Heart of Danger: An Aegis Group Novella (Body of Danger)

by Sidney Bristol

  Val jogged across the open ground to the truck and leaned in through the driver’s side window.

  “Come on, there’s food and water in the back.” She opened the back of the truck and they climbed in.

  Abuelo sat shotgun with an old six-shooter across his thigh.

  Val and Duke sat on the floor with neither of the older men speaking to them. She dug out bottles of water and sandwiches wrapped in cheesecloth.

  “Abuela told them to come. I don’t think Dad’s happy about this.” Val kept her voice low. “They said everyone’s waiting for us to get back. What are we going to tell them?”

  Duke wished he could take this burden from her, but he couldn’t. These people didn’t know him and they wouldn’t trust him like they would her. Val was a girl they’d watched grow up and become a leader. Now she’d be their leader.

  “What are we going to do, Duke?”

  “We’re going to give them something to believe in.” He took her hand and scooted closer. It went against his nature to put someone else out there ahead of the rest to be the target, but it was time for Duke to step back and follow. Val could do this.

  “How?” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain.

  “I’ve got an idea...”

  8.

  FRIDAY. LA PLAYA DE Belén, Colombia. 8 days until Christmas.

  Val clenched Duke’s hand in hers.

  Everything was happening too fast. Her emotions were too chaotic. And now she was going to make the biggest fool of herself since Jackie got her drunk off her ass and she tried to dance on the bar at a Coyote Ugly.

  “You can do this.” Duke squeezed her hand.

  The back door of the delivery truck opened, and she stared at the square of sunlight. The church rose up behind Dad, people staring out of the open doors at her.

  The whole town was waiting on her, to hear what they’d seen and done. How she’d fucked up their lives. When it came to making a mess, she sure did go big.

  Duke helped her out of the van, but left the weapons behind. They’d discussed that the show of strength inside the church wasn’t appropriate and would send the wrong message. At least for now. People needed to be comforted and encouraged. Guns did neither.

  Hand in hand they strode toward the church.

  Val wanted to dart across the square and into the bakery, but she couldn’t. This was her fault. She’d chosen to act, and this was where it got her.

  They stepped over the threshold of the old, stone building and paused long enough for her eyes to adjust.

  Everyone was there.

  She swallowed.

  Her family was there. The couple who owned the pharmacy was there. The bodega owner that didn’t even close on Christmas was there. The whole town must have shut down to show up. Because she’d dabbled in their lives and changed the course of everything.

  “You can do this,” Duke whispered.

  They reached the front of the church. She remained on the parishioner level, staring out at the people who’d been there for many of the major milestones of her life. Her parents might have moved around during her childhood, but they always came back to La Playa at the holidays. She’d shared so many memories with these people, and often times thought it was here she’d end up living out the end of her days. That wouldn’t be an option if something didn’t change. If they didn’t alter the course of events.

  She wiped her palms on her hips, Duke’s words buzzing around in the back of her head.

  Val could have lost him today. She needed a moment alone with him, to really hold onto him, but she had to make it through this first.

  “By now, most of you have heard about last night, and this morning my friend and I went to go see what we were up against. We found a dozen boys in a cabin, their ringleader eating your food and using drugs they bought with your money. We didn’t intend to engage, but we did, and now that group is gone.”

  A few people gasped. Someone clapped. Several people muttered.

  “That’s not the end of the problem though,” she pitched her voice over the growing chatter. “Whoever they are, they work for someone else. Something they didn’t tell us until it was too late.”

  Val winced as voices melded together in alarm.

  An old woman stood up halfway down the main aisle. Val remembered riding the bus often with her as she headed to and from the village to wherever she worked. The memory of lemons and soap stuck out in Val’s head.

  “Quiet.” Duke’s voice boomed in the enclosed space. It didn’t matter that he spoke English, his tone got the point across.

  She met Duke’s gaze, and he nodded at the woman.

  “Do you know something?” Val asked her.

  The woman gripped the back of the pew in front of her as though she could hardly stand on her own. Val took a few steps toward her then stopped.

  “I know who they work for,” the old woman said, her tone weary. “His name is Esteban Rojas.”

  Val knew that name. She frowned at the woman.

  “Yes, that Rojas,” the woman said.

  “You’re talking about the cattleman Rojas?” Val vaguely remembered a gregarious older man, thick around the middle, who always had a cigar. The family employed smaller farmers to allow their herds to graze on fallow fields. Their meat was a regional staple, sold in every bodega and grocery store across the mountains.

  “His grandson, the younger of the two boys. I’ve worked for the Rojas family for nearly two decades, and I’ve watched those children grow up. Esteban is a cruel, manipulative boy. Six months ago, he and his friends were kicked out of the Rojas home.” The woman edged into the aisle between the pews.

  Val’s stomach churned.

  “Esteban’s father told me to clean up the boy’s room, remove all the drugs. When Esteban found out what his father made me do, he took it out on me.” She lifted her skirt enough to show her badly mangled knees.

