Kate James - When I Found You

“Oh, I don’t think I want to do this. Certainly not with you!” She felt the heat on her cheeks and glanced away.

“Okay, how about I go first?”

That made her smile. “All right.”

He took a few moments to study the couple. She did the same and noted again how the man seemed to be attentive and interested, until the woman’s head was turned. Then his eyes landed on or followed the nearest female.

“They’re married, maybe five years,” Logan began. “No kids. He’s a midlevel manager. She’s probably in PR or advertising and earns more than he does. She loves him, although the shine has dulled over the years. He begrudges her some for being the higher-income earner, and he has a straying eye. Although he probably hasn’t cheated on her yet, it’s only a matter of time. He feels he’s entitled and believes he needs to do it to make himself feel more of a man.”

Her startled laugh erupted, and she put a hand over her mouth.

Logan turned incredulous eyes on Ariana. “You find that funny? That he’ll probably cheat on his wife?”

“No. No. That part is sad. It’s what you said about them. All of it.”

Logan smiled. “Are you laughing because you think it’s ludicrous or because you know I’m right?”

“The latter,” she said, still chuckling. “You’re good at this game!”

“So you agree?”

“Mostly. All the tells are there. The husband’s roving eye when she’s not paying attention. The fact that he handed her the bill when the waiter brought it, and so on.”

Logan nodded. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ariana scanned the room. She wanted to pick carefully to be as on the mark as he had been. Not only because of her competitive nature. Maybe it was silly, but it mattered that she gained his respect.

She was considering the man who’d just entered the bar when Logan motioned to the new arrival. “How about him?”

She scrutinized the tall Hispanic man standing with his back to them. “Okay,” she said. She had more or less settled on him already.

He was chatting with the occupants of a booth close to the entrance. His dark hair was longish, nearly reaching his collar. His clothes, although casual, were of good quality. Expensive. His stance and manner were confident. He was highly aware of his surroundings. When he turned his head, she could see he was attractive, but there was a dangerous—not quite tame—aura about him.

He was wearing a light windbreaker. She was experienced enough to recognize that he more than likely had a concealed weapon under it. Her smile faded and she shot a tense glance at Logan. He was watching her, heedless of the man, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Ariana leaned in. Her voice was low, her tone serious. “The man you picked? Don’t look!” she whispered as Logan’s gaze started to drift toward the man. It snapped back to her, and he had a considering expression on his face.

“He’s confident, self-aware,” she continued in an insistent whisper. “He’s not easily intimidated or one to shy away from confrontation. In some cases, he might welcome it. He seems dangerous and resigned...somehow fatalistic. He comes off as laid-back, relaxed, yet he’s intense and perceptive. He’s got money. Probably quite a lot, but he doesn’t flaunt it. My guess is he’s involved in the drug trade. Likely a drug dealer for a cartel out of Tijuana,” she concluded.

Logan started to smile and shifted his eyes again. She placed her hand hurriedly on top of his. “No. Don’t look,” she repeated urgently. “He’s carrying. I’m certain of it.” She glanced at the man. “Okay. He’s facing the other way. You can look now.”

Logan did, slowly and discreetly. Nonchalantly he took another drink, keeping his eyes in the general direction of the man they were discussing. Ariana saw the moment the man’s eyes met Logan’s. A look she couldn’t decipher passed between the two of them.

She saw the narrowing of Logan’s eyes, the tightening of his lips. A knot formed in her stomach. She wondered if the new arrival was known to Logan.

Ariana could only gape when Logan placed his bottle on the coaster, pointed a finger at the man and beckoned him to approach.

“What are you doing?” Ariana murmured uneasily.

Brows furrowed, he glanced at her briefly. “You’ll see. Just stay calm,” he added.

Ariana gazed back at the man as he sauntered up to their table. He aimed assessing eyes on her before meeting Logan’s gaze. “You want something?” he asked.

“I do. Yes,” Logan replied, leaning back in his chair.

Ariana’s heart was thundering. This close, she was more convinced that the man was carrying a gun. There was an element of fearlessness, almost recklessness, about him. She looked around quickly. The bar had filled while they’d been there. It was packed. There were people everywhere. What was Logan thinking, confronting a potentially dangerous criminal in a busy public place? If either of them drew a weapon, there were bound to be casualties.

“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Logan said in a tone that broached no argument, almost as if he’d read her thoughts.

Ariana nearly missed seeing the man’s mouth twitch, as if he was enjoying the confrontation that was unfolding between him and Logan. Could there have been something else going on here? Something she wasn’t aware of? Before she could explore that thought, the man slapped his palms on the table. “Good enough for you?” he asked with an amused drawl.

He found this funny? Not a good sign.

“Now, using your left hand only, empty your pockets,” Logan instructed. He tapped a finger on the tabletop in front of Ariana. “Put your possessions right there.”

What was Logan doing? Ariana wondered in alarm. Had he lost his mind? He hadn’t even identified himself as a cop. She had no time to deliberate further, as the man—surprisingly—did exactly what he’d been asked. It appeared he was enjoying himself, and that made no sense. Her earlier thought returned. Could this be a joke?

She watched the man draw objects out of his coat pocket first. A package of gum, a San Diego Padres ticket stub, a set of keys on a chain, a separate key on a Harley Davidson motorcycle key chain. When he reached for the front pocket of his jeans, Logan shot a hand out. “Easy now. Do it slowly.”

The man angled his head, seeming to be holding back a smile. He reached into his right front pocket with his left hand and slowly drew out its contents. Palming whatever he had in there, he held his hand out and let it hover over the table. He watched Logan expectantly.

Logan gestured to the small pile in front of Ariana. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.

The man spread his fingers.

Holding her breath, Ariana watched as the object clattered onto the table’s surface.

She was staring at a San Diego Police Department badge.

With narrowed eyes, she looked up at Logan.

“Ariana, meet Sergeant Rick Vasquez,” Logan said. “Rick, this is Ariana Atkins, head of security at the San Diego airport.” He motioned for Rick to take a seat.

Rick extended a hand to Ariana, which she shook briefly. He then sat in the chair next to Logan.

“Rick’s a member of the K-9 Unit,” Logan explained. “He specializes in narcotics. He’s now working with Tom Brody’s former canine partner, Nitro, and is retraining him for narcotics detection. Their job is to thwart the drug trafficking that takes place across the San Ysidro border between Mexico and the United States.”

Although Ariana had started to suspect it might have been a joke and could see the humor in it, she felt a little foolish. Logan must have realized it, as a tinge of red crept up his cheeks.

“You did great!” Logan assured her. “If Rick seems like a cartel operative, it’s with good reason. He’s supposed to. His job often requires him to go undercover.”