Propose To Me Page 3

  “Dirk is the most important person in his life, I guess,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “I didn’t matter, and I believed I deserved better.”

  Henk wasn’t going to give up easily. She could tell by the way he kept his eyes expectantly on her. “And?”

  “He betrayed my trust.”

  “How? Did he cheat on you?”

  She gave her shoulders a little shake, as if to physically dispel the unpleasant memory. “Does it matter?”

  His eyes narrowed. “It does. To me. Tell me what he did, Lourdes.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “I know you kicked him out, from one day to the next. I know you left his belongings in the street.”

  Lourdes flinched a little. That had been mean, but she had been livid.

  “He had to have done something big to deserve that,” Henk continued.

  It was her turn to swallow a big mouthful of wine. “He stole from me,” she said under her breath.

  “Stole from you?” Henk’s expression was incredulous. “What did he steal?”

  She cleared her throat. “He cleaned out my bank account.”

  Henk went quiet. He pulled a hand through his hair. “That explains why your business is in trouble.”

  Flushing, Lourdes shot him a look. “How do you know about that?”

  “I told you I did my homework.” He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed her hand. “I’ll pay it all back, I swear.”

  She pulled away from his grasp. “You don’t have to. It’s not your responsibility. I’m managing.”

  For a second it seemed as if he might argue, but instead he motioned to her plate. “Finish up, the fire’s ready. I hope you like fish.”

  She loved fish. She ate in silence, aware that Henk watched her, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare. When she was done, he took their plates and pulled her to her feet.

  “Care to give me a hand with the salad?”

  “Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen.

  He placed a chopping board and tomatoes in front of her. “You were right, by the way.”

  “About what?”

  “That you deserve better.”

  Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she turned to the sink and busied herself with rinsing the tomatoes.

  “I forgot to ask you the other day, during the consultation, if you needed a prescription for artificial tears.”

  “No,” she said with her back to him. “I’ve had enough real ones for a lifetime.”

  She hadn’t heard him move, so when she suddenly felt his hand on her shoulder, she gave a startled jump.

  “I appreciate your help, Lourdes. I know you don’t have to do this, but it’ll mean a lot to me.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Henk washed the lettuce and diced the cucumber while she chopped the tomatoes. All the while, she sneaked glances at those strong, capable hands. What was it about Henk’s hands? She recalled the gentle way he had touched her during her check-up before quickly dismissing her. The woman who would one day win his exclusive affection, and that gentle, yet commanding touch, would be a lucky girl. That’s to say, if he was single. He didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a Mrs. Bouwer or a girlfriend in New York. Some married men didn’t wear rings.

  “Are you in a relationship?” She rinsed the cutting board so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.

  Henk looked up from tossing the salad. “No.” He smiled. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Just curious. I thought maybe you had a family and came ahead to prepare a place for them to live.”

  “If I had a wife, I wouldn’t have left her alone in New York. Not even for a minute.”

  “Oh.” Lucky future wife.

  “You?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I just got out of a relationship. I have no intention of rushing into another.”

  He took a hand towel from a hook on the wall and walked to her. “Give me your hands.”

  Lourdes swallowed. His proximity was not good for her heart. It tripped over its own beat as she obediently lifted her palms.

  Henk took his time to pat them dry. “There we go.” He draped the towel over his shoulder.

  “You didn’t have to...” she said lamely.

  “I don’t want the salad bowl to slip from your wet hands.” His smile was disarming. “Do you mind?”

  “Mind what?”

  His eyes moved to the bowl on the table.

  “Oh. Of course not.” She picked it up quickly and carried it outside where the air was cool against her hot cheeks.

  Henk grilled the fish while Lourdes set the table for their main meal. After Henk slid a perfectly cooked fish fillet onto her plate, she said, “Did you work in a hospital in New York, like here?”

  He took a seat opposite her and poured them more wine. “I shared a practice with a partner but sold out when I moved.”

  “Was it hard to give up?”

