Kingston Kidnappings (What Happens In Vegas Book 3) by Matt Lincoln (great book club books .txt) 📗

it today seemed forced. I could tell how tightly her jaw was set by the way her skin was pulled taut against her jawline, and her entire body was just too still. It was as though she was trying really hard to concentrate on something.

“Scared of flying?” I asked, and she turned her head sharply toward me.

“What?” She blinked at me in surprise.

“Are you scared of flying?” I repeated my question. “You just seem kind of tense.” She stared at me for a long moment before deflating into her seat.

“I’m not afraid of flying,” she replied. “I’m just nervous. I have this irrational fear that I’ll run into my parents while we’re on the island.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I retorted. “Jamaica’s huge, and there are thousands of people there. What are the odds you’d run into them?”

“Infinitesimally small,” she replied flatly. “I’m aware it’s stupid. I had this same conversation with myself just yesterday. I thought I’d gotten over it, but then I woke up this morning absolutely dreading the thought of even seeing them. You don’t have to tell me I’m ridiculous. I know that already.”

“Well, you need to get over it,” I deadpanned. Patel raised an eyebrow at me, incredulous at how blunt I was being. “Listen, I’m not gonna pretend to know what your problem is with your folks, but you have to stop worrying about it. You aren’t going to be any help to me on this mission if you're inside your own head the entire time, whining about how you’re afraid of your mom and dad.”

Patel glared daggers at me, and for a second, I was genuinely afraid she was going to slap me or stab me with the point of her impractically tall high heels. It surprised me when instead, she let out a small burst of laughter and relaxed further into her seat.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “I’ll be nothing but dead weight if I keep moping around like a frightened child. I needed to hear that, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded tentatively. I was surprised by her reaction and by how poised she seemed even while admitting her own shortcomings.

“That was, however, very bold of you,” she continued. “How did you know that I wouldn’t get upset at having you speak to me like that?”

“I didn't,” I answered honestly. “I just had a hunch. You have a strong character, and you’re a no-nonsense kind of person. I assumed you’d appreciate me speaking to you straight instead of beating around the bush.”

“You’re right about that,” she replied. “I can’t stand having people agree with me just for the sake of keeping the peace. I do hope that you don’t speak to the other agents like that, though. I can’t imagine how Junior would react.”

“Of course I don’t,” I scoffed. I was a blunt person, but I wasn’t a jerk. Not on purpose, at least. I knew that what worked for one person wouldn’t necessarily work for another. “The tough-love approach wouldn’t work on him. He’d probably get all sad and mopey for the rest of the day.”

“Fiona would burst into tears,” Patel mused.

“Miranda would probably slap me,” I frowned, and Patel fell silent for a moment as she regarded me with a look I couldn’t read. It made me feel uncomfortable, as though she was trying to scrutinize me, so I hurried to change the subject.

“What is your deal with your parents, anyway?” I asked. I regretted it as soon as Patel’s face dropped. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Patel replied slyly. “I’ll tell you what’s going on with my parents and me if you’ll tell me what’s going on with you and Miranda.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as she spoke, unsure how I should respond. We hadn’t specifically set out to keep what we were doing a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something we were trying to broadcast either. Primarily because of what was happening right now. I didn’t particularly like the idea of being the main topic of gossip around the office. In hindsight, it was foolish to think that no one would notice. We were working in an office full of detectives, after all.

“Not really anything,” I answered half truthfully. We weren’t really dating officially, so there wasn’t much to say.

“You’re lying,” Patel deadpanned. “It took you five full seconds to respond, and you looked like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as I asked. That in itself tells me that something is going on. Give me details.” She looked like a shark eyeing a piece of prey, and I had a feeling she was going to wheedle the information out of me one way or another.

“You first,” I stalled. “You said you’d tell me what the deal was with your parents. Tell me, and I’ll give you all the boring details.”

“Oh, right,” Patel sighed. “Where’s the best point to start this story... Well, my parents tried to force me into an arranged marriage.”

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline.

“They did what?” I asked. “Is that even still done?”

“In some parts of the world,” Patel nodded. “I was nineteen and in my second year at university. They’d only sent me to school to get my MRS degree, as they say. They’d wanted me to attend a school in India, so I’d be close to them, but in the end, I convinced them to let me go to a university in the United States. I told them the men there would be better educated and wealthier, and that was all I needed to say to get them to agree. They didn’t really care about my education, just that I’d find a suitable man to marry.” She sounded bitter as she spoke.

“That’s such an antiquated practice,” I muttered. “I had no idea people still did stuff like that.”

“A lot of people don’t,” she smiled sadly. “Just like they don’t know about how many children are trafficked into the United States every day.