She didn’t believe the man’s hands moving over her in her dream had awakened her, though. She thought she had heard a noise downstairs, but there was nothing now. She slid out of bed and padded quietly from her room. The girls’ doors were open. After confronting Maribel about smoking, she had forbidden her to close her door, and the other three liked the hall light. They all were escaping their own dark fears, no doubt, and needed the reassurance in what must still be a strange place for them.
She opened the door to Becky’s room and went inside, making a thorough search of the room. She paused to turn on the angel nightlight Rosa had given the toddler the day she came to the ranch. Had that been a year ago already? Becky had hardly been able to walk when she came, her little body weakened from malnutrition, her muscles undeveloped from being confined in a small crib for endless hours. Now she slept soundly, exhausted, no doubt, from her afternoon with Allison Gonzalez. After riding for hours, the girls had gone swimming with Karla, and the two had stayed for supper. Dell touched Becky’s cheek as the child smiled in her sleep. She was dreaming with angels, Rosa would have said.
Dell’s long nightgown slithered around her as she walked down the softly lighted hall, passing her upstairs study. Nothing seemed amiss. She hesitated on the top stair and considered going back for a robe, then decided she was being silly. After all, this was her house, and anyway, Rosa had undoubtedly double-locked the doors and windows as she did every night. The older woman was a worrier but a sound sleeper. Although the Nueva Brisa was relatively isolated from Laredo and the usual urban problems of burglary, vandalism, and, more recently, incursions from drug runners, Rosa insisted on all kinds of locks and bolts. Rosa’s latest demand to buy a dog might mean problems with those overseeing the teens, but might be worth considering.
Feeling silly at her trepidation, Dell hoisted the hem of the floor-length gown enough that she wouldn’t be likely to trip on it, and went quietly down the stairs. The spacious living room was dark and empty. Nothing moved in the shadows. She stuck her head into the den. Nothing seemed to be amiss, although she had the strange sensation of just having missed someone. She flipped on a light and glanced around. The windows were closed and nothing seemed out of place. Drawing in a deep breath, she headed back toward the living room. There was a sudden, muffled noise in the kitchen, as if someone had bumped something, and, unthinking, she sprinted through the dining room, hitting her own hip on a chair, and switched on the light by the dining room door.
On the other side of the room, a figure crouched beside the sink slowly straightened, holding a canister he must have knocked down.
“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” Dell spat, crossing the room toward him angrily, forgetful of her lacy, translucent nightgown.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, apparently unabashed at being caught in the house in the dead of night. He held up a flashlight. “I walk around a lot at night, watching things.” He shrugged a little. “It was part of my job at Heaven’s Thunder, being sure the place was secure. Dave and Griselda had received some threats.” He looked around the kitchen. “Anyway, I thought I heard something, and I saw someone moving around with the lights off, so I came in. I guess it was my imagination — I didn’t find anyone.” He smiled. “Until you turned the light on. Then I found you.”
“You did not find me,” Dell muttered, wondering if she believed his glib story. Then again, why would he lie? What possible reason could he have for being inside except to have wanted to check on everything? Her brow furrowed as she considered his explanation, and she crossed her arms.
“What did you think you heard?” she demanded, not masking the suspicion in her voice. Something about this whole episode still didn’t fit.
“I’m not sure. Just — it was more a sensation.” He looked around the room again, then back at her. “Did Rosa tell you about the wrong numbers?” he asked after a minute, and was satisfied when she blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“I can see she didn’t.” He didn’t want to cause Rosa problems, but she was his best way out of this current predicament. He formed his explanation carefully. “I’m sure she didn’t want to concern you, but someone’s been calling, breathing into the phone rather heavily, and then hanging up. It worried me when I answered, because of the girls.” He shrugged. “You haven’t said exactly why the girls are here. But anyone who reads the news these days would worry about all these stalkers and abusers who just won’t give up their victims.”
She shivered a little and looked grim. “Rosa should have told me. I’ll check into it tomorrow.” She let go of the last of her anger. “I’m sorry I sounded suspicious. Thank you for caring enough to check up on things.”
