by L. J. Wilson
“To a doctor?” she said.
“Yeah. I don’t think the gash is too deep. Head bleeds are the worst, but…” He stood, seeing two of Evie. “Hold on.” He sat again, focusing on one of her. “Forget me. I just thought of something else. You’ve never had so much as a vaccination. You’ve been walking around this place for a week, interacting with people. What the hell was I thinking, bringing you to the middle of the fucking jungle? Do we have one more washcloth? We’re going to see Doc Sanchez—now.”
Sebastian’s bleeding head became secondary, wooziness forgotten, as he whisked them from the hotel room and into a taxi. It took them to the other side of town. The taxi dropped them in front of a building that was nicer than most in La Carta.
“This is where the doctor is?” she asked.
“His office, yes. Dr. Sanchez—he’s a good man. He took care of a deep leg wound, some shrapnel, about a year ago. And my neck,” he said, grazing his hand over the new scar he’d worn back to Good Hope. “US support partially funds his practice, so it’s a few thousand grades better than what you might expect in these parts.”
“Since I’ve no expectations, I suppose I wouldn’t know whether or not to be impressed.”
Pressing the bloody cloth to his forehead with one hand, he gripped Evie’s shoulder with his other. He swore he felt a slight tremor as she marched ahead. Her bravery ran deeper than his own. He’d only put his life up for grabs—she’d traded hers for the uncertainty of his. As they sat in the waiting room, Sebastian considered the life-changing, precarious things Evie had navigated in the past weeks. The only regret he’d witnessed was her culpability in hurting her husband and the man she loved. Evie waited at his side, glancing curiously around the space. For as much as Sebastian trusted Dr. Sanchez, there was still a woman with a chicken in a cage seated across from them, a man mumbling in Spanish, who clearly hadn’t bathed since his last visit.
Sebastian leaned, saying to a skeptical Evie, “It’s a little different in the States.” Dr. Sanchez emerged, greeting Sebastian. He ushered them into an exam room where Sebastian took pride in introducing Evie to someone for the first time. “My… my, uh, better half,” he said. “Evie—”
“Neal,” she replied, shaking the doctor’s hand.
“Evie… my pleasure.” But he quickly turned his attention to Sebastian, making a fast medical assessment. “Hmm, not near as bad as the leg… or the neck,” he said, examining the wound.
“That’s what I figured, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop, so…”
“So here you are,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t ask, amigo. But know that every time you turn up, merely needing stitching, I thank God.”
From the other side of the exam table, Evie smiled and said, “I do the same thing.”
She didn’t flinch as Dr. Sanchez shot him full of Novocain and proceeded to sew up his forehead with seven neat stitches. “It’s not too deep. When this one heals, it won’t be much for your collection.”
“His collection?” Evie said. “The scars,” both men said.
“That’s good,” she said, “since this one is on his forehead. Some of the others, especially the one on his left hip…” Her words trailed off as she stared sheepishly at her folded hands.
Sebastian and the doctor exchanged muted looks of amusement. Admittedly, the levity felt good. Then Sebastian’s tone shifted. “Doc, while I have you here. Evie doesn’t come from a background of good medical care, or any for that matter.”
“She’s not from the States?”
“No, she is. It’s, um… it’s a long story. We had to make a hasty exit to here. Since then it’s occurred to me that she’s never had any immunizations.”
The doctor’s expression also sobered. “Surprising—and not a good thing in the States, but here in particular—typhoid, malaria, yellow fever, even polio. You’re susceptible to any of it without proper immunization.” Evie looked concerned and the doctor reached across Sebastian, patting her arm. “No worries, senorita. You look perfectly healthy to me. I’m sure we’re not too late. Let’s do some history, and we’ll make certain you are prepared for the less pleasant aspects of my beautiful country.”
Evie wanted Sebastian to stay, and he listened as she answered medical questions with some difficulty, not understanding others at all. Sebastian insisted they draw blood from him first so she knew what to expect. Evie only remarked that it wasn’t so bad as she took her turn. When a nurse handed her a plastic cup, Sebastian wasn’t as sure how to convey that request. A perplexed Evie said, “You want me to what?”
