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WHEN THE INTERCOM BUZZED, Reese muted the sound on the DVR and rubbed his tired eyes, irritated by the interruption. Agent Rivas was probably correct that no clue to Claudia Romero’s location existed in this two-year-old videotape deposition, but he had to try. Perhaps she’d casually mentioned a second home or a place she liked to escape to on holiday.
Where the hell was she? Why hadn’t she contacted him? And why had Claudia refused to accept protective custody until her ex’s trial? Jury selection would begin in less than three weeks. The woman couldn’t possibly think she was safer on her own.
“What is it?” he said into the speaker. Reese reached for a roast beef sandwich delivered twenty minutes ago and loosened the plastic wrap. The sharp fragrance of the horseradish made him realize how hungry he was.
“Taki is here to see you,” Joanne said. “Shall I show her in?”
Reese dropped the sandwich and paused the DVR, already moving toward the long hallway to the reception area. “I’ll get her,” he told a startled Joanne as he strode past her desk.
Javi Rivas, out in the trenches working seedy pawnshops, reported an hour ago that a knock-out blonde named “Wacky” or “Tacky” had flashed photos of the bowl in some of the worst sections of Miami. He needed to put a stop to that immediately.
What had possessed the woman to search on her own?
She’d already annoyed him by dropping off the photos this morning and disappearing—here and gone before he could inform the receptionist to ask her to wait, that he needed to speak to her.
Taki was obviously in a hurry to make herself the next crime statistic in Miami-Dade County.
Reese opened the door to the waiting area and came to a shocked halt. Taki stood in the center of the room, her graceful hands probing the naked back of Robert Shinhoster.
“Ah. This is the place,” she said, stroking her index finger across the bony ridge of the old man’s spine.
Reese wasn’t sure which surprised him more, the surreal sight of the two of them or his irritated reaction. Taki’s hands were all over Robert Shinhoster, an injured federal worker who had been driving the entire office crazy about his case for months, but why should he care?
She was so focused on Shinhoster, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“Okay,” she told Shinhoster, dropping her arm. “I want you to mash up a chili pepper, mix it with a white skin cream, and rub it on this spot. But wear plastic gloves when you work with the preparation because it might irritate your hands. And don’t use the cream right after a hot bath or shower.”
“What will that do?” Shinhoster asked.
“The capsaicin in the pepper confuses the nerves and you focus on a temporary mild burning more than the ache in your back. I also recommend willow tea for its anti-inflammatory properties, massage—lots of gentle massage—and hot packs alternating with cold. When the inflammation goes down, start yoga classes. This time next year, you might be pain free.”
“Excuse me,” Reese said.
Taki looked over and smiled. “Hi, Reese.”
He hooked his hand under Taki’s arm to draw her away from a dazed-looking Shinhoster and out of the room.
“Hey, thanks,” Shinhoster yelled as the door closed.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Reese demanded when they faced each other in the long hallway.
Taki’s sapphire eyes clouded at his words. “I was helping that man. He’s in a great deal of pain.”
“And he’s trying to squeeze money out of the U.S. government for his supposed pain.”
“Only because he thinks he’s been cast aside. Poor dear feels disliked because he worked for the Internal Revenue Service. He says no lawyer will believe an auditor could get a bad back.”
Reese stared into her earnest face and realized the woman was absolutely serious. “And where did you get your medical degree?”
“I’m not a doctor,” she said, straightening her slender shoulders. “I’m an herbalist.”
“Then why are you behaving like a private detective?”
She blinked twice. “What?”
One thing at a time, Reese told himself. He glanced at the openmouthed receptionist who followed the conversation with keen interest.
“Let’s go to my office,” he said, motioning Taki ahead of him.
The effortless, regal way she moved reminded him of silk flowing over smooth skin. Taki appeared to glide more than walk. She looked curiously around her, her gaze peering into every open room along the corridor.
“Hold my calls,” he told Joanne as they passed her desk and entered his office. He closed the door and turned to Taki, whose gaze had zeroed in on his view of the sparkling water of Biscayne Bay.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to practice medicine,” he told her.
“I certainly know better than that,” she said. “I didn’t charge Mr. Shinhoster a thing. My advice is always free.”
Reese shook his head, imagining the headline on the front page of the Miami Herald: Unlicensed Yoga Teacher Caught Prescribing Drugs in U.S. Attorney’s Office.
“He can take my advice or ignore it. It’s his choice.” She shrugged. “But just think. If I cure his pain, then he’ll leave you alone. If he listens to me, he could probably return to work soon, but I think he’ll probably opt for retirement.”
Reese stared at her. “You discussed his future employment plans?”
“He needed someone to talk to. But enough about that. I have news.” She waved her hand, apparently intending to leap to a new subject. “I have a lead on the bowl,” she announced, excitement shining in her sky-blue eyes.
“A lead?” Reese placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. “No doubt from one of your pawnshop visits?”
She nodded and flashed a dazzling smile. “I did what you suggested and took a photo to pawnshops. The clerk at Jacques’s Hock—” Taki reached in her jeans pocket and handed him a crumpled business card “—says to come back and talk to his boss this afternoon. I thought you would want to know. I was thinking it would be better if you went and did your...lawyer thing.”
Reese glanced at the card. “I never suggested that you go to pawnshops yourself.”
Unfazed, she continued to smile at him expectantly, obviously pleased with herself and totally relaxed in faded blue jeans and a bulky pale blue cotton sweater. He’d never been less relaxed. He took a deep breath and released it in an explosive whoosh.
