Mateo held up a picture of Rowan and Lauren standing on the balcony of their townhouse, gazing off into the distance, looking concerned. “She’s amazing.” He muttered something that sounded salacious as he licked his lips. His gaze lingered over her image. He turned the picture back for Rowan to see. “I wouldn’t mind having a piece of that! Man, she is hot!” Rowan did not like what the man was implying. “You didn’t tell me your wife was so fine!”
“You can’t hurt her if you’re here.” Rowan acknowledged, angrily.
“I have my connections,” Mateo said. “You know the police here in Mexico are easily bought and paid for? I’ve made a lot of money over the past year or so, and I’ve made good use of my resources. I can get whatever I want. Fake ID, fake passport? No problem. Stephanie was more than happy to get back to the States when I suggested you might need some...persuasion. I just have to make a phone call. I’m sure you don’t want me to do that.”
“Stephanie? Why would she help you? You kidnapped her,” Rowan demanded.
“I didn’t kidnap her. She was in on the whole thing. She couldn’t get her daddy’s money without my help. Now, she’s helping me.”
Rowan’s ire boiled in his bones, rage building in his veins. He could feel his face going red with hate. “If you hurt my wife, I will kill you with my bare hands.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mateo waved him off. “Just get on your feet. You’ve got work to do.”
* * *
Lauren felt drained, but she could feel the connection with Rowan restored. He wasn’t dead, at least that much she knew. He was still out there. She still couldn’t tell where though. She debated what to do now. After long consideration, she decided she needed to take care of herself, and trust in Rowan’s abilities. He would call her as soon as he could. She would be patient, no matter how much she wanted to go to the airport and get on a plane.
She showered and dressed, and was debating going to get something for dinner, but a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She looked through the peep hole, not recognizing the woman at the door. When she opened it, however, she knew immediately who it was.
“Hi, uh... I’m looking for Rowan Pierce,” she said nervously. The woman was trembling and looked frightened. “Is this his place?”
“Stephanie ...” Lauren wasn’t sure it was her at first. But she reached out and caught her hands, pulling the woman inside. “He’s not here. I’m his wife.”
“Lauren?” She looked at the piece of paper she carried as she asked.
“Yes. I’m Lauren,” she said. “Are you by yourself?” She looked around before she closed the door behind her. “How did you get here?”
“I...it...I...” she stuttered, her voice trembling as much as her hands. Lauren led her to the table and sat her in a chair. “I had to get away...”
Lauren sat down across from her. She had a million questions. At the moment she didn’t even know where to start. “How did you find me?” Lauren finally managed.
“I met your husband...” she started. Lauren detected a bit of an accent but found it hard to put her finger on it. If she’d been living in Mexico—ancient or modern—for the last decade or so, it wouldn’t be unexpected. “I don’t even know how to say this without sounding crazy...”
“He found you at the site of Chichén Itzá,” Lauren said. “He told me.”
“He came to see me at the hospital... the man that was with him...”
“Santiago Mateo,” Lauren nodded.
“That wasn’t the name he was using, but... yes, that’s who it was.”
“He’s one of the men who took you hostage a long time ago.”
“Yes,” she swallowed hard. “He told my father he would kill me if he didn’t pay the ransom. I believe they would have killed me too.”
“But you escaped,” Lauren said. “You jumped out of the airplane.”
“How did you know?” Stephanie nodded, tears building in her eyes. “I didn’t see any other way. It was the best chance I had of escape.”
“Stephanie, we have to call the authorities,” Lauren said.
“No!” She gasped. “No, please! No one can know I’m here! He’ll come after me, I know he will.”
“All the more reason to get the authorities involved,” Lauren said. “They can protect you.”
“No, you have to promise me,” she said. She clung to Lauren’s hand. Her grasp was so strong. Lauren’s fingers went numb and it was all she could do not to pull them away from the frightened woman’s clutches. “I’m the only one... the only one who knows where the money is.”