He stepped toward her, closing the distance between them, leaning toward her as he answered, “My pleasure.”
She blinked and stepped back, suddenly too aware of her wildly tousled hair, the sheer nightgown, and the memory of his body scalding hers in her unexpected, unwelcome dream.
“Jovi,” she whispered, but he reached out a hand and cupped her cheek again. A simple gesture. That might have been innocent if it weren’t so intimate. If his touch didn’t burn. And it was too unreal, too much like a moment from her dream, for her to do more than gasp and step into his arms with a muffled moan.
For a moment, she just stood there, pressed against him, against his warmth, and then, hesitatingly, her arms moved up to clutch at his arms. He tilted her head up to him, and his lips closed over hers, gentle at first, then demanding. His tongue toyed with her teeth, her tongue; he buried a hand in her hair, supporting her head as he kissed her over and over, his other hand moving over her bare shoulders, sliding down her back, then urging her closer into the hard hotness of his body. It was her dream, replayed, but his fingers seared real flesh, caressed her insistently. She whispered his name again, desperately, and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder, turning her head to press her lips against his throat in mute need.
And then, from a very far off place, she heard a snort of derisive laughter and jerked away from him, her face flaming as he slid one of the fallen straps back over her shoulder.
“Well, well. Mira, no más!” Maribel stood in the doorway, her face twisted into a sneer. “So this is what the judge thought would be appropriate for me? I saw this at home and everywhere else I’ve ever been!”
Dell struggled for composure, but it was Jovi’s voice that asked matter-of-factly, “Did you need something, Maribel?”
The teenager shrugged, giving him a twisted smile. “Oh, no, I don’t need anything, Jovi. I just came downstairs because I thought I heard something.” Her smirk was full of malevolence. “I guess it was just all the heavy breathing.”
“Maribel — ” Dell said, but the girl shook her head and held up a hand.
“You’re older than I am. You can do it legally.” She shrugged again. “No matter anyone could walk in for a drink or a snack.” She waggled her hand again, turning away. “Have fun, guys. I would.”
Dell sagged as Maribel walked out, clasping her burning cheeks in horror. “This is awful!”
“No.” Jovi’s voice behind her was soft. Comforting. Gently, he turned her toward him, pulling her hands from her cheeks. “It was beautiful, right up until a moment ago. And we’ll all get over that.” Very gently his lips brushed hers again, and then he stepped back. She could sense his reluctance, see it in his eyes. “Unfortunately, she’s right. This isn’t the place.”
Dell’s mouth opened to tell him there was no place, but his finger silenced her, holding back her intended denial.
“There will be a place,” he said very softly, as if he had heard her unspoken words. “A time. Just not here. Just not tonight.” He placed a whispered kiss on her forehead, then brushed her lips with his own. “We’ll talk,” he said. “Tomorrow.” And then he turned and went out, leaving her al
one in the strangely dark, empty kitchen.
Chapter Seven
Dell pulled her hair up on top of her head, pinned it securely, and studied her reflection in the mirror. Makeup covered most of the damage done by a sleepless night. She’d used one of her brighter lipsticks to call attention away from tired eyes, and the coral blouse under the oatmeal jacket was one of her favorites. She was wearing a business suit this morning; she had to escort Michelle to a court appearance. Personal friend or not, Judge Ovalle-Martinez always leaned toward family. Michelle didn’t belong with her mother yet. So Michelle would stay here. Setting her mouth in determination, Dell turned and went down to breakfast.
The girls were all at the table. Not a morning person, she ate breakfast only because Rosa insisted it set a good example. But she did make sure the four girls were out of bed early in the morning, doing their chores and studying before they went out to ride or swim. Selina, Amy, and Michelle were huddled closely together on one side of the table, and Michelle’s expression was one of apprehension. Maribel was sitting alone, and shot her a knowing glance.
“Good morning, Dell,” Maribel said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The other three looked somewhat embarrassed, and Dell could see at once that Maribel must have told them what had happened between her and Jovi.
