by Nic Saint
Roland merely shrugged and stared out the bridge window at the river that was now as wide as a couple of interstates side by side. “I think we’ll slip through. After all, Bashar doesn’t have any say in this part of the country. If he attacks us this close to Guatamore he’s way out of his league and risks running into the police, who won’t condone cartel activity.” He nodded, fairly sure of himself. “We’ll be just fine.”
Kevin grumbled something under his breath, and for a moment he thought the young reporter was going to say something more, but then decided against it. He was still considering giving him a good talking-to about not spilling secrets he’d been entrusted with, but figured since all had worked out for the best, he better not rile his travel companion any further.
Though blabbing to Alicia about the scandal that had taken over his life was bad form, perhaps it was better this way. He wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret from her for much longer anyway, and it had allowed him to tell his side of the story, something she might not be susceptible to once she caught a whiff of the media frenzy.
When the story broke there had been a family meeting, and he and Chloe had explained exactly what had transpired all those years ago. Their explanation had been good enough for the family, and they had expressed their unwavering support. Scott and Anna had even offered to help out and stage a press conference to set the record straight, but had run up against Chloe’s veto.
And then there were the twins. Tom and Tony had already worked out a media blitz where both Chloe and Roland’s names would be exonerated and Harlan de Montesquieu’s business empire would come under attack from a focused hacking campaign. This had been halted in its tracks by their father, not wanting to connect the Thornton brand to this kind of low-level scheming.
“Fight fire with fire, right, Dad?” Tom had offered.
“Not when it comes back and bites you in the ass,” had been their father Jack’s opinion.
“Fire can’t bite you in the ass,” was Tony’s addition to the conversation, after which a dead stare from the pater familias shut him up.
Then Will had suggested what appeared the most sensible strategy of all. “Let’s simply not respond to any of it. This mudslinging campaign is so beneath us I wouldn’t even deign it with a comment. People will understand there’s simply no truth to the matter.”
“There’s pictures, Will,” interjected Tom. “People will always believe their eyes.”
“I think Will’s right,” Roland had offered after a look at Chloe’s pale face. “Let’s refuse all comment. I’m sure this story will blow over in a couple of days. Other news will wipe it from the front page and that will be the end of it.”
Tony had rapped the table smartly. “You’re wrong about that, Ro. You’re all wrong. In this day and age news never goes away. Those pictures will be out there forever and will come back to haunt us at each and every turn. They’ll haunt our children and our children’s children. I really feel we should respond and set the record straight and demand a retraction—”
“And destroy HdM’s computer infrastructure,” added his twin.
Silence had reigned after these ominous words, and it was up to Jack to offer the last word. He’d pointed at Chloe, who sat stunned and silent, and said softly, “It’s not up to us. It’s up to you, Chloe. Whatever you say, we’ll do.”
She’d looked up, then, hauntingly pale, and said, “Let’s do what Roland says. Let’s just forget about the whole thing and hope it goes away.” And with those words and a final sad smile at her big brother, she’d left the meeting, and left the decision up to the rest of the family.
Roland now wondered not for the first time if Tom and Tony hadn’t been right after all. Even here in the jungle of Colombia the story had come back to bite him in the ass, to use his father’s words. He wondered briefly how things would be in New York. What little contact he’d had with the home front had convinced him things were far from fine.
Chloe had retreated from social life altogether and locked herself up in the Thornton estate on Long Island, refusing to see or talk to any of her old friends. And media pundits kept the story alive by digging up fresh dirt on the Thornton family any way they could. Roland could sense the hand of HdM behind the whole campaign, and couldn’t wait to launch a full-scale attack against the old thug.
First, though, they had to get out of the country in one piece, and when he eyed the horizon, now dark as pitch, he frowned when he thought he detected movement. Piercing into the gloom, he couldn’t be sure what it was, but…
“Boats,” exclaimed Kevin, pointing. “There’s boats there, Roland.”
Roland’s face darkened. Those boats could mean anything. They could belong to anyone. But he had a sneaking suspicion they represented a welcoming committee sent out but with one purpose: to blow them out of the water and this time make sure there were no survivors.
Chapter 15
Alicia was staring through the binoculars at the approaching armada. “I think they’re coming this way.” She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice as she turned to Roland who stood at the helm like a captain of old: wide stance, fierce gaze and his strong fingers resting easily on the wheel.
“Roland, you have to do something. They’re outnumbering us ten to one.” Kevin, too, looked panic-stricken. In fact the only two people not troubled by the impending disaster were Roland and Pablo, who was smoking a lazy cigarette.
“He must have called in a debt or something,” opined Alicia. “Where else could he have gotten an entire fleet on a moment’s notice?”
“Let’s keep our heads together,” grumbled Roland as he stared at the incoming boats. “No need to panic.”
“Easy for you to say,” cried Kevin, his voice breaking like a twelve-year-old. “You’re probably going to jump ship first chance you get. But I—” His lip trembled. “I can’t even swim!”
Roland raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh?”
