It had been just over twenty-four hours since I’d left the studio.

I was worn out, hot and furious, and now that I had finally gotten somebody to talk to me, I thought my legs might give out underneath me.

Almost a day.

It had taken me almost a day to find Maya, and I only found her because somebody had finally allowed her a phone call.

Allowed her a phone call.

She was inside a fucking jail cell, and if one of these bastards didn’t get her out, I was going to hurt somebody.

Then you’ll end up inside a jail cell, too.

I’d already called everybody I could think of, the first call going to Florence to let her know where I was, and that I was doing everything in my power to get Maya out of jail.Then I’d started making other calls.

I knew a city councilman, so I’d called him.

I’d once been at a party with the mayor and his wife, so I called them—or rather, I tried to call him and I’d ended up on the phone with his wife, but she’d told me the mayor was out trying to deal with this unpleasant business in Watts—could she please help me?

Every fifteen minutes or so, I was back inside to pace and find somebody else to yell at.

The yelling probably wasn’t doing me much good, but I’d sort of lost my temper somewhere between being told she’d been involved in an altercation and they were considering pressing charges.

I’d already had words with the cop who’d brought her in, and I wanted to wrap my fingers around his thick neck.

“I tried to give her a chance to just walk away, but she insisted on sticking her pretty nose where it didn’t belong…no, no, see, what happened was these two boys caught a girl who was breaking into a house, and this other girl shows up and insists they don’t know what they’re talking about—”

He hadn’t much cared for my assumption that maybe they hadn’t known what they were talking about.

I’d pushed to know why he’d arrested Maya, and I hadn’t gotten much of an answer.

“Look, I don’t see why you’re so mad that I arrested your sidepiece. You don’t like it, then maybe tell her to show more respect to her betters.”

I’d almost reached across the counter and dragged him to the ground so I could beat him bloody then and there. It had been interrupted by the captain approaching me—apparently, he’d seen the murder in my eyes.

“I’ve got word to have her brought out to speak with you,” he said, giving me a genial smile. “I’m sure we can get this misunderstanding cleared up, Mr. Jackson.”

The phones were ringing non-stop and as we stood there, four uniformed officers—including the one who’d called Maya my sidepiece—went running out the door.

The captain had a pained look on his face and abruptly, he gestured to me, beckoning for me to follow.

I ended up a dim, dingy room lit by a bulb that might do the trick when sunlight was there to aid it, but come nightfall, it wouldn’t do shit to penetrate the gloom.

“Have a seat. I’m going to go see what the hold-up is.”

I didn’t sit. I paced. I leaned against the window, covered by bars, and stared outside. There was smoke off in the far distance, and the people who gathered on the street cast worried looks in that direction. Nobody lingered for long.

I didn’t blame them.

I didn’t want to be this close to where things seemed to be going to hell either.

The door swung open and I turned, about ready to explode—

And there stood Maya.

Her dress was rumpled, her hair was limp.

I took a step forward, only to stop.

She had bruises ringing her arms—the kind caused by big, hard hands handling somebody with soft skin far too roughly.

“Who put bruises on you?” I demanded.

She blinked, looking half-asleep. Then, she looked down at her arms and shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” Shaking my head, I brushed the question aside. I’d worry about the bruises later. Focusing on the captain, I asked, “What do we need to do to fix this?”

The captain studied me for a moment, then he just waved a hand. “Go on. Just…girl, stay out of trouble.”

Maya opened her mouth, the closed it.

“I’m not leaving.” She crossed her arms mutinously over her chest.

“The hell you’re not.” I stalked over to her.

“There’s another woman here—Sharon Cook. I was just trying to help her because these two jerks were hassling her. She didn’t do anything wrong, and she shouldn’t be in here. I can’t leave her here alone.” Maya’s lower lip trembled but she lifted her chin in proud arrogance.

There was something in her eyes, though.

“You go on back to your life, Glenn. I called Florence. I’ll ask her to help me and Sharon when she gets here.”

My heart cracked open and I wondered if all of this had happened a week...or months ago…years ago…

She would’ve asked you.

That was the look in her eyes, the plea she wouldn’t give voice to.

She was scared, but she wasn’t about to tell me.

Sighing, I looked at the captain. “You look like you’ve got your hands full, and it sounds to me like maybe there was a misunderstanding. All around. If there’s a fine for this Miss Cook, maybe I can pay it and just…settle everything.”

* * *

Maya had insisted she’d just walk back to her apartment.

Her apartment was in Willowbrook. Sharon planned to go back to her own place in Watts.

Instead of exploding like I wanted to do, I managed to keep my calm and explain the situation around the riots and how bad things were getting.

Sharon looked frightened.

Maya, though, as I’d spoken, something lit her eyes—it was like I’d given her a piece to a puzzle, and she’d turned away, covering her face with her hands.As Sharon insisted she’d be fine, it was Maya who ended up convincing the other woman she needed to get out of the city.

That had been two hours ago.

Now Maya stood by my car, hugging the slender young woman tightly. Sharon Cook looked hardly old enough to bear the burdens she was already carrying, and she had insisted if I’d just let her be, she’d be just fine.

But I’d heard too much talk while I waited in the station for news of Maya.

