No One Lives Forever

by Jordan Dane

  Bianca stared at the man with the green eyes as he touched the shoulder of the beautiful woman, clearly a sign of affection. In Bianca's mind, these two fit. They had a connection, unlike the Asian woman he'd brought to her store.

  "Raven? This is Mrs. Bianca Salvador. She owns the Guia Do Espirito, a local store specializing in spirit ritual and religious artifacts."

  "Pleased to meet you." The young woman smiled.

  "Can I get you anything to drink?" He extended his hand and directed Bianca to take a seat on the sofa.

  She nodded. "Please. A glass of water."

  While he stepped behind the wet bar, Bianca caught her reflection in a mirror and wondered what these Americans had thought of her frazzled appearance. She pressed flyaway hairs with her fingers, her mind racing. After he handed her the water, the American sat and waited for her to speak. Since she had no time for pleasantries, it didn't take long.

  "The military police, they took my Hector, my nephew." With a voice low, she choked back a sob and pressed a hand to her lips. "They beat and dragged him from the store. Maybe he couldn't walk on his own. I don't know how bad—" She grimaced; reliving the horror brought pain.

  "When did this happen?"

  "Earlier this afternoon. I ran straight here. I didn't know where else to go."

  "Did you see any of the men who took him?" he asked. "Do you know Captain Luis Duarte?"

  "No, I saw no one. And I do not know the captain you mentioned."

  "Did you see their vehicle? Get a license tag?" the young woman asked.

  "I'm afraid I won't be any help. I only heard the attack from the stockroom, from behind a closed door." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. " I was too afraid to stop it. I would have called the police, but Hector made sure I knew those men were the police. He sacrificed himself to protect me." A strained moment passed as Bianca wept. In a quiet voice, the man named Delacorte broke the stillness.

  "For reasons I can't get into right now, I believe Captain Duarte took Hector. He's on the police payroll, but I think he's found a way to subsidize his income."

  "So much corruption in my country. I wish it were not so."

  "And we believe this captain took a friend of mine, the one who visited your store the other day. He called it an arrest, but we have proof he never booked her. We don't know where she is."

  "Do you think this woman is dead?" The reality of her question hit too close to home, reminding Bianca of Hector.

  "I have nothing to back up my claims, only a hunch. But maybe the chief of police can do something about it. I can tell Chief Ricardo Zharan what happened to your nephew. He might be able to find Hector. He's looking for Duarte and Jasmine now."

  "You would do this thing for me?"

  "Yes, I don't know what good it'll do, but it may help. Being a foreigner here, I don't have much choice in the matter."

  The American stared at her. Finally, Delacorte reached for her hand. She drew from his strength before she pulled away.

  "Hector is a good boy. Sure, he has grand schemes. What young man doesn't? He has the body of a virile man, but the tender innocence of a child. He has so much to learn." Bianca fought back the fear that her nephew wouldn't get the chance to learn life's lessons. "Hector only wants to take care of me. And he's not patient. He probably thought that money was his big opportunity."

  "That money? What do you mean?"

  "He knew of the reward money you offered for information on the kidnapped man." She forced the words from her mouth, hating how they sounded aloud. "I think the wrong people heard of his interest. Maybe they were afraid he'd learn something to hurt them and say too much."

  "Actually, I have another theory. Hector contacted me here earlier today."

  Bianca wasn't surprised. She'd heard her nephew on the phone, but never knew where he placed the call.

  "I do not mean to pry, but can you tell me why he called you, Mr. Delacorte?"

  "He called to tell me about my friend Jasmine. He witnessed her arrest outside your store today. He heard her mention Captain Duarte by name." His green eyes fixed on her. "Hector wanted money for the heads-up. I thought he wanted it for himself, but after listening to you, I think he wanted it for your sake. Guess I was wrong about him."

  Delacorte exchanged a glance with the young woman sitting next to him. In turn, she reached a hand to him in consolation. These two were definitely in love. Love was always a gift meant for sharing. And it brought back memories.

  "Hector's mother died of cancer years ago. My baby sister. Her boy is like a son to me." She fought the lump in her throat.

  "How can I help you? You came here for a reason."