  Val covered her mouth with both hands. Bile coated the back of her throat.

  The kind of person who would do this needed to be stopped.

  “This is all the Rojas’ fault,” someone yelled.

  “No, please.” The old woman stretched out her hands. “They are good people. It’s Esteban.”

  “Then they can help us make this right.” Val swallowed down her rage. “If we’re dealing with the same person, Esteban will want to retaliate. Most of the people we saw were kids, boys. They’re someone’s sons, brothers, cousins—family. Duke and I, we think that Esteban’s gang is targeting more than just La Playa. If we can get all the villages this side of the mountains together, we can stop them. And get them help. Please, I know many of you are scared, but acting out of fear is never the way to go. We can fix this, and we can get those boys the help they need.”

  The voices of the villagers grew louder, some yelling, their words mixing together. Many were angry, as they should be, while others were just scared.

  Someone threw a balled up piece of paper that hit her father and bounced off onto the floor.

  The priest stepped out of the shadows and crossed to where Val and Duke stood center stage. She’d had her first communion under his guidance; another staple of her youth endangered because she just had to do something.

  “Go to the bakery. Let me talk with them,” he said softly.

  Val nodded and turned toward the side door. She didn’t dare brave the long stretch out to the courtyard through the main doors. Not with emotions this high.

  Duke followed her out into the afternoon light, the sun soaking into her chilled skin. He closed the door behind them, shutting out some noise. She covered her face with her hands and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “You did everything you could,” he whispered.

  “You couldn’t understand anything I said.” She pillowed her head against his shoulder.

  “I didn’t have to. You sounded great up there.” He stroked her back, attacking the knots in her shoulders with his fingers. “What was the old woman’
s story?”

  Val got him up to speed.

  “We should start with the family then. I bet they know where he is, what he’s doing. If they kicked him out, they probably feel some responsibility for what he’s done.”

  “What if they’re afraid, like everyone else?”

  “Then we do this without them.”

  “I’m not so sure we can get everyone on board.” She nodded at the church where the loud voices hadn’t died down. “They’re scared and angry.”

  “Come on. Let’s go to the house, clean up, and get ready to do something.”

  Duke took her hand and led her around the church and to the bakery. She didn’t know what she’d do without him and all he’d done for her. This wasn’t what he’d come here for, and yet he’d jumped in to help even at a very serious risk to his life.

  He guided her to the old, family table and nudged her into a chair. She sat there, watching him fuss over her, get her a glass of water, and all the while she kept circling the idea that he could have died today. It was the reality of their job that they could die any day of the week, doing any regular task. But this was different because it wasn’t a job. This was personal, and he hadn’t tried to tell her how to do things or that they were going to do it his way since he knew best. He’d listened to her, let her make choices, speak for them, and the whole time he was here holding her hand.

  “Duke?”

  “Hm?” He turned toward her, dragging a damp rag across his face.

  “I...”

  The door banged open and Abuela rushed in. she wrapped her arms around Val, muttering soft prayers of thanks.

  “We’re okay, Abuela. Everything’s fine.” Except their timing.

  Val hugged her grandmother and filed the words away for later. Maybe she’d build up the nerve to say what she needed to.

  “Valentina, what were you thinking?” Mom sat down next to her, a hanky pressed to her face. “They’re going to take the bakery. How could you do something so stupid?”

  “Hush.” Abuela smacked Mom’s shoulder. “She did what we should have months ago.”

  Duke sat across from Val watching the exchange. His cheeks were a bit too tight, which might make him look exceptionally stern—except Val knew he did that when he was trying to not laugh.

  “Enough,” Abuelo said over the women. He sat at the head of the table, hands folded. “Valentina is who we raised her to be. She is who we should try to be more like.”

  Val swallowed and blinked back tears. How did Duke handle this on a daily basis and keep going?

  DUKE WISHED HE FELT better after the shower, but he didn’t. There was too much at stake on a personal level for Val and he had zero control over how this went down.

  He circled the delivery truck, eyeing it for repairs. It was the best thing he’d found to keep him busy and out of the kitchen where Val’s mother and Abuela were sniping at each other despite the patriarch of the family trying to keep them in line.

  Footsteps scraped on the stones. A man in slacks and a polo stepped into the courtyard. He looked different out of the priest robes.

  “Father.” Duke offered the man his hand.

  “Duke?” the priest asked.

  “That’s my name.”

  “My English is...” He wiggled his hand.

  “Sounds good to me. Val is inside.” Duke thumbed over his shoulder.

  “I want to talk to you first,” the priest said.

  “What can I do?”

  “You are a military man, correct?”

  “Kind of.” Explaining his role on the human rights team wasn’t important right now.

  “What do you think of this?”

  “The situation with Esteban?” Duke stared at the side of the house, but it wasn’t the building he was seeing. It was the whole valley.

  “Yes.”

  “I think if he’s an addict he will drain you dry.”

  “We should stop him?”

  “Yes.”

  The door opened and Val strolled out. She’d showered ad her hair was up, but the wear of the day showed on her face.