“What money?” Lauren asked.
“The ransom,” she said. “I grabbed the bag when I jumped out of the plane. That’s why he’s after me. He’s still trying to find it.”
“All the more reason to call the authorities.” Lauren protested.
“Please!” Stephanie begged. “I just need a safe place to hide until this all blows over. Please. Can’t I stay with you?”
Lauren sat back in her chair, her belly between her and the table. “I...” she started to say no but stopped short. It was against her better judgment, but she relinquished. “Okay, but the first sign of trouble, we’re calling the police.”
“Thank you,” Stephanie all but climbed over the table and threw her arms around Lauren’s neck.
“But we can’t stay here,” Lauren said. “If you found me, then chances are good, he could find me too. We’ll have to go somewhere else.”
“I have money,” Stephanie said, pulling a wad of cash out of her backpack.
“Most hotels won’t give you a room without a credit card,” Lauren thought out loud.
“That’s why I didn’t go to one,” Stephanie said. She wiped the tears from her reddened face.
“I could probably get something more... discrete,” Lauren said, thinking about her old apartment on Ambrosia Lane. The landlord had been a nice old fellow, quiet, and kind. Maybe he had a rental property they could use until all this settled down. Her thoughts went back to Rowan. She fretted, but then realized, she hadn’t even tried to call him on the sat phone. Lauren glanced at the woman across from her at the table and smiled, though it was forced. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t want to impose.”
Lauren had to force her face to remain placid. She was already imposing. A turkey sandwich or a cup of coffee was no more of an imposition at that point. “Well, I’ll go make some phone calls and see what I can find,” Lauren stood. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Her first call was to Rowan’s satellite phone. It rang and rang. He didn’t answer. She hadn’t expected him too, but had hoped beyond hope that somehow, he would. Her second call was to Martin, her old landlord.
* * *
Rowan threw up a half a dozen times before they got up the narrow jungle path to the site where the circle of stones stood. The heat, the drugs, and the lack of water, were working against him. By the time they got up the path to the clearing it was late afternoon, and the humidity was oppressive. He was furious at Mateo and he had a million questions he wanted to ask but doing so would force him to show his cards. Mateo didn’t know Rowan knew about his ruse at the university, and if he asked about the artifacts, and the codex, he might lose the upper hand.
As they entered the clearing at the top of the trail, Rowan wasn’t the only one to freeze in surprise when they discovered the clearing... was empty.
Where was the altar? Where were the pillars of stone? Those kinds of things didn’t just disappear.
“What the hell?” Santiago sneered. He turned to look at Rowan as if he had absconded with the megalithic stone circle.
“Why are you asking me?” Rowan snapped back.
“This is the right place, isn’t it?” Santiago darted frantically across the clearing, looking for his stones.
“You’re the one who brought me here,” Rowan said.
A long chain of expletives, all in Spanish,
spilled from Santiago’s mouth as he kicked dirt clods. He threw his hat down stomping it repeatedly. Rowan took a step back, but his eye went to the line of bent grass and bare earth where the altar had been, noting a subtle discoloration. He said nothing and let his captor have his tirade. He scanned the circle and noted similar patterns in the landscape where the other stones had been standing, but there was no sign of any trails where a 20T stone might have been drug away. With the mountainous terrain and dense cover of trees, there was no way a crane had been hauled in to take them out. Yet, they were gone.
“They were here! They were right here!” Santiago finally exhausted himself. He turned to Rowan looking wounded. “You saw them, right?”
Rowan’s hand went to his fading multicolored forehead. “I have proof.” The goose egg was still on his head; the bruises faded on his face.
“Exactly! Who stole my rocks?”
“How the hell would I know? I’m just a hostage here.”
“Dammit!” Santiago stormed off, leaving Rowan standing alone in the circle.
