For The Love Of Laurel

by Patricia Harreld

  “Read it.”

  There were a few moments of silence, then Josh reported, “It says there is no relationship between the DNA samples submitted.”

  “Shit. Send me both. Can you delete that email from Laurel’s account? I don’t want her to get the news now. Bad timing. I’ll let her know.”

  “Done. Just hope she hasn’t already seen it.”

  The forwarded emails appeared. As fast as he could, Dylan hit Forward, addressed the email to Gerald he’d written to Laurel, wrote, Well? and then hit ‘Send’. The other one, he printed out.

  Gerald replied almost immediately. I did NOT send this to her! Look at the email address on the message. It isn’t one of mine. Who the hell? Madeira? If so, he’ll use her to flush me out. Get your ass to Cartagena now! I’ll meet you there.

  Madeira. The thought of what he might do to Laurel made Dylan physically ill.

  Laurel sat at the small table in her room and looked out the window. It was all so foreign. She tried to keep her focus on why she’d come here at all, but at the moment, not one single reason made sense. What’s taking so long, Daddy?

  With a sigh, she picked up her phone. She pushed a button and heard it ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Mari?”

  “Chica, where are you?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “No.”

  “Dylan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Turn on the speaker. As for where I am, right now I’m at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower. Too bad you aren’t here. You there, Dylan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ever been to Paris?”

  “Nope."

  “You should come over.”

  “What for? I have work to do elsewhere. But I’m sure I’ll see you real soon.”

  “Grouch. Well, I just called to say hi and find out if you had a nice vacation, Mari.”

  “It was wonderful to see my parents. Thank you for suggesting it.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. I may decide to go to Rome as long as I’m here.”

  “Don’t push it, Laurel,” Dylan warned. “You know I could have you on a plane for the States before you could say ‘Damn you, Dylan’.”

  “First you’d have to find me,” she said in a seductive tone. “Bye for now.”

  She could feel his barely controlled anger and something else. Fear? For her? She almost told him where she really was. Almost. It occurred to her he might already know. She wished she’d taken the trouble to get a fake passport. What was it he’d said? “I’m sure I’ll see you real soon.”

  “Shit! He knows. Damn him, he knows. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  She dialed Alejandro. They had made another dinner date—the third night in a row. Too many too fast, she thought. She had to cancel and find a new hotel. Once again, she didn’t want him to know where she’d be and wondered at her lack of trust. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was just a feeling.

  “Hola, Laurel.”

  “Alejandro, forgive me for changing things at the last minute, but something has come up and I need to cancel.”

  “You sound panicked. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Just some family problem that has come up. I may have to leave sooner than I expected. If so, and we don’t get a chance to talk again, I want to thank you for helping to make my time here enjoyable.”

  “The pleasure has been mine, Señorita. I hope everything turns out well with your family.”

  Madeira shut his phone and looked at Laurel’s hotel across the street from where he sat in his car. He scowled. As if he couldn’t follow her and learn where she was staying. Now he could no longer do that and take a chance she might see him. He made a call, and then drove several blocks, parking in front of a cantina owned by his nephew.

  He went inside and ordered a drink. While he sipped it, he thought about Laurel. He had the advantage. He’d known about Avidon’s daughter for years. She could always be used as a bargaining tool. And now she would be doing just that, to bring Avidon out in the open. It had been so easy to gain her trust. At first, he sensed the wall she’d erected around her. That’s why he’d waited a few days before approaching her, or even looking at her. He’d let her get used to his presence. When he finally spoke to her, he knew what her reaction would be and he was ready. After that, it had been easy. He knew to keep the relationship strictly as friends, and every time he did, she naturally dropped her guard a little more. Was she telling the truth about a family problem, or was she just trying to get rid of him? He’d soon find out, if the guy he called did his job.

  His email to her, which she thought was from her father, was his best idea in weeks. Avidon didn’t know she was here but soon would. His heart sped up in anticipation.

