“Yes, ma’am, I’m familiar with them.” Better to keep up the sirs and ma’ams. Kathy understood she was an employee and Therese was the queen of the villa, being Garcia’s mistress. Placing her hands in her lap, she said, “Do you think that’s why she was so taken with me? Because of my coloring?”
“Absolutely. Tiki has never had an Anglo nanny before.” Therese looked at her through narrowed eyes. “The patrón always wanted South American nannies, but I persuaded him to consider other nationalities. I told him that I wanted a Barbie-type of woman who could speak flawless Spanish and be a bodyguard, as well. Tiki loves her Barbie dolls with blond hair. I felt we could find someone like that.” Therese buffed her nails on the sleeve of her emerald-green silk jacket, seeming very pleased with herself. “He didn’t think such a woman existed, but I knew she did.” Therese smiled at Kathy. “I’ve got good instincts. They told me that, of the three women we interviewed this time, you were the one. I knew you could survive the tests.” The elegant woman sipped delicately from her white, gold-trimmed china cup, then set it down.
“There is one more hurdle to leap, Señorita Lincoln. I must show the patrón the videotape of Tiki responding to you, as well as give him your last test report.”
“Of course,” Kathy murmured, forcing herself to look down with humility she really didn’t feel.
“For the rest of the day, I want you to just take it easy. The patrón may or may not see you, so please stay near the villa. If his secretary, Señora Elena Maronas, calls you, then come to my office and I will escort you to Señor Carlos Garcia’s office.”
Kathy nodded. “No problem. I’m still tired from that jungle trek, so I’ll be glad for the time off.”
Laughing politely, Therese said, “I’m sure you are. You may leave, Señorita Lincoln.” She lifted her hand and gestured toward the door.
So much for a royal dismissal. There was no doubt in Kathy’s mind that Therese considered herself queen of Garcia’s castle. But she rose and nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am.” Feeling a sense of absolute relief, she quickly left the office and hurried back to her little villa.
So far, so good. Now all she had to do was roll over and play dead with Garcia. Would she be able to handle herself correctly when she saw the bastard for the first time? Hatred flowed through her and choked off her breathing as she walked down the hall. And yet guilt warred with her desire for revenge. Kathy hadn’t expected Tiki to be so cute or to remind her so sharply of Kamaria, her little sister.
At the other end of the hall a guard stood, heavily armed and alert. No matter where she went in this villa, there was a soldier on duty. Kidnapping Tiki was not going to be easy at all.
IT WAS TIME. Kathy had been called to meet Therese at her office at 1700, shortly after siesta. She nervously rubbed her hands down her thighs as they walked to the east side of the villa, where Garcia’s office was located. Kathy wasn’t surprised to see two heavily armed guards at the massive mahogany door, which was elaborately carved and embossed with gold, showing the sun rising over the jungle. The artistry was breathtaking, but at the moment it was lost on her. All she could do was force herself to breathe evenly and keep her expression carefully neutral.
Therese knocked on the door.
“Enter!”
Just hearing Garcia’s voice through the intercom sent a shiver of hatred through Kathy. Keep calm. Keep cool. Don’t look at him too much. Don’t show anything except humility. Mac’s directions echoed through her and she kept reiterating them as a mental litany.
Therese opened the door and entered as if she were royalty. Kathy discreetly walked in after her, trying to look humble and unassuming. Her gaze swung to the center of the magnificent office. Carlos Garcia sat at a huge mahogany desk that had a golden sun emblazoned on the front, echoing the carved artistry of the door. Of course. The Inca, the emperor in times past, had been called the Sun God. And it wasn’t lost on her that Garcia had taken that ancient symbol and had it stamped on his desk and on his door. Obviously, he considered himself an emperor. The bastard.
“Here she is,” Therese announced with a flourish as Kathy approached his desk. “Señorita Katherine Lincoln.” She turned, smiling at Kathy. “And this is your employer, Señor Carlos Garcia. Please greet him.” She stepped aside with a dramatic sweep of her arm.
