Ripped Apart

by Miriam Minger

  “Hey.”

  She’d barely whispered to him, but Jake was glad Clare was waking up. He wanted to see those beautiful green eyes again and how she looked at him. He got his wish when she twisted in his arms to smile sleepily at him over her shoulder.

  “Been awake long?”

  Jake stared at her, marveling that anyone could look so good first thing in the morning. “An hour or so.”

  “You should have woken me up.”

  “Just about to but you beat me to it. Sun’s coming up but we don’t have to jump right up out of bed.”

  He had thought at that news she’d snuggle closer, or maybe lean back to kiss him. Her body grew stiff instead, no trace left of her smile.

  “We’re almost there then…Matamoros.”

  He heard the tension in her voice and guessed her thoughts. “It’ll be all right, Clare. Odds are Reed has no idea where we’ve gone.”

  “Unless Cesar decided not to keep his word and flew back to his village and that monster was still there at the orphanage—”

  “Sshhh.” Jake pressed a finger to Clare’s lips, but she’d already given voice to a nagging concern he’d tried to suppress since they boarded this ship.

  Fear of heavenly retribution was one thing, but to a shrewd kid like Cesar the potential of more cash lining his pockets might have been a bigger draw.

  Jake had thought of forcing him to fly them out of Mexico, but the potential of encountering American fighter jets was too high. They would have been shot down in a heartbeat and only then the U.S. pilots would ask questions. Jake had worked with enough of those hotshots to know their mission in life was nothing more than one big video game of search and destroy.

  Jake caressed Clare’s cheek and did his best to sound reassuring. “Remember what Father Gregorio said before we left? He put the fear of God in that kid.”

  “But if Cesar saw the commotion at the orphanage like you did and was curious to find out what was going on—”

  “Shit, Clare.” Jake sat up, unable to ignore any longer the real possibility that she might be right. He couldn’t deny that he regretted not having Cesar fly them to the States no matter the risk. Hell, he was trying to get Clare and himself out of this mess alive, wasn’t he? Such a decision would have been worth the threat of getting shot down.

  “Jake.”

  He turned to find her sitting up and staring at him, the blanket pulled up to her chin.

  “We have to leave the ship before it reaches Matamoros.”

  “What? Swim to shore and then hike the rest of the way to the border?” Jake immediately regretted his tone from the hurt in her eyes. He knew she had every right to be anxious. He reached out to stroke her face. “Look, even if Cesar flew home and spilled his guts, Reed wouldn’t have a chance in hell of finding us. Hundreds of vessels cruise the Gulf every day. It would be a logistical nightmare to try to stop and board even a dozen of them, no matter how much influence he and Ruiz might have.”

  “But they might have people already in Matamoros watching for us.”

  “Yeah, they might, but the port is huge. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack to pick the right boat. Mike already knew I intended to head to the States, but we could be anywhere. Trust me, he doesn’t have a clue where we are.“

  “Unless he found Father Gregorio.”

  Jake should have known she’d give voice to another concern that he didn’t want to consider. He shook his head. “Gregorio was a soldier before he went into the Church. He’s an expert in firearms. That’s how I met him—at a firing range. Everyone wanted to know who the priest was getting all the bull’s eyes. He knows how to take care of himself and he knows what we have at stake.” Jake threw his legs over the side of the bed and swept up his jeans from the floor. “No more worse-casing, okay? We’re going to keep moving and hope like hell we get another lucky break—”

  “He must really hate you, just as you said.”

  Jake went still, one foot jammed into a jeans leg. He knew Clare had meant Mike Reed, and he nodded.

  “Guess I pissed him off one too many times, who knows? I told you I was always a step ahead of him career-wise. Maybe that’s why he left Special Ops for the diplomatic corps. He could never catch up.” Jake swore under his breath and thrust his other foot into his jeans, then stood up to pull them on. “Hatred and a whole lot of money dangling in front of him. Bad combination.”

