After opening the wound further, I remove the knife and stick my finger inside and feel around. From my brief medical-emergency training with the CIA, I know bullets undertake odd flight paths in the body. Someone shot in the chest might have the bullet lodged in their ass.
I use my middle finger to search as deep as I can. The tip of my finger grazes something hard and smooth. Diego’s lucky. “I got it. Roll him over so the bullet will come toward me.”
The men push his body onto his side. The bullet shifts enough to where I can pull it out. The tiny slug rings against the table and rolls into a pool of blood.
I cover the wound with some dressing from a first aid kit. I don’t know if it’s enough. Diego has lost a considerable amount of blood. Whether he needs a blood transfusion is beyond my limited medical training.
“We need to get him to a hospital,” I say.
The guards look warily at one another.
“He’s going to die without a doctor. I’ve done what I can to keep him alive for the next twenty minutes. Maybe not even that long.”
“What if we brought a doctor out to the island?” Santos asks.
“He isn’t going to live that long, and you don’t have the necessary equipment. You all are supposed to be his protectors. If you don’t pull this yacht around, he’s going to die on this table.”
Santos relents and changes our coordinates to a hospital close to the shore. A cache of money is taken out of a hatch in the floor.
“We’ll need to pay the hospital staff to stay quiet,” Santos says. “Word will still get out, but we’ll do our best to protect him.”
The rest of the night is a blur.
Diego is taken through a back door of the hospital and quickly rushed to a private room. Santos hands a surgeon a stack of bloody hundreds. The doctor refuses the bribe and pushes him out of the room.
Nurses try to stitch my busted lip. I ignore their aid. As the tequila and coke wear off, I go in and out of sleep during Diego’s surgery. Somewhere between midnight and dawn, I’m told that he’s alive and resting.
I sleep in a chair next to him. Armed guards stand sentry inside and outside of the room and more patrol the hospital’s parking lot.
Away from the hospital, I learn that a war ensues. Santos pays Carlos and Ivan to hunt down the rest of Peña’s men. The body count is forty by breakfast. The bloodshed has spread all the way to Medellin.
***
In the afternoon, Diego opens his eyes for the first time. I rush to his side. He leaps into a sitting position, his eyes wild. He shouts something in Spanish.
“Shhh,” I say. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”
He looks at me and begins to cry. I tell the rest of his men to leave us. I know he can’t be seen like this. I crawl into the bed and hold him and kiss him. I don’t mind his tears. Diego has nothing to prove to me. I only want him to get better and for us to move far away from this.
I tell him we’ll move to New Zealand and settle in Auckland and have lots of babies and watch them grow up playing cricket because rugby is too dangerous.
He nods to each of my fantasies and tells me it sounds wonderful.
14
Diego slowly recovers and is released from the hospital the following week. He’s given a pair of crutches, but he doesn’t use them. While I tell him to rest in bed, Diego isn’t one to embrace convalescence. A fever seems to have taken hold of him, and it’s one that can’t be measured by any thermometer.
“Where’s Peña’s son?” Diego asks.
“The University,” Santos says. “Though, if he has half a brain he’s gone into hiding.”
“I want a bomb in his dorm room. Let that be a message to everyone. Where’s the boy’s mother?”
“Dead.”
“Where’s his lawyer? I hear he fled to Finland.”
“That’s what some are saying. I have a hard time believing it. He’s probably still in the country or has fled to Brazil until he thinks it’s safe to come back.”
“Make sure it never is.”
I rub his arm. “Diego, is all this really necessary?”
He flinches away as if my touch burns him. We haven’t made love since he returned from the hospital.
He tells Santos to leave us alone.
“Don’t ever question me in front of my men again,” he says. “They already look at me differently.”
“No one looks at you differently. You’re imagining things.”
“No. I’m not. They’re talking among themselves in hushed voices. They’re deciding whether I’m staying in the business or not. They’re plotting their next move.”
“So tell them the truth.”
“Are you insane? What do think will happen? That they’ll throw me a retirement party? If they sense any weakness, it will be a bloodbath.”
“Then let’s just get in your yacht and go. I’m sure you have your money put away somewhere. It will still be accessible. What’s stopping you?”
Diego walks to the window and looks out at the beach and the ebb and flow of the morning tide. “And what happens when we get to New Zealand? What will I do?”
“Anything you want. Retire and go fishing all day, start a real estate company. Anything.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
I fight the urge to yell. “You still enjoy it, don’t you? After everything, you want stay in. Even after we almost got killed. I did what you promised would end this.”
Diego doesn’t answer.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning with or without you. The choice is yours. I can’t sit around here waiting for another retaliation. Because you know there will be one. This isn’t over. It will never be over until you walk away or you’re dead.”
***
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Diego.
A storm has brought persistent rain that continues into the night. I watch it from the kitchen window while Diego is on the phone.
Santos enters and tells Diego that he needs a word with him.
Diego covers the phone. “Just a minute.”
