Chapter Four
Tennessee Ross was a ghost.
The next afternoon, Aggie sat at her desk with a cup of coffee indulging in a non-work related Google search. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. There’s nothing she loved more than a mystery and Ten was a puzzle. Aggie hadn’t found a single entry on him, which was nuts.
Nobody can escape Google’s notice.
She’d hit up all of her contacts earlier, searching for Diego’s whereabouts, but she’d come up empty. Any minute, she’d call Sofia and tell her she’d failed, but Aggie was hoping for a miracle.
And she might’ve found one.
From what she could tell, Ten had to be using an alias, or he would’ve shown up somewhere. Plus, she’d heard persistent rumors about Crimson Creek. Namely, that it was home to a branch of the Lone Star Mafia. Aggie thought Ten was probably a mobster and it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should.
And a friendly criminal might be able to point her in the right direction.
“You’re lookin’ him up, aren’t you?” Polly marched in the door and slung her coat on the rack in the corner. It wobbled, threatening to topple over, but righted itself at the last second.
Earlier, Aggie had gone all school girl on Polly, babbling about Ten. Polly had grown more and more concerned, worried Aggie had some kind of freak on her hands, so she’d shut up and changed the subject.
Aggie ignored the question. “Did you find out anythin’ useful from your old cop buddies?”
“The cops heard of him, and said Diego was well connected, but they couldn’t tell me where to find him.”
Another dead end. Crap.
“What did you discover about your new beau?” Polly waltzed around the desk and leaned over her shoulder.
She hit the x in the corner of the window, and it vanished from the screen.
“He ain’t my boyfriend.”
“Sugar, don’t even lie to me. You went on and on about the man standin’ outside your window, actin’ like Romeo himself called on you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m over it.”
“Nah, you’re definitely under it, although, there’s been a lot of that goin’ around.” She arched a brow.
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.” Polly placed a hand on her ample hip. “No judgment, sugar, but you get around.”
“Hey!”
“Just being truthful. It ain’t my fault if you can’t handle it.”
“Maybe you could be a little less free and easy with the truth.”
“And maybe you could be a little less free and easy period.”
She gritted her teeth. “I can’t believe you.”
“I can’t help it, sugar, I’m old school, and I think you should settle down with somebody, not screw around with random men who don’t deserve you. When I met Coop thirty years ago, I was a done deal and I ain’t looked at another man since. You could use the same sort of stability.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “We both know there’s no point in me gettin’ attached to anybody.”
“Don’t say such things.” Polly was a touch superstitious. In her view, if a person said something out loud, it might just come to pass.
“Why not? I thought you were all about the truth.”
“My point is, you could do better. He’s dangerous.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“Could you sound a bit less excited about it?”
“Nope.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be going through a bad boy phase?”
“Can we talk about the case again?”
Polly glowered.
“Since we’ve hit a wall with the usual suspects, what do you suggest we try next?” Aggie relied on Polly’s instincts when it came to tricky situations. She’d learned a lot from her experience as a cop.
“We’ll get to the case in a moment. For now, I’m worried about you. This Seven guy sounds like a rapist to me, or maybe a murderer. He could be a rapist/murderer.”
“His name is Ten, not Seven, and he’s neither of those things.” At least I don’t think so.
While Aggie got the sense Ten was lethal, she’d never felt threatened by him. If anything, she got a protective vibe from the man.
“Not to be all girly, but it’s kinda nice to have a man look after me.” Ten had been right, after all.
Polly snorted.
“Shut it.”
“What kind of name is that anyway? Ten? It’s a number, just stop it.”
“I like it.” She shrugged.
“I’m still tryin’ to wrap my brain around this.” Polly held out her hands. “So let me get this straight, you invited this strange man into your house after you found him skulkin’ in your bushes like a peepin’ tom.”
“He likes watchin’ me sleep.” Didn’t that come out wrong? She nearly slapped her own forehead.
“You’ve lost your damn mind.”
“I haven’t.”
“And what were you doin’ on the computer? Checkin’ up on him? Daydreamin’?”
“No.”
Polly tapped a foot.
“Okay, yes.”
“Find anything interestin’? Like an arrest warrant?”
“No, I haven’t found a thing.”
“So he gave you an alias.”
“Maybe.”
“Fine, you’re an adult, and you can make your own choices, even if they’re the wrong ones.”
Aggie rolled her eyes. “Back to the case?”
“Sure, why not? I’m stumped and I think we should call the authorities.”
