“I saw him on the security camera. No mistaking he’s yours.” Roberto took Jennifer’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Jennifer, and don’t worry about Miguel. I have a doctor on call, and I’ll get him out here as soon as possible.”
“Thank you.” Jennifer clasped Roberto’s hand in both of hers.
“What are we standing out here for? Let’s get inside. Are you hungry, thirsty, need a drink?”
Miguel took Mikey from Jennifer’s arms. “All of the above.”
Roberto led them to a golf cart. “The house is tucked back from the road and the front gate.”
Miguel handed Jennifer into the front seat next to his brother, while he swung up on the back. He settled Mikey in his lap, and the cart lurched forward and crawled up the drive with three armed security guards following it on foot.
Yeah, they’d come to the right place.
His brother’s palatial home rose from the desert floor like some spaceship that had lost its way and then switched on some camouflage magic when it crash-landed.
The muted lights indicated a house asleep, but Roberto was full of energy. He hopped out of the golf cart. “I apologize that I’m the only one to greet you. My wife and children are sleeping.”
Jennifer took Roberto’s hand as he helped her out of the cart. “We’re the ones who should apologize for arriving so late and unannounced.”
“My little brother is welcome here anytime. He always was.”
Miguel slipped off the back of the cart and set Mikey on the ground, holding his hand. “He wants to walk.”
“Of course he does.” Roberto slapped Miguel on the back. “He’s probably been cooped up in the car for...miles.”
“I’ll tell you the whole story, Rob, but Jen needs to sit down and have a shot of something. It’s been a rough night.”
Jennifer corrected him, “Rough couple of nights—and days.”
As they ascended the broad steps to the double doors into the house, a housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
Roberto nodded once and asked her in Spanish to call Dr. Paz, have two rooms made up and to get some cookies and milk for Mikey. She melted away before they even crossed the threshold.
“This way to the great room.” Roberto winked. “There’s a wet bar in there.”
“I don’t want to bleed on your expensive sofa.” Miguel released Mikey’s hand and his boy made a beeline to the corner of the room where a train set gleamed and beckoned.
“I’ll get you a towel from behind the bar.”
Jennifer took off after Mikey. “Shh, Mikey. Don’t make a lot of noise. People are sleeping.”
“Jennifer, please sit.” Roberto crouched beside the train set and flicked a switch, bringing the cars to life. “My wife, Gabriela, and the children have rooms in the back of the house on the third floor. They’re not going to hear a thing.”
When Jen collapsed on one end of the sofa and closed her eyes, a knife twisted in Miguel’s gut. She’d been through the ringer and hadn’t complained once, had kept it all together. Now she needed a minute or two to fall apart.
Roberto shoved a clean bar towel against Miguel’s chest. “Try this.”
Miguel loosened his jeans and peeled the bloody cloth from his backside and pressed the fresh one against the wound.
Roberto returned with a tray of three shot glasses filled to the brim with a light golden liquid, a sliced lime, a dish of salt and a bottle of tequila.
Jennifer opened one eye. “You’re kidding.”
“It’ll do you good.” Roberto handed a shot glass to Miguel.
“It’ll do me in.”
“That, too.” Miguel picked up a slice of lime with two fingers, squeezed it slightly, touched it to the salt, sucked it between his teeth and clinked his glass with his brother’s.
That first blast of tequila down his throat hummed through his blood and loosened his muscles. Here at his brother’s place with others to watch over Jen and Mikey, Miguel could let go a little.
After a few more shots, Jennifer curled up in her corner of the sofa, resting her head on the padded arm. “I’m done.”
Miguel massaged the arch of her bare foot. “You and your son both.”
He pointed to Mikey curled up like his mom, next to the train track, fast asleep.
“We should get him to bed.” Jen closed her eyes and didn’t make a move.
“He’s fine where he is and so are you.”
Roberto wedged one expensive loafer on the coffee table. “So, what brings you here, Miguel? You swore you’d never step foot in any home of mine.”
“You’ve gone legit, haven’t you? More or less?”
“More or less. I work for some big names, people you’d recognize, fixing their lives.”
“Must be dangerous. You live in a fortress. You changed your name.”
His brother narrowed his eyes. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Miguel studied his older brother’s dark eyes and tossed off the rest of the tequila in his shot glass. “I’m in trouble, Rob.”
“I figured you’d have to be to come out here to see me.” Roberto raised both hands when Miguel opened his mouth. “Is it something I can fix for you?”
“No, it’s not like that.”
“I also figured it wouldn’t be anything like what my clients get mixed up with—drugs, rape, hookers.”
This time Miguel stopped his brother. “I don’t need to hear anything else about what you do. It’s nothing like that. It’s not for myself. I need you to take care of Jennifer and Mikey while I handle some business.”
“Of course.” Roberto brushed salt from his fingertips into the plate. “What business is it? Military business?”
“Something like that. I was captured by the enemy two years ago, and now I don’t know who that enemy is anymore.”