Swallowing acid that rose instantly into her throat, Kathy forced herself to move forward, her hand extended across the desk. Garcia was dressed casually but elegantly. He had on a long sleeved, cream silk shirt, which was open at the collar to expose his darkly haired chest and three heavy gold necklaces. Disgusted, Kathy kept the friendly smile affixed to her face.
“Good to meet you, sir.” Liar! Kathy saw the man’s narrow face light up with what looked like genuine pleasure. He had been smoking a slim, long cigar and placed it in a heavy leaded-glass ashtray. When he stood and extended his hand, she noticed several gold and diamond rings on his slender fingers. The watch he wore was a gold Rolex. Garcia obviously liked to show off his wealth.
“Ah, Señorita Katherine! Believe me when I say it is a pleasure! Welcome to my humble abode. We are most glad that you have come to us.” He gripped her hand and shook it heartily.
Nausea overwhelmed Kathy. Just the touch of the man’s soft, manicured hand made her want to vomit. No! Don’t you dare! Keep smiling. Keep the look in your eyes that shows you’re really glad you’re here. The words she spoke were like tearing flesh off her body. “A pleasure, patrón. I’m happy to be here, thank you.”
Releasing her hand, Carlos grinned hugely. “Well! This calls for a celebration! Therese, my little dove, will you have Veronica serve us high tea?”
Gulping, Kathy stood there at attention, her hands at her sides. The hand Garcia had touched tingled, and she wanted to wash it to get rid of his energy. Garcia was short, maybe five foot seven inches, if that. Lean and athletic, in her estimation. His hair, black and shining beneath the lights from above, was carefully lacquered.
So this was the son of the man who had hurt her family. Barely able to breathe, Kathy wrestled with her hatred. Her hands itched to throw a couple of deadly karate chops at the son of a bitch and get it over with. But she stopped herself. She roughly reminded herself that her mission was to kidnap Tiki and make him suffer as much as her family had. A quick, easy death wasn’t in the cards for him. No way. He was going to twist in the wind like they had….
In that moment, Kathy’s hatred was so pure and powerful that her hesitation to kidnap beautiful little Tiki disappeared. The hatred consumed her, so strong she could taste it in her mouth. There was no question that it was worth going through the motions of meeting Garcia. She was so close to avenging her family. Finally.
“Of course, mi patrón,” Therese said, gesturing to a maid who stood attentively at the door with a silver tea service in hand.
“Sit, sit,” Carlos said to Kathy, smiling broadly, and gesturing to the dark green leather, high-backed chair in front of his desk. Turning, he looked at Therese. “Will you join us?”
“No, patrón. I have some details to take care of in my office. Will you forgive me?”
“But of course,” Carlos murmured, picking up his cigar and puffing on it. The maid hurried in, set the tea service on a cart and rolled it up to his desk.
After Therese left, Kathy sat at attention in the chair, her hands feeling like lead weights in her lap. The maid, her almond eyes darting from her to Garcia, expertly poured the fragrant Earl Grey tea into a china cup.
“Gracias,” Kathy said after the woman handed her a cup of the fragrant brew. “Thank you.”
“Sí, Señorita Lincoln.”
So, did everyone know her name already? Kathy sat with the tea in hand as the maid brought over a three-tiered lazy Susan adorned with chocolates, an assortment of English shortbreads, scones and finger sandwiches.
“Thank you,” Garcia told the maid. “You may go now.”
Bowing deferentially, the servant hurried out of
the room and quietly closed the door.
“Look at this! Surely in Canada, Señorita Katherine, you have high tea?” He waved his hand at the highly polished silver lazy Susan that sat between them.
“Yes, sir, high tea is widely practiced where I come from.”
“Well,” he said, seeming pleased as he crushed out the cigar and set it aside, “I had this especially created for you!”
Kathy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Sir?” Her fingers gripped the white saucer so hard she had to force herself to relax so that she didn’t break it. Heart pounding, she could barely look at Garcia’s animated, pleased face as he inspected the goodies on display.
“Therese thought it would be an appropriate way to honor you and your country, as well as your training as a nanny, to have high tea. We must celebrate your employment with me and my darling little Tiki. Look!” He nudged several of the crustless white sandwiches. “You see? We have taste in Sudamerica, no? There are cucumber sandwiches. Egg sandwiches. Watercress sandwiches. Please, please, help yourself.” He handed her another, larger plate.