  Do you love your daughter more than your own safety, Avidon? We shall soon see.

  Chapter 36

  Laurel found a new hotel a few blocks from the one she was in and made a reservation. She packed and called for a bellhop. Once she was at the front desk, she settled her bill and asked them to call a taxi. She took the handle of her suitcase and rolled the case ahead of her and out the door, where she stood and waited.

  Within a few minutes, a taxi pulled up and the driver jumped out. He walked around the car and stopped when he reached her.

  “Are you the one who called for a taxi?”

  His English was passable, as long as she listened carefully. His tone was just shy of belligerent, which gave her pause. He had the proper car and uniform, but his muscular arms and general body language didn’t fit the profile of other taxi drivers she’d had while in Cartagena.

  She told herself not to be so paranoid. He was just a taxi driver. She’d seen many taxis since she’d arrived. “Yes.”

  He picked up her suitcase and put it in the trunk, and then opened the back door for her. Once she was inside, he went around to the driver’s side. At the same time, another man opened the back door on the other side of the car from her and slid in. She heard the doors lock.

  For a moment, she was too stunned to say anything. As the taxi pulled into the street, she could see the man in the back held a gun on her. Her instinct was to scream, but she knew that wasn’t a good idea.

  “What do you want?” She tried to keep her tone strong and unafraid.

  “You,” came the curt reply.

  “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “You are Señorita Avidon?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He tapped her cheek with his gun. “I asked you a question.”

  She glared at him. “So? You already know the answer unless you’re stupider than you look.” She braced herself for pain, but though she could see him tense up, he lowered the gun.

  “Lucky for you, our instructions are to deliver you without harming you.”

  “Deliver me to whom?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. I anticipate getting my turn with you once the boss learns of your uncooperative attitude.”

  The driver sniggered. “Save some for me,” he said in heavily accented English.”

  The man in back said, “The trip will take some time. You should sleep.”

  She shook her head. His hand snaked toward her, and she felt a stabbing pain in her arm. “If you took my suggestions, you could save yourself a lot of trouble.”

  His words slipped further and further away.

  Dylan drummed his fingers impatiently on the marbled top of the hotel’s front desk. A middle-aged man with a round belly came toward him.

  “Sí, Señor? May I help you?”

  Dylan checked in to the hotel. He hadn’t wanted to take the time, but knew if he was going to be at his best, he needed sleep as well as someplace to stay until Gerald got there.

  After the paperwork was complete, Dylan put a picture of Laurel on the counter, as he checked the man’s nametag. “Have you seen her, Miguel?”

  Miguel looked at the picture. Dylan saw hi
s body tense as he prepared to lie.

  “No me mientas,” Dylan warned.

  Miguel glanced around the lobby. “I no lie to you,” he said.

  “Muy bueno. Have you seen her?”

  “Sí, but she leave, check out.”

  “Did she mention where she was going?”

  “No.”

  “Gracias.” He slid a twenty toward Miguel, and then turned and went outside, too antsy to sleep. Within moments, Miguel was at his side.

  “Señor, I forgot. The Señorita asked me to call for a taxi.”

  Dylan almost relaxed. She must have been on her way back to the States. “Did she get into the taxi?”

  “Sí.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan sauntered down the sidewalk, deep in thought. He stopped at a cafe and bought a cup of coffee. As he sipped it, he dialed Josh.

  “Christ, Dylan. Do you have any idea what time it is?” Josh groused.

  “Where you are? Same as where I am. Laurel checked out and took a taxi somewhere. I hope she’s flying home. Check flights out of Cartagena, will you?”

  “I aim to please. Can I make coffee first?”

  “Not unless it’s instant.”

  Josh gave an exaggerated yawn. “I have a pot on my desk, ready to go for when I get up later this morning.” The irony in his tone wasn’t lost on Dylan. “It’ll brew while I boot up the computer.”

