Ch. 30 – Rico
H e was furious. No, more. Rico felt so livid he worried his gallbladder might implode from the pressure.
“What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” Rico demanded as he reached over to pull the seat belt across Jax’s lap. His hands were shaking, and it took him two tries to buckle her in.
“I . . .” She slowly twisted, righting herself in the seat.
Rico glanced in the rearview mirror. Had her pursuer returned to his car? Was he even now barreling down the road, intent on following them? He turned recklessly onto Chapparal Drive, cutting off a truck that angrily blared its horn.
“Well?” he insisted. God, if that man had caught her. If he’d hurt her . . . or worse. The thought felt like venom through his veins.
“Theo’s irrigation system broke down last week,” Jax finally said, sitting up in her seat. “I don’t think it was an accident. I think it was sabotage.” She turned to look at him. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think it might have been the mayor.”
What in the total fuckery? All he could do was stare at her for a long second before putting his eyes back on the road .
“There’s this commercial development company, Porter, that wants to put a massive multi-use complex where the winery is. Bishop’s involved somehow. I know he is.”
If Rico weren’t aggressively veering through traffic at nearly 90 miles an hour to shake a possible tail, he might have given Jax an appreciative bow and intoned, I’m not worthy. She’d discovered Porter and Terrace. Hell, she apparently knew more about Terrace than he did. He, Rico Torres, had been scooped by a college reporter.
Jax’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What were you doing there?”
Rico took a sharp right, practically lifting his tires off the road as he whipped onto a sleepy side street. He drove half a mile down the road, then reversed into a tight ally between two businesses. Making a getaway in your hometown had its advantages.
Rico cut the headlights. Waited a full minute, breath held, to see if any black BMW would lurk by. The street remained quiet.
When he felt it was safe, he turned to Jax. “Well, you see, I think that Theo’s broken irrigation system might not be an accident. You’ll never guess who I think did it.”
Jax laughed and let her head drop back against the seat. “You’re running the story, too. Of course you are.” She turned her head. “Did you find anything I didn’t?”
Rico never shared intel. Ever. He opened his mouth. “Porter runs a super PAC that poured money into Bishop’s re-election campaign last year.”
Jax nodded. “And in return, Bishop paves the way for The Terrace.” She cracked a smile. “How’d you get your info?”
Rico blew out a breath. “Inside source. You?”
“A VP at Porter thought I was cute and accepted my friend invite on Facebook. ”
Rico had to laugh at that. “Sneaky, sneaky.” She was amazing. Too amazing for her own good. The laughter died in his throat, replaced by a jagged iceberg of fear.
“Jacklyn, you can’t put yourself in danger like that,” he chided her. “You could have been hurt.”
Anger flashed across her face. “What about you? You’re out here by yourself, too.”
“It’s different,” he insisted. “I’m bigger. Stronger.”
She scoffed.
“I have training and experience,” Rico continued. “And I have people who know where I am and what I’m doing. Do you?”
She seemed to slink down in the seat of his SUV.
In that moment, Rico wanted to shake her, kiss her, and wrap her in a thousand pounds of tissue paper all at the same time. The world was already a cruel place. It was even more dangerous for journalists.
“All across the world journalists are targeted for what they do,” he told her, his voice softening. “They’re threatened, imprisoned, tortured, and even killed for trying to uncover corruption. It even happens here in the United States. If you had been hurt . . .” Rico couldn’t finish that sentence.
“Okay,” she snapped, then her voice lowered. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
Next time? His heart nearly pissed its little heart boxers.
“I’m sorry I ruined your stakeout,” she continued. “Did you see who it was?”
Rico sighed and shook his head. He’d been hiding in a pullout near the main road. When the BMW had turned onto the road up to the winery, he’d waited five minutes, then slowly crept after it with his lights off. His plan had been to let the suspect start his machinations, record him in the act, then call the police if he was performing sabotage.
“Then we have nothing,” Jax groaned.
“Whoever he was, he probably fled as soon as he got back to his car,” Rico said. “He likely didn’t go through with his plan, not if he thought we might have seen him. We could have saved The Rose and Thorn today.”
“But what if he comes back to try another night?” Jax sat up straighter, her dark eyes cutting into him.
“Theo’s putting cameras up in the next few days,” Rico explained to her. “If that man comes by again, he’s going to get caught.”
That seemed to mollify her, and she leaned back in her seat. In the darkness, Rico could only see the faint outline of Jax’s figure, the line of her small nose and gentle slope of her forehead. Those lips pursed in worry.
