Beware The Fury

by C. I. Lopez

  Federico returned the box to its place and led Yasmin back to his office, aware of heavy stares of the bank employees. “You have the key to your box, and it will remain in an anonymous name of your choice. No one will know it’s yours.”

  From the little she had confided in him, it was evident that Yasmin wanted to keep her life very private. He believed she had experienced tough times and needed no additional concerns in her life.

  When Yasmin saw Federico look at his watch, it dawned upon her she had monopolized him. “I’m terribly sorry I’ve taken so much of your time. You must have other business to attend.”

  “No,” he replied quietly. “Would I turn away my newest client? My time is your time. Anyway, it seldom happens that we have someone who comes back to life after being thought dead for three years, especially one as beautiful as you.” He was rewarded with a meek smile of gratitude.

  When they were back in Federico’s office, Yasmin slumped into the same chair occupied earlier, her shoulders drooping.

  “Are you ok, Yasmin?”

  “I’m just tired. I don’t suppose we can postpone the paperwork until tomorrow?” Yasmin looking at the papers requesting her personal information was sure she’d be far away by tomorrow.

  “Let’s take first things first, eh, why don’t we call Carlos Piti? Your mother’s account for you is here, and Don Carlos is the executor. It might not be huge, but it has been invested and has been collecting interest for a year. You should at least have access to it.”

  “I do need some money.”

  He made a call to a teller, requesting information, which he jotted down on a pad of paper.

  Yasmin watched, her nerves catapulting with anxiety at the thought of being in contact with Panama City, even by phone. Everything was spinning out of her carefully planned control, Yasmin kept thinking. Too many people know of my whereabouts. This is not the way it was supposed to happen.

  Yasmin hoped this would not turn into a horrible nightmare. There was always the possibility that Tomas’ organization reached far beyond the city area. For all she knew, he could have subsidiary operations scattered about the country. For that matter, Don Carlos Piti could be involved with Tomas. Nothing seemed impossible where Tomas was concerned. Her fear of her husband’s reach made her vigilant, and with good reason. She no longer felt entirely safe with anyone. Still, she was doing the only thing she could do. Her plan to sell the rings and leave town was taking too long, but she needed the money to get away. Already, she entrusted Federico with enough information to put Tomas in her midst within hours … if he were of a mind to betray her.

  She watched Federico pick up the phone, push a button for an outside line, and then dial. He transferred the call to his speakerphone so Yasmin could hear the conversation. The number proved to be a direct line that put him straight through to Carlos Piti. Federico identified himself.

  “I’m calling about an account in my bank, Don Carlos, of which you are the executor.”

  “What about it?” Piti’s tone from the speaker was dry, and one could almost visualize him suddenly sitting up straighter in his chair, leaning forward attentively.

  “The young woman whose name is on the account is here in my office. She would like to access the account.”

  The phone was quiet, and Yasmin inferred Piti was digesting the information and weighing it. “Let me speak with her,” the man demanded, needing confirmation that the call was indeed from whom Federico suggested.

  “Don Carlos?” Yasmin said aloud, so she could be heard through the speakerphone. “It is Yasmin Samudio.”

  A relieved sigh was heard. “Are you all right, honey?” The sound of his voice brought a rush of melancholy and an overwhelming flood of sadness. To be called honey in such a tender way, reminded her of her father, and of feeling safe.

  “I’m safe, Don Carlos,” she said shakily.

  “Sweetheart, is it safe to speak openly to you there?”

  Federico nodded his head, meaning there were no listening devices in his office. He stood up and closed the door to his secretary’s office. “Yes, it’s safe to talk freely, Don Carlos. Only Federico and I can hear this conversation. I’m at his bank office.” She tensed, knowing some traumatic news was about to be delivered to her. She sucked in a deep breath.