“Good morning,” she answered, forcing her own tone to be pleasant. “How are you feeling, Michelle?”
“Shitty.” Michelle looked across at her, her face full of fear.
“Michelle — ”
“Michelle, you never talk like me — ” Selina sputtered, then glared at Dell. “And you never let me talk like that either! How come she gets to?”
Michelle ignored Amy and Selina as they pounced on her unusual choice of words. “They might send me home! Mom hates me — ”
“Hate’s too strong a word,” Amy argued. “Tu mamá — tiene que quererte.” She slapped her glass down on the table with a thud, repeating her words with insistence. “Moms love their kids. Period. Punto.”
Dell pursed her mouth, biting back an unhelpful response to Amy’s insistence. Michelle’s mother didn’t have to love her daughter. Dell knew better than that. But she’d never hurt any of the girls by disagreeing with Amy’s evaluation.
“Don’t you get it?” Michelle’s voice wavered. “My dad left because of me — when he found Beto and me — ” She stopped herself, looking devastated, and a tear ran down her cheek. Amy reached out to wipe it off her cheek, but Michelle swatted her hand away.
“Leave me alone!”
Dell came around the table and put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “Your mom probably does love you,” she said gently. “She just wasn’t ready to deal with things — you having a boyfriend, her marriage collapsing — she didn’t know how to cope. So she got a little crazy. But mothers don’t just stop loving their kids.”
“Hypocrite,” Maribel muttered, and everyone in the room looked at her.
“Don’t call Dell a hypocrite,” Amy said angrily, surprising everyone.
“Why shouldn’t I? We all know she is, don’t we? Miss Saint Rosales, making out in the kitchen with the hired help — I don’t see her mother around nowhere. Saben quien — you know who her mother is, right?”
None of the girls answered. Dell looked across at Maribel, dumbfounded. How could the teenager have found out about her mother? She raised a questioning brow.
“Who is my mother, Maribel?” she asked.
“That rich bitch. What’s her name? Erika De Cordova.”
The name didn’t appear to impress the other teenagers, who just looked at Maribel with mixed confusion and anger.
“I’m thirty-something, Maribel. Would you expect me to still live with my mother?”
“She’d be around,” the girl said heartlessly. “If she cared.”
Dell took a deep breath. The judge and the court-appointed psychologist who had consulted with her before she had first taken in Selina had counseled against hiding anything truthful from the girls, saying they were all too well aware of the world and its sometimes ugly secrets.
“My mother and I don’t see each other,” she said levelly. “But that doesn’t change anything I said to Michelle. I believe most mothers love their children — always. Maybe my mother loves me, and I’ve never given her the chance I should have.”
“Or maybe she just hopes to get you out of this house and into someone else’s,” Maribel jeered to Michelle, sitting head down at the table.
“I don’t think Michelle believes that,” Dell said. “But most of the time, home is better than anywhere else.” She sighed and went around the table, sitting down again. “I’m still a little puzzled as to how you knew who my mother is, Maribel. As far as I know, only two or three people on the ranch have that information — not that it much matters.” The girl made no attempt to answer, just stabbed a fork into a piece of egg and swiped it across her plate, and Dell sipped her orange juice. “We’ll have to discuss that later, though, because Michelle and I have to leave in a few minutes.” She drank more juice, then put her glass down. “I think while we’re all together, I should tell you about last night,” she said. “I gather Maribel already mentioned it.” The girl shrugged, but Dell looked squarely across at Selina, Michelle, and Amy. “You’ve heard me talk about bad choices before. I made one last night and I apologize. I should have been more responsible.”
“Responsible,” Maribel snorted. “Shoulda just screwed in the broom closet?”
“No,” Dell said coolly. “But if I were going to be … intimate with someone, it shouldn’t have been there in the kitchen.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Selina shot back at Maribel. “It’s her house, and it’s not like any big deal. She kissed a guy. Even if she’d done it — everyone does it now, anyway.”
“No,” Dell protested. “Everyone doesn’t.”
“Now she’s gonna tell you how you gotta wait ’til you get married,” Maribel sneered, and Selina held up a finger with a gold band.