“I’ve still got a few more hours. I’ve been thinkin’, if I’m goin’ up against this Diego guy, I might need a real pipe hitter.” If nothing else, it would help to have some big scary back up behind her.
Polly had taught her the term. It meant someone willing to go to extremes in order to complete a task, which suited Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly to a “T.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“For the record, I think we’re both in over our heads.”
“Duly noted.” Since her name was on the door, Aggie was in charge, and this wasn’t a democracy, even if she valued Polly’s opinion.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’m gonna pay Ten a visit tonight, and see if he’ll provide some information. In the meantime, I’ll try to scare up another lead on Diego’s whereabouts.”
“From who?”
“Maybe the farm workers will tell me?” One of them might have Diego’s location and be brave enough to share it.
“It’s a longshot.”
“I know.” She headed for the door.
Polly raised her brows. “Do you think the stalker will help you out?”
Aggie grinned. “Yeah, I got a feelin’ he will.
***
Aggie went to Ten’s winery just before closing.
Poison Fruit was on the end of town, on five acres, which hugged the creek. As she pulled into the drive, she passed hundreds of fruit trees—apples, peaches, and pears—as well as strawberry and blackberry patches.
A red barn had been converted into the bistro portion of Poison Fruit. It still had the high rafters and wood, but it’d been remodeled inside. In the center of the dining room, a brick well-like structure surrounded a large apple tree. The branches stretched up to the stained glass windows above, which depicted Eve and the apple, along with a slithering serpent. Twinkling Christmas lights lined the walls, and tea lights on the tables gave the room a warm glow.
When she walked in the door, Aggie grabbed a menu and perused the selections. All the vineyard fruits were utilized in the wine, not just grapes—blueberries, strawberries, peaches, and apples too. The wines had lethal names—Toxin, Venom, and Nightshade, among others.
It gave the name Poison Fruit a whole new sinister meaning.
Yeah, I definitely came to the right place for help.
Ten sat at the piano playing a mournful tune, oblivious to everyone around him. She recognized the music, Debussy’s Clair de Lune.
His eyes were closed, feeling the music.
Aggie knew what it was like. She got lost when she was dancing, oblivious to the world around her. She liked the sensation, as though she transcended her body, moved beyond this life and joined the universe.
It was a fanciful thought.
The music was poignant and a bit sad. The way he played was compelling, as though he felt all of the sorrow, the bleakness in the world, and he soaked it in.
Her throat ached, tears welling in her eyes.
Aggie felt the same way. She’d had a dark cloud circling above her head for a while now, and there was nothing to do but accept it.
Might as well invite the shadows in.
A waiter took her to a corner booth, and she waited until the place emptied out. Soon the crowds were gone, and only a waitress remained, wiping down the tables. He was still playing, and she sat beside Ten on the piano bench.
She sucked in a breath as he turned, as though just noticing her presence.
***
“Aggie, you came to see me.”
“Ten.” There was a barely perceptible edge to the way she’d said his name.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Truthfully, he was thrilled to see her. She’d come here all on her own and Ten didn’t know what to make of it. When it came to women, he was in over his head.
She shrugged. “I was in town and thought I’d stop by.” He liked the fire in her eyes, the way they almost crackled with tension.
“I’m glad you did. Would you like a drink?”
“Sure.”
“What can I get you? It’s on the house, by the way.”
Poison Fruit was a passion of his, and he loved the winery. It made him happy— wandering through the orchard, making things grow. And he especially enjoyed picking ripe fruit from the vine, and whenever Ten bit into it, he could almost taste the sunshine.
There was something healing, calming, about horticulture. He loved putting his hands in the dirt. Ten spent most of his time killing, and it was pleasurable to nurture a plant. He got the same feeling when he took care of Smokey.
He knew it didn’t make up for the awful things he’d done or balance those cosmic scales, but it was something at least.
“Thank you, Ten. Why don’t you choose?”
“Let’s try out some Toxin. It’s a crowd favorite.”
“You know, I heard some interestin’ rumors about Crimson Creek.”
“Is that right?”
He continued retrieving the wine, unperturbed. Most folks got really nervous when people questioned them. Not Ten. Hiding his thoughts and feelings was an ingrained survival skill.
Ten guarded his secrets, even from the government. Although his documentation had been forged, the military hadn’t questioned him about it when he’d joined up, after he obtained his GED. Maybe because they’d been fighting two wars and needed able-bodied men who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty. Ten had kept his head down, didn’t speak unless spoken to, and worked his ass off, rising through the ranks.
