by Beth Rhodes
Her stomach twisted. She didn’t like that thought.
Looking around, her heart fell. There seemed no chance of finding them. The furniture had been replaced, and the personal momentos from that time were gone, not even a smidge of what had been.
“Come on. I’ll go up with you,” Jamie said.
The house seemed small to her. Her perspective had changed. She ran her hand along the wall as she went up the stairs. The texture of the wallpaper was new but a throwback to old times, adding charm to the house—like the tile in the kitchen.
Her grandmother had been savvy before, connected and able to get Missy out of Mexico. Apparently, her skills covered this business as well. The pride snuck up on her and made her smile. Sneaky grandma, living out there in the middle of nowhere as if she could survive an apocalypse with her garden and self-sufficiency.
At the top of the stairs, Missy opened a door on the left. Room by room, they moved together through the upper level of the house. “Nothing, Jamie.”
Every room had a bed, a chair, and a small desk. They searched each one, even going so far as to turn the desks over and check for hidden panels.
“One last room,” Jamie answered her, but even he seemed discouraged.
She turned the knob. “This used to be my dad’s office,” she said, absently as the door swung open.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Jamie.”
She walked into a room meant for quiet reflection.
An altar sat between two windows. A crucifix hung above it. In the far corner sat another table, more like a pedestal, with a statue of the Blessed Mother on it. There was a kneeler straight ahead of her, but also there were big comfy chairs for if a guest wanted to just sit and relax.
She went in, drawn by the unexpected, and knelt at the kneeler in front of the altar and made the sign of the cross. Funny how those familiar motions came back. Her dad had stopped going to church, so for years, she’d gone only when she was with her grandma. Missy sighed. Here she was, needing to head downstairs to attend the meeting in the basement, and she had to admit, she wanted to stay where she was…take a nap. It was peaceful up here.
Down there, it wasn’t going to be peaceful.
Jamie came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Ready?”
As she stood, a photo on the wall caught her attention. The small frame held a four by six photo, nothing professional or posed. Just a candid shot of her parents, on their wedding day. Her mom, in a pretty off-white dress with flowers crowning her head. “Jamie, look.”
Missy lifted the photo and frame from the wall and turned it over.
Her heart pounded. Jamie stood in front of her and cupped his hands under hers. She glanced up into his gaze and saw hope there. Her hands shook.
Through every room in the house, there’d been no token of the life before, except for this.
She worked the metal tab loose on each side of the frame and pulled the cardboard backing off. “Holy shit,” she whispered.
A white piece of paper was tucked into the back of the frame and folded into it was a strip of negatives. Photographs. Jamie lifted it and held it up to the light streaming in through the windows. “This is it, Missy. Your photographs.”
“I can’t believe it.” Tears pricked at the backside of her eyes. “I wasn’t sure we’d find them.”
“Now we can give these to the authorities and get out of here.”
She hesitated.
“What?”
“I can’t,” she admitted.
“Why not?”
Her stomach turned. “I don’t know. What if Martinez has connections? What if it disappears? We should develop it. At least if I give it to Tio Antonio—”
“Antonio works for Martinez.”
“I know. I know,” she ground out, frustration eating at her. “What if it doesn’t work, though? What if we do all of this for nothing because Martinez controls everyone?”
“Jamie,” Tancredo called, his footsteps sounding on the stairs.
Jamie sighed and walked over to the door. “We’re in here.” He turned back, his face grim. “Okay. Look. Let’s go down to the meeting, see what they have to say. We can…deliberate.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Deliberate. Okay.”
“Hey guys.” Tancredo came in, glanced around, and started talking. “We just heard. Martinez has Nina.”
“What?” Missy’s world fell out from beneath her. She gripped Jamie’s arm, and for a weird moment, her head felt like it was floating. She shook it off. “When? Where? How—” she scrambled to organize her thoughts. “How did she get on his radar?”
But as soon as Missy arrived in Mexico, her family had been put at risk. “Does Tio know? Of course, he must. How could he not? Why would he be part of this? Jamie?”
“Calm down, babe,” he gripped her by the shoulders. “We’ll get her.”
The tears fell now, and she nodded.
The anger grew within her, though. “I need to call Tio Antonio.”
Jamie took the envelope with the negatives and tucked it into his back pocket. And pulled out one of the phones Tom had lent to him. “Use this.”
They followed Tancredo downstairs. Missy could hardly feel her feet, and she wanted to laugh at how the shock of the news could have such an odd visceral reaction. By the time they hit the basement, she had her wits about her. Inside, fighting mad, she was ready to do whatever necessary to get to her grandmother.
While the team went inside the cramped meeting room downstairs, Missy hung back and dialed her uncle’s number. Her hand shook, and she gripped the cellphone to make it stop. The phone rang and rang again. No answer.
When the voicemail came on, she hung up and took the stairs to the lower floor.
The basement was bigger than expected. A twenty by thirty room had chairs lined up in rows. On one wall hung the Mexican flag. A small speaker was braced up in the corner. And there was a stage up front, made from scrap wood.
