have that hot shower, something to eat, and I’ll see that you get home.”
Jenkins shook her head. “Sorry, Mr. Wentworth, but I’m a rookie. My lieutenant isn’t happy, and missing a shift won’t look good on my record.”
“Of course I’ll compensate you for your time. What about a thousand dollars?”
Her startlingly blue eyes widened again. “A thousand dollars?”
“Two? I’m not sure what’s appropriate for your daily wages.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I assure you I’m not. In fact, since we still have the ransom money, I can give you cash right now.”
She stared at him for a long moment. So long he was tempted to look away.
“You don’t have to pay me,” she said finally, a disgusted note in her voice.
He’d insulted her. He hadn’t given the offer much thought, but the woman had saved his son’s life. Of course he’d have to reward her somehow.
“Please,” Trey said. “My son has been through a great deal of turmoil in the last year. All I’m asking is you help me get him home where he’ll feel safe without traumatizing him more.”
She nodded, her jaw set, as if she was about to be tortured. “Okay. Anything to get out of this meat locker.”
“Thank you,” Trey said. He turned to Ballard. “I assume we’re free to go.”
Ballard hesitated, but shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be in touch.”
“Oh, I just bet you will,” Trey said.
Trey caught a flash of annoyance in Ballard’s eyes, but the agent said, “We’ll find Jason’s kidnappers, Mr. Wentworth. You can count on it.”
“I’m not counting on anything,” Trey replied. “And I’m hiring my own security team to protect my son.”
“That’s your right,” Ballard said, and turned toward the female cop. “Officer Jenkins, I understand why Mr. Wentworth wants to get Jason settled first, but we need you to work with a sketch artist to get a likeness of the kidnappers. And you’ll need to look at a photo lineup to see if either of them has been arrested.”
“I’ll come back after my shift,” she said.
“Not good enough.” Ballard shook his head. “The sooner the better. You know that.”
“Shit,” she muttered.
“Please watch your language around Jason,” Trey said. The woman had a sewer mouth.
She rolled her eyes, but glanced at Jason whose arms remained locked around her neck. “Sorry.”
“What about if we send the artist to Wentworth Villa?” Ballard asked. “The quicker we get the sketch out to the public, the sooner we’ll apprehend Jason’s kidnappers. It’s possible they could leave the area.”
“Sure, whatever,” Trey said. “But right now we’re leaving.” He jerked open the door. “After you, Officer Jenkins.”
* * *
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. Pissed—and thanks to the kid, she couldn’t even curse out loud—Kelly stomped through the open door, refusing to look at Wentworth. The jerk wasn’t the least appreciative of law enforcement’s efforts to help his son. He insulted her and the FBI at every opportunity. Typical.
She was glad to escape the arctic room, but the last thing she wanted to do was accompany this kid, who weighed a ton, and his arrogant father anywhere. How had this happened to her? She had an interesting assignment today paired with Sergeant Rudy McFadden, who could teach her a lot. She’d been looking forward to backing him up during patrol.
Instead she was on her way to a rich man’s home to do his bidding. She’d managed to remember a few details associated with the Wentworth name. Billionaires, snooty old money. Trey Wentworth, the playboy heir who spent all his time partying, had tried to throw some of that money at her. He thought he could buy her.
Yeah, sure, she agreed this course of action was the best thing for a kid who was beyond screwed up at this point. The abduction had obviously terrified him into fantasyland. And his mom was dead. Kelly patted his back. Poor little thing. How long had his mother been gone? Kelly knew only too well that it didn’t matter how long it’d been; the kid would hurt from that loss forever.
As they walked, Kelly listened to Wentworth’s authoritative voice behind her instructing someone to meet him in front of the police station. Who? She’d assumed the FBI would give them a ride to wherever Wentworth lived. Probably in the penthouse of a waterfront condo on Brickell Avenue, which fortunately wasn’t too far away. She really looked forward to a hot shower and something to eat. And she had to admit it’d be interesting to work with a sketch artist. She’d help however she could to get Adam and Caleb off the streets. That’s why she became a cop.
Dirtbags belonged behind bars.
A blast of hot air enveloped her like an old flannel robe as she exited the police station. Thank goodness. She narrowed her eyes against the bright light. Realizing how tense she’d held herself because of the cold, Kelly consciously relaxed her shoulders. As soon as she thawed out, she’d give Wentworth back his jacket.
A sleek black limousine pulled to a smooth stop in front of the station. A uniformed chauffeur exited, hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Thanks you, Hans,” Wentworth said.
Kelly stared at the limo. She’d never been inside one before.
“What’s wrong?” Wentworth asked.
“Nothing.” Kelly wrapped both arms around Jason, ducked her head and climbed into the vehicle. No graceful way to do it in running shorts. Facing the front, she planted her almost bare butt in the seat, and ran her palm across supple, luxurious black leather, breathing in its distinctive scent. She noted a bar to her left with two crystal decanters and matching glasses. Certain the amber liquid inside the decanters was some sort of liquor, she wished she could take a long swallow for quick warmth.
Better not. She needed to stay sharp.
Wentworth sat facing her and Jason. He gazed at his son with such longing that her resentment softened just a bit. When the driver shut the door, it instantly became quiet, making Jason’s harsh, erratic breathing very loud.
Wentworth’s eyes narrowed. “Is he okay?”
“I think his nose is stuffed up from all the crying.”
Wentworth leaned forward and reached his hand inside his coat pocket, his hand brushing against her flesh. She stiffened, but he withdrew a handkerchief and handed it to her.
“See if you can get him to blow his nose.”
She dangled it in front of the kid’s face. “Blow your nose, Jason,” she said.
“Hold it close,” Wentworth instructed.