It was just the opportunity he was waiting for. Rowan knelt. He inspected the ground, running a hand over the broken blades of grass that were yellowed. There was an obvious bare depression that told him there had once been something exceptionally heavy sitting there. He walked to the edge of the clearing. He stood and followed the circle, studying the most subtle of details. He was trying to figure out where the stones might have been taken, but he could find nothing to suggest they’d been removed manually—or so he thought, but then he saw something that made him pause.
Rowan knelt at the tree line, finding the trunk of one of the trees had been damaged. The wound to the bark looked fresh. That’s also the moment he realized his sat phone was still in the leg pocket of his cargo pants.
He glanced around to see where Santiago had gone, but he was nowhere around. Rowan feigned the effort necessary to drop to one knee to tie his shoe. As he leaned into the tree line and then took a couple steps into the cover of the brush. He reached for his phone in his pocket and turned it on. The battery was almost dead, but he might be able to get a call out. He dialed the first number that came up.
“Rowan?” The voice on the other end came back.
“Don’t talk, just listen. I’m okay but...”
Rowan froze, recognizing the sound of a pistol being cocked, just behind his ear. The phone slipped from his fingers and Santiago put it to his own ear. “I have your husband, Mrs. Pierce. He’s going to help me find what’s mine. Until he does, you won’t be able to talk to him.”
He barely finished before the phone went dead.
Rowan bit his lip, shaking his head as his hands raised.
“Nice try, my friend,” Santiago said, taking Rowan’s phone and lobbing it into the thick cover of trees.
“Let’s get this straight once and for all. You are not my friend.” Rowan turned, rolling his eyes as he raised his hands toward his head. He froze as his phone made an odd plunking sound deep below where they were standing. Santiago froze too.
“What the...?” Santiago started in that direction. Rowan followed, scrambling through the brush. Santiago skidded to a halt. Rowan nearly crashed into him. There, they stood on the edge of a hidden cenote.
Rowan leaned over to look down. Santiago grabbed his shirt, pulling him back, stumbling and falling backwards himself, bringing Rowan, who was nearly twice his size, down on top of him. A loose rock, kicked by Rowan’s boot, tumbled off into the void, and both men had time to lean forward and find the edge. A few seconds later the plop of it hitting the water found its way back up to the surface.
“Christ!” Rowan gasped, moving so Santiago’s boot wasn’t in his back. “Look at that! That must be, what? A hundred-twenty-five meters deep?”
Santiago gave him a wicked grin, shaking his head. “You Americans...” His attention returned to the deep hole in front of them. “That could have been a fatal leap.”
“Glad you saw it before I did,” Rowan sat back on his rump in the dirt.
“Me too,” Santiago said, holstering his gun. “I’m sorry I had to take you hostage.”
“Yeah, me too,” Rowan said.
Santiago got back up on his hands and knees and leaned over the edge to peer into the abyss. For a moment, Rowan considered placing his 12 1/2 boot right in the guy’s backside and giving him the old heave-ho. He decided against it. He might come to regret it later, but killing a man, wasn’t something Rowan was willing to do, even a slime ball like Santiago.
Patience was his friend now, Rowan decided. He would wait out his captor and find a way to either escape or subdue him. In either case, his first stop would be home to Lauren, no matter what.
Screw that! Rowan lunged.
Chapter 22
Lauren sat up slowly. Her head throbbed. She felt sick to her stomach. The world was spinning. The last thing she remembered was walking into the apartment on Ambrosia Lane, with an overnight bag in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
The world around her came into view, but it was hard to focus. She fought to keep the bile from rising in the back of her throat. She managed to prop herself up against the wall. Her hand went to her stomach. She wrapped her arms around it. She was not sure what had happened to her. She prayed her baby was okay.
Tears ran down her face, and her head felt heavy. She struggled to keep herself vertical. Her stomach quivered and her breath caught. Contraction? She froze, and it did it again. Foot, not contraction.
