Glaring at the mountain route to Emilio Santos's camp, Rorie shivered as thoughts of her brother filled her mind. Had Peter and Cipriana died in Mayari? She'd never known the details, had never been told the specifics of their executions. Had Santos buried their bodies in the village? Had he thrown them over the cliffs and into the ocean? Or had he disposed of them in the jungle?
Grasping her forearm, Hawk squeezed gently. She glanced at him and saw the compassion and understanding in his eyes.
"I'm sorry about what happened to your brother and his wife." Hawk tightened his hold on her arm. He wanted to draw her closer, to bare his soul, to tell her the truth and ask her to forgive him. If Rorie could forgive him, then maybe he could finally forgive himself. But would seeking absolution from Peter Dean's sister be asking for the impossible?
Rorie laid her hand over Hawk's. "I wish you had known Peter. He was such a good man. Kind. Caring. Loving." She gazed into Hawk's eyes. "I think you two would have liked each other. Despite Peter's gentle nature, he was a strong, brave man. Like you. And despite your gruff, crude exterior, you possess a good soul, as he did."
Hawk flung off her hand, hurriedly shifted gears and looked straight ahead—up the recently cleared path to the mission.
"You've got me confused with some imaginary man you've conjured up," he said. "I have nothing in common with Peter Dean. Don't kid yourself, lady. I barely have a soul anymore, and what's left of it sure as hell isn't good."
Rorie bit down on her bottom lip, as tears lodged in her throat. Poor Hawk. Elizabeth had been right. He was tormented by demons. And those demons had convinced him that they were destroying his soul. Closing her eyes, Rorie said a silent prayer. Dear Lord, give me the power to cleanse Gabriel Hawk's soul.
They rode up the mountain in silence. The closer they came to the mission, the more uneasy Hawk felt in his gut. The remainder of the old road had been recently cleared, too, just as the trail down to Mayari had been. Hawk didn't like the looks of this. Not one damn bit. What reason would anyone have had to clear the old road other than to secure a back entrance to the mission?
Not King Julio. Not General Lazaro.
Had Santos sent someone to the mission to search for Frankie Dean? If so, who had tipped him off about the boy's hiding place?
Damn, don't let us arrive too late! Don't let Santos already have the young prince!
Hawk parked the jeep in a clearing within walking distance of the weather-beaten, two-hundred-year old mission. Moss coated the northern walls of the stone structure. Vines spiraled from the ground, clinging to the gray rock, enclosing several of the arched windows.
Hawk double-checked his pistol, then draped the rifle over his back and stepped out of the jeep. Rorie jumped out and met him.
"The doors to the Blessed Virgin Mission are never locked," she said. "We can walk right in."
"That's convenient for us." Should he tell Rorie to prepare herself for bad news? Or should he wait and hope for a miracle? Maybe Frankie was still in the good sisters' custody.
"I remember exactly where the reverend mother's office is," Rorie told him. "We had tea there, when Peter and I came to visit the mission, shortly after my arrival on San Miguel. Peter believed that despite being of different faiths, we should work with the sisters to provide spiritual guidance to the citizens of San Miguel. During the years Peter lived here, he came to the mission several times."
Hawk kept alert to every sound and movement as they made their way down the rock pathway leading to the huge, wooden entrance doors. Rorie opened the doors with little effort, despite their size and weight. They entered a wide, stone-floored foyer, flanked by two dark, narrow hallways.
Rorie veered to the right. "This way. Reverend mother's office is the first door."
Hawk scanned the dim, damp interior. Silence. Absolute silence. He'd never spent time around churches or convents or holy people of any religion. But he couldn't help wondering if the unnatural silence inside the mission was normal.
When Rorie lifted her hand to knock on the door, Hawk removed his gun from its holster. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned.
"I hardly think you'll need your gun. I can assure you that the reverend mother isn't dangerous."
"I didn't figure she was, but we don't know whether or not she has other visitors," Hawk said. Rorie opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off short. "Go ahead and knock."
Rorie knocked softly. No response. She knocked harder.