  “Sweetheart, things have reached a bad state of affairs here in Panama City. Under no circumstance must you let anyone else know where you are staying. It would be highly dangerous. Your husband has half the city searching for you.” The man took a deep breath. “The newspaper got wind of your disappearance, and I understand Tomas hired several private detectives to find you. The last I heard; the police may be involved. You know he has people in the police department on his payroll. The time may come when you might need to disappear again, this time, perhaps out of the country.”

  Federico glanced at Yasmin, enlightenment dawning fully now on how desperate her situation was. It was easy enough, earlier, to think she might be over-reacting. He soon realized she was running for her life. Knowing that created an entirely new perspective for him. Yasmin was alone and in need of help, and he was the only person in this town who understood her situation, other than her sister Eva. Of that, he was sure. She needed a friend just now, and he was available.

  Yasmin tried to remain impassive. Don Carlos’ news brought on a new wave of misgivings, her face contorting into an expression of raw fear. Her eyes flooded, reflecting dark pools of tears, and her lips quivered softly as she ground her teeth together, trying to control it. Taking a tissue from her purse, she wiped away the moisture before it spilled down her cheeks.

  “I understand, Don Carlos,” Yasmin said.

  “What do you need from me, honey?”

  “Federico will explain, Don Carlos.”

  Federico said, “Don Carlos, Yasmin’s mother, entrusted you as executor of a small inheritance which has been put in a safety deposit box in this bank. I need to know the disposition of that money before I can put it in an account. I will also need documentation from you, the executor, to enable her to access her established account.”

  “The money is clean, taxes have been paid, and I have documentation to prove it. I’ll be forthcoming,” Don Carlos said. He left a noticeable pause. “I implore you, Federico, to take every precaution with the information you receive. If certain persons are to learn of her whereabouts, dire consequences for my goddaughter’s sister will ensue, and possibly anyone around her.”

  “I assure you, Don Carlos, I shall assume the same confidentiality that you have, and I’ll give my client any help I can offer.”

  “Don Carlos,” Yasmin said before Federico severed the connection. “Please be careful. I’ve never mentioned your name. If he finds out your connection to me, he will stop at nothing to get information from you.”

  “I am aware of his reach, Yasmin, but you need not worry about me, honey. Take care of yourself. I’ll make all the arrangements through Federico.” He severed the connection, and Federico hung up his phone.

  Yasmin clasped her hands in her lap, her gaze aimed at one corner of Federico’s large desk, her thoughts running rampant. Half of Panama City was searching for her, Don Carlos said. The fear that kept her neck and shoulders tense grew stronger, and the thought that she would never be safe again, left her feeling cold and numb inside.

  It did not surprise her that Tomas had initiated an all-out search for her. She expected it, nonetheless, hearing it from someone else put it in stark perspective. Her eyes turned to deep pools again as the girl raised her head, her chin trembling, magnifying her intense emotions and vulnerability.

  For the past several days she’d been living in a vacuum, her feelings held tightly in check. Now they came flooding forth as if from a broken dam, boiling over in an outpouring of weeping. She tried choking back the sound of her sobs, even muffling them with a tissue until the effort was too much.

  Federico experienced a terrible sense of helplessness. Female tears had a way
of doing that to him, never having built a resistance against their impact. He moved next to Yasmin’s chair as she was fighting to regain control. Gently, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and felt her tense at his touch. He kept his hand there, pressing lightly, soothing caresses across her wracked shoulders. He gave her his handkerchief, and she dabbed frantically at her damp face and moist eyes. Federico’s hand gently caressing her shoulder, his masculine body standing next to her with the faint smell of spice teasing her nostrils, brought her back to awareness.

  When she raised her head again, only her wet eyes and red-blotched cheeks betrayed the emotional scene just displayed. Lifting her lovely face to look at Federico, Yasmin exposed her ivory throat, while dry little sniffles caused her chest to heave. “I’m sorry for my emotional outburst. Hearing what Don Carlos said, things just caught up with me.”