Explaining as best he could, Sebastian guided her to the restroom. “Trust me. It’s all just standard op.”
With that part over, the two returned to the waiting room, Dr. Sanchez would rush the results. Sebastian grew concerned as they passed the hour mark. Finally, a nurse asked him to come to the exam room. “I’ll be right back,” he said. Evie smiled as he stood, glancing between him and a woman with a goat, who’d replaced the woman with the chicken.
A short while later, Dr. Sanchez left him and alone in the room Sebastian paced the floor. Seconds later, a nurse opened the door and Evie came inside. “En aqui, por favor,” she said, pointing to a chair.
“Bash, what’s wrong? First they bring you back here, and now to look at you—your tan has gone white. Clearly something isn’t good. Was it your blood? I’m not so naïve. I know it can detect horrible diseases. If you’re ill—”
“Evie, sit,” he said, also pointing to the chair. She did, looking up at him with a worrisome face he hadn’t seen since he arrived or she’d left Good Hope. He sat on the doctor’s stool, wheeling it up to her. “Dr. Sanchez wanted to talk to me first because he sensed… Well, he thought… After you’d explained your lack of medical history…”
“Bash, is it me?” she said, swallowing hard. “Am I sick?”
He closed his eyes and took her hand in his. A smile pushed into the hollows of his cheeks, not minding at all the ache of a bruise. He opened his eyes. “Evie, you know how you insisted that the reason you didn’t have any children was a punishment from God?”
She nodded.
He squeezed her hand tighter. “Baby, I have some pretty strong proof it wasn’t a punishment… and I don’t think it had anything to do with you.”
Present Day
On the flight home, alone in the restroom, Alec stared into the mirror. For as much as he saw himself, he saw Sebastian Clairmont—Evie’s eyes, maybe a shade darker. He took pride in being the eldest, though he hadn’t thought of it often in recent years. The trip to South America provided clues but no real answers about Evie and Sebastian. Why a crashed plane and no bodies? What were Evie and Sebastian’s real ties to La Carta? And most of all, why did they leave the initials E.K.—scrawled in blood—on the side of the plane? Alec renewed his vow to find the truth. He owed them that much and more. It was as firm as the vow he’d taken with his Navy SEAL brothers, another chunk of his sequestered, seldom visited past.
He returned to his seat, feeling more in touch with a SEAL mission than he had in years. Alec tucked his hands neatly in his lap, ordering nothing stronger than club soda. Four middle seats were the only tickets available. Jess and Kiera were sandwiched in between himself and Julian. He shifted in his seat, looking past Kiera. Julian’s hand rested on Jess’s bare knee. He breathed deep. A skirt. It figured with Jess’s usual “I’m working” cargo pants packed in a suitcase. It seemed his roommate had altered her assignment. He settled back, purposely avoiding Kiera’s gaze. In the hotel lobby she’d shown up with a large suitcase. Alec had offered a curt explanation to a bug-eyed Jess: “She’s coming with us.”
When the flight landed in Philadelphia and they deplaned, the rows of exiting passengers separated Jess and Alec from Kiera and Julian. “Enough punishment,” Jess hissed from behind him. He knew she was standing on her toes—that much shorter, the sound that close. “Our last scene wasn’t our best, but would you explain why the schoolm
arm is continent hopping with us?”
His inclination was to say, “As soon as you explain why Julian is doing the same.” But he skipped over that demand and shared basic facts. This was about nothing but the mission. In exchange for an airline ticket, Kiera had promised to unearth the parts of his parents’ past that now appeared a well-guarded secret. Jess poked him hard between the shoulder blades. “Fine for now,” she said. “But so we’re clear, Lieutenant Commander, don’t think that’s the end of this.” He half turned, surprised by her boldness. He got it. Jess’s use of his rarely mentioned military past and rank were meant to convey a pissed-off mood. Too bad. She greatly undershot what it’d take to provoke the same from him. Alec kept calm and didn’t engage as the foursome spilled into the crowded airport.
After customs they approached baggage claim and logistics forced Alec to be more forthcoming. Jess said something about Julian arranging for transportation. Did he want to do the same? “We’re all set,” Alec said, poking at his phone. “Our ride is inbound.”