A strong feminine voice responded. "Yes, who's there?"
"Reverend Mother, I'm Rorie Dean. Peter Dean's sister. I'd like to speak to you, please."
Footsteps crossed the wooden floor. The door squeaked as it opened. A small, wrinkled woman with pale, faded hazel eyes stared at Rorie, then glanced behind her and surveyed Hawk.
"Do you remember me, Reverend Mother?" Rorie asked.
"Yes, of course, my dear. Won't you and … and—"
"This is Gabriel Hawk. A friend of mine," Rorie said.
The elderly nun nodded. "Won't you come inside and sit down?"
When they entered the small, cool room, with a large open window overlooking a garden area, Rorie followed the reverend mother and sat down in a chair across from her desk. Hawk stood to the left of Rorie, his back to the wall, as he examined the room. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of the door and the window.
Placing her clasped hands atop her desk, the reverend mother leaned forward. "What can I do for you, Miss Dean?"
Rorie scooted to the edge of her chair. "King Julio told us that he'd sent Prince Francisco to you for safekeeping."
The elderly nun tightened her clasped hands. "Yes, Captain García brought the young prince to us some time ago, and we took great delight in caring for him."
"Reverend Mother, I am Francisco's legal guardian. Peter and Cipriana stated their wishes in their wills." Rorie paused to give the woman a chance to comment. She didn't. "King Julio has agreed for me to take my nephew to the United States." Rorie looked the reverend mother squarely in the eye. The woman didn't bat an eyelash. "I've come to take Francisco with me."
"I see." The reverend mother unfolded her hands, eased back her chair and stood. She walked over to the window and looked out into the garden. "I'm afraid there has been some sort of mix-up, Miss Dean. You see … King Julio sent for the prince several days ago."
"Are you saying that Francisco Dean is no longer at the mission?" Hawk asked.
"I am saying that the boy is no longer under my care."
The nun's gaze met Hawk's and held for a split second. Long enough to convey a message. Something was wrong.
"The king sent someone for Frankie several days ago?" Rorie rose from her chair. "But why would he do that? He knows the danger of having Frankie with him. I can't believe he's so selfish that he would put his own grandson's life at risk."
The reverend mother turned and glanced down at the open Bible on her desk. She looked at Rorie. "I'm afraid I do not know the motivation for the king's actions." Absently, she flipped through the pages of the Bible. "Perhaps, if you consult God's word, you will find the answers you seek, my child."
The old nun turned the Bible and slid it across her desk in front of Rorie. Grasping the edge of the leather-bound book in her hand, the reverend mother curled all her fingers, except her index finger, which pointed directly at a verse. With her heart beating like a jackhammer, Rorie willed herself to stay calm. She looked down at the holy book and read hurriedly. Opening her mouth in a silent gasp, she exchanged a knowing look with the reverend mother.
"I'm disappointed that King Julio lied to us," Rorie said. "He's made a terrible mistake taking Frankie away. But Hawk and I are going to get my nephew, no matter what we have to do."
"You have my blessings, Miss Dean." The reverend mother held out her hand. "I will pray for Prince Francisco's safety."
Rorie grasped the old woman's hand. "Thank you."
"Now, what?" Hawk asked. "Do we head back for
La Vega or do we go to Puerto Angelo and see King Julio?"
Rorie realized that Hawk was playing games again. Otherwise, he would never have asked her opinion on what to do next. He understood that the reverend mother had given her a secret message, one that required them to leave the mission and regroup if they wanted to save Frankie.
They left the mission, walked to the clearing and got into the jeep. Hawk started the engine.
"Just sit tight," he said. "I'm going back down the road, so if anyone is watching, they'll see us leave. But as soon as we're out of sight of the mission, I'll park the jeep and then circle around to the back on foot."
"I'm coming with you."
Hawk shrugged. "I never doubted that for a minute." He shifted gears, backed up and headed down the road.
"You think Frankie is still at the mission, don't you?" Rorie asked.
"I think the reverend mother is afraid of someone and that someone is at the mission. Whoever it is, he could very well be holding Frankie hostage in order to force the nuns to do what he tells them."
