The South Beach Search. Sharon Hartley

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      BE AT PUERTO SAGUA TOMORROW AT SIX P.M. FOR INFORMATION ABOUT THIS ITEM.

      * * *

      AT FIVE FORTY-FIVE the next night, Taki slid onto a stool at Puerto Sagua and smiled at a waiter behind the broken-tiled counter. Smoke from the grill floated upward, billowing and obscuring the ceiling.

      With a nod, the heavy-set server placed a menu and a plastic glass of water before her and moved on.

      Taki took a slow drink while she surveyed the crowded Cuban restaurant. Maybe twenty-five diners sat at tables or at the long U-shaped counter that cut the room in half. Their noisy chatter and laughter bounced off the tiled walls, making her ears ring.

      No one looked familiar. Not in this life or any other.

      When the wall clock ticked down to six, the frowning waiter approached her again. She’d have to order something or be asked to leave. Black beans and rice seemed safe, but she was too nervous to eat.

      After placing her order, she laid a hand on her queasy stomach. If only Reese had returned her calls. So much for her plan to avoid him, but of course he needed to know about the note.

      Reese was always so confident and self-assured, she had no doubt his presence would bolster her faltering courage. She’d left messages at all his numbers revealing her intention to attend the meeting. She’d even spoken with his secretary. Joanne had been sweet, had promised to contact some agent named Javi and all but begged her not to do anything before she talked to Reese.

      Forget that nonsense. She couldn’t miss the chance to recover her bowl. Benny knew she was here, as did Victoria, plus she had pepper spray tucked in her purse. She’d never used it and wasn’t sure if she could harm anyone with it, but just in case she slipped the small cylinder into her pocket for easy access.

      And so many people crowded this restaurant, she was beginning to feel too warm. She fanned her face with the menu.

      She wouldn’t leave with anyone, and even Reese’s bad guys wouldn’t drag her off from such a public place. What could they possibly want with her?

      More important, why would anybody want her bowl?

CHAPTER FOUR

      REESE HAD NO problem spotting Taki when he entered the raucous atmosphere of Puerto Sagua. Seated at the counter, long blond hair partially braided and secured with a clip, her stillness was an oasis of tranquility in the center of chaos. In a warm, lively restaurant filled with the essence of garlic and onion, she made him think of the cool freshness of a deep forest.

      If he weren’t so damned annoyed with her reckless behavior, he’d be glad to see her.

      “You don’t know me,” Reese murmured as he slid onto the stool next to hers. He threw her a quick look. “Pretend we’re meeting for the first time.”

      When she flashed a grateful, relieved smile, his mood improved. At least she was glad he’d come to her rescue.

      Spotting Javi on the other side of the counter, Reese nodded. She followed his gaze and then looked to him in surprise.

      “Who’s that?” she whispered.

      “FBI.”

      Her eyes widened, and her gaze swung back to Javi.

      “Quit staring at him.”

      When Taki refocused on her plate, which contained a mammoth serving of black beans—she couldn’t have touched a bite—Reese asked, “You really received a photograph of your bowl with a note instructing you to come here?”

      “Not exactly. Someone left the photo with Benny, one of my regular students.” With a graceful movement, she tucked a strand of hair behind her shoulder.

      Reese made a mental note to question Benny. He knew all about Benny. The old man practically lived at SoBe Spa, or anyway, he was there every time Reese worked out. So what was his involvement with Taki and her magic bowl?

      “Why him and not you?” Reese asked.

      The waiter arrived before she could reply.

      “Cafecito to go,” Reese requested. The potent Cuban coffee was like mainlining caffeine, but he still had hours of work to do tonight.

      “I asked people around the spa if they knew anything about the bowl,” she said when the waiter moved away. “Benny did, too. I guess he asked the right person.”

      “That doesn’t make any sense. Do you have the photo?”

      She reached for her purse.

      “Wait. I’ll look at it later.”

      Reese surveyed the room, searching for a familiar face. His initial response to Taki’s message had been that someone was playing a joke on her, but Puerto Sagua just happened to be Izzo’s favorite place for breakfast, and nobody in law enforcement believed in coincidences.

      “Whoever sent the note has my bowl and maybe you can recover your briefcase, too,” she said, her voice low and urgent.

      Reese stared at Taki’s animated face. Why did he find this nutcase so compelling? She certainly had guts. More courage than sense, apparently.

      “You shouldn’t have come here alone, Taki. It was a foolish thing to do.”

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