“Your ride?” Jess said.
“Yeah. Go with him,” he said, cocking his chin at Julian, “or come with me. Whatever. But it was time for some Clairmont reinforcement on my end.”
The airport doors split wide and Aaron walked through. Among the Tribe of Five, he was Alec’s closest mirror image. But as Aaron plucked off sunglasses, the green irises struck Alec in an unusual way. What if his brother had been the one walking the streets of La Carta? Surely the villagers would have deemed him Sebastian Clairmont’s ghost. Or Sebastian Christos… Whoever the hell he was. Questions loomed and the unknown fate of his parents dug deeper into Alec. He shook his head. He was doing it again—feeling shit.
Comfort also slipped into the mix as Aaron wrapped his brother in a giant hug. It irritated Alec—how bad feelings had to exist to make others matter. But the embrace said a lot, including a silent acknowledgement. The wreckage had been officially identified by the NTSB. It was the plane their parents had been on. But only Alec and Aaron knew about the grisly cannibalism story that went with the Isla de la Muerte.
“Good to see you, man,” Aaron said.
“You’ve no idea.” He held on a little longer, the same way Aaron did the day Alec had picked him up when he was released from Biddeford Correctional Facility.
“Reinforcements,” Jess said. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” She and Aaron exchanged a quick hello, and Jess made a brief introduction to Julian. He left them, saying he needed to check on his transportation arrangements.
Aaron probably felt the stare as his brother turned toward Kiera. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “There’s two of you!”
“Uh, yeah. And that one,” Alec said, pointing to his brother, “couldn’t be more spoken for. Aaron, this is Kiera Blyth.”
Her smile dropped like an iron weight. “Story of my life.” She released the handshake Aaron offered and pointed to her suitcase as it dropped onto the baggage carousel.
Alec reached for it.
“If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I need to use the ladies’ room.” Her gaze flicked over Aaron. “You’re sure?” she asked, doing a slow three-sixty as she ambled away, dragging her luggage.
“You’ve no idea.” Aaron crinkled his brow at his brother as she disappeared into the crowd.
“Explanation please?”
“Long story short, she’s tied in with the place we’re headed to. Bringing her was my only way of getting more information, maybe a foot in the door. And Ruby is…?” He was surprised she wasn’t with Aaron.
“She just got the gig she wanted in Nickel Spring’s ER,” Aaron said. “Her first shift is tonight. It was either quit before she started or stay behind. Honor was slammed at Abstract Enchantment, and it did seem like a good idea if Ruby hung around in case...”
“In case we do get to the end of this thing and the news is not good… like you can’t make it up, remote jungle island, not good.”
“Something like that,” Aaron said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t go that way.” Alec breathed deep, thinking about a worse outcome for their parents than simply dead. He changed the subject. “But I’m guessing you’re already missing your other half.”
“Like crazy—but, for now, here’s where I belong. So details, bro. What gives with the girl on a heat-seeking mission for a hot date?” Aaron pointed in the direction Kiera had gone.
“Uh, yeah… heat-seeking,” Alec said, thinking of last night’s furious fuck. “We may need an interpreter… maybe an ambassador. She’s our best bet.”
“And what else is she, Alec?” Jess said, butting into the exchange. “I saw her in the hotel lobby last night. I can spot an Alec Clairmont target a hundred yards away, though in her case it seemed more like a done deal.”
“No shit?” Alec said, deadpan. “Why? Did she glide through the lobby smoking a cigarette, looking satisfied?”
“More like a just been fucked rumpled vibe. Call it the unwanted data from my forced study of Alec Clairmont in his natural habitat. I’ve probably seen the look more than my byline.” They traded smirks. “But I was surprised when she turned back up today with luggage in tow. Usually your bedmates aren’t given a last call warning, never mind an invitation to travel. What was it, Alec? Love at first fuck?”
“Cute, Jess. I’m amazed you noticed anything, so tied up with your own one-on-one business. Either way, it’s not the reason Kiera’s here.”
“Not to deny that it happened, of course.”
“Uh, guys,” Aaron said, “how about you either take the insults outside or cut to the chase?”
“Fine,” Jess said, her stare burning through Alec. “Why would you need either an interpreter or ambassador on this side of the map?”