“Oh is right!” cried Kevin. “I haven’t even lived! I’ve never been in love. I’ve never been to Switzerland. I haven’t sailed around the world or sipped a daiquiri with Richard Branson on Necker Island, a gorgeous blond wrapped around my dick. I-I—”
He stared at the fatherly hand Roland had clapped on his shoulder. “You’ll do all these things and more, son.” Then he reflected. “Except perhaps the Richard Branson thing. I doubt whether he’d invite you, you being a pesky reporter and all.”
Kevin glared at the older man. “I ain’t your son, Roland. Remember?”
“Could have fooled me,” muttered Pablo, still relaxing in the back of the steering cabin.
Blinding lights struck the windows, and a voice rang out over a bullhorn. “Come out with your hands up, amigos! Or else we blow you out of the water!”
“See!” hollered Kevin. “They’re going to blow us up and cut us into little pieces and feed us to the fishes!” He frantically searched for a way out, then ran into Roland’s tall form.
“Kevin,” the latter said, eyes fixed on the young reporter, “you’re about to do the bravest and stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your whole life.”
Transfixed by Roland’s stare, Kevin stammered, “I-I-I am?”
“Yes, you are. You’re going to go out there and tell these people to piss off.”
“P-p-piss off?”
Roland nodded slowly and emphatically, then wheeled Kevin around and pushed him to the door. “Do it now.”
Alicia’s eyes went wide with horror. “You’re sending him to a certain death!”
“No, I’m not,” Roland countered. “I’m saving his life.”
At these words, Kevin turned back, and wailed, “I don’t wanna go! I don’t wanna go out there to die! Don’t make me—please don’t make me!”
Roland reached back and brought out his gun and aimed it in one fluid move at the young man. “I said now, Kevin.”
His mouth opening and closing, the reporter blinked in terror. “But-but-but—”
“Now!” thundered Roland, and his designated son stumbled out through the door and trundled up the three steps to the deck. There he stood blinking in the headlights from the other boats.
“Where’s the others!” the same amplified voice yelled. “Get the others, you little piss-ant!”
This seemed to irk Kevin a great deal, for suddenly his courage returned, and, holding up his hands, he yelled defiantly, “You can all p-p-piss off!” and for good measure flipped them the bird.
The commander of the other boat didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture. “Why, you—”
But before he could finish the sentence, a barrage of gunfire sounded from somewhere nearby, and the headlights of the boat were suddenly doused, shot out by this mysterious assailant.
Kevin, who had hit the deck the moment the shooting started, watched in stunned amazement as a second boat drew alongside theirs, and then floodlights were flipped on, and a voice rang out in Spanish, announcing the arrival of la policía.
The marauders, so cocky before, now all raised their hands in the air as policemen boarded the boat and took them into custody. As Kevin watched from his vantage point on the deck, more police boats came roaring up, and swooped down on the other boats that were now dead in the water, their men having miraculously lost all the will to fight.
Then Roland joined him on the deck and sat cross-legged beside him as they watched the spectacle unfold. “Never mess with the Colombian police,” he gruffly told Kevin, “or they’ll mess with you.”
“How—where—when—”
Roland shrugged. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this boat is equipped with a radio, buddy. All I did was call in a few favors, same way Bashar must have done with these bozos.” He grimaced. “I might not have a lot of friends left over in New York, but I sure as heck do in other parts of the world.”
“But why didn’t you tell me!” cried out Kevin indignantly.
Roland fixed him with a kindling eye. “First rule of friendship, Kev. Don’t spill your friends’ secrets. Next time you blab about my sister? I won’t let you off this easy.”
And with those ominous words, he reared himself up and stepped across to the adjoining boat, where he warmly greeted one of the policemen. Not for the first time Kevin thought Roland Thornton would have made a great gangster if he hadn’t chosen to stay legit. His heart pounding, he vowed never to cross the man ever again.
He watched as Alicia joined him on deck, and then Pablo, who threw him an amused gaze. The little guy seemed to have gotten a kick out of the whole thing. “Policía, hombre. Don’t fuck with em,” he imparted his bit of wisdom before joining Roland on the other boat.
“Kevin? Are you all right?”
He looked up at Alicia, crouching down beside him, and eyed her accusingly.
“You told Roland I told you about… the thing?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “It… kinda slipped out. Sorry.”
Probably the same time Roland’s dick slipped in, he thought bitterly. Damn, couldn’t he trust anyone?
She stared at Roland, easily chatting with the captain of the other boat, and sighed. “Isn’t he something?”
Kevin grumbled, “He’s something all right.” What, exactly, he didn’t know, and he sure as heck didn’t plan to find out. He’d just about seen as much of Roland as he could stomach in one lifetime. The moment this adventure was over? He sincerely hoped never to lay eyes on the man again. Ever.
Chapter 16
Walking up to Roland, Alicia felt a thrill of anticipation. The man’s charisma was electric, she decided. She couldn’t deny the fluttering in her stomach each time she laid eyes on him. As he stood chatting with the captain of the boat that had just come to their rescue, she eyed his tall figure, his easy charm when he chose to unleash it, and the hard lines of his face pointing to the other side of his personality and life.
Roland Thornton definitely was a man to be reckoned with, and his enemies better not underestimate him or suffer the consequences if they did.