  Her pose was graceful, her manner gracious, her attitude regal, but an underlying sadness spread across her features. Almost three years was a long time to bottle-up pain and mental distress. Until she and Tomas were divorced, and their ties severed altogether, there would be no peace for her. Now Yasmin thought of the people she might have implicated by her presence if Tomas were to find them. She worried about her sister and Don Carlos, and even Federico could suffer from Tomas’ rage.

  “An apology isn’t necessary,” Federico said. “I think I am beginning to understand your situation, although I don’t admit to understanding how you must feel. For what it’s worth, I want you to know I will help you any way I can.” He wondered what he might be up against, getting involved in a domestic situation that bodes threat and danger.

  Whoever was looking for Yasmin, obviously had powerful connections to have policemen in his payroll, as Don Carlos had just alluded. Nevertheless, Federico was now committed, not only to helping her but also to a growing new infatuation with a woman he loved dearly once. He wasn’t immune to the magnetism of a beautiful woman, but this was Yasmin, the love of his life before she left.

  She sat straight in her chair, poised and controlled again. “If you don’t mind, I’m ready to continue with whatever we need to do,” Yasmin said, her voice shaky, “I still need to attend to other matters.” She had to move on soon. “Thank you for your help. I apologize for having to involve you in my affairs.” She cast a cautious glance toward him.

  “Why is that?” Federico asked. At least for the moment, he was undaunted by any risks her situation might present.

  “You heard what Don Carlos said. There will be no end to the search for me. There could be danger involved in even knowing me, and I feel a responsibility to alert you of that.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is your husband so intent upon finding you? Do you possess information that can cause problems for him?”

  “No, he’s been careful not to expose me to any of the business transactions that could be used against him. It is a matter of ego and a need to control what he owns. I belong to him—so he thinks.”

  “When you say, he, I assume you are referring to your husband?”

  Casting her eyes down to her lap, Yasmin nodded her head in reply. “I had no choice, Federico.”

  Federico’s brow creased, while he looked at the girl whom he had adored. “I consider myself adequately warned that you are now a married woman. Now, I suggest you stop worrying.” Federico admired the way she forced herself to bounce back from despondency. He went to the side door, which opened into the adjoining room containing a big executive table with more than a dozen chairs and motioned Yasmin to follow him.

  There were the papers Yasmin needed to sign in her new anonymous name. She needed to remain in town for a day to have her account processed and have access to her money. She thought it best not to mention to Federico that as soon as that was done, she would have to be on her way. Already, Yasmin feared a wrinkle had begun to form in her smooth strategy.

  PART THREE

  Chapter 4

  Hell Hath no Fury

  Yasmin filled the forms and signed her name as Amparo Montenegro, as Federico suggested.

  The banker was already thinking that having Yasmin back in town was the best event that had happened to him. At least since she’d agreed to be courted by him after her fifteenth birthday.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Federico could hardly believe that Yasmin was back. It seemed surreal. She’s glamorous, beautiful, and carries herself like a grand lady. He couldn’t help but fall in love with her again. This time not as a boy brimming with hormones, but a man, convinced that Yasmin was the only woman he would ever love.

  Intermittently returning to the present and admiring the soft texture of her skin, he couldn’t help but wonder at the joy of touching his lips to her warm flesh. The thought of kissing her, of tasting her lips, tormented him. His manhood gave a bold reply to his erotic ruminations, reminding him of the way things had been between them before she left. So many of the circumstances that kept them from expressing their feelings had changed.

  Knowing he’d see her the next day when she had to return to the bank, Federico went home in a daze. He changed from his banking clothes into an old pair of jeans and a polo shirt and automatically turned on the television to relax. As he was nodding off, his phone began ringing, startling him awake. He turned down the volume of the TV, and picked up the landline, hoping it was Yasmin.

  “Hello,” he said softly, sitting upright.

  “Federico, what happened to you?” It was Violeta. “Did you forget what day this is? This is our evening to have dinner together, and you’re already late. When are you going to pick me up?”

  “Oh. I forgot,” Federico said, and he had forgotten. The events of the afternoon had filled his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Violeta, but I won’t be able to make it tonight.”