A sigh of relief escaped her. A blurred face moved into view. “Hey, there you are,” Stephanie knelt in front of her. “Don’t worry. You’re okay. So is your baby.”
“What happened? What did you do to me?” Her hand went to the back of her head and the knot at the base of her skull told her everything she needed to know. There was drying blood matted in her hair, but the wound didn’t seem to be deep.
Lauren simmered. “What the hell! You could have killed me... or my baby!”
“I could have, but I didn’t,” she snapped back. “You remember that. I don’t want you or your baby dead. I just need you... out of the way for a while.”
“Why?”
The woman considered Lauren for a long moment. “I don’t think I want to tell you,” she said, rising without effort. It was a move Lauren envied. “Hungry? I got moo shoo.”
Lauren looked up at her with a sneer. She leaned over and puked all over Stephanie’s shoe.
Stephanie jumped back startled. “Dammit!” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess I deserved that.” She kicked off her shoe and carried it to the bathroom to clean up.
* * *
When she could do it, Lauren managed to get to her feet, leaning heavily against the wall. The world was still spinning. Her legs felt like rubber. Dots danced in her eyes. She scooted over towards the windows. They were covered from the outside with paper. The landlord had been renovating. The exterior stucco was being painted. The painters had taped off the windows. Now she wished they were clear so she could at least see out, or someone could see in.
The entire block of apartments was currently vacant which meant the privacy they had been seeking was now her undoing. No one would know where to find her. No one would miss her for a few days, at least. God! She was an idiot!
Where had her phone gone? The memory of her last phone call flooded through her, and she felt sick all over again. She’d had it in her hand when she heard Rowan’s voice telling her he was okay, then someone else had taken the phone just before it was dead. Her phone was probably in Stephanie’s possession. As long as it stayed on, someone could find her. Rowan wouldn’t be coming for her, but Jean-René and Bahati had been taking turns checking on her every few days.
How long had she been here? She was certain she had a concussion, but how serious it was, she couldn’t be sure; it was bad though. It was daylight when they got to the apartment. It was daylight still. It could have been a few hours or a few days. Based on how stiff and sore she wa
s, she was convinced it had been at least a day.
Lauren sunk into the corner of the room, across from the door feeling lethargic and numb. She wasn’t afraid, but she felt like she should be. Rowan was in trouble in Mexico... she was in trouble in California. There had to be a bad country song about that, right?
Could she reach Rowan as she had the night he was in Mexico City? Had she reached him before Stephanie showed up? She couldn’t be sure, but she had to try. If she couldn’t reach Rowan, maybe she could reach someone else.
* * *
Bahati handed Jean-René a beer and sat down on the floor, leaning against the sofa. She reached over her shoulder to snag a handful of popcorn from the bowl nestled between his crossed legs. The beer was cold, the popcorn was hot, and the movie was just starting.
“Think we should have invited Lauren to come watch with us?” Bahati asked.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, taking a drink. “It’s getting late,” he said. “And she’s supposed to stay in bed.”
“Not like watching a movie is overly taxing,” Bahati said, tossing back a handful of popcorn, munching happily.
Jean-René set the popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of her and leaned down. “If she was here, I couldn’t do this,” he said, taking her lips in his, his hand finding hers, lifting her into his lap so she could wrap her arms around his neck. Bahati giggled, breaking the kiss. “What?” Jean-René grinned, his hand running down her side, brushing her breast through the fabric of her t-shirt.
“Are we fooling anybody?” She asked, her lips just inches from his. “Rowan and Lauren couldn’t hide it. Are we?”
“Please,” he scoffed. “You guys didn’t even know I had been married until I told you. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.”
“Maybe not, but I can tell what you’re thinking about right now,” she purred. “It’s written all over your face.”
“And what does it say?”
“It says let’s forget the movie and take it to the bedroom.” She nipped at his lip with her teeth, just grazing him. His breath caught in his throat.
The Jaguar Queen Page 18