Jamie was waiting for her and led her through the seats. He picked two for them to sit in. But it was hard to sit, knowing her grandmother was prisoner within Martinez’s walls. Jamie took her hand in his. She took a deep breath.
A man took the stage and went on to give them an update on the election, as well as on the rebel group’s movement. There was still no one willing to run against Martinez.
They had recruited another band of youth from the plantations. The knowledge sat like lead in her stomach. These kids tied to the violence. She’d hated it then; she hated it now.
Hopelessness filled Missy as she sat. What were these people doing? What could they do? They had no one willing to truly stand against Martinez.
She thought of Antonio. Why wasn’t he here? Why wasn’t he the one willing?
Tom rose from his front row seat to speak. He quieted the smattering of applause.
She shifted in her seat. Her feet were almost tingly from…shit, why were her feet tingly? She stretched and stood. “I’m just going to stand for a bit,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand in response and let go, his gaze going back to the speaker up front. This wasn’t just a regular meeting, though. She had the photos now and could change the course of the coming election along with most of these people’s lives.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Antonio had wanted her to keep Martinez happy, to keep him from killing.
Martinez had wanted her mother, wanted those photos.
Marguerite sidled out and headed toward the back, amused by the line of Hawk Elite team members standing along the back wall. They weren’t watching the speaker. They all had eyes on her.
Her.
Because she wasn’t ready to continue the quiet hidden life she’d begun with Jamie, letting him come and go at will to take care of the dangerous parts of the world while she stayed home.
He’d rescued her.
Tan reached out and set a hand on her shoulder. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Just stre
tching my legs.” Was that really it, though? Because the longer they were here in this basement, the more out of place she felt. The more anxious she was to get out. Pressing a hand against her abdomen, she admitted the truth.
She didn’t belong here. None of them did.
Next to Tan, Bobby smiled. Kiana had given her attention back to the presentation up front. A representative from the Mexican authorities stood at Tom’s invitation.
Missy squeezed in between Malcolm and Kiana to lean against the yellow wall.
She found the back of Jamie’s head up in the crowded rows of folding chairs and watched as he leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees, as if listening intently. As long as she’d known him, he’d been the type to ask questions, get answers, and know everything he could about a situation.
The man from the government, who stood, looked at her, intent in his eyes. Nerves ratcheted up in her gut. He was the guy she needed to talk to, to give the photos. He talked about the coming election and about the ongoing file his department maintained, always trying to find that bit of evidence that would bury Martinez for the next election.
He invoked cheers from the gathering of people and urged them to come forward with evidence…or a leader. She thought of her uncle then, and wished she’d been right about him.
But when he’d taken Nina…
Truth struck her, saddened her.
He was not her ally.
The man stood down and a small band played in the corner with guitars and tambourines. People stood and mingled. Two older ladies served coffee on the left.
Jamie stood too and turned, looking for her. Their gazes met, and he smiled. She smiled back. She moved forward, but a woman from the front row caught Missy’s attention. Dark, curly hair fell to her shoulders. A familiar smile blasted through her memories.
“Andrea,” Missy whispered, her heart taking flight.
Twelve years, such a long time, yet like no time at all.
They fell into each other’s arms, and Missy lost the little control of her emotions she’d managed since arriving. The feel of her friend, the one who had been there with her in those last days, soaked through her. Andrea had continued their work to liberate the people. She’d become a journalist. She’d lived here.
Shame hit Missy; Andrea should be angry.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Andrea whispered, squeezing tightly.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Missy admitted. “I feel as if I’ve only made things worse, put people in danger.”
Andrea studied her, tilting her head. “But you are here. And maybe that piece of you, from long ago, drives you anyway. Drives that patriot inside. This is your home.”
But her first thought—not-so-unexpectedly-now—was, this had been her home. She didn’t know what to say.
Missy glanced over as Jamie came up to them. “Jamie, this is Andrea,” she said, introducing him to her friend.
He was the one who belonged in this world, working to help people, not her. At least, not her in this way. Her way would be a different one, especially now that she had a baby to think about.
She bit at her lip. She’d been holding him back. And now, she would only be even more of a distraction.
“Nice to meet you, Andrea.”
She gave him a reserved nod. “Welcome to Mexico, Señor Nash.”
He took Missy’s hand possessively. He’d been her rock for so many years. His family had become hers. And now she carried a part of him inside her—their baby. Their lives were entwined. Emotion rose inside her, knocked her back. She blinked away tears and shook off her doubts. “Martinez killed my father, so I will finish this—”
Jamie touched her face. “We will finish this.”
“It took coming back.” Missy shrugged and turned to Andrea. “It was always meant to be this way, wasn’t it?” She took her friend’s hands. “You were meant to expose what I saw that night. You were there with me. We need to get to your office at the newspaper. And we will write a column no one will forget.”
“I have a better idea,” Andrea said. “The final mayoral rally is tonight. It’s the last chance to get to Martinez and expose him. The article, I’ll write tomorrow.”
Missy’s mouth fell open. “But—?”