“Listen, Taki, your misguided efforts are undermining the work of my field agents.”
Her smile faded. “They are? How?”
“The FBI is tracking an extremely dangerous man. Believe me, you don’t want this guy to discover you’re looking for him. He might come after you to find out why.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip and clasped her hands behind her.
“Let the authorities handle this. You could get yourself hurt.”
She shifted her gaze to the floor, looking so disappointed he resisted a foolish urge to make her feel better. Taki desperately wanted that damn bowl back and had worked hard to get what she considered a huge break in the case. He had to give her that.
Still—best not to encourage her. A woman who looked as good as this one shouldn’t hang out in the wrong sections of Miami.
Her gaze drifted around his office and stopped on his roast beef and Swiss on rye. “I interrupted your lunch.”
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I guess I was too busy screwing up your investigation.”
“Would you like half of my roast beef sandwich? I have sodas in the refrigerator.”
She raised a horrified gaze to his. “Thank you, but I’m a vegetarian.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling foolish but not sure why.
Her very kissable lips curled into another smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this woman?
“Let me take you out for a healthier lunch,” she suggested.
He didn’t have time to leave the office for lunch, hadn’t gone out for lunch in weeks...hell, maybe a month. The Romero prosecution might be high-profile, but it was far from his only case. He had way too much work to do this afternoon. Her invitation was out of the question.
Unless he could learn more about her bowl and why it had been taken.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said in a tempting voice. “The temperature is around sixty-eight degrees, the sky is bright blue and a fresh breeze is blowing. Weather like today’s is the reason thousands of people visit Miami every winter.”
He hesitated, fascinated by the tip of her tongue moistening her lips. She didn’t wear any sort of makeup, and no wonder. Why spoil perfection?
“The fresh air will clear your mind,” she said. “I’ll bet you’ll even be more productive afterward.”
“What the hell,” Reese said, wondering where his usual sense of urgency had vanished to. The Romero case would just have to wait. A man was entitled to eat.
He grabbed his coat and touched her back lightly. “Let’s not invite your new patient to join us.”
He’d intended to take his rented vehicle—the Jag was still at the dealer for repairs—but she insisted driving would only stress him out more and he needed to relax. So with a few misgivings, he climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.
She bunched her hair into a navy blue beret. “Otherwise it gets hopelessly tangled,” she told him, then accelerated into traffic.
He loosened his tie, relishing the warmth of the sun on his face. The cool wind made conversation impossible while she careened way too fast along I-95. He glanced at the speedometer and tightened his seat belt.
And speeding on the interstate in Miami won’t stress me out?
He had no idea where she was taking him, but hoped they got there in one piece.
* * *
TAKI DECIDED REESE seemed even more familiar today. Much more familiar.
They were seated across from each other at a booth in The Spiritual Kitchen, her favorite restaurant. The sweet fragrance of curry hung in the air, and the faint, peaceful sound of chanting filtered through the sound system.
Reese concentrated on the menu, squinting and holding the paper at arm’s length.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know if the feeling was mutual. That’s why she’d asked him to lunch even though she usually avoided lawyers—as she did all negative influences.
Leaning forward, she asked, “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”
Reese looked up and frowned. She wasn’t sure if he reacted to her question or the menu.
“Familiar?” he said. “How so?”
“As if maybe you had known me before.”
Reese sat back and rubbed his eyes. “You mean before our vehicles were broken into?”
She nodded.
“As in déjà vu?” he asked.
“Well, something like that.”
“No,” Reese said with the beginning of a smile. “Believe me, I would definitely remember you.”
Before Taki could reply, a turbaned waiter arrived to place a ceramic teapot and two matching cups on their table.
“You honor us with your visit, Taki,” the thin Indian man said with a slight bow.
“Thank you, Teshvar,” Taki replied, steepling her hands into prayer position and nodding in return. “Do you have any veggie stew left?”
“Always for you.”
“Then we’d like two orders, please, and lots of your special whole grain sesame bread.”
With another bow, the waiter disappeared. Taki returned her attention to Reese, who now studied her with an amused expression.
“Do you always order for your guests?” he asked.
“But you don’t know what’s good. Don’t worry. I promise you’ll love their special, and it won’t poison you like the lunch you were going to eat.”
As Reese regarded her across the table, she sensed he didn’t like losing even the tiniest little bit of control. She decided he was one of those men who needed to dominate everything and everyone around him. The fine tailoring of his charcoal double-breasted suit and cranberry silk tie screamed position and power. Pay attention to me. I’m important.
Just like her father.
“How about some peppermint tea?” she asked, disappointed in herself again. Why was she always so quick to judge this man? She didn’t really know him, at least in this lifetime, and she wasn’t being fair.
She poured them each a cup of tea, then dribbled honey from the jar on the table into her own brew. Her aim was a bit off, so she caught a slow-moving drip on the side of her cup, then licked the thick nectar from her finger. When she glanced up, she found Reese’s attention focused on her mouth as if he could taste the sweetness on her lips.
She lowered her gaze and stirred the tea. Steam drifted toward the ceiling between them. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled mint and orange blossoms. Maybe she was quick to judge him because he unsettled her so thoroughly. And because she found him so very attractive, which was of course ridiculous, considering—
“Do I seem familiar to you?” Reese asked, his voice calm and steady in the confusion of her senses.
She took a sip of the tea before answering. “I don’t know. I feel some sort of strange connection, but I can’t explain why.”
“Maybe it’s because we both were victims of the same crime two days ago.”
“So we’re like a victim support group?”