  “Wasn’t easy. It took a long time to build.”

  “But you did it for Dirk?”

  “He’s the only family I have left.”

  She rested her chin in her hand. “Do you enjoy working at the clinic?”

  “It’s not the same, but I’ll get used to it.”

  “So will you stay?”

  He lifted his eyes to her. “That’s the plan.”

  “Giving up your practice in New York and moving all the way here was a big sacrifice to make.”

  “I want Dirk to know how serious I am about fixing things between us. I want to be here for him.” He took a sip of wine. “How about you? What brought you here?”

  She gave a rueful smile and toyed with her fork. “Dirk. We met in Atlanta two years ago. And then he started playing big in South America, so...” She shrugged.

  He studied her from under his copper lashes. “Looks like both of us have made big sacrifices.”

  “Two years and I still battle with Spanish,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh to change the subject.

  “Mm.” He took a bite of his food. “I’ve noticed.”

  She flushed as she remembered the card she couldn’t read in his consultation room. “It’s just that I’ve always worked with American or English companies here.”

  “No need to explain. I know you’re a clever woman, Lourdes.”

  She wanted to ask how he would know, but before she could formulate the question, he said with a glint in his eyes, “I looked you up on LinkedIn, too. Impressive resume. I may have also stalked you a bit on Facebook–from a professional interest, of course.”

  She buried her face behind her wineglass. The statement shouldn’t please her half as much as it did. She had no business noticing Henk’s hands, or his broad shoulders, or his tanned arms, or the intenseness of his stare.

  After dinner, she helped clear the dishes and watched as Henk prepared Kalúa coffee for dessert. When the night turned cooler, he offered her a throw from the sofa and moved her to the kitchen table, always the attentive gentleman. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to spend too much time in Henk’s company. She didn’t want to like him too much.

  She finished her coffee and checked her watch. “I have to go. Tomorrow’s a work day.”

  He got to his feet without arguing. “Thank you for hearing me out tonight, Lourdes.” He rounded the table and took her hand. “Will you help me? Will you speak to Dirk?”

  After everything he had sacrificed for Dirk, how could she refuse?

  “I’ll think about it,” she said softly.

  He squeezed her hand. “I appreciate it.”

  She pulled her fingers from his grasp. “Thanks for dinner.”

  As she pushed the throw from her shoulders, he stopped her. “Better hang on to this for the ride home.”

  This time he put the hood of the car up. At her house, he walked her to her door and waited until she was safely inside. No peck on the cheek. Her father would have been impressed.

  ~ * ~

  Later that night in bed, Lourde
s lay in the dark and replayed the evening in her mind. A lot about Dirk made sense to her now, like why he always closed up like a clam when she asked about his past. Admiration for Henk swelled inside her. He had given up his life in New York to come after his estranged brother, to help him out of a dilemma that wasn’t his duty to solve. How could she deny Henk’s request? Despite the fact that Dirk had caused her heartache and suffering for most of the two years they had been together, they had been happy, too. Sometimes he had been so loving, he had actually convinced her he cared. She had just grown tired of having more tears than laughter. And stealing her money had been the last straw. As she drifted off to sleep, musing about the two brothers, her thoughts dwelled on the one who had offered her artificial tears.

  ~ * ~

  On Tuesday morning when Trudy was at the bank, Lourdes sat down at her desk and stared at the phone. It was now or never. If she was going to call Dirk today, she’d better do it while she had a private moment, or her courage would fail her. It had taken months for Dirk to stop bombarding her voice mail, begging her to take him back, and now she was willingly making contact again. This was for Henk.

  Before she could back out, she dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Baby.” His voice was a sigh. “You have no idea how glad I am that you called.”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me. I—”

  “You’re still angry. That’s all right. I was an idiot. I swear to God, love, I’ll pay you back every—”

  “Dirk, this isn’t about us.”

  He paused. “What then?” His voice suddenly became strained. “Did someone call you about me?”