While Miguel launched into the details of his escape and transport to the hospital in Germany first and then the debriefing center in Maryland, Roberto steepled his fingers and asked measured questions. Miguel got a good picture of why his brother’s clients trusted him with their lives and fortunes.
As Miguel came to the end of his story, one of Roberto’s security guards hovered at the entrance to the great room and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, sir. Dr. Paz has arrived.”
Miguel rose from the sofa and stretched. “Before he starts working on me, I’m going to get Jennifer and Mikey into a real bed.” He nudged Jennifer’s shoulder. “Jen. Wake up.”
Her lids flew open and she bolted upright. “Is it Mikey?”
“He’s fine.” Miguel squeezed one of her shoulders. “He’s still sleeping on the floor. The doctor’s here. You and Mikey can follow Patricia, our housekeeper, up to your rooms.”
Jennifer uncurled her legs and crept toward their son’s sleeping form. She crouched beside him and gathered him in her arms.
Miguel swept Mikey’s hair from his forehead and whispered, “Do you need help?”
“No. I’ll get him down. You just do everything the doctor says.”
“Will do. I’ll be up later.”
When Dr. Paz arrived, they moved into the kitchen and Miguel showed him the wound. “I had...something implanted under my skin and my fiancée had to dig it out with a knife.”
“She didn’t do a bad job, considering.” The doctor pushed his glasses to the end of his nose.
Jennifer’s voice rose above their murmurs. “I sterilized the knife and the area with just a baby wipe, so I’m worried about infection.”
All three men turned their heads to look at Jen as she marched into the kitchen.
“I thought you’d gone up to bed.” Miguel sucked in a breath when the doctor pressed a wet, soapy cloth to the wound.
“I sa
id I’d get Mikey settled. If you thought I was going to drift off to dreamland while you were down here getting poked and prodded, you don’t know me very well.”
“Nothing you can do down here, Jen.”
Roberto crossed his arms and snorted. “She can make sure you follow the doctor’s orders.”
“Your big brother has more sense than you do.”
“I like this woman, Miguel.” Roberto kicked out a stool. “Have a seat, Jennifer.”
Dr. Paz peppered Jennifer with questions as he cleaned and sterilized the site.
“I’m going to have to give you a few stitches, but you’ll be as good as new with probably just a small scar.”
“One of many.” Miguel shrugged.
The doctor held out two small bottles, one in each hand, and shook them. “Antibiotics and painkillers. Take one of each. The painkillers are also anti-inflammatories, so don’t try to tough it out. Two a day for the antibiotics until the bottle is gone and probably one full day of painkillers unless you need more.”
“Thank you, Dr. Paz.” Roberto clapped him on the back. “Thanks for coming out at this time.”
Dr. Paz peeled off his gloves and repacked his bag. “Day, night—time is meaningless when it comes to your clients, Rob.”
“Miguel is much more than a client.”
“Then he came to the right place.” Dr. Paz shook hands all around, and a security guard walked him outside.
“You two try to get some sleep, and we’ll discuss a plan tomorrow. Sleep in as long as you like. The kids’ nanny can take care of Mikey if he wakes up early. He can meet his cousins.”
Under Jennifer’s watchful gaze, Miguel popped two pills into his mouth and downed them with a glass of water. “I suppose I should’ve told the doc that I’d had several shots of tequila.”
“I think he could tell. The combination with the painkillers will probably just put you to sleep sooner, and from what I can tell, you need the rest.” Roberto waved off the security guards hanging around the door. “Secure the perimeter of the compound. Make sure nobody followed my brother or the doctor.”
Patricia materialized at the foot of the staircase. “I’ll show you to your room. Your little one is sound asleep.”
Their bags waited for them in the corner of a room adjoining Mikey’s on the second floor of the house.
Jennifer pointed to another door. “That’s the bathroom. It’s already stocked with soaps and shampoos and big, fluffy towels. I’m going to get ready for bed, unless you want the bathroom first.”
“Go ahead. I’m going to get these jeans off.”
Jennifer disappeared into the bathroom, and Miguel yanked off his jeans, which now sported a round spot of blood.
After sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his pants, Miguel couldn’t muster the energy to stand up. The room spun in a hazy mixture of tequila and pills.
He fell back against the pillows and swung his legs onto the bed. As his heavy lids fell over his eyes, he relaxed every muscle in his body for the first time in days.
And he had one more excuse for not making love to Jennifer.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Jennifer rolled to her side and burrowed into the pillow, inhaling its fresh scent, as if it had been hung out to dry in a sunshiny breeze. She never hung laundry out on a clothesline.
But she wasn’t home. She opened one eye and took in the large, impersonal room.
Shifting onto her back, she flung out one arm into the empty space beside her. Miguel had already vacated the bed.
Disappointment soaked into her bones. She’d hoped his lethargy from the night before would’ve carried over to the morning, and she’d find him here next to her still asleep. She could’ve found a few ways to wake him.
She stretched and curled her toes like a cat, but she felt none of the cat’s satisfaction after a long sleep.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to concentrate on the positives. They were safe and secure. They’d discovered how they were being followed, and Miguel had seen a doctor who’d patched him up properly.