Taken aback by his obvious joy and pleasure in surprising her, Kathy nodded. “Thank you, sir. But I just ate. I’m still on North American time. You know? We eat dinner between 5:00 and 6:00 p.m.” Kathy knew that in South America, the schedule was very different. Dinner could occur between 8:00 p.m. and midnight. People slept late and had desanuno, or breakfast, around 11:00 a.m. Lunch, came around 3:00 p.m., after siesta.
“Oh…” Garcia said, disappointment evident in his voice.
Kathy decided to take a couple of the sandwiches, anyway. She couldn’t afford to make him angry or deny his efforts to please her.
“They look very good,” she said, taking one of each type. “I can’t resist.” She forced a slight smile and looked directly at him, which was a mistake. As soon as she peered into those black eyes, narrow and alert, Kathy was reminded that Garcia was a murdering son of a bitch just like his father. At first glance, he seemed more like an athletic gym teacher than a drug lord. Everything about Garcia was subdued and refined, from the way he used his hand with a flourish, to his gentle way of speaking. She had expected a hard muscle-bound killer. Garcia belied the labels.
As she considered her enemy, Kathy did not taste the cucumber sandwich she stuffed into her mouth. Garcia’s crestfallen look changed to one of radiant pleasure. He quickly filled his plate with at least half-a-dozen sandwiches and sat back to savor each one with gusto. Go ahead and enjoy yourself, you bastard, because pretty soon you’re going to suffer.
“I forget sometimes that norteamericanos eat at the strangest hours,” Garcia said.
“Yes, sir, we do.” No sense in arguing with him. Kathy repeatedly told herself to relax.
“There are scones here, too. Look! My chef went to great pains to call the British Culinary Institute in London this morning to find the perfect recipe for scones. Surely you must try at least one?”
Kathy reached for a warm, triangular shaped scone filled with raisins and other dried fruit. “It looks wonderful, sir.”
“Call me Patrón,” he said with a quick smile. Reaching for three small containers on the second level of the lazy Susan, he said, “Here, I just had these flown in from Lima. They arrived this morning—clotted cream, lemon custard and strawberry jam from Britain. The real thing, señorita, for high tea. Please, please, take some.”
She felt like a pig stuffing herself on command. The whole thing seemed like an absurd, distorted Salvador Dalí nightmare to Kathy. Her stomach was knotted. Jamming the scone slathered with a bit of the thick cream into her mouth almost made her gag. Her heart never stopped pounding. She slugged down several sips of Earl Grey tea to dislodge the lump building in her throat. As the tea soothed her nerves, Kathy breathed a small sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to completely lose it.
Garcia sat back, eating each finger sandwich with relish. “You see, señorita, since you are in my employ now, you will have high tea every day, just like in Canada. We will try the best we can to anticipate your every need. My chef is already preparing smoked salmon and other Canadian delicacies for your dinners to come. We want you to be happy here. If you want a certain type of wardrobe, certain designers, all you need do is talk to Therese and she will see that you get it.”
He was like a Santa Claus without end, Kathy thought. As if to stall her response to his generosity, she took another sip of tea.
“Well, that is very, very kind of you, sir, not to mention generous, eh? But I really have all the clothes I need.” Because I won’t be staying long enough to need any others, you bastard.
“Oh, but I’m afraid you will, Señorita Katherine. You see, my little Tiki often accompanies me in my jet when we go for visits around the world. As her nanny, you must, of course, be properly dressed.” He raised his brows to emphasize his point.
Nausea rose again in her throat. “Of course, sir, whatever you say.”
“Bueno! Therese already has several designers picked out and she has a wardrobe in mind for you. Of course, you must like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” Kathy murmured. “Really, all I want to do, Patrón, is care for your daughter. I’m not one for the limelight.” Or the photographers who might put her at risk of having her family see a picture of her in a newspaper or magazine. That would be disaster for Kathy, since her whole mission would be scuttled.
