and held on tight was any indication, she didn’t exactly object. “I’m proud of you. I love your big heart. After everything you’ve been through, you’re somehow still able to have empathy and a sense of service toward others. It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Thanks.” Her eyes dropped from his for a moment before coming back up. She had a look of determination that was sexy as fuck. “Morgan told me that if I wanted something, I should just come out and tell you.”

“She’s right. Anything I can give you, I will,” Meat told her.

“I want you, Meat. I remember how amazing it felt to have you sleep behind me, holding me tight. I can’t say that I know what I’m doing, but I think I’d like to see if maybe I can sleep on a real mattress. The futon you got me is still great and all . . . but it’s missing something.”

Meat’s heart almost pounded out of his chest. “What’s that?”

“You.”

“You want to sleep with me, Zar?”

She nodded.

“Just sleep? Because I’m okay with that. I don’t want to do something you aren’t ready for.”

“No, not just sleep. I’ve dreamed of you. Fantasized about how your hands would feel on my body. About you kneeling over me, taking what I hope we’ve both thought about since we met.”

“Shit, sweetheart. Now I have a hard-on in the middle of a crowded store. Not cool.”

She grinned.

Meat knew he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life. The moment Zara took back one of the biggest things that had been taken from her. Her sexuality. Her sexual confidence. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to take you to my bed,” he told her. “We can learn together what we like.”