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that Luka was okay.  Call her father.  Check herself over.  She let her hand slide below her belly.  Everything felt all right, but she’d been unconscious for some period of time and at the mercy of merciless men.  God knows what they might have done to her.  None of that was her main concern right now, but making sure everyone else was okay, was .
    Mal began to walk away from the beach, searching her surroundings again, this time looking for someone that could tell her where she was, or help her to contact Luka.
    It was early enough, there wasn’t anyone around, but as she arrived at the two lane road, a passing Jeep stopped when she waved at it.
    A pretty young woman leaned out.  “Hi.  Uh, did you need help or something?” she asked.
    “I do.  I’m an L.A. detective, and I need transportation and access to a phone.  Do you have your cell with you?”
    “Sure.  Yeah, sure, here.”  The girl reached into her bag that was laying on the passenger side seat, and then dropped the bag on the floor behind it.  She handed the phone to Mal.
    “You look rough.  Are you okay?”
    Mal smiled as she dialed Luka and lifted her eyes to the girl’s face.  “Yeah, thanks.  I appreciate this.  Can you wait for me a minute?”
    “I can,” the girl answered.  Mal walked a few feet back towards the beach as the cell clicked.
    “Hello?” Luka said, a question in his voice, because he didn’t recognize the number.
    “Lazy fuck.   Why aren’t you at work looking for my kidnapped ass?”
    The silence seemed minutes long, even if it was probably only seconds.  A deep sigh preceded Luka’s answer.  “Because I knew you’d show up eventually and rag my ass.”  He paused, and Mal knew he was gaining control because she was also trying not to cry.  Big girls don’t cry, right?
    “Mal. Are you all right?  What happened, Mal?  Did anyone hurt you?”
    “Let a girl get a word in, cop.”  But her voice softened.  “No, Luka, I’m okay.  I don’t know where I am, but I’m okay.  They dropped me at the beach somewhere.  It’s pretty, but I don’t recognize it.”
    “I’m coming to get you,” he said, and she could hear rustling and knew he was getting dressed.
    “Nah, Luk. I’ve got a ride.”
    “Who took you?”  When she didn’t answer immediately, he repeated himself with urgency.  “Mal, who took you?”
    “I’ll tell you, but when I get back, okay?  Luka, I’m fine, really, don’t worry.  Will you meet me at Scruff’s?”
    Luka was nodding at her.  She knew it, she didn’t need to see it, he did that a lot.
    “Don’t tell anyone you’ve spoken to me yet, okay?”
    Silence again.  Now, Luka knew something was really wrong.  “Okay,” was his simple response.
    “I’ll call you and let you know when.  See ya, Luk.”
    Mal rang off and got into the Jeep , and looked at the girl waiting behind the steering wheel. 
    “Thanks .  Where are we?” she asked.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Luka was waiting with two hot coffees in Scruff’s, the little diner around the corner from his apartment where he and Mal usually had breakfast if they were working early, or so late it was time for breakfast.  He watched a beat-up army-green Jeep pull up outside and Mal got out, turned to say something to a cute blonde and slammed the tinny door.
    When she came from behind him and slid into her usual seat, she looked like hell.  And like an angel.   His eyes moved quickly over her to assure himself she wasn’t hurt.  Her clothes were torn and dirty, her hair, which was usually pulled straight back into a low ponytail, looked like birds had raised their broods in it.  But she was here and she was alive. 
    A slow smile eased across his face.  “So, I like the new look.  Kind of takes some getting used to.”  Then the smile slipped.  “What happened, Mal.  Who took you?  Are you really okay?”
    Mal slid a hand forward and curved her fingers over his.  “Yeah, I’m really