He swallowed. “Let’s head back and pick up your car. I’ll follow you home just to be safe.”
Jax nodded. The way her shoulders slumped, he wondered if her adrenaline was beginning to wear off.
Rico drove in silence back to the winery, his eyes snagging on every black sedan on the road. No BMWs. As he turned onto the winery’s gravel road, his shoulders tightened.
“Go all the way up to the winery to make sure he’s gone,” Jax said softly. “Breanna’s upstairs. I’m going to text her to make sure she’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t tell her what happened,” Rico said. “It’ll only scare her. We’ll have the cameras up soon.” And he’d be coming straight back to the winery after making sure Jax got home okay. The man would be insane to try to attack the winery a second time on the same night, but Mayor Bishop was better known for his ambitions than his brain .
Beside him, he heard Jax let out a breath as they came to the top of the hill and the empty parking lot.
“Well, the place is still standing at least,” Rico said. “He didn’t burn it down.”
“And Breanna just bitched me out for texting her so late,” Jax said, glancing up from the glow of her phone’s screen. “She’s alive and delightful as ever. Oh! The side door. I could have sworn the guy opened it. I need to make sure it’s locked.”
Jax unbuckled her seat belt and opened the passenger door. She paused.
“Rico?” Her voice was soft and small in the darkness.
“Yes, Jacklyn?”
“It’s Jax. You know that. But . . . thanks.”
He smiled. She stepped out of his car and stumbled, hissing in pain. Rico was out of his seat in a heartbeat, scrambling around the front of his car to catch her as she hung onto the open door.
“My ankle,” Jax said, hopping on her left foot.
“Here.” He offered his shoulder, and she leaned her weight against him, putting her arm around his neck. Carefully, he maneuvered her in front of his headlights. Wisps of her hair brushed against his cheek.
“Lean against the hood and let me take a look,” he said. She followed his instructions, balancing on her left foot.
Rico bent down and unlaced her boot. Her leg was slim, but he could feel the swell of her calf muscle. Jax was no dainty princess. He moved his hand gently down her calf, the prickle of hair brushing his palm.
“When’s the last time you’ve shaved your legs?” he joked as he gently pulled off her boot .
She hissed through gritted teeth and hopped a little on her left leg. “Just trying to . . . save water.” She spoke through short, panting breaths. “We’re in a drought . . . you know. And also, fuck off.”
He laughed, then stopped laughing. In the eye-searing shine of the headlights, he could already see that her right ankle was swollen and discolored.
“Did you hear anything crack or pop?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Probably just a bad sprain, then. We should get to an urgent care clinic, get it x-rayed just to be sure.”
“I just want to go home,” Jax said. “If it’s still bad tomorrow, I’ll go.”
“You sure?” He looked up at her.
She nodded. “I think it’s a sprain. I’ve had them before in tennis.”
“Okay, then. Back in the car.” Rico made a shooing motion toward the passenger door of his SUV. “You’re not driving with that ankle.”
Jax hesitated, hopping to keep her balance.
“Jax, you can’t put any weight on that foot.” Rico used his best Diane voice. “I’m not letting you drive out of here. We’ll get someone to drive your car back tomorrow.”
“I can handle that. I have some, um, friends I can call.” Keeping a hand on the car, Jax hopped back to the passenger seat. “Here. Go lock the side door.” She held out her keys to him.
Rico closed the passenger door gently behind her, then jogged to the winery. He tried the side door. It was locked. He looked at Jax through the windshield of the SUV and shrugged. When he swung into the car’s driver seat, she was frowning.
“I could have sworn that he opened the door,” she said. “Maybe it was the adrenaline. ”
“It’s really dark around here, too,” Rico offered. “Theo needs to put more lights out here.”
“Theo needs to do a lot of things,” Jax agreed.
Rico started the SUV, then paused. He turned to Jax and grinned.
“What?” she pulled on her seat belt.
“You tripped on your shoelaces, didn’t you?”
She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and staring out the passenger window. “You’re going to say ‘I told you so,’ aren’t you?”
He put a hand to his chest, offended. “Me? I’d never be so gauche.”
He hit the gas and his Ford Explorer made its careful way down the long, gravel road. Just before they reached the main road, he hit the brakes.
“Jacklyn?”
She turned, the swoop of her nose ring glinting faintly in the moonlight. “What?”
“I told you so.”