  Jake wasn’t surprised that any peace he’d felt from the night before was gone, but it was just as well.

  Cold reality waited for them anyway as soon as they stepped outside the cabin. He picked up his T-shirt and turned around to find her staring at him, the blanket still pulled up to her chin. The sadness in her eyes cut him to the quick.

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Why not? I’ve thought it myself a hundred times since Pablo…” Jake didn’t finish, his throat grown tight. He focused instead on pulling his T-shirt over his head, and then he picked up Clare’s clothes from the floor and laid them on the bed next to her. “The rest of my stuff’s in the other cabin.”

  “Boots?”

  Jake glanced down at his bare feet. “Yeah, no time last night to pull them on. You were yelling so loudly—”

  “I remember.”

  She’d spoken so softly, those two words holding more weight at that moment than anything else she could have said.

  Jake remembered, too, everything. He wanted nothing more than to get back into that warm bed and start making love to her all over again but he could hear the level of activity rapidly increasing above deck. The ship couldn’t be but an hour or two from docking in Matamoros.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Get dressed and we’ll go find something to eat.” He didn’t wait for an answer but left her there staring after him, something in her eyes telling him she might have wanted to say more as he closed the cabin door.

  * * *

  Great, now she’d done it. They had slept together and now things were going to get weird and awkward between them, Clare could feel it.

  She had wanted to tell him she hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but he’d left in such a hurry—no doubt to escape anything else she might have to say to him.

  Why had she brought up so many fears and worries anyway? Why had she said anything about Mike hating him? She had made him uncomfortable and he couldn’t leave the cabin fast enough when what she’d really wanted was for him to kiss her one more time. He had looked for a moment like he might be thinking of staying and then—

  “Hey.”

  Clare drew in her breath as Jake opened the door a little wider and glanced pointedly at the clothes he’d piled for her on the bed.

  “You going to put those things on or just sit there and look surprised.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Oh, you thought I’d come back?”

  “No—well, hoped maybe…” She didn’t finish, Jake taking the two steps to the bed and grabbing her by the shoulders to kiss her before she could blink. Then just as quickly he stood by the door again. He grinned at her and blocked the opening with his body as Clare realized the blanket had fallen to her waist and left her sitting there naked.

  “Get dressed, Miss Carson. If we had more time—hell, who am I kidding?”

  The door slammed shut and Jake locked it behind him. A lightness of heart overwhelmed Clare as he stripped and climbed into the bed and pushed her gently backward onto the pillows.

  * * *

  Cabo San Lucas, Baja, Mexico

  “So your offer still stands.”

  “Yes, but now it’s nineteen million. You’ve lost a day, Reed—a whole fucking day!” Eduardo paced back and forth across the white marble floor of the elegant penthouse suite, his agitation growing as he clutched the cell phone. “No wonder you didn’t answer my calls. I’d thought you’d caught her and screwed the life out of her by now but instead you call to tell me she’s probably fled the countr
y. What the hell are you going to do?”

  “Find her.”

  Eduardo stopped pacing. The barely restrained fury in the Facilitator’s voice was more emotion than he’d ever heard from him. “I don’t doubt that you will find her but it had better be soon if you want to see any of that money. Nineteen million doesn’t sound as nice as twenty, does it? Each day that passes means one less million—”

  “I got the message.”

  “Good, then we understand each other. Find her, kill her, you get the money and you’re done—hello?” Eduardo cursed and lowered his hand to stare at the cell phone.

  The bastard had hung up on him. He’d gotten no more information than a few terse words that the Carson bitch still eluded them, and nothing about how the Facilitator intended to go about finding her or even where he planned to look for her. Meanwhile Eduardo felt like a prisoner in this fucking hotel, his plan thwarted to return to Monterrey without Manuel’s knowledge because Magdalena was calling him every few hours to check up on Maria—

  “Go to hell!” Eduardo glared at the cell phone ringing in his hand and wished that he could tell whoever was on the other end just what he’d shouted at the top of his lungs. Instead he pressed the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

  “Eduardo, it’s Magdalena. How is my daughter? Is she awake yet? I want to speak to her.”