“Kiera was more or less banished to La Carta by her parents, who are members of the Fathers of the Right.”
“The group you had me ask Jack Preacher to research,” Aaron said. “I have a complete dossier in the car. They’re hardcore, imbedded in a minor slice of Amish country, a place called Good Hope. But according to Jack, their MO is more customized religion than anything mainstream. How, exactly, it connects to Mom—definitely Pop, I have no clue.”
“I’m not sure either, and that’s where Kiera comes in. In exchange for the transportation, she’s promised to enlighten us. And another thing, I’d be willing to bet somewhere in Good Hope we find that cabin we both remember.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Aaron said. “I definitely remember an argument. But I also can’t figure out this feeling of being terrified and not being able to get close to Mom—like I just couldn’t.”
Alec took a step back. “Weird. I have the same memory. Geez, you couldn’t have been more than three, maybe four, and you remember that?”
“I guess so. Tells you how impressionable whatever went down was.”
Jess looked between the two brothers. “Huh. It’s hard to picture either of you as helpless little boys.”
“Unfathomable as it is, we didn’t arrive in the world as adults.” Alec narrowed his eyes and Jess narrowed hers right back.
“What is going on with the two of you?”
Neither Alec nor Jess answered.
“Anyway, this Good Hope is like a small, sovereign state. And the group, the Fathers of the Right, they’ve used religious freedom as their means of avoiding government radar for years—at least that’s the cliff note details in the info Jack provided.”
“You did your homework. Good man.”
“Didn’t want to disappoint big brother,” Aaron said. “So what’s your plan, to infiltrate this place with one of their own?”
“Something like that. Nothing too heavy handed. I was hoping—between you and I—we could use some Clairmont charm and persuade these Fathers of the Right to talk.”
“Pfft…” Jess snorted a laugh. “Well, possibly Aaron…”
Alec ignored her. “If we work the right angles, who knows what these people can tell us about Mom
?”
“Could be a plan,” Aaron said. “But to be honest, I have to side with Jess.”
“About what?” Alec said.
“The charm factor.” He looked his brother up and down. “It’s not really your strong suit, which makes me doubly glad I sent for extra help. Charm is inbound,” Aaron said, pointing. “Complete with a fucking camera ready smile.”
“Meaning?” Alec said.
As Aaron spoke, a bubble of noise erupted from the other end of baggage claim. Whispers turned to gasps and gasps into shrieks of delight. High pitched squeals pierced through, growing louder. “Oh my God! It is him! It really is Jake Clairmont!”
The threesome turned, Alec and Aaron rolling their eyes at the wave of adoration flooding their way. Security, normally on alert for airport trouble, found themselves working crowd control. Fans had ID’d one of Hollywood’s hottest stars as Jake, and youngest brother Troy, tried to make their way to Alec and Aaron.
“Uh, better go help these guys out.” Alec switched to bodyguard mode and quickly identified the sergeant in charge. He made a fast friend by mentioning his military past and the fact that Jake Clairmont was his brother. Then he bulleted instructions. In seconds, security guards shifted metal gates, corralling the perimeter of one baggage claim carousel. Alec, Troy and Jake—who was lucky to lose only the hat off his head—slipped into the isolated center.
Jake plucked aviator sunglasses off his face, which only incited louder cries of adoration. His eyes weren’t green like Aaron’s, nor were they blue like Honor’s—something in between. “Great,” he said to Alec, pointing at the opening from which luggage emerged. “Now the only way out is through the baggage carousel.”
“Sorry, bro,” Alec said, pulling his brother into a hug. “Happy to shove you through first.” It was standard-op Tribe of Five humor. “It was the best I could do on ten seconds notice.”
“Yeah. I get it,” he said, scanning the mob. They gawked at Jake like an animal in a cage—maybe the hottest attraction in the zoo. He looked back at Alec. “Troy and I laid pretty low on the flight in, but it all came apart once we got off. I should have planned ahead, but coming was a quick decision.” Jake looked at Aaron, who he hadn’t seen in seven years. “Damn. A public floor show wasn’t exactly how I thought we’d do this.” Alec could almost see the lump in both brothers’ throats.