“Every election official is supposed to be there. So is the president, who flew in yesterday afternoon.”
Missy nodded, her gaze finding Jamie. Andrea suggested confronting her enemy—tonight.
“What do you want to do, Missy?” Jamie said, leaving it up to her. She could leave right now, forget about this place and raise her child.
“I think it’s time to jump in with the sharks. But first, we take the negatives to your office, Andrea; where they will be safe.”
“Deal.” Andrea grinned.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They raced through the streets to the five story building on the coast.
Tan stopped at the curb.
“Give us a few minutes,” Andrea spoke as she opened the door, Missy followed. Nope, Jamie thought, and became the third wheel, his eyes on their surroundings, taking in every movement, every shadow. People moving through the street and across the courtyard of paved, concrete squares. Busy and going places. No one, paying the least attention to them.
Inside the building, they climbed the stairs to the third floor newsroom. Desks lined the large space in two rows. Andrea bee-lined for the safe at the back of the room, opened it, and dropped the negatives into it.
On her way back to them, she stopped at a desk, ruffled through some paper, then picked up a laptop. She grinned. “We can upload your phone’s photos and start on the article. My boss is going to love this.”
Jamie eyed her, his opinion of journalists shading his good feelings. Andrea must have sensed his disgust, because she cleared her throat and tamed the excitement radiating from her.
He glanced over at Missy whose gaze was on him. He shrugged. “I love you so much, babe.”
She smiled. “I know. And you’re going to help us end Martinez,” her grin twisted his insides, “begrudgingly.”
“Not because I don’t want to,” he added quickly and curled his hand around her neck to let his thumb rub at the pulse of her carotid. “If anything happens to you…”
“It won’t,” Andrea said firmly next to him. “I won’t let it, anymore than you will. We will both watch her back.”
“Nina, too.”
“Nina, too,” Jamie agreed.
As they exited the building, the humidity and sunshine sapped at Jamie’s energy.
Tancredo started the van. “Bobby and Kiana are headed toward the compound with Tom.”
They all hopped in—Jamie in front and the girls in back—and Tan sped through the next intersection and circled around to the esplanade along the coast. There were statues built to pay tribute to the leaders who’d come before. Flowers bordered the grassy area between the walk and water. Bright colors of reds and pinks, oranges and blues. Ahead was an amphitheater, seating faced the stage on the south side of the park.
But off in the distance, late afternoon clouds gathered in the western sky.
“Storms,” Missy spoke quietly behind him. “I almost forgot about the rhythm of the coast.” He looked back at her. “I miss it. I miss home.”
“Me too,” he answered honestly.
“Hold on.” Tancredo slammed on the brakes.
Jamie flew forward, turning his shoulders to catch the brunt of the blow with his deltoid as a big black SUV blocked their path. A compact car came up on their left, from the alleyway. John put their vehicle into reverse and stepped on the gas. He got about twenty feet before they were blocked in from behind. Completely surrounded.
Men exited the vehicles and pointed their guns.
“Shit,” Tancredo hissed.
Missy moaned. He’d grown accustomed to that sound. “Missy, no!”
But she opened the door before he could stop her.
His heart careened to
a halt, and he scrambled, fumbling with his seatbelt to get it off.
“Wait,” Tan said harshly, his hands in the air, eyes on a man in front of their vehicle.
Jamie’s door opened next to him and big, meaty hands reached in, grabbed him, and threw him to the ground. The barrel of a gun rested at the base of his neck, a boot in the small of his back.
He could see Missy’s hands from his position with his face pressed into the ground. They’d left her alone while she emptied her stomach.
He reached for her, but she was lifted and disappeared from view with a scream.
Jamie’s blood pounded. He twisted sharply, sending an elbow to his captor’s knee, and grabbed the barrel of the rifle at the guard’s back, pulled him down, and disarmed him. They guy fell, and Jamie sent a heel to his groin as he got to his feet. But another was on him.
He threw that one off and surged forward.
They dragged Missy toward one of the vehicles. She fought against the hold and received a violent slap in return.
Blind with rage, Jamie ran toward her.
A large body slammed into him, taking him down. “Missy!”
Another man gripped her arm, jerked her to his chest. She lifted her chin…
Jesus.
The guard forced her into the vehicle.
“No!” Kicked in the gut, Jamie curled into the pain. He breathed hard, closed his eyes, and saw retribution. He shot off the ground, ramming the guy off balance.
“Jamie!” Tan’s voice broke through, the command to stand down unspoken yet definite.
He heaved a breath and stilled, as an AK-47 was shoved into his face. “Shit.”
The man with the gun drew back the stock and coldcocked him, turning his world black.
***
Déjà vu, Jamie thought as the sound of voices broke through his unconscious, hit his subconscious, and delivered him back into the real, painful world. He lay still, waiting, his hands tied in front of him. But the voices were hushed; the room too dark too see.
There was one small window way up high. But it was obviously night as only a dim wash of white light came through the glass. Voices be damned, he had to get out—right now—and find Missy. She could be anywhere.