“I’m a very wealthy man,” Garcia said, “and I’m afraid the press of the world follows me. But I do not want my baby daughter exposed to their prying eyes, so you need not worry about being set upon by the paparazzi.”
“Good. I don’t feel a child should be subjected to that sort of thing. Tiki needs a fixed, stable environment to grow up in,” she said. Had she overstepped her bounds? She saw Garcia tilt his head and his eyes narrow speculatively upon her.
“Sí, yes, I agree with you, señorita. What else do you see about my little pastry? I would value your insights about her.”
Little pastry? She realized it was Garcia’s endearment for Tiki. Every father had a pet name for his child. Her own dad still called her Pet. Why wouldn’t Garcia have one for his daughter? Somehow, Kathy hadn’t envisioned a murdering drug lord being so human and caring.
Setting the cup and saucer on the edge of his desk, she wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and then gripped it in her lap. She had to be careful here.
“Well, sir, I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, but Tiki seems underweight and small for her age. I could feel her ribs beneath the clothes she wore. Perhaps she’s been sick, or something else caused this, eh? Something I’m not aware of?”
Garcia’s face seemed anguished for a moment. Again the emotion was real. Kathy hadn’t thought Garcia capable of human feelings. She was wrong, again.
“Well, it’s complicated, señorita.” Waving his hand, he said, “My little pastry is a very picky eater. But it goes beyond that.” His voice grew sad. “Her mother, Paloma, is very sick and rarely sees her. She is here at the villa, under a doctor’s care, of course—twenty-four hours a day. My daughter pines away for her mother, but she is incapable of being there for her.” Shrugging, he gave her a weary smile. “So I try to be both parents to her, knowing full well I can never replace her beautiful, darling mamacita. Tiki loses her appetite as a result. You can understand this, of course?”
Kathy didn’t want to be touched by the information, but she was. Tiki was such a bright, active child and Kathy ached for the girl’s pain. “Yes, sir, I certainly can.”
“Anything else you noticed about my little pastry?”
“Only that she’s outgrown the shoes she has on, Patrón. I think she needs a new pair.”
“I am pleased that you have already noted these things.” He snorted and bit into a scone. “The last nanny was not as alert as you are.” Brushing his hands after consuming it, he said, his mouth full, “I would be deeply indebted to you if you could find a way to help my daughter grow and gain weight. I�
�ve hired nutritionists, but none of them have been able to help. The psychiatrist’s recommendations haven’t aided her. The only other person she truly responds to is her teacher, Señorita Adelina Fields, but that only goes so far, too. I would give all the money in the world to see my daughter flourish once more.”
Deeply moved by his pleading tone, Kathy said, “With your permission, sir, I’ll try. Maybe in a couple of weeks, after I get to know her and her tastes better, I might work with someone in your kitchen?”
Brightening, Garcia said, “But of course! I’m very pleased you care about this, señorita.” He beamed at her. “Truly, as Therese has already said, you are an angel from God himself for my little pastry.”
Choking down the bile, Kathy demurely lowered her eyes and kept her voice soft. “I hope only to make her happy, Patrón.”
“Well, you must know that Tiki has a little American friend named Sophie who is staying with her presently. She has the other, smaller bedroom. You will meet her soon.” Garcia leaned back in his chair and waved his hand. “She is a friend of the family. Her parents have left her here with us as they travel the world. When you meet Sophie, I’m sure she will tell you many stories.”
“Oh?” Kathy kept her voice even. She knew Sophie had been kidnapped, and she was wondering how Garcia was going to handle this topic.
He smiled briefly. “Sophie is, well, how do I say this? She is very unhappy here. Of course, she’d rather be with her family and is very angry they have left her in our care. I’m afraid you’ll find that she will tell you lies, señorita. She would do anything to leave.” He chuckled indulgently. “Her latest tall tale is that she was kidnapped by us. So you must not play into her lies, and understand that she is simply an unhappy child for the present. You will be caring for her, also.”
“That’s not a problem, Patrón.” Amazed at how Garcia spun his story, Kathy cautioned herself to remain on guard around the bastard. If she didn’t already know Sophie had been kidnapped, she’d have believed him.
Enemy Mine Page 15