  “She’s sleeping, Magda,” Eduardo said with as much civility as he could muster although he wanted to scream that Maria was a drugged-out zombie and wouldn’t be talking to anyone if he could help it. “The flight wore her out, all the excitement—and it’s early yet, we’re two hours behind you, but I think she’s happy to be here. She likes the restaurants here, the shops. I promise you as soon as she feels better I’ll take her out and buy her whatever she wants.“

  “That’s so good of you, Eduardo. I’m sure this trip was the right thing to do. But you must call me when she wakes. I miss her so much. I want to hear her voice.”

  “As soon as she wakes, Magda.”

  “And you must take her to daily Mass, too, Eduardo. Find a priest there who she can talk to, it might help her. I don’t know what I would do without Father Ignacio Silva from our parish. I’ve been so worried about Maria and he’s been so kind and thoughtful, praying every day for our family during this difficult time. He’s asked to come by this morning, in a few minutes actually, to visit with me here at the house—”

  “That’s nice of him, Magda, very nice. I have to go now. I have another call.”

  “Don’t forget. As soon as Maria wakes.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Oh, yes, Manuel has asked about her, too. I haven’t been able to reach him. He’s in Mexico City on business but I’m sure when he returns tomorrow he’ll want to hear that his sister is feeling better.”

  “Business, my ass,” Eduardo muttered. He felt so tempted to hang up on his talkative mother-in-law as the Facilitator had just done to him. Manuel was probably fucking the brains out of his porn star mistress at that moment, not thinking at all about Maria and how she might be doing. “This call can’t wait any longer, Magda. Goodbye.”

  “But Eduardo, don’t you think Maria is sleeping too much—”

  “Into blessed eternity for all I care,” Eduardo said under his breath as he pressed the end button. He’d never felt so good cutting off a phone call but that didn’t change the fact he needed a stiff drink.

  Magdalena’s meddling was driving him almost as crazy as Maria’s constant despair that the American boy’s response to her attentions hadn’t changed. She had only to draw near to him or take his hand and he would cry out for his mother and turn his face away from her.

  The only peace Eduardo had found was finally having Maria sedated heavily last night, the cardiologist who’d accompanied them relieved as well that his patient might have a peaceful night. He’d told Eduardo the stress wasn’t helping the boy’s convalescence, but Eduardo could care less about that. He would have been elated if the boy died in his sleep but he’d received no such report, so right now he wanted that drink even more.

  To top things off, the Facilitator had allowed the Carson woman to escape from Monterrey, which made Eduardo even angrier that he’d been given no details.

  How could she have fled when Reed had set up an ambush outside the airport? Was she made of armor and able to dodge bullets? Regardless of what had happened, the circumstances must have been humiliating for the Facilitator from the tone of his voice—and the more so the better.

  Eduardo had never known Reed to fail at anything, but to fail for a man who’d approached Eduardo about collaborating years ago with enough bold confidence to stop a speeding train must be unbearable.

  Add to that the clock was ticking away on that nineteen millions dollars, and Eduardo felt much more confident about his hoped for outcome as he poured himself a double Scotch.

  Humiliation, rage, and millions of dollars slipping like fine sand through the Facilitator’s fingers.

  Eduardo couldn’t have hoped for a more lethal combination to ensure the job would get done. He’d even bet without the money the Facilitator’s mangled pride would help to seal the deal.

  Clare Carson was a dead woman.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico

  “I’ve been waiting for you both since I first heard from Father Gregorio.”

  “He’s all right?” Immense relief flooded Clare as Father Sebastian Benevides nodded. She shot a glance at Jake. His expression remained as tense as it had been since they had left the ship and taken a taxi to the Cathedral of Matamoros, but she saw in his eyes that he was relieved, too.