  “Yes.” She knew he worried about the people who he owed and couldn’t pay off, even with all the money he had taken from her.

  “Baby, listen to me, you can’t tell them where I am. Don’t—”

  “Dirk, be silent, will you? I've met someone I believe you should see.”

  He sounded downright anxious now. “Is someone there with you? Are they forcing you to—”

  “I met your brother,” she said softly.

  He was quiet for so long she wondered if he had hung up. Finally, he said in a flat, cold tone, “I don’t have a brother.”

  “He wants to help you. Please just—”

  The line had gone dead.

  Lourdes stared at the phone. She couldn’t believe he had hung up on her. Her eyes narrowed in determination. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, not after everything he had put her through. The least he could do was hear her out.

  She pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse and keys. As she bypassed Trudy in the hallway, her assistant asked, “Where are you going?”

  “To see Dirk.” She pushed the elevator button.

  “What? Lourdes, wait!”

  But Lourdes was already in the elevator, the door closing on Trudy’s baffled face.

  ~ * ~

  Lourdes drove to the bachelor pad Dirk had moved into after she kicked him out. Never having been there, she used her mobile phone GPS to locate the building near the heart of the city. Always meticulous, she had saved Dirk’s email with his address in a file titled, “Do Not Answer.” She parked on the street in front of a warehouse revamped into fashionable, expensive loft apartments. There was no reply when she rang Dirk’s number, but a second later, a woman opened the security door. Lourdes followed her inside with a smile she hoped seemed confident.

  She took the stairs to the third level and moved to the door with Dirk’s number. About to knock, she noticed the door was ajar. Dirk had always been pedantic about security and would never leave his door open. Fear gripped her. This didn’t feel right. Something was wrong. Should she call the police? Still contemplating the options, the shrill ringtone of her phone echoed in the acoustic hallway. Oh, crappy, crap, crap. She dug through her bag for her phone, desperate to locate it, but it took a while before her fingers folded around it. Lourdes pushed the button to reject the call three times before it worked. Trudy’s number flashed on her screen. She turned in her tracks to rush back to the lift when a hand closed around her arm.

  “Not so fast, lady.”

  She shrieked, trying to pull out of the grip, but the fingers that held her fastened painfully around her flesh and twisted her around. The man had dark, cold eyes and black hair, his lips pulled back into a satisfied snarl.

  “Well, well, what have we here?”

  “Let go of me!”

  He snickered. “Rod! Look what I’ve got.” He dragged her inside the flat and kicked the door shut. Lourdes inhaled audibly at the sight in front of her. Dirk sat in a chair, tied up and gagged, blood running from his nose. His face was swollen on one side. A bulky man with a headband cracked his knuckles and looked over his shoulder at them.

  “Piece of luck,” her captor said. “Now, Dirk, who is this piece of luck?” He laughed sardonically. “Anyone important to you?”

  Rod jerked the gag down. “Mikey asked you a question. Answer him.”

  “Lourdes,” Dirk said through a split lip. It sounded like a cry for help. He was missing a tooth.

  “This makes our job so much easier,” Rod said. “We’ll keep her as insurance.”

  Lourdes fought Mikey’s hold, but her efforts were futile. He easily grabbed her wrists together and held them out to Rod, who picked up a piece of rope from the floor and bound her hands together. Mikey pushed her down on the couch while Rod took a knife from his pocket. Lourdes flinched, starting to tremble. Rod cut Dirk loose and pulled him roughly to his feet. Unstable, he almost tripped, and Lourdes exclaimed when Rod’s fist punched into Dirk’s stomach. Dirk doubled over, his hands clenching his belly.

  “You have two hours to come back with our money,” Rod said, “or the chick’s dead.”

  Lourdes wanted to cry, but Dirk was already sobbing enough for both of them as he stumbled to the door. No. Dirk wouldn’t come back for her. He’d run as far and as fast as he could. Her breath came in gulps. She was as good as dead.

