Desperate Choices by Kathy Ivan Page B

chop shop, was there anything wrong with it?”
    “Brad didn’t say. As soon as he noted the VIN number matched the one reported on the missing person data, he called it in.”
    Max slowed his speed as the traffic became heavier and more congested on the outskirts of a town similar to numerous ones they had passed through since leaving New Orleans an hour earlier.
    “Thanks for coming with me.” Max’s voice sounded strained.
    “I want to help find him. I know how important he is to you.”
    Max reached across the bench seat and grasped her hand, raising it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. Theresa’s heart skittered at the surge of desire that raced through her, but saidnothing. She was more than happy to let Max hold her hand while he drove. Somehow it felt right.
    ***
    Max and Theresa ran into some unexpected delays due to road construction, the bane of Louisiana traffic. It was close to two o’clock before they reached the rural Mississippi police station. Walking through the glass-fronted entrance and the obligatory metal detector, they were led back to meet with Max’s contact and friend, Sergeant Brad Cohen. Tall, lean-hipped and whipcord thin, he wore his blond hair long, as if he hadn’t had time for a haircut recently. Fine lines around his eyes, accented by dark circles, gave silent testimony to long hours on the job.
    Brad stood to greet them when they were ushered into the interview room.
    “Hey, Max, good to see you again. Ma’am.” Max made introductions, noting the way Brad’s gaze swept over Theresa in obvious appreciation, and his temper began to simmer. Calm down. You haven’t got any right to feel possessive about her.
    Once they were seated, Brad filled in the details of the arrest. As with everything else in this case, there weren’t enough facts to be of much help. “One of the perps arrested said he bought the bike from an old guy. The man told him the bike belonged to his son, who’d been killed. They don’t usually take motorbikes—too hard to fence—but he got it so cheap, he didn’t ask a lot of questions.”
    “I want to talk to him,” Max growled.
    “Sorry, man, no can do. He’s lawyered up just like the rest of the group, and won’t say another word.”
    Max rose from his seat and prowled the available space, which in such a cramped room wasn’t much.
    “Just a couple minutes. He can even have his lawyer present. I need something, maybe a description of the guy he got the bike from.”
    “I’ve tried, Max. I talked to him and his lawyer. I explained about the missing kid. He won’t budge. He’s too afraid his ass is gonna fry for this mess. He’s been arrested so many times this may be the icing on the cake that gets him put away for a long time.”
    Brad stood and braced his hands on Max’s shoulders, stopping his relentless pacing. “I’m sorry. I even had the chief lean on the lawyer, but it’s a no go. We can’t force him to talk.”
    Max ran a hand through his hair, exhaled deeply and nodded. “I know. I figured that might be the case, but I had to try.”
    He glanced over at Theresa and met her steady gaze before turning back to Brad. “Can I at least see the bike, man? I’d recognize it if I saw it.”
    “Give me a couple minutes. I’ll see what I can do.” Brad walked out of the room, the door whooshing shut behind him. Theresa moved to stand in front of Max. She reached down and clasped his hand in hers firmly, without speaking.
    He looked deep into her eyes. Pulling his hand free, he reached around and drew her close. A slight tremor in his hands betrayed his reaction to her touch. Her breasts brushed against his shirt, causing a spark of awareness to spring to life inside him. Max stilled, feeling her trembling response. He ran his fingers through the silky length of her hair and watched it slide down her back to where the glossy mass ended at her hips. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, his look daring her to