  Even with all his troubles, Delacorte offered his help. Bianca knew she'd come to the right man. The spirits had been right about him.

  "This may sound strange." Bianca didn't know how to explain to a non-believer. "I cannot go to the police. To do so might get Hector killed, if he is not already—"

  The thought of Hector dead tore a hole in her heart. Bianca fought for composure. She sipped water until she could continue.

  "The day you came into my shop, I saw you from the storeroom in the back. For security, we installed a . . . how you say?" She gestured with her finger, pointing to her eye.

  "A peephole," Christian offered.

  "Yes, a peephole. We put one in the door." She nodded. "When I saw you, you intrigued me, but something about you scared me. I didn't understand at first, but now I think I do."

  "Understand what? why would I scare you?" he asked.

  "You are the vessel for Ayza, the Protector, one of the Orixás. I don't know how you'll help Hector, but I trust in the spirits. They've spoken to me."

  By the skeptical expression on Delacorte's face, she knew she'd lost him. Bianca reached across and squeezed his hand.

  "I have made a strong talisman for Ayza and you must wear it, Mr. Delacorte. I know you aren't a believer, but I'm asking for your trust. Please take my gift and wear it, even if you don't understand. What harm can it do? My talisman is yours. Once you put it on, don't take it off. Please, I beg of you."

  Bianca reached for the charm she wore. Pulling the chain over her head, she held the leather pouch, a sacred fetish. Her fingers trembled with her burden.

  "Will you allow me?" She held out the chain.

  Eventually, Delacorte nodded. Bianca stood and placed the chain around his neck with all the reverence she had in her. She bestowed him with Ayza's talisman and tucked it inside his shirt next to his skin. After it was done, she sat. Delacorte was a broad-shouldered, masculine man, with fierce intelligent eyes. He could intimidate men or soften a woman's heart. Now the compassion in his eyes warmed her heart and made her believe Ayza had been right about him.

  "You have a place to stay for a while?" he asked. "You can stay here if you like. I don't think you should go home."

  Bianca shook her head. "Oh, no. I could not impose. I have friends in the city and won't go home. I'll be fine."

  "Then here, take this. You'll need money." Christian stood and pulled out his wallet. Bianca raised her hand.

  "No, please. You've been more than generous. My friends will take care of me. They're like family." She wiped her eyes and took a breath. "I'll call this hotel and leave a message where I can be reached. Please call me if you have news."

  "I will," he promised.

  His woman friend smiled. A kind face with trustworthy eyes. A woman in love. Bianca returned her gesture. One last time, she touched Delacorte's chest with trembling fingers, feeling the talisman under his shirt. He gave her that moment without embarrassment. She relied on her faith, but more depended upon the strength of Christian Delacorte.

  "Thank you. I pray we will see each other soon. Good fortune in your journey," she said as she stood.

  He cocked his head and looked at her with questions in his eyes, but he didn't ask them. Both Americans walked her to the door and allowed her to leave on her own. Bianca rode the elevator to the ground floo
r, avoiding eye contact. Once she got to the lobby, she pushed through the revolving door and onto the crowded street, in step with a group of businessmen. She had done what she came to do.

  Now Hector's life was in the hands of Ayza—and a stranger.

  Sitting in a silver Fiat Siena sedan, Eduardo sucked on a cigarette, taking his last drag. He flicked the butt out the window and blew smoke out his nose, his eyes fixed on the plump ass of a young woman strutting down the street. A real handful. No, make that two. In his mind, the urban landscape faded to black and the noise of traffic died.

  He pictured himself humping her—hard and fast. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled his brain. His skin beaded with sweat, the veins of his neck distending. She clawed his back, wanting more, crying out his name. In his fantasy, he was always a wanted man.

  Eduardo shut his eyes and leaned back against the headrest. A hard-on throbbed in his pants, making demands.

  "Hey, check it out."

  When the guy sitting next to him punched his arm, Eduardo blinked rapid fire, resenting the intrusion. Without complaint, he shifted his gaze to where the man pointed, back to his left. His cock thwarted by the interruption.

  "Is that her?"