“I need to talk now, sir.”
Diego tells the person on the phone that he’ll call them back.
They walk up the stairs.
I don’t care what crisis has hit. Tomorrow I’m leaving. My mind is made up. I can’t do this anymore. If he doesn’t come with me, then I’ll somehow make my way to a phone and call for help. I’ll tell Nick and José that Diego got tired of me and left me stranded and that I didn’t get any good evidence.
I make a mental note to get the mic and recorder from under the bed before I leave. I’ll throw it into the water and tell Nick and José that it was too dangerous to carry and that there was nothing worthwhile on it anyway.
I don’t want it come to that. I still have hope Diego will decide to leave with me, but from the way he’s been making calls and ignoring me, I’m beginning to have doubts.
Diego comes down the stairs alone. He crosses the kitchen and stands beside me. “Watching it rain?”
“There’s nothing else to do.”
“Let’s go out there.”
“Now? It’s pouring.”
“It will be romantic. Besides, when was the last time you just ran out into a storm and felt the rain drops fall on you?”
Diego doesn’t even grab a coat as he opens the door. “Come on. It will be fun.”
I offer a smile and follow him outside, but my intuition is set to DEFCON 1. Nothing about this adds up.
The wind is so fierce my hair is knocked back into my face, covering my eyes. Beyond the loggia, the rain is falling in thick sheets.
“Diego, this is crazy. There’s nothing romantic about this or fun. Let’s go back to the house. If you want to be romantic, we can sit by the fireplace.”
Diego shuts the door. I look over my shoulder. He has a crazed look in his eyes. Something has happened. Something really bad.
“This is plenty romantic. Let’s go to the beach. We’ve never
made love on the beach. It will be just like in the movie From Here to Eternity.”
He pulls me by the arm and leads me out into the rain.
“There wasn’t a tropical storm going on in the movie. The waves will be out of control. Diego, stop this!”
His grip tightens. He pushes me to the edge of the beach and shoves me so hard I fall against the wet sand.
He pulls something out of his pocket.
I can’t make it out at first.
Then I see it’s the mic and the recorder. “And to think I trusted you.” He flings the devices into the ocean.
“Diego, I wasn’t lying. I really want to be with you. I want to go to New Zealand. I love you.”
He falls on top of me. I try to put up a fight, but he’s too powerful. He knocks me across the face with a closed fist.
My vision goes dark.
When I regain consciousness, I can’t see anything in the rain. Each time I open my swollen eyes angry droplets hammer my vision.
His hands wrap around my throat.
I try to kick him, but he pins me down.
Fingers dig into my neck, squeezing the life out of me.
“Don’t say that,” he screams. “You don’t love me. You’re some narc sent here to set me up. I loved you. I’m the one who risked everything for you. What have you risked for me? You’ve probably never even told me your real name.”
Dots of light stipple my vision.
He’s right. While I’ve asked him to give up everything for me, I’ve done nothing for him. I’ve taken no real risks. The entire time, I’ve plotted some fallback position.
In a few moments, all that will be over. Maybe I’ll ride that great tunnel to the shiny world on the other side of the universe where dad will be waiting for me, arms open and smiling. Of course, I know better.
I don’t hear the gunshots at first.
Diego’s grip loosens and his body slumps over me.
I can bring air into my neck but getting it into my lungs proves difficult with Diego still on top of me. His body rolls off my chest.
I breathe and breathe.
My vision slowly returns.
I hear shouting. Someone is calling for Miranda.
I try to answer but no words come out of my mouth.
Someone picks me up and begins lugging me down the beach.
“It’s going to be okay,” the voice says. “You’re safe now, Miranda.”
Nick. He begins to run with me slumped over his shoulder. There’s a small boat farther down the shore.
Shouts erupt from Diego’s home.
More gunfire.
Nick steps into the boat and sets me down. He yells for José to take off.
The bow punches through the waves. The wind is fierce, like sailing through mountains.
“We’ll be at a safe location in a few minutes,” Nick assures me. “We’ve been camped out here all day waiting for an opportunity to get you out safely.”
I stare over the stern of the boat. The lights of Diego’s mansion become tiny specks of orange before disappearing over the horizon.
The rain and spray of the bay slap my face.
Nick holds me and asks if I’m okay. The simple question proves too much. I tell him the entire story, even the parts I left out in Cusco. Everything. I can’t hold back, and I’m crying by the end of my long admission.
Exhausted, I collapse into his arms.
15
In a hotel room a few hours from Cartagena, Nick sits across from me on the bed. He holds a cold washcloth wrapped in ice against my face.
“So that’s the entire story?”
“Yeah, that’s everything.”
“Why, though? That’s what I can’t figure out.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with my dad. Every good thing in my life has always left me. I guess I was afraid to let anything real and good into my life.” I start to cry again. “I messed up big time, didn’t I?”
I wait for Nick to tell me that Bailey was right and that he should have listened to him.
