Page 24 of Barron

“And?”

“She held her own throughout the day, but she’s not used to this kind of pace. I sent her home before me. The captain and I spoke for a bit. I went to get my car…” She was back in the moment. Ice returned to her veins. Yoanni dropped her face into her palms. The teddy bear rolled to the floor.

“Hey, hey.” Barron jumped to her side, putting the stuffie on her lap. His hand on her shoulder melted the ice in her veins. “Easy, Nugget, you’re with me. No one is going to hurt you. I swear.”

She finished the rest quickly. “I found the missing calculator sitting on the hood of my car.”

“What?”

“That’s not all. This time, the captain pulled the parking lot’s surveillance videos, which showed someone dressed in a black hoodie and wearing gloves putting the calculator on the car.”

“I imagine their face was hidden,” he grumbled.

“In a way. Their face was lowered, and their back was to the cameras at all times.”

“This was an inside job,” he muttered. “This person knows the station’s schedule and systems. The fact that the parking lot is out in the open doesn’t help. Anyone can slink in unnoticed.”

“Captain Weaver has someone studying the video, in case there’s a reflection in a mirror or something useful.”

“Smart move. But then you came home and found thatsomeone broke in and hung that thing from one of your pots. That pushed you over the top.”

Yoanni hugged the teddy bear. “I don’t want to freak out, but it’s too much to be a coincidence. Either this person is Cuban or has done enough research to know about Palo, Caribbean black magic, and Santería. That’s what that figure represents. If this is an attempt to scare me, it’s working.”

“You lost me with those terms.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll give you the short version. The Spanish brought African slaves to the Caribbean islands to farm and work in the sugarcane fields. The slaves brought their own religion, but the priests disapproved. So to keep priests off their backs, they used the saints’ names to worship their own gods. Today, we know this as Santería. There are other forms. In Cuba, one is known as Palo, meaning stick, because tree sticks are used in sacred items. The Haitians have Voodoo. There’s a lot of mystery and misconception regarding these religions. In popular culture, some people believe the worshippers of Santería, Palo, and Voodoo make humanlike figures to represent their targets and engage the dead and evil spirits to do them harm.”

“Hmm. There’s a pattern here, though it sounds to me like a load of crap. I’m impressed, baby. You’re pretty informed.”

“It’s a big part of my culture. Ask any Cuban anywhere about Santería, and they’ll tell you. For me, it’s a bit different. I was raised in the States, away from that nonsense. But folks who grew up on the islands aren’t so sure it’s bullshit. The majority doesn’t totally believe, but they won’t test it either.”

“I see. The person who left that disgusting thing knows or learned about your culture and is using it to frighten you. Right?”

“You have to admit it’s pretty creepy to see one of those figures hanging by the neck in your kitchen. Plus, they broke into my home.” She squeezed the teddy bear. “Why?”

Barron stood. “I’ve heard enough. When are you due back at the station?”

“Captain Weaver’s expecting me in the morning.”

“You’ll be safe enough in the station.” He folded his arms. “Pack a few things. You’re coming with me.”

“What?” She stood. “Have you lost your mind?”

He shook his head. His expression was dead serious. “Have not.”

“Barron…”

“You’re not staying here, Yoanni. You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Course you can. Go to your closet, choose clothes to wear for a couple of days, and pack them in a bag with a toothbrush. I have everything else you’d need.”

“I’m not going.”

Stepping forward, Barron got in her face. She blinked under the intensity of every little gray line in his beautiful blue eyes and… My oh my, the scent. Barron’s masculine scent devastated her resolve to resist him. Clean, lemony, and sensual, his aroma traveled to her pussy. Her clit twitched with desire, and she squeezed her legs together. When he spoke, his tone was demanding, curt, and so excitingly dominant. “You’re not staying here alone. If you think I’m going to leave my girl in this house without protection, you don’t know me very well.” He was melting her slowly.

But she still had some backbone left in her. “Apparently, I don’t,” she snapped. “You left me before. Why should it be any different this time?”

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