She squinted at him, disconcerted by his lack of response.
“I bet you never lose at poker.”
“I’m not much of a gambler.” It was too much of a risk for him. Ten preferred his life to be structured, planned.
“You should give it a try. You’d make a fortune.”
Ten scooted the glass of wine toward her, and he held his breath as she tasted it. He didn’t know why, but Ten wanted her to literally enjoy the fruits of his labor.
“It’s very good.”
“Thank you.” He felt a rush of unfamiliar joy. “As for your observation, I’ll keep it in mind, but as you can see, I have gainful employment.”
“And is this your only job?” She glanced around the room. The staff had cleared out. They were probably in the break room, gathering their things, preparing to head home.
“Of course.” The lie rolled off his tongue, smooth as silk. Lying to folks usually gave him a secret thrill.
Ten loved to see their perplexed expressions as they tried to decide whether or not he’d fibbed. It had become something of a game. Strangely enough, he didn’t like lying to Aggie much.
“And have you ever heard of Diego Ruiz?”
Ten tried to keep his expression smooth and unruffled.
“You have heard of him.” Aggie snapped her fingers. “See, I doubt a vintner would know about such a shady character.”
“I didn’t say I knew him.”
“Your expression did. Know what I think?”
“No, please tell me.”
“I think you’re a mobster.”
He leaned forward. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”
Ten wasn’t certain what her intentions were. Last night she’d offered to sleep with him, and Ten wondered if he’d made a huge mistake by walking away. In fact, he was speculating as to whether or not Aggie would proposition him again, but it was probably wishful thinking.
“Can’t it be both?”
“I’ve found it’s usually one or the other unless you take pleasure in your work.”
“I always do, but back to the point, I looked you up.”
He rocked back on his heels. “And what did you find?”
“A whole lot of nothin’, which doesn’t happen anymore. Everybody has a record—social media accounts, work websites, comments on articles, but I got a big fat zero from you. Tennessee Ross doesn’t exist.”
“Clearly I do.”
She rolled her eyes. “Regardless, I need your help.”
“To do what?” Ten was flattered, despite himself.
“I have a case I’m workin’, and I could use a man like you.”
“There’s no one like me.”
And then Aggie launched into an explanation, detailing how Diego was suspected of kidnapping two little girls. Ten had heard of the man in certain circles, and it didn’t bode well for the family.
“They should go to the Feds.”
“I suggested that too. Unfortunately, they’re here illegally.”
“This is pretty far away from my wheelhouse.” Ten took people out, tortured them for hours to get information. He didn’t track down suspects and rescue children.
She flashed a photograph. “Ten, he took their children. Look at their faces.”
And then he was staring at their apple-cheeks, and Ten’s heart thawed the smallest bit. They were young, vulnerable, and Diego might be doing all kinds of horrific things to them.
What if they were suffering through the same trauma he’d endured? His stomach clenched and he found it hard to breathe. Ten swallowed and then pulled himself together.
“I’ll help you.”
Her eyes widened. “Why? A second ago, you said you couldn’t. What changed?”
“Does it matter?” Ten didn’t want to ponder the question and he sure as hell didn’t want Aggie to figure out why he’d agreed.
“No, I guess I’ll just count myself lucky. Look, I doubt they can afford my fee, but I can pay you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I got enough cash.”
“And do you want a favor in return?” she asked suspiciously.
“Nope, there aren’t any strings on this deal.”
“Thank you, Ten. So, how do you want to handle this?”
“I’ll meet you tomorrow mornin’ at a bakery in town. If you give me your number, I’ll text you the details.” She rattled off her cell number, and he punched it into his phone, then texted Aggie, so she’d have his.
“What time?”
“I’ll give you a call beforehand. My schedule is flexible.”
Tonight, he had plans to deal with a drug dealer who’d rolled into their town and he might not get home until the wee hours of the morning. Byron and Dix didn’t want that crap on their streets. At one time, the mafia had been in bed with a cartel, but Byron had shut it down. Yes, Ten was loving this new and improved mafia.
“What does that even mean? Flexible?”
“It means if you want my assistance, you have to play by my rules.”
A muscle tightened in her jaw. “Fine.”
“You’re not used to takin’ orders, are you?” Ten had learned to comply when it served his purpose.
“Just so we're clear, I’m not obeyin’ you, I’m playin’ along to get what I want.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”