He takes away the washcloth and places a small bandage below my right eye. “You might need stitches for that. It’s too early to tell.”
He gets up and puts away the gauze and bandages.
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You went through a lot, and in the end, Peña and Diego are dead. That’s more than any case could have done no matter how solid the evidence was. You’ve done the CIA and the taxpayers a favor. I’m the one who should have done a better job. I was the leader of this operation, and I failed you.”
“Nick, you didn’t fail anyone. You saved my life.”
“Barely. Another way of putting it is that I almost cost you your life. You weren’t ready for this mission, Miranda. I’m not saying you aren’t tough or smart. You are. You’re a natural at this, but now wasn’t the time. I knew that, and I ignored it anyway. I brought you here for the wrong reasons.”
I reach out and take his hand. “I’m still glad you recommended me. When I saw your face after I got off the plane, I was so relieved to see you. I missed you so much. I always wanted to know what happened to you. I wondered what could have been between us. How come you never asked me out, Nick? Was I that frightening?”
He laughs. “You were, but that wasn’t the reason.”
“What then? Was there some other girl?”
“No. Dating people you work with is against the rules.”
I can’t help it. I start laughing, and I can’t stop.
“What’s so funny about that? So I followed the rules.”
It takes me a few minutes to get a hold of myself. “Oh my God, you really are straight-laced Nick. They should put that on your tombstone.”
He moves near me. “I thought I told you already. I’m not that straight-laced anymore.”
He leans in and kisses me. This time, I don’t mind. I’ve denied myself of Nick for too long.
The cut on my lip stings. He sucks on my lower lip as he holds my chin. Each of the bruises on my face is given a special kiss, kisses so soft I almost can’t feel them.
His hands begin unbuttoning my blouse. Eons pass between each plastic button. I can tell that Nick is a slow and sensual lover and that my pleasure is important to him. He kisses me along my neck and down my sternum before opening my blouse and revealing my lace balconette bra.
“Fancy,” he says.
“I went shopping.”
He smiles and kisses the top of my breasts. I unclasp the bra and let it fall. Nick sucks on my nipples. They harden against his tongue. His lips touch every inch leading down to my belly. I push off my jeans and panties as Nick kneels on the floor and spreads my legs.
Lying against the bed, I enjoy the touch of his lips against my thighs. Nick understands foreplay in a way few men do. He doesn’t rush as he kisses the lips of my pussy. He slides his tongue along the delicate aperture, teasing my pleasure centers with the tip of his tongue. I can’t take it any longer. I grab his head, moving his tongue over my clit.
Mmm. That’s better. I close my eyes as the swirl of his tongue goes to work. I doubt Nick will be as rough or as wild as Diego. Nevertheless he has skills Diego could never learn. And after everything I’ve been through, I need a sensual lover who can worship me between the sheets while protecting me outside of the bedroom.
With his tongue between my legs, I rake my nails through his hair, digging them into his scalp. The sensations eventually become too much, and I have to push Nick away. I stare at the bulge between his pants and giggle. “Looks like someone is ready for some attention himself.”
I tell him to stand up. My hands loosen his belt, and I lower the zipper. I’ve always wondered what Nick is packing underneath. From the impression against his briefs, my assumption is something large. I pull against the elastic band and lower them. Nick doesn’t disappoint. I stare up at him and smile as I run my tongue along the underside of his shaft. Nick moans. His body shudders as if he hasn’t felt
this kind of attention since his ex-wife left him.
Taking his head into my mouth, I swirl my tongue along the glans while pumping his shaft with my hand. His cock thickens. Flicking my tongue underneath his head, I listen as his breathing deepens. I want to give Nick the same pleasure he gave me, but his member is huge. I spread myself out on the bed and elongate my neck before trying to take all of him in. Nick moves his hips forward. Relaxing my throat, I begin to move back and forth.
I love giving him the pleasure he’s earned. There are so few gentlemen left in the world willing to travel to another country to put a couple of bullets in a guy roughing you up. That’s my kind of chivalry. Chivalry with a gun.
When I sense he’s getting close, I slide my mouth off of his cock.
“Fuck me,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
He picks me up and while still hoisting me aloft, he slides my pussy onto his cock. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his neck.
My hips bounce in the air as I enjoy the ride. I throw my head back and moan. Nick comes with me. He pulls me close to him as his body tenses and his hot cum fills me. We both tremble in one another’s arms until the spasms have left us both.
He lays me down on the bed so we can rest. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I’m sexed-out. My brain and nerves can’t take anymore. I can now die a happy girl.
We cuddle in each other’s arms as I run my hand along his bare chest.
“So what’s next?” I ask. “Got any more adventures planned?”
He brushes my hair. “Yeah. Now I quit the CIA.”
I sit up. “What? Are you serious?”
“Very. I wasn’t kidding about what I said. I want a normal life. I won’t ever have it doing this.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“When we get back to DC, I’m going tell Bailey that I can no longer be an agent.”
“I mean with your life.”
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