  Dylan downed his own coffee and ordered another.

  “Okay, ready,” Josh said. “What date are we looking at?”

  “Yesterday and today.”

  “This’ll take some time. Go order a taco or something. I’ll call you in a few.” Josh hung up.

  Dylan took his coffee and walked to the outdoor patio. He leaned against a wooden post and checked his surroundings. A number of people sat at tables eating and drinking. They all seemed to be tourists having fun. No one looked like a local. He kept glancing at his watch. Thirty minutes and no call. He began to wonder what Josh meant by a few. He had no idea how long these things took, but it was hard not knowing where Laurel was.

  Did she find out Gerald wasn’t her father after all? Maybe Josh didn’t delete the email soon enough. Or did Gerald catch up with her and act like a taxi driver so no one would suspect he was here? No. He’d have called me to let me know.

  Finally, his phone buzzed. He didn’t even have a chance to give his usual greeting before Josh began to talk.

  “Nothing. She wasn’t on any flight leaving Cartagena, so wherever the taxi took her, it wasn’t to the airport.”

  “I’m getting a bad feeling about this. I’ll call Gerald and see if he has her.”

  “Good luck.”

  Dylan dialed a number he had memorized. He and Gerald had agreed never to communicate except by encrypted computer email unless it was an emergency.

  “Yeah?”

  “You have the subject?”

  A slight hesitation. “No.” Dylan could hear the same concern in that one word that he himself felt. “I’ll be with you in three, four hours. And then, we’ll go hunting.”

  “Roger that.”

  Dylan cut off the communication and went back to the hotel. He had to get some sleep. Through the years, he’d learned how to fall asleep quickly and deeply, and get by on a couple of hours when he needed to. During those times, he’d manage to set aside his concerns for a while. But with the situation he faced now, he wasn’t sure he could do that. Yet, I must, if I’m to be any help to Laurel.

  Sun shining through sheer drapes woke Laurel. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t make them do what she wanted. She decided to drift back to sleep but kept getting jumbled visions of Colombian men, taxis, piñatas, colorful drinks, hypodermic needles, begging children, Alejandros . . .

  Her eyes opened wide. Alejandros? What are those? And then she remembered. Holding onto her pounding head, she managed to sit up.

  She didn’t recognize the room she was in. It certainly wasn’t the hotel, though it was a nice room. The plush carpet was the deep gray-green of the Caribbean Sea she could see on a blustery day—the same body of water she could see from her hotel room, but not from where she was now.

  A fireplace took up much of one wall. Gingerly, she got to her feet and walked to a closed door. It opened to a bathroom. Thank goodness, I can take a shower. Her suitcase sat, unopened, on the bathroom counter. She opened it. It had been thoroughly searched and the clothes just shoved back in willy-nilly. At least they were clean.

  Her head still ached as she opened the medicine cabinet, which was empty except for a bottle of aspirin. She grabbed it then stilled. How could she trust it was really aspirin after what had been done to her last night? A note in the cabinet partially reassured her. She glanced at the signature. Alejandro!

  “Lo siento, Señorita.”

  Laurel had to think back to her high school Spanish. “Lo siento, lo siento . . . I’m sorry? You’re sorry, Alejandro? Just who the hell are you, anyway? And you aren’t calling me Laurel anymore? Not a good sign.” She went back to the note.

  “‘If you cooperate, I promise you will not be hurt and you will get out of this alive. The aspirin is real. If I wanted to keep you drugged, I would. Please feel free to use the facilities. Make yourself at home—mi casa es su casa. Por favor, join me for breakfast. Alejandro.’”

  What does he mean by cooperate? Cooperate how?

  Hoping she was doing the right thing, she took four aspirin with a bottle of water, which was also in the bathroom. She took a quick shower and dried herself with a luxurious white towel, all the while wondering how Alejandro could afford all of this, if indeed it really belonged to him.