"Would Lazaro instruct his men to sell Frankie to the highest bidder?" Rorie grabbed the dashboard when the jeep hit a large rut.
Hawk pulled the jeep off the road, through a flimsy wall of vines and shrubs, and parked it between two towering trees festooned with orchids.
He turned to face her. "No. Lazaro would take the boy himself."
"What about Santos?"
"Santos would use Frankie in any way he thought it would benefit him. He would use him as a bargaining tool. He wouldn't sell the boy. Only someone working independently would be stupid enough to offer the prince to the highest bidder."
"Then we're probably dealing with someone like that."
Grabbing Rorie's shoulders, Hawk peered into her eyes. "Don't you think it's about time you tell me exactly what information the reverend mother gave you?"
"She opened the Bible to Genesis, chapter 37, and pointed directly to verses 26 and 27."
Hawk gave Rorie a blank stare. "I'm not familiar with the Good Book, so just cut to the chase and fill me in."
"The verses concern Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers," Rorie said. "I think the Reverend Mother was trying to tell me that whoever has Frankie intends to sell him."
"Damn!" Hawk inadvertently looked at Rorie for a reaction to his cursing, but there wasn't a hint of censure on her face. "If you're right, then my guess is that somebody's double-crossing their boss, be it Santos or Lazaro, and they're going to try to sell Frankie to whomever forks over the most dinero."
"We have to stop them."
"We can try." Hawk jumped out of the jeep, checked his weapons and then motioned for Rorie to follow. He would have preferred her to stay with the jeep, just in case things got nasty. But he knew the only way to keep her there would have been to hog-tie her.
She followed where he led, through some thick underbrush and up a steep, rocky incline. When they reached the back side of the mission, Hawk jerked her down onto her belly and signaled her to be silent. They crawled through the high grass and weeds leading up to the six-foot wall separating the old building from the forest. Shooting straight up, Hawk pulled her with him. He flattened himself against the wall; she did the same. Easing open the unlocked wooden gate, he slid inside, checked the perimeter and when he found it clear, reached outside and yanked Rorie into the courtyard.
"What are you—" Rorie whispered.
Hawk slammed his hand over her mouth. She glared indignantly at him and he removed his hand very slowly.
Hawk pulled his 9-mm out of its holster. With Rorie directly behind him, he searched the hallways and rooms, seeking an intruder. The nuns were conspicuously absent, as if they had exited en masse. When Hawk and Rorie passed by the chapel, they found it filled with black-attired sisters on their knees, praying. Hawk motioned for Rorie to be quiet and continue following him.
When they rounded the corner a few yards from the reverend mother's office, they heard the front doors slam shut. Hawk shoved Rorie up against the wall and motioned for her to stay put. With gun in hand, he ran around the corner and toward the front door.
"Mr. Hawk," the reverend mother called to him as she rushed out of her office. "They have Prince Francisco. They came only a little while before you and Miss Dean. They threatened to kill the child if we let on that they were here."
Hawk nodded quickly to the elderly nun, then swung open the front doors and raced outside. He caught a glimpse of a man, with a bundle over his shoulder, running toward an oncoming truck. Hawk holstered his pistol, slid the rifle off his back and aimed it. The bundle was in the way of a clean head or body shot. When Hawk fired the first shot, he hit the man in the leg. The bullet slowed the kidnapper, but didn't stop him. When the rusty, battered vehicle pulled up beside him, the man tossed the bundle into the truck bed, then jumped in.
Rorie ran out of the mission and up beside Hawk.
"The reverend mother said that they have Frankie."
"We've got to get to the jeep."
Rorie raced behind Hawk, wishing her legs were longer, but thankful for every lap around Le Bijou Bleu that Hawk had forced her to make. He reached the jeep long before she did.
"Go without me!" she yelled.
He backed the jeep up to her. "Get your butt in here!"
She jumped in. He sped away, in hot pursuit of the kidnappers. Within minutes, they spotted the truck. Guiding the jeep with one hand, Hawk braced the rifle on his other shoulder, aimed the weapon and fired. The man in the back of the truck returned fire.