  Frightened, Lourdes watched Dirk’s exit. She had to keep her wits about her if she wanted to stay alive.

  “Listen,” she said to the man named Rod, “he’s not coming back, and you know it.”

  His lips pulled back, revealing a gold tooth. “Then you’re dead, honey.”

  “He won’t come back for me,” she persisted. “We broke up. I’m not his girlfriend any longer.”

  “Nice try, sweet cheeks,” Mikey said.

  She shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me, but he won’t come back. He doesn’t love me, probably never even liked me. May already be halfway to the border.”

  Mikey cursed.

  “Shut up, Cinderella,” Rod said through clenched teeth.

  “How much does he owe?” she asked, trying to sound brave.

  Rod looked at his friend. The two seemed to exchange a silent message.

  “A lot,” Rod said. “You better hope you can pay back what he owes, plus interest.”

  “I’ll give you the money.” She shook as she prayed this would work. “Just let me go.”

  Rod, who seemed to be the leader, said nothing at first. Then he nodded at his friend. “If she’s right, if he doesn’t come back for her, we’re screwed. Get her a phone.” He turned to Lourdes. “A hundred grand. You have five seconds to convince someone to drop off the money. Tell Mikey what number to dial. Make it quick, and if you value your life, honey, don’t try anything funny.”

  “All right.” She licked her dry lips. “But no one is making a drop. I don’t trust you. I want a transfer.”

  Rod looked at Mikey again. “Smart chick. Fair enough. But you stay put, honey, until I see the money in my account.”

  Lourdes prayed to all the angels and gods of good luck to speed to her aid. Please, please let Tomás, her personal banker, get the money.

  Mikey hovered above her, going through her bag. After a while, he retrieved the phone. “Who do you want to call?” He grinned. “Hey, Rod, what�
�s that program on the tellie where you can dial a friend?”

  “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.”

  “Yeah.” Mikey’s stomach shook with a low laugh. “Let’s play millionaire, sweet cheeks. Who’d you like to call?”

  “Trudy. Check on my contact list.”

  Mikey scrolled down the list and pressed the dial button. He put the phone on speaker.

  Rod held the knife to her throat. “Any funny business and I cut.”

  Lourdes swallowed. When Trudy took the call, Mikey pressed the phone against her ear.

  “Hey, Trudy, it’s Lourdes.”

  “What the heck? I called you. Why didn’t you answer? I was worried.”

  “Trudy, please, just listen.” Her tone had the desired effect. Trudy was silent. “Call Tomás. I need him to authorize a transfer of a hundred thousand dollars from my account.”

  “What?” Trudy’s voice was shrill. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Please, don’t argue. Just call Tomás. The equity in my house, tell him to take the money against it.” She glanced at Rod. “The account details?”

  “You’ll text it,” Rod said.

  “I’ll text it,” Lourdes repeated for Trudy’s benefit.

  “Lourdes,” Trudy’s voice wavered like it did when she was about to cry. “Are you safe?”

  Mikey brought the phone to his lips. “No, Trudy sweet cakes, she’s not. No money, no Lourdes. Get it? Tell Tommy he’s got two hours.” He ended the call and chucked the phone onto the couch next to Lourdes, far enough away so she couldn’t reach it with her bound hands.

  “Now what?” Lourdes said.

  “Now we wait.” Rod walked to the fridge in the corner and took out two beers. He threw one to Mikey and cracked his open. “I’m sure we can find something to pass the time.”

  ~ * ~

  Two hours had never felt so long. The minutes ticked by while her captors spoke to someone on the phone. They explained how they had set Dirk free to get the money, and then managed to win a hostage who would also deliver on the money. Double wages, Rod had said. He and Mikey wanted double pay. And if Dirk didn’t deliver, he was dead anyway. Lourdes sat with her hands tied together in her lap, trying to act invisible so they would forget about her presence. But after his third beer, Mikey sauntered over to her.