  “Really?” she said in a slightly edgy tone. “This doesn’t have something to do with the dark-haired woman who was in the bank today, does it?”

  It didn’t sound to Federico as much a question as a demand. Damn it, word had gotten around already. Violeta would pitch one of her temperamental fits if she found out the woman in question was Yasmin Samudio. Still, maybe that was just the thing to get her angry enough to quit calling him. Nothing but good manners, and occasional good sex, had so far kept him from outright telling her that he wasn’t interested in a relationship with her.

  Federico answered Violeta’s question with a partial truth. “That lady you mentioned was a bank customer.” He could hear the steam sizzling from her nostrils while he talked. “I showed her the same courtesy I would show any other new customer.” It was a lie. While he might buy a new client a cup of coffee, he would not make himself available for their every need.

  “Did that courtesy include taking her for coffee, taking her to Mabel’s shop, waiting while she made purchases, and then taking her to the local hostel?” Violeta’s voice was crisp as a new cucumber and boiling with anger and jealousy.

  “Violeta, I am not going to discuss this with you. You’re angry, and you want to fight about it, and frankly, I am not in the mood. I also need to remind you that I don’t need your permission to take another woman out.”

  “Damn you, Federico! We have been seeing each other for months now. I think you owe me the respect of letting me know if you wanted to see other people. I gave you a year of my life, and now you turn to some other woman, without even talking to me about it? You owe me more than that. Do you think that every time we slept together was a freebie? Do you think I enjoyed you pawing me? I did it to make you happy, and this is what I get in return?”

  “Violeta—”

  “I am not going to stand by while you court your auburn-haired bitch. I’ll scratch her damn eyes out if I have to!” She slammed down the receiver.

  Federico put the phone down and propped his head in his hands. What in the hell had he seen in Violeta? She was bitchy, temperamental, possessive, and demanding. Now she had just thrown the last criticism in his face, their sex life. She made it sound as if she
didn’t enjoy it. She initiated every sexual encounter, although he was receptive. Her statement, accusing him of pawing her, left him feeling cold and disgusted. He should have broken it off with her long ago, knowing he wasn’t in love with her. He had no one to blame for her anger but himself.

  Yasmin was the one he had always wanted before she was brutally taken away from him. She was the only reason that he stayed in this town, hoping she’d come back someday. He needed to be near the mystery that surrounded Yasmin’s disappearance, and now she was back, so it had paid off.

  Still, with visions of Yasmin in his head, Federico dozed off in front of the television again. He couldn’t even make himself think of Violeta, except now he had a good reason for breaking up with her. He never encouraged her to believe that the relationship was leading to anything more serious than some good sex.

  *

  Federico woke up with a start and looked at the clock on the wall. “Seven in the morning. Time to call Yasmin.” The phone rang several times before it was picked up. There was silence at the other end, nothing. Federico said, “Hello, are you awake?”

  “Yes, just barely. I am sorry I didn’t say anything, but I am still feeling paranoid, you know.”

  Her sleepy voice and her mood made him think that she probably wouldn’t feel like going out for breakfast, but he still asked, wanting to see her again. “Do you want to meet for breakfast?” To his pleasure and surprise, she seemed to perk up.

  “Yes, I am famished. How about you, are you coming to pick me up?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He grinned. “Seven-thirty?”

  “Better make it eight, and I’ll be ready.” After breakfast, she would go to the bank and make sure her account was in order, and she’d get some money out to proceed with her plan. It was time for her to move on, fast, and she dreaded having to tell Federico.

  Meanwhile, Federico could only think of seeing Yasmin, of holding her again, and touching the flesh he had desired so much since puberty. Violeta didn’t enter his mind anymore; she was already ancient history for him. Yasmin was now a consenting adult, able to make her own decisions without the restrictions of her mother, and the taboos of church or gossip. To most people, she was a stranger in town. Besides, no one could stop them from making love except each other. He could feel she was still attracted to him, which made him quicken his step to get to the hostel.