Secure Location by Beverly Long Read Free Book Online

Cruz dug into his steak. She did little more than push her salmon around her plate. When the waiter came to clear their dishes and offer dessert, Cruz looked at her expectantly. Was he remembering that she’d always been a sucker for crème brûlée?
    That was before. When it was fun to linger over dessert, to say deliberately provocative things over coffee, to see Cruz’s eyes heat up, knowing that each whisper, each casual touch, would be collected upon in full.
    Now she simply asked for the check. When the waiter slid it on the table, Cruz grabbed it. “I’ll take that,” he said.
    Meg waited until the waiter had wandered off. “We should split it at least.”
    “No.” Cruz pulled enough bills out of his pocket to cover the check and leave a generous tip. “Let’s go.”
    It was close to ten and both sides of the River Walk were jammed with people. Young, old, fat, skinny, black, white—it was a crowd as diverse as the food choices. The restaurants and bars were still going strong, with their doors wide open. Music came from every direction. Rock. Blues. Jazz. Dueling pianos. Something for everybody.
    Late spring was a beautiful time to be on the River Walk. While it was already hot, there had been more rain than last year. Annuals, in borders and beds, blossomed, gathering butterflies. Perennials, with their strong root system, crawled up the sides of brick walls, making the space intimate.
    It was lovely. The huge trees, some growing right out of buildings, arched over the river, their branches swaying and dipping in the gentle nighttime breeze. Lights and candles and even the occasional flare from a cigarette gave the space warmth. The gentle murmur of conversation and the burst of a child’s laughter or cry made it hum with energy.
    It was probably too crowded for Cruz. She remembered the year that she’d managed to drag him Christmas shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. They’d been shopping on Michigan Avenue with a million other people determined to support the economy. He’d been as edgy as a wild animal. She’d teased him about having an aversion to spending money but in truth, she’d known that he was always on guard, always ready. And crowds limited his options—for escape, for attack. There was too much opportunity for collateral damage, he’d told her once.
    They were almost back to the hotel when less than ten feet ahead of them, a group of six young men stumbled out of one of the Irish bars. Cruz caught her arm and pulled her behind him.
    They were college-age and laughing and talking, using words that their mothers would not have approved of. Two started pretend boxing, circling each other, throwing weak punches. The others thought it was hilarious and performed some male ritual of back-slapping and hip-bumping.
    Intent upon watching them, she missed the dark figure running up behind her and didn’t have a chance to brace before she was shoved so hard from behind that she went airborne, right toward the river.

Chapter Four
    Cruz whirled, lunged and managed to wrap a hand around one of Meg’s flailing arms. He yanked her back, hauling her against his chest. Her face was white and her eyes big with fear.
    She’d been inches from going into the dark green water. What the hell?
    She pointed and he saw a black-clad figure running up the stairs that led to the street level. “Stay here,” he said to her. He took the stairs two at a time, losing precious time as he dodged two women who were hauling a baby stroller down the steps.
    He got up to the street level, scanned it in both directions and didn’t see anything. Damn it. There were a hundred ways for someone to get away. Stores to step into. Cars to hide behind. Buses to board. The list was endless.
    He pulled out his cell phone, dialed Myers and felt his blood pressure increase when the phone rang three times. On the fourth ring, the man answered, sounding a little out of breath.
    “Myers.”
    “It’s Cruz Montoya.”
    “Now