Page 42 of Walking the Bird

“Holding the door isn't a rule, Eleni. It's a courtesy,” Derek argued.

“Well, it should be.”

“So should being faithful to your wife.”

A humorous laughescaped Melinda as she looked at the white-haired gentleman on the screen. “I’ve never seen that man either, Mr. Biggs.”

Opening his mouth to contradict, Ryan’s gaze snapped to the corner of the room where Ziere let out a series of grunts, jerking his body so hard he moved the chair he was tied to.

Following Ryan’s line of sight, Melinda gasped as she took in Ziere’s pleading eyes and the trickle of blood flowing down his chin.

Turning to Matt, “Please, Mr. Parrish. Let me talk to him.”

Something stirred inside Matt. They’d used pain as a motivator to extract information and failed, maybe this Ziere fuck needed a woman’s touch. Flashing a glance toward Zach, who nodded once, Matt released the man’s head and took a step back.

Not wasting a second, Melinda moved her body directly in front of Ziere’s, wiping the blood from his chin with her thumb.

“Are you okay?” Running her hands along his face and neck, scanning his mouth for evidence of any missing teeth, but finding none.

Nodding, Ziere took a deep breath, “Yes, Ms. Stuart. I’ve had worse done to me by my wife.”

Melinda tried to smile at his off-handed joke, his wife was a tiny thing who worked as a housekeeper for the resort and cooked at one of the conch shops in town.

“Why won’t you tell them what they want to know?”

“I can't.”

“Ziere,” she reprimanded. “These men are serious.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But I have people to protect.”

“Who? Your wife, Derek would—”

“You.” Ziere cut her off.

Confused, Melinda tipped her head to the side. “Me?”

“Yes, if I tell them who gave me the hoodie and why, terrible things will happen to you.”

Searching Ziere’s eyes, Melinda found loyalty and honor among the kindness she’d come to expect from one of her oldest friends.

“Are you willing to tell me?”

Melinda watched as a war raged within Ziere, his brown orbs swimming with unshed tears.

“Look under the tarp,” Ziere whispered, almost too low for her to hear.

Nodding his head to the left, Melinda turned in the direction Ziere indicated, her gaze landing on a gray tarp covering what appeared to be a stack of discarded crab traps.

Slowly, as if approaching a coiled snake, Melinda made her way across the room. Glancing over her shoulder, she locked eyes with Ziere, who nodded in encouragement.

Zach held up his clenched fist, silently telling his men to hold their position. It was a huge gamble, allowing Melinda to see what lay under the tarp, but they needed answers and were out of options as Diablo had failed to take the bait in getting his drugs back. Zach was certain they had him last night when the sensor went off, only to find a stray cat searching for any forgotten crabs in the traps.

Bending down, Melinda’s hands shook as she lifted the corner of the tarp, tossing the heavy cloth back over itself.

“What in the world?” She thought aloud, having never seen anything like this up close in her life. Glancing over her shoulder, “Ziere, is this what I think it is?”

Nodding his head, “Hand, Melinda.”

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