The riots in Watts were probably going to get worse, and they’d already spread past that one area.

Maya and Sharon hadn’t even been in the precinct where they’d been arrested—that jail had already been full, although it sounded like it was turning into a battleground now.

Finally, I’d convinced Sharon to let me take her someplace outside the city.

She had family north of Los Angeles, a farm where she’d grown up, so that was where we went.

Those two hours, I sucked down the worry, the fear and the frustration. It had been pure hell—but even once Maya climbed back into the car, I kept my mouth shut and my focus on the road.

I didn’t want to explode and lose focus of just why I was fucking pissed.

I just hadn’t liked how she was treated, that was all. Her, or that kid, Sharon. And Sharon was a kid, barely eighteen. That’s why I was pissed. It had nothing to do with it being Maya, or her being pregnant.

Yeah, right, a sardonic voice in the back of my head whispered.

“If you squeeze that steering wheel any harder, you’re going to break it.”

It was the first time she’d spoken directly to me in well over an hour.

There was another crack in the tenuous hold I had over my control.

Next to me, she squirmed a little. “Is…” then she stopped talking.

“What?” I demanded.

When she didn’t reply, I shot her a quick look.

She was fussing with one of the pearl buttons on her blouse. And that was when I noticed something.

Her breasts were bigger.

It was a faint difference, but it was there, nonetheless. My mouth went dry, even as my vision started to go red.

The baby.

The baby she’d lied about.

Whipping my head around, I forced myself to focus on the road. “Maybe in the future, they can read minds, but here, we still have to ask in order to know what somebody wants. What in the hell do you want, Maya?”

“A bathroom,” she said. The flat tone of her voice all but gutted me.

“Oh.” Hell. “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.” We’d passed a service station on the way to the farm where we’d taken Sharon. “There should be one in another mile or so.”

There had been a diner, too.

I was starving.

“We’ll stop and get gas, some food,” I said.

She nodded.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that she was staring out her window.

And she kept playing with the pearl button on a blouse that had probably once been white. It was dingy now, and wrinkled, clinging to her soft curves in the summer heat.

Guilt hit me hard.

No matter how much it hurt that she’d lied to me, she was still with child, and the past day had been even harder on her than it had me. Yet she hadn’t complained, had hardly said anything except try to make Sharon feel better.

I spoke again, softening my voice. “We can take a bit of break. You’re probably tired.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice stiff and formal. “You can just take me to Florence’s house and I’m sure they can help me get back to my apartment.”

Like hell, I thought. But that was a fight for later.

“We at least need to get some gas and food. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah.” She sighed softly and shifted in the seat, resting her head on the padded headrest.

I didn’t want to think about how fragile she looked.

I didn’t want to think about how easily she could’ve been hurt…or worse.

It was that thinking that had me opening my mouth again, when I really should’ve just stayed quiet.

“You know, one might think that somebody from the future would’ve had some idea of what was going on in the Watts area, and they’d know to stay the hell away from there—and getting involved like you did earlier? Are you just looking for trouble?”

Although it was hot and the wind blowing through the open windows of my car wasn’t helping, it felt like a cold front settled in my car in that moment.

“Excuse me?” Maya asked, her voice edged with ice.

I shot her a look, still pissed. “You have any idea what could’ve happened to you? People have gotten killed in some of these riots, Maya. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that if more people could see what the black people of this world had to live with, if more of them got up off their asses and actually showed some empathy, then maybe there wouldn’t have been a need for any riots at all—that maybe nobody would’ve died to begin with!” she said, her voice so tight and low, it was like she was fighting not to scream.

“You think I don’t see some of the shit that’s happening? That I don’t think it’s unfair?” I’d reached the gas station and pulled into the parking lot, but instead of going to a pump, I turned and glared at her.

“Unfair?!” She laughed and it was a broken, jagged sound. “Unfair is when you might lose your part to a younger, less-talented actor. What black people have to live with is more than unfair. Sharon was just trying to do her job! She cleans houses, for crying out loud. She had a key, and two jack-asses thought they could hassle her. And because I stopped to help her, and because I don’t look completely white myself, they figured I was fair game!” she shouted.

I went to snap back.

But I stopped.

Without thinking, my eyes slid to her neck, then her shoulders. That tumble of dark hair. That soft, smooth skin, a warm, dusky gold. I’d never thought about it before. This was California.

Give me ten minutes outside and I looked like that.

But…

“I’m Spanish,” Maya said, her voice cold. “My mom and dad’s family are both from Spain, although Mom’s family has been in the States a lot longer. Dad’s family came over before he was born. But…no, I’m not exactly white, Glenn. And if you think I haven’t ever been treated differently because of it…”

She stopped speaking and then just sighed. “You know what? Let’s just get the gas and go. If you want to eat, fine. But I’m not hungry.”

Then she leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

I didn’t have much of anything to say. What was there to say?

She was right. I hadn’t lived her experiences. Unfair, I’d said. I sounded like a pompous ass. I didn't actually think unfair covered it.

Feeling hollow inside, I pulled the car over to the pumps and sat there as the attendant pumped the gas.

Maya slid deeper into the seat, her face averted. I looked over at her, wanting to say something. Anything.

Finally, unable to sit there and be totally silent, I just said, “I’m sorry.”