  "Where?" It took Eduardo a moment to find her. He shifted in his seat behind the wheel.

  At first she blended into a crowd of businessmen leaving the hotel. Being short gave her an advantage she didn't keep for long. The suits headed across the street and she broke away on her own. When he caught a glimpse of Bianca Salvador, Eduardo grabbed her driver's license and compared the image to the old lady heading down the sidewalk, looking over her shoulder. Now he kept an eye on her through his rearview mirror. Dark skirt with flowers and a white blouse. Salt and pepper hair, cut short. Bone thin.

  "Yeah." He smirked. "Keep an eye on her."

  Eduardo turned the key in his ignition, waited for a break in the traffic, and made a U-turn to follow her. With his cell, he hit the speed dial of a familiar number and held the phone to his ear. When the call was answered, he said, "Your hunch paid off. We found her."

  Eduardo listened for further instructions, then smiled again.

  "Count on it." He ended the call, shoving the cell into his shirt pocket. "Let's pick our spot, somewhere nice and quiet. That bitch is going for a ride. Before it gets dark, we'll know what she told Delacorte."

  CHAPTER 19

  Day seven

  Nightfall

  "What did you make of that?" Raven touched Christian's arm, the meeting with Bianca Salvador on her mind.

  The same thoughts plagued him. The older woman had definitely been on edge and had a lot to lose. She loved her nephew. That much was plain to see, but the strangest part was Bianca's true purpose. She conveyed what happened to Hector, yet seemed more bent on making sure he carried her talisman—as if life or death depended on it. Strange world, he thought.

  "Not sure. Hector getting picked up by Duarte so soon after Jasmine? Maybe someone saw him or knew we'd been to the Macumba store before." Christian took her in his arms, his mind working double-time. "But why? What would Hector know about all this?"

  "Maybe it's not what he knows, but what he witnessed. People disappearing on the streets of Cuiabá can stir up an investigation. And it sounds like your chief of police is already curious enough to make that happen." Raven speculated. "If that lab has something to hide, they'd do just about anything to keep their secrets. My guess."

  "But why abduct my father?"

  "In a case like this, I'd say follow the money. And I'd bet serious coin that this is linked to Genotech Labs. Someone has invested in the genetics of drug addiction, and not for the good of mankind. Whoever is behind this wanted Charboneau out, maybe to take his place. Greed is a powerful motivator." She narrowed her eyes. Her cop instincts had taken over.

  He heard it from across the room and pulled from her arms to answer it.

  "Delacorte." He listened, his face taking on a sense of urgency when he recognized the voice. "Chief Zharan. You have anything new?"

  "I have no news on your friend, Jasmine Lee. My men have canvassed the neighborhood where she was taken and we found no other witnesses, a common outcome in these times. No one wants to get involved." He sighed heavily on the phone. "I still have men working this, but if Captain Duarte is involved, we may never know what happened. He would know how to dispose of a body that would never be found. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but if this were my acquaintance, I would want to be mentally prepared for the worst. By nature, perhaps I am a fatalist, a consequence of the work I have chosen."

  Christian shut his eyes, letting the world fade to black. He pictured Jasmine's face and felt the loss of a comrade in arms, but he didn't want to believe it. The woman had saved his life and Raven's—a lifetime ago.

  A part of him wanted to rage at the injustice, but another part understood the consequence of the "work" Jasmine had chosen. What goes around, comes around—and kicks you hard in the butt—but who's to say what was deserved or what was truly unfair?

  In hindsight, he had no business judging Jasmine Lee—and yet, he had.

  Raven sensed his worry and laid a hand on his chest, her fingers touching the talisman under his shirt. Her beautiful dark eyes gave him comfort, beyond any words he could ever express. Christian brushed back a strand of her hair and forced a smile, but she saw through his facade, a sad expression on her face.

  And he loved her all the more for it.

  Most of his life, people didn't have a clue what he was about. They considered him a mystery and never bothered to learn more. Maybe he scared people. His emotional scars kept others away. His mother was the exception, but Fiona had secrets of her own, and plenty of them.

  Raven had no such agenda. She accepted him faults and all, reading him like an old familiar book. Christian liked the feeling.