  “He called again only a few moments ago to see if you’d arrived yet,” continued Father Sebastian. The priest was as small in stature as Father Gregorio had been tall but with a face as kind. “He said not to fear for him, he’s been in a safe place. But he said the two of you must leave at once for Cabo San Lucas in Baja. He’s learned your son Tyler is there.“

  “Cabo…?” Clare suddenly felt lightheaded and wished she’d accepted Father Sebastian’s offer of a chair when they had been ushered into a sitting room adjoining the rectory’s office. To her relief, Jake grabbed her by the elbow to steady her.

  “I don’t know how he did it, but that’s good news, Clare,” he said in a low voice, squeezing her arm as he glanced back at the priest. “Which hospital?”

  “No hospital, Mr. Wyatt. The Hotel del Sol, the penthouse suite. Come, I’ll take you to the airport in my car.”

  “Is my son all right?” Clare’s voice was so hoarse she’d barely choked out the words. Her breath stopped when the priest looked helplessly from her to Jake and back again.

  “There’s no word on his condition, Miss Carson. I’m sorry, I’ve told you everything I know. I’m sure if Father Gregorio had more information he would have shared it with me. Now if you’ll please accompany me to the car, he said with all haste so you’re at the airport when the private jet arrives—”

  “What are you talking about? Whose jet?”

  Jake had beat Clare by a split second in blurting out the questions, both of them staring with apprehension at the priest. Father Sebastian shook his head and spread his hands.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Father Gregorio said you’d have many questions but that you must trust him. He’ll be on the plane to greet you.” Father Sebastian glanced at his watch. “The flight left Monterrey International airport over an hour ago. Father Gregorio said he’d be traveling with you to Cabo San Lucas.”

  “It’s a trap. It has to be.” Clare met Jake’s eyes. His grim expression told her that he was weighing everything Father Sebastian had said. “Jake, what should we—”

  “We head to the airport. Come on.”

  Clare shook her head no, but Jake took her arm and steered her after Father Sebastian as the priest led the way through the rectory. Her feet were leaden, her apprehension growing. “Jake, we need to talk. What if Mike R
eed—”

  “Father Gregorio said he wouldn’t find him and I’m holding him to it. Maybe we just got our lucky break.”

  “No, no lucky break,” Clare whispered, daring to allow a glimmer of hope to build inside her. “Father Gregorio, Father Crispus, now Father Sebastian…” A white plaster statue of an angel in an alcove of the rectory foyer caught her eye as the priest rushed to open the front door for them.

  An angel with outspread wings holding a little child cradled protectively in its arms.

  Jake must have seen the statue, too. He wound his arm around Clare and led her through the door—a good thing as she could barely see, her eyes brimming.

  “You up for playing Mike and Kathy Fisher again?” he asked, giving her shoulders a squeeze to reassure her. “Private jet or not, we still have to get through airport security but we did an okay job a couple days ago.”

  “I think we’ll do all right.” Clare swallowed against the emotion of seeing the statue and summoned a smile. “We’ve had some practice since then.”

  “Not enough for me, but we’re getting there.” Jake gave her another hug and then released her as Father Sebastian threw open the rear door of a black sedan.

  Clare climbed inside and Jake followed close behind her, making it evident to her that true to his word he had no intention of being anywhere else but by her side. A thousand questions were running rampant through her mind, and no doubt Jake had his own, too, but one thing was certain.

  They weren’t giving up.

  * * *

  “I envy you the vacation, Reed. Talk to you when you get back.”

  “Yeah, okay. Later.” Mike ended the call and tossed the cell phone onto the bed. He’d had enough last minute chitchat with the people in his office. Bullshit, but necessary to keep up appearances to the end. He took a last glance at the clothes he’d thrown into his carry-on bag and then zipped it shut.

  Hector was already waiting out front with the car. The necessary paperwork was done, the three-week vacation approved without him having to step foot inside the consulate.