Page 30 of Benjamin and the Thief

“Does it now?” he asked, while he took her hand and guided it to the hard bulge that had formed beneath his pants. “Is that what you were looking for?”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, her pulse speeding up. “I wasn’t going to be that bold, but since you’re offering…”

She squeezed his cock. This time, he took her hand and lifted it off him, placing it on her own thigh.

“I think that’s all I can handle right now. If we didn’t have important things to do, I’d take the next exit…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, and he didn’t have to, because the way he looked at her, his eyes blazing in an even more intense blue than she’d seen before, she knew exactly what he wanted. And she wouldn’t refuse him either. In fact, she wouldn’t even mind if they had sex in the car.

In order to distract herself from the sexual tension between them, she asked, “Where are we heading?”

“To police headquarters on Bryant Street.”

“What do you want to do there?”

“Look at the police file of your brother’s case. It’s different from the court transcript.”

“But the police won’t let you look at their files. I tried. And even as his sister, they refused me.”

“Don’t worry. I have connections. My friend’s wife is employed as police liaison between Scanguards and the SFPD. She’ll get us what we need.”

She marveled at his confidence. “Isn’t she gonna get in trouble for that?”

Benjamin shook his head and cast her a quick glance. “It’s literally her job. Scanguards isn’t just a security company. We don’t only provide bodyguards and security personnel. We’re also private investigators. The city hires us for cases where they need our expertise.”

“But isn’t that what the police are for?”

“True, but we have certain specialties.”

“Like what?”

“Think of us as Sherlock Holmes, and of the SFPD as Scotland Yard.” He shrugged. “So, trust me, your brother’s case is in good hands.”

“I really appreciate you doing this.” She sighed. “I wish I could pay for your work. Or that I had known about Scanguards before Santiago’s trial. But we couldn’t afford a private investigator. All the money we had…”

“Tell me about your mother. What kind of cancer does she have?”

“Pancreatic cancer, stage four.” Catalina looked out the passenger-side window. “I wish I could do something for her and Papa.”

“I’m sure you’ve done all you can. How long ago did they get deported?”

“Almost a year ago. My mother had just started chemotherapy and was responding well. She was on her fourth week when ICE set up roadblocks outside of Fresno. My dad was driving her back home from her treatment. Even though they both speak good English and were able to tell them that they had work permits, they weren’t given an opportunity to get their papers and prove to the officers that they were legal. They are Latino, and they have an accent. That’s all they looked at.”

She felt her heart clench painfully at the recollection of the events.

“It took us nearly a week to find out where they’d been taken. We found them in a detention center down in San Diego. We brought all their papers to show them that they were legal, but they wouldn’t even look at them and deported them a few days later. I heard one of the pro bono immigration lawyers say that when ICE realized that my mother was undergoing chemotherapy, they decided to fast-track her deportation, because she was a drain on the American healthcare system.”

A tear stole itself down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, not wanting Benjamin to see it.

“She had health insurance through her work. She wasn’t a burden on anybody.”

Benjamin clasped her hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Thank you.”

“Where in Mexico are your parents now?”

“In Guadalajara.”