"Get down!" Hawk told Rorie.
She ducked down in the seat. Hawk fired again and again. The kidnapper's bullets missed them. Except for one that pierced the back of Rorie's seat. She swallowed hard and said a silent prayer of thanks.
Hawk's next shot hit its target. The man in the truck bed fell to his knees, then rolled out and onto the road. Rorie caught a quick glimpse of the dead man's bloody body as the jeep roared past him.
The truck picked up speed on its descent down the mountain. Hawk kept pace, but couldn't seem to catch up. The bundle lying on the truck bed rolled back and forth, several times coming precariously close to tumbling out.
Hawk got off another couple of shots, one hitting the cab of the old vehicle, the other grazing the front fender. The woman driving stuck her hand out the open window and fired her gun. The bullet hit the jeep's windshield, directly between the two front seats.
When the truck came to the fork in the road, the woman took the trail that led to Mayari. Making a quick turn, Hawk followed her. If she was unafraid to travel into Santos's territory, then there was a good chance she was one of his followers—a greedy follower who actually thought she could double-cross the renegade leader. The woman was a fool!
The chase continued, with Hawk and the woman exchanging occasional gunfire whenever the jeep caught up with the fast-moving truck. Rough and rocky, but cleared of the jungle's overgrowth, the road led downward, often swirling around steep embankments. The woman slowed the truck as they neared a dangerously narrow section of road, with a deep fifty-foot hollow on one side and the mountain on the other. Hawk didn't slow the jeep's speed. When the two vehicles cleared the deadly hollow, the jeep raced along, less than six feet behind the truck bumper.
Hawk's next shot shattered the truck cab's back window. The driver aimed and fired. Her bullet hit the jeep's front left tire. The tire blew instantly. Hawk struggled to control the jeep's rapid lunge off the road.
Try as he might, he couldn't prevent the four-wheel drive's headlong dive off the shallow embankment and straight into a row of slender pine trees.
The sudden, hard impact threw Rorie out of the jeep. The steering wheel momentarily trapped Hawk. He shoved the seat backward, jumped out and rushed to Rorie. She lay, unmoving, on the ground. The moment he reached her, he knelt at her side and gently rolled her over from her stomach to her back.
"Rorie? Honey? Dammit, lady, don't you be dead!" He ch
ecked the pulse in her neck. Thank God, she was alive. He stroked her face. "Rorie? Wake up!"
No response. She was unconscious. Checking her for broken bones, he found no obvious signs of any. No shards puncturing the skin. No swelling. He figured she probably had a concussion, but how bad a one he didn't know. And there was no way he could tell if she had any other internal injuries.
Hawk lifted Rorie in his arms and held her up as if she were a sacrifice. He screamed out to the heavens.
"Don't let her die! Do you hear me? Whatever you want from me, God, you've got it. I promise.
"Just don't let Rorie die!"
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
Rorie regained consciousness gradually. Her eyelids fluttered several times before she managed to fully open her eyes. Hawk's worried face filled her line of vision. She tried to lift her hand to caress his cheek, to soothe him, but her arm wouldn't cooperate. Pain sliced through her skull. She shut her eyes, hoping to block out the pain. Dear Lord, what happened to me?
Lifting her head, she groaned when the pain intensified. Strong arms held her tightly, securely. Even through the fuzzy cloud encompassing her brain, Rorie knew that she was going to be all right. Gabriel was with her. He would take care of her.
"Rorie, honey?" He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and tenderly patted her right cheek. "Open your eyes again. Please, try. For me."
She focused on the task for several minutes before she was able to accomplish the simple action. When she opened her eyes, she was rewarded by Hawk's beautiful smile.
"That's my girl." He kissed her forehead.
She opened her dry mouth and licked her lips. "Hurts," she said. "Head hurts."
"You took a bad spill," he told her. "You've been unconscious for nearly an hour."
Looking up into his concerned eyes, she asked, "What happened?"
GABRIEL HAWK'S LADY Page 18