  He didn't feel alone anymore.

  "On the side of good news, we have reason to believe we know where Mr. Charboneau is being held." The chief had optimism resonating in his voice. "At this point, however, I can't say anything more. You understand?"

  "Yes, certainly."

  "We can't mobilize tonight, but we're leaving at dawn."

  Christian read between the lines, in what the chief didn't say. Working logistics for a tactical maneuver in the jungle involved coordination and planning for all contingencies.

  "I don't suppose you can share any of the details."

  "No, sorry. I can't, but we're preparing tonight at an undisclosed location. I've hand-selected my men, not even headquarters knows the location of this op. The fewer who know, the better. If all goes as planned, we can attempt a rescue, perhaps one without bloodshed. That is my hope." Zharan cleared his throat. "I apologize for being so mysterious. I hope you understand."

  "Yeah, I do, believe me. But I've got a favor to ask."

  "Yes, Mr. Delacorte?"

  "Take me with you," he pleaded, knowing he'd pay the price. Raven's eyes flashed with shock that evolved into anger. She punched him lightly in the chest, then pointed a finger to herself. She wanted to go too.

  Silence. Chief Zharan didn't jump on his offer. Finally, he said, "Taking a civilian is not exactly standard operating procedure."

  Raven punched him harder this time, looking more determined. She wasn't going to quit.

  "Please . . . can you hold a minute, Chief." Christian covered the phone. Narrowing his eyes at Raven, he whispered, "Sorry, I gotta do this."

  "Think about it, Christian. You left Chicago and I came after you. What do you think will happen if you try to leave me behind this time?" She crossed her arms and stared him down.

  He'd seen that look—stubborn determination. He cocked his head, knowing he couldn't hide the disbelief on his face.

  Still holding the phone to his ear, covering it with a hand, he shook his head. "No. Can't risk it."

  Raven softened her expression, a show of love on her beautiful face. Going for his jugular, she pulled out the heavy art
illery from her playbook on feminine wiles. He prepared himself for both barrels between the eyes.

  "Look, my job is dangerous, Christian. It's what I do." She raised her chin, fixing her gaze on him. "You can't protect me every minute . . . even though I love you for trying." She smiled, a gesture that quickly faded. "Put yourself in my shoes. Think how I'd feel if I let you go and something happened to you. I'd never—" She couldn't finish and looked away.

  He knew what she meant. Jasmine had felt the same when Charboneau was kidnapped on her watch. And no way he'd let Raven go without him if their situations were reversed.

  He nodded and took his hand away from the phone.

  "Sorry, Chief Zharan, I'm back. I just wanted to say that I'm not exactly an inexperienced civilian."

  Raven looked upset again, misinterpreting his intentions. He raised a hand, quietly asking for her trust before he continued, "I'm well-trained in weapons, tactics, and I can follow orders. Please ... with all that's happened. I have to go."

  The man sighed again. "To tell you the truth, I'm concerned for your safety if I leave you in Cuiabá . . . and your lady friend. With a certain captain lost and unaccounted for, I fear he may not hesitate to arrange another 'arrest.'" The man's voice was laden with sarcasm and full of disappointment regarding his own man. "With the rescue operation, I will be preoccupied. And I don't have enough men to protect you while I'm gone. Hard to know who to trust, if you know what I mean."

  "Then bring us both along. Raven and I can handle a weapon, if you allow it. Either way, we'd be part of your team."

  Nodding, Raven grinned and crossed her fingers. Christian raised an eyebrow and shook his head. You had to love a woman who got jazzed over the prospect of an armed assault, but it sure made dating hard to top.

  "Very well." Zharan still didn't sound convinced, but to his credit, he understood Christian's need to go.

  "The detective you met previously? I'll have him pick you up at five-thirty A.M. He will meet you in front of the hotel." Referring to Detective Fuentes, Zharan played it cagey to the bitter end. "It will be dark, but sunrise will come soon enough. Bring whatever weapons you choose, purely for self-defense. But make no mistake, Mr. Delacorte. Both of you will follow my orders to the letter. My men will handle any tactical maneuvers. Is that clear?"