  “What’s going on?” Val asked.

  “I want to know your plan. How you think we can put an end to this,” the priest said.

  “Val has a great plan.” Duke nodded at her.

  She blinked at him, no doubt hung up on his phrasing. So what if they’d come up with it together? She was the leader here. There could be no sharing that position and he’d support her until this was over.

  “We want to visit the other villages, tell them we aren’t paying Esteban’s protection price anymore, and neither should anyone else. We also think we should go visit the Rojas family. They might know where he is, who he’s with, something that could help us. Esteban’s an addict. We can’t keep feeding the addiction. We have to cut off his supply of drugs and money, and for that to work, everyone has to be on board.”

  Duke could listen to Val talk all day. When she got passionate, she lit up. And she was righteously pissed.

  “I agree, but we should divide and conquer. We need to give the people something to come together for.” The priest glanced at him, then Val. “We never properly celebrated Día de las Velitas.”

  “What are you getting at, Father?” Duke asked.

  “We seize the opportunity to take back our town, our holiday, our happiness.”

  “How?” Val frowned.

  “We send people to each village to tell the story. They’re all like us. No one has any presents, no money, hardly anything because it takes everything to pay off Esteban’s men. We tell them to come to La Playa tomorrow for Día de las Velitas and together we make a plan.”

  “How many villages are we talking about?” Duke asked.

  “A dozen at least.” Val shrugged.

  “Is this a good plan?” The priest glanced between Val and Duke.

  “I guess so. Do you think we can get everyone on board?” Val asked.

  “Leave that to me. You go to the Rojas’. Make them see their part in this and bring them to the table.”

  “The bus has already left for the day though.” Val checked the time on her phone.

  “Take my car. It’ll get you there faster. Don’t drive at night though. It isn’t safe.”

  “What do you think?” Val stared up at him.

  “I think the best way to solve this is to have everyone involved.”

  “So, we’re going?”

  “Grab a bag and let’s get on the road.” Duke nodded and the sun creeping lower on the horizon. “There’s not a lot of time.”

  DUKE PEERED AROUND the walled-in courtyard of the Rojas ranch. The setting sun threw long shadows across the yard, the brilliant, final colors of bidding them farewell, and maybe good luck. A few ranch hands stood nearby watching them, their clothes sweat stained and dirty.

  Val killed the engine.

  They’d passed through several villages along the way, none of which bore a single sign of festive decor. Esteban’s thumbprint was everywhere now that they knew what to look for.

  Boarded up windows where his thugs had smashed the glass, probably to prove a point.

  Homes battened down as if for a storm.

  Not a single thing of value or adornment anywhere.

  A middle-aged man emerged from the nice sized home, his hair damp as though he’d just showered.

  “I think that’s Esteban’s dad.” Val undid her seatbelt.

  “Don’t pause to translate for me. Say as much as you can. You can do this.”

  Val blew out a breath and they both got out.

  Despite the testimony of the old woman at the church earlier, they had no real idea how the Rojas family would deal with news of the prodigal son’s antics. Either they loved the kid too much to care, or they didn’t know how to stop him. All they could do was lay the truth out there and hope the family was willing to help put a stop to this.

  Val approached the older man, her features relaxed, smile easy. It was her bedside
manner at work. Duke had seen her put her fears and worries aside to deal with a patient just like this. It was a skill that couldn’t be taught, something that came naturally to her.

  Both Val and the gentleman grew serious, their voices lowered.

  Duke glanced around the courtyard. There were a few more men around, their curiosity aimed at them.

  “Hey, we’re going inside,” Val said.

  “Everything good?” Duke followed along behind them.

  “Not sure.” The corner of her mouth wrinkled, the only outward sign of her uncertainty.

  The man led them into the brightly lit home. There were signs of wealth in the small things, the cleanliness of the place. Listening to Val it sounded as if the family had to be the local seat of wealth, but they weren’t flaunting it.

  They were led into a large family room with comfortable sofas and hand-woven rugs so brightly colored they were hard to look at. There was a happy vibe to the place as though this would have been a pleasant place to grow up.

  An older gentleman sat in a wingback chair that had seen better days in front of the fireplace with a cigar clenched between his teeth. Their host gestured to chairs around the fireplace as he spoke to the patriarch.

  “Is that the old Mr. Rojas?” Duke asked quietly.

  “Yes. This is his son, Esteban’s father.”

  The old man leaned forward and said something directly to Val, who turned her attention on the two men. She spoke slowly, with a few hand gestures. There was no impassioned plea. They’d discussed the best ways to petition the family for help and decided that going the emotional route was not the best option. Regardless of what Esteban was doing, he was still part of their family.

  Their host sat on an ottoman at his father’s knee, elbows braced on his thighs and hung his head. Every time Val said Esteban’s name, both men flinched.

  There was guilt there. Duke had seen similar expressions on the families of men and boys who went on to do terrible things. Sometimes it wasn’t how a child was raised, it was their own choices that set them on a path toward destruction.