  After she’d dressed in dark green Capri pants and a modest white mid-length sleeve blouse, she slipped on her huaraches, and stole a glance out the window.

  She gasped. What the hell? The property was surrounded by smaller homes, maybe a thousand square feet each. They had no fences or landscaping, but a number of children played in what passed for yards. She saw a couple of dozen men in dirty tee shirts and jeans, cleaning rifles, throwing knives at a dartboard, drinking beer, and laughing.

  She suspected she knew where she was—a drug cartel compound, and Alejandro Madeira was its czar. She had no idea if drug cartels even had such a thing as a compound, but she couldn’t imagine what else to call it. They sure weren’t having a fiesta.

  This must be why her father was in Colombia, but if he hadn’t been able to find this place before, how would he find it now? How would he know what happened to her and where to look for her when he got to Cartagena and she wasn’t there?

  She straightened her shoulders. She was her father’s daughter. She would make him proud. He had invited her here, believing it was safe. He would soon know she’d been there, as he requested, and would blame himself for her disappearance. She had no control over that. All she could do was keep her wits and look for an opening to escape or somehow get a message to him.

  She opened the door to her room. There was a long hallway before her. A man with a rifle stepped in front of her.

  “Wow, I feel like a queen with a bodyguard—a filthy one at that,” she snarled. She figured he didn’t speak English but better to find out now. He made no reaction other than to point his rifle down the hall. She went ahead of him and tried to ignore her racing pulse. Pull it together. Show no fear.

  At the end of the hall were several steps that took them to the main floor. What she could see was an open, airy room. Aromas that made her stomach growl wafted into the room. Despite everything, she was hungry.

  “Welcome!” Alejandro came into the room and waved her guard away. “Come and have breakfast with me. We need to talk.”

  She crossed her arms defiantly and held her ground.

  Alejandro growled. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close to him. “Your days of freedom are over unless you do exactly as I say. Disobedience and posturing will not be tolerated. I don’t want to hurt you. Even so, I am
very good at it. Keep that in mind if you wish to live. Do we have an understanding?”

  She felt heat and pressure rise in her chest. All she wanted to do was spit in his smug face. Just the thought brought more saliva to her mouth and her lips puckered.

  Alejandro shook his head. “I forgot to tell you my employees don’t mind hurting people. An attack on me is an attack on them, and they might not be as forgiving as I am.”

  “So if I spit in your face, they would consider that an attack?”

  “For all they know, you would spit some kind of poison that would blind me.”

  She looked at the guard, who watched from a distance. “I wish I could.”

  “I understand. I would feel the same if our circumstances were reversed, but they aren’t. I suggest you remember that at all times.”

  She kept her expression blank, even as she began plotting how to get him alone. It appeared that wouldn’t be easy, but she would look for an opening and hope he was more of a gun person than a martial arts person.

  “I’ll try my best to be good,” she said sardonically, hoping he would expect her not to completely capitulate without putting up at least a modicum of resistance.

  He smiled and held out his arm. “Let’s eat. The Huevos Pericos con Tocineta look especially good today.”

  “The what?”

  “You call them scrambled eggs, though these have added ingredients.”

  Crap. As if it weren’t enough that my whole world is scrambled right now, breakfast has to be too.

  Chapter 37

  After breakfast, Laurel sat at the table by herself, nursing a cup of rich Colombian coffee. Madeira was gone, probably attending to whatever drug czars attended to. Madeira had told her she had to contact her father. When she told him she didn’t know how to reach him, she was rewarded with Madeira’s backhand across her cheek. It still stung, probably more from embarrassment than from the actual slap, but she had promised herself she’d pay him back big-time.

  She wondered, not for the first time, how she could have been so stupid. What had she thought she was doing? And what was she going to do now? Madeira was certain she knew where her father was. How long before he or his minions tortured her to get information she didn’t have? She doubted his patience would last much longer.