She joined him and was greeted with an admiring smile from the boat captain, dressed in the smart khaki outfit of his profession.
“Alicia, Jose Bunyon. Jose, this is Alicia, Professor Sumner’s daughter.”
The man’s bronzed features instantly morphed into an expression of commiseration. “Sorry to hear about the professor going missing, Miss Sumner.”
“Did you know my father?”
“Never had the pleasure of meeting him, unfortunately, but his reputation precedes him, of course. He was doing what he could to preserve the natural resources of my country against bands of thugs and poachers and other scum.” His lips had tightened as he spoke the words, and she felt touched.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “His work meant a great deal to him.”
“Means,” Roland said gruffly. He placed a hand on her arm. “We’ll find him, Alicia. Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
She desperately wanted to believe him, but feared the worst. The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed to her that her father had survived all this time in the hands of a monster like HdM.
Jose looked surprised. “The professor is alive?”
“He’s been kidnaped by a man my family has had dealings with,” explained Roland, careful not to name names.
Jose extended a hand. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. Anything to get back at the men who target the friends of Colombia.”
Roland took his hand and shook it firmly. “Thanks, Jose. Showing up today was already more than I’d hoped.”
“Always, my friend. You’ve done so much for us, taking care of these pesky criminals is the least I can do for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some more fish to catch.” He gave them a curt salute and Roland and Alicia hopped back onto their boat. Alicia couldn’t help but feel grateful to Roland’s friend. He was clearly a man with his heart in the right place.
“How did the two of you meet?” she wanted to know.
“Long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
They stared out across the water at the unfolding police operation. “My family has business interests all over the world. Thornton being a global brand, security is of great concern, in some countries more so than others. When we opened our business her in Colombia, Dad decided we needed a permanent headquarters to oversee things, wanting to go direct rather than through local franchisees. So he sent me down here when the operation launched to assess potential threats and dangers.”
“But Thornton is in the clothing retail business, right? What threats could there be? Don’t you just… sell clothes?”
He grimaced at this rather simplistic depiction of his family’s business. “We don’t just buy and sell clothes, Alicia. Thornton owns and operates several international luxury brands. He ticked them off on his fingers. “There’s Favager Archambault, wines and spirits. Then we have Antoine Camille, our fashion house, and our chain of high-end department stores, marketed under the family name.”
“Thornton Fifth Avenue. I was there once. Bit out of my price range.”
He gave her a comical grin. “If you play your cards right, I might let you use my store discount card.”
“I think it’s safe to say you don’t operate a Thornton department store in the Colombian jungle. Or sell a lot of champagne or designer clothes. So what took you here?”
“Thornton’s, Favager, Antoine Camille… They’re just the tip of the iceberg. We also own a line of men’s clothes, watches, jewelry, purses, you name it. Most of them acquisitions. And we have a controlling share in Flik’s.”
Now there was a name she was familiar with. Flik’s was one of her go-to stores when she needed to expand her outfit, the clothes of fine quality and fairly priced. She smiled. “I’m a Flik’s girl, did you know that?”
“Doesn’t surprise me. You could be a poster girl for the brand. Young, modern and fiercely independent?”
“Wouldn’t k
now about the ‘fierce’ part, though.”
“I would,” he countered as he traced her jawline with his finger, then cupped her face and took her mouth with his. She eagerly reciprocated, feeling the urge make an abrupt return. Pressing herself up against his powerful frame, she wondered if they could make love right here on deck without anyone noticing.
He broke the kiss and she reluctantly let go, then listened as he recounted the rest of the story of Thornton’s conquest. “Flik’s offers great quality for a bargain, and when we opened our first store here in Colombia, we made such a hit our main competitor HdM immediately sent in a team of negotiators to take over the local brand Maraca’s, forcing the owner to sell or else. They swept into the market with the direct purpose of destroying us, if not by honest competition than by opening their usual bag of dirty tricks.
“First they intimated our staff by threatening to blow up their houses if they didn’t resign and sign with them. Then, when that didn’t work, they started a smear campaign against Flik’s, ‘revealing’ our child labor sweatshops in Bangladesh and ‘proving’ the dyes in our clothes were cancerous.”
“Oh, my God.”
“It didn’t stop there. Or it wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t intervened. I worked with the local police—”
“Jose.”
“He was a great help. We managed to arrest the people behind the bombing campaign though we could never manage to prove they were linked to HdM. And we neutralized the smear campaign by exposing it for what it was: a bunch of fabricated lies. The story goes on, but that’s about the gist of it. Multiply this by the hundreds of countries we’re doing business in and you can see what we’re dealing with on a daily basis.”
“I had no idea the clothing business was so cutthroat.”
“Only because of gangsters like HdM operating with impunity.”
“Can’t you take him out once and for all? Expose him to the world?”
Roland stared out across the jungle, now teeming with the sounds of nightlife drifting across the water. “It’s not that easy. The guy might be a crook but he’s as clever as they come. And he’s got his hands in so many pies it’s hard to keep track. We clamp down on one operation and instantly a dozen new ones spring up.” He turned to face her. “But let’s not spoil the evening by thinking about that old crook, shall we?”