She shouldn’t be whining about not waking up beside her fiancé. He had bigger concerns right now than making love to her.
A tear seeped out of the corner of her eye and she swiped at the trail it left to her ear.
The door of the bedroom edged open.
“Shh. She might be sleeping.” Miguel’s whisper carried across the room.
Then the door burst wide and Mikey scampered across the floor and flung himself against the side of the bed. “Mommy, help.”
She reached over and pulled Mikey onto the bed and into her arms. “Good morning, you little ray of sunshine.”
Raising her eyebrows at Miguel still hovering in the doorway, she said, “You’re up early after the night we had.”
“Not really.” He strode into the room and flicked aside the heavy drapes.
Sun spilled into the room, and Jennifer blinked. “What time is it?”
“It’s close to ten. Mikey and I slept in until about eight, and then went downstairs for breakfast and a little family reunion.”
“Did you meet your cousins, Mikey?” Jennifer grabbed his feet and tipped him back so that he leaned against her raised knees.
“Bobby, Mila and the baby.”
She held up three fingers. “You have three cousins? What’s the baby’s name?”
“He’s a baby.” Mikey bicycled his legs.
“I know that, but what’s his name?”
Miguel sat on the edge of the bed. “I guess the baby is too insignificant to notice. His name is Joey, Joseph. How are you feeling?”
“Me? I’m just fine. You’re the one with the knife wound on your hip. The one who collapsed in this bed last night like the dead.”
“Yeah, that painkiller on top of the tequila did me in, but I felt great this morning.”
She yawned. She supposed they were just going to ignore the fact that they’d had an opportunity to be intimate this morning, and Miguel had passed. She could ignore it but not for much longer.
“What’s for breakfast?”
“Pancakes!” Mikey shouted the word.
“My favorite. I’m starving.”
Miguel held out his arms. “Mommy’s going to get dressed. Do you want to come with me?”
“Pool. Swimming.”
“The kids are going in the pool later. Mikey seems excited about it. Has he been in a pool yet?”
“He’s had some mommy and me classes at the Y.”
“We might all want to hit the pool. I think it’s going to be in the nineties today and it’s heating up already.”
“Bobby?” Mikey rolled off her stomach and crawled toward Miguel. “I see Bobby.”
“I think Bobby’s going to show you his remote-control cars.”
Mikey bounced on the bed until Miguel swept him up. He met Jennifer’s gaze over their son’s head. “I’ll meet you down in the kitchen and keep you company while you eat breakfast.”
At least he wanted to keep her company somewhere.
Forty-five minutes later, Jennifer made her way down two flights of stairs to the great room, following the scent of coffee. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, she looked both ways. She couldn’t remember the direction of the kitchen from last night.
Patricia turned the corner of the great room and stopped abruptly. “Are you looking for breakfast, missus?”
At least someone thought she was a missus. “Yes, I am.”
“Follow me.”
Jennifer followed Patricia’s long, swinging braid into the informal kitchen, the same kitchen where Dr. Paz had patched Miguel last night. Instead of a doctor’s bag, one place setting occupied an area of the butcher-block table.
Patricia cocked her head and her braid swung over her shoulder. “Pardon?”
“I’m the last one to eat breakfast?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. We have everything.” She clapped her hands twice, and another housekeeper scurried into the breakfast room. Patricia spoke Spanish to the new arrival, much too quickly for Jennifer to catch anything other than café.
Jennifer sat at the table and turned her coffee cup over, just like in a restaurant. “Café, por favor con leche.”
The second housekeeper nodded as she tried to flatten a smile from her lips.
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “My Spanish accent is that bad, huh?”
“No, not at all. Very good, missus.”
“Call me Jennifer, please.”
Once they’d figured out what to call each other, Gracie retreated to the kitchen and reappeared with a steaming coffeepot and a creamer filled to the brim.
“Would you like pancakes, Jennifer? If not, the chef can make you anything.”
“Pancakes are fine.”
“Blueberry? Banana nut?”
“Oh, for goodness sake. Whatever he has that’s easy. Tell him to surprise me.”
About ten minutes later, Gracie returned with a stack of blueberry pancakes, several crisp strips of bacon and a pitcher of what looked like freshly squeezed orange juice. After she delivered the food, Gracie put one hand over her heart and said, “Your little boy? Qué lindo.”
“Thank you. I hope he won’t be too much trouble.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head before she tripped back to the kitchen, and it occurred to Jennifer that perhaps Roberto didn’t keep his household staff apprised of his business or his guests’ comings and goings.
She sighed and sawed into her stack of pancakes.
“You going to eat all of that?” Miguel pulled out the chair next to her and snatched a piece of bacon from the serving plate.
“Probably not. Help yourself. You’re still not back to your former weight, are you?”
“No.” He curled his left biceps. “But I’m working on it.”
She averted her gaze from his bulging muscle. Was she supposed to look but not touch? “What’s the plan, Miguel? What the heck are the three of us going to do in Palm Springs under lock and key? And at what point will you deem it safe for us to return to our normal lives?”
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