San Antonio Secret. Robin Perini

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СКАЧАТЬ stuff.” He wrinkled his nose. “Cold peas don’t taste good. They’re mushy.”

      “Better than being hungry.” Rafe snagged the chili with a napkin and poured half the meal into the bowl before handing it to Charlie.

      “I guess,” the boy said, stirring the meal. He couldn’t quite take his eyes away from Rafe’s face. “Why do you wear a patch?”

      The words sped from his mouth as if he’d been warned not to ask the question but couldn’t help himself.

      Rafe blew on the chili and swallowed a bite. “Well, I got used to wearing it on the pirate ship...”

      Charlie’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Really?”

      Rafe adjusted the eye covering. “Nah. I was in the war. I got hurt, and it messed up my eye. It’s taking a long time to heal.” That was the fairy-tale version, of course. Fifteen men had died during the operation that had damaged his eye. It might never heal completely, but Rafe considered himself lucky to make it out alive.

      “Are you a hero?” Charlie asked.

      “No.”

      “Oh.” The boy stared down at his dinner.

      Rafe had disappointed the kid, but what could he say? The truth was much too complicated, so Rafe settled for another bite of dinner. The mild heat didn’t give him the kick he liked. He tapped in some Tabasco Habanero Sauce. Another bite. Now that was more like it. He glanced over at Charlie’s rapt expression. “Want some?”

      Charlie grinned and held out his bowl.

      Rafe hesitated. “You sure?”

      “Yeah.”

      Rafe dropped a smidgen onto the chili nestled in the boy’s spoon. Charlie swallowed a big bite. Immediately he started coughing. His ears turned red; his eyes widened. Rafe bit his inner cheek to hide a rare grin. He patted Charlie on the back and handed him a cold bottle of water from the cooler.

      The kid chugged it down. “I don’t like that stuff,” he squeaked, shoving the chili at Rafe.

      “I think you got the worst of it.” Rafe ignored the boy’s outstretched hand. “It’s safe. I promise.”

      With a suspicious gaze into the bowl, Charlie stuck out his tongue, swiping the meat and beans for a tentative taste. “It’s okay.”

      “Eat up.”

      “Thanks, Mr. Vargas.” Charlie downed half the bowl, then stared at the remainder. “I’ll save the rest for Mama. Her boss wouldn’t let her bring leftovers home tonight.”

      “Tell you what, Charlie. You finish your dinner. I’ve got enough for your mom.”

      The little boy grinned and ran back to his room. Charlie was a good kid. Rafe sighed. He just prayed the next few years gave Charlie and his mom a few breaks. Rafe knew from firsthand experience how easy it could be to go down the wrong path.

      Charlie returned with a chocolate snack cake. “Today is January 31. I’m seven today, and Mama bought me a couple of cupcakes.” He tore one in two and handed it to Rafe. “This is for you.”

      “Thank you, Charlie.” Rafe didn’t know if he’d be able to choke down the cake, but Charlie’s proud expression decided for him. “So, do you go for the frosting or the filling first?”

      “Cake first.” Charlie bit at the bottom of the dessert.

      “I’m a filling man,” Rafe said.

      A few bites later the dessert was gone. “Your birthday, huh?” Rafe turned to his SUV and reached into the glove box. He pulled out a yo-yo and turned back to Charlie. “Happy birthday.”

      The boy reached out his hand and touched the toy with tentative fingers. “It’s mine?”

      “Someone gave me one when I was a little older than you.” Rafe wedged his finger into the slipknot and executed a couple of throw downs. He went into a Sleeper, then Rock the Baby. “Now you try.”

      Rafe coached Charlie for a half an hour. A car rattled into the motel parking lot. Charlie looked over and bit his lip. “It’s Mama. I’m not s’posed to leave the room.”

      A tired-looking woman exited the clunker vehicle. “Charlie Ripkin, exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

      “Look, Mama. Mr. Vargas gave me a birthday present.”

      She ruffled her son’s hair. “Thank Mr. Vargas. You have to go to bed. School tomorrow.”

      Charlie walked over. “Thank you for the yo-yo. Can we play again tomorrow?”

      “I don’t know if I’ll be around tomorrow, but you keep practicing. Here are some extra strings.” Rafe tucked a hundred-dollar bill into the packet and placed it in Charlie’s hand. “You might want to change the string before you play with it again.”

      The boy’s grin widened. “Thanks, Mr. Vargas. This is the best birthday ever.” Charlie gave Rafe a huge hug and disappeared into the motel room.

      “I hope he didn’t bother you, Mr. Vargas,” Elena Ripkin said in an exhausted voice. She pushed her ash-colored hair away from her face.

      Rafe took his card and wrote a phone number on the back. “I have a friend looking for help. It pays well. Give him a call. Use my name.” He handed her a CTC card with his boss’s name and number.

      Elena’s hand trembled when she clutched the bit of card stock. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

      “I know enough,” Rafe said. And he did. The background check had revealed a woman whose husband had been killed in an oil field accident. Within months, she and Charlie had been evicted from their apartment. They’d lost everything.

      A lot like Rafe’s family. And their story had not had a happy ending.

      If he could give Charlie some hope...maybe he wouldn’t end up like Rafe’s brother, Michael. Dead at seventeen on the streets of Houston, executed by a rival gang.

      * * *

      THE WIND SHOOK the rickety trailer. Mallory huddled in the corner of the small bedroom’s makeshift cot, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Her heart still raced. Somehow she had to save them, but the trailer’s window had been boarded up and the door locked from the outside. Mallory’s fingers were bleeding from working at the thick planks of their prison. She let out a frustrated sigh. There was no escape.

      At least the cowboy had untied them, even if Judson had cursed while the younger man removed the binding. It gave them a shot. She rubbed her wrists. The rope burns would heal. If they got out of here alive.

      Mallory had no idea where they were. Far from San Antonio, though. They’d been locked in that van for hours, driving intermittently, occasionally stopping for Judson to make a phone call.

      Whoever their kidnapper had contacted, it hadn’t put him in a good mood.

      “Mommy,” СКАЧАТЬ