“I’m no puta like you — I was married,” she said bitterly. “I just blew it, okay?”
“Sex doesn’t just happen in marriages anymore, anyway,” Dell cut in, “but I personally think there should be something more than hormones involved.”
She turned to face Maribel calmly. “This conversation is over, but I still want to talk to you about some other things when I come back with Michelle.” She smiled gently at Michelle, who had remained tense and quiet. “We’re all counting on you coming back for a while, at least,” she added, and Michelle forced a small smile and stood up.
She was wearing a dress she had picked out herself, and she looked very proper and very vulnerable all at once. Amy stood up and hugged her, and Selina pecked her on the cheek.
“Later, girlfriend,” she said, and Michelle nodded, still without saying anything.
Dell stepped toward the door but paused momentarily as Rosa bustled in.
“Becky’s still asleep,” she announced, smiling. “That girl just hates to go to bed at night — and to get outta bed in the morning. You both look perfect,” she announced. She kissed Michelle, making the sign of the cross. “Dios te bendiga” she murmured in blessing. She turned to pick up Michelle’s nearly full plate, then stopped suddenly, as if remembering abruptly to ask. “Did I hear noises last night? I thought I heard something, but then I fell asleep again just when I thought I’d better get up.”
Ignoring Maribel’s snort, Dell nodded. “Jovi, Maribel, and I were all in the kitchen. You must have heard one or the other of us.”
“I guess,” Rosa muttered. “Although it sounded more like it came from the study than the kitchen. Oh, well.” She shrugged and started toward the kitchen. Hearing Rosa mention the study made Dell remember her own feeling of strangeness when she had walked into the room last night. Wh
y hadn’t she thought to ask Jovi if he’d also checked that room out? The thought of Jovi brought back another of her concerns.
She motioned the woman close and lowered her voice. “Rosa, have there been calls? Wrong numbers, or someone who doesn’t answer?” she asked.
Rosa looked vague for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, there have been. Jovi answered one when he brought the meat in the other day, and there was another that same night. I didn’t think it was important. Then, yesterday, when it happened again, I was going to tell you, but I forgot.” Rosa cast an accusing glance at Maribel. “Jovi suggested caller ID on all the phones. He thinks it might be some acquaintance of one of the girls. Trying to get in touch with someone without getting caught.”
Maribel’s expression didn’t change as she glowered at Rosa. “I hope someone’s trying to call me,” she retorted. “I’d be gone before you could blink.”
“You’d better remember the judge’s orders,” Dell reminded. “Your next stop is juvenile — out of town — until you’re eighteen or until your parents prove they can manage you. The stay here should already be over, frankly.” Dell paused, hoping her observation would sink in. “Here you have a private room, a pool, and your own music and clothes. If I were you, I’d make any new choices very carefully.” She picked up her purse from the counter. “Come on, Michelle,” she said, motioning for the girl to join her. “We’ll see you all later,” she added with a measure of conviction.
She waited while Michelle, unaccustomed to a skirt and dress shoes, settled into the front seat of the SUV. She fastened her own seat belt and maneuvered out of the garage, careful to maintain her composure. But as she turned onto the frontage road leading to IH 35 and Laredo, she couldn’t stop thinking that only Rosa, Pete, and Jovani Treviño knew her mother. Pete had worked for her father virtually all his life. But he had no real time alone with the girls, and no reason to bring up Dell’s mother. Rosa had worked for Erika Claudia De Cordova in Monterrey, but she’d quit when Dell was little and gone elsewhere, returning only after Dell’s mother and father divorced. It was then, as a teenager, that Dell had found out how deeply Rosa hated her mother and how heartlessly Erika had treated Rosa and the other women who worked for her. Criadas, servientes — the names in Spanish were demeaning. Rosa called herself a housekeeper, and she said she never minded being called a maid, but she never wanted to be a servant again. Rosa would never have told Maribel — not her favorite of the girls, by any means — any personal information, let alone identified Dell as the daughter of a wealthy family.
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