The kitchen door swung open and Gonzalez stepped in. “Have you found her?” he asked.
“The guard says she took her car and left.”
“Then she is well, no need to alert Don Ernesto.”
Mark’s heartbeat slowed. Laura would get away. If Margarita had told Ruiz who Laura was, Gonzalez would have had him dragged away. Now all he had to do was get to the house and decide what to do next.
“Four more men will arrive.” Gonzalez said to Mark. “They will be escorted to the office by the security team you met this morning. They will take over. You are then dismissed.” To Rosa, he said, “You are dismissed also, woman. You are not to stay here tonight.” With that, he walked out.
Rosa looked momentarily stunned, then started toward the door to leave.
“Señora Rosa,” Mark said, stopping her. “How old is the boy Doña Margarita wants to adopt?”
“Six. A handsome boy. Very smart. Doña Margarita will convince her husband.”
Was the child Tony Iglesias? Whether or not Margarita knew the boy’s true parentage before, she must by now. Ernesto Ruiz took the boy because he was the grandson of Arturo Herrera, but adopting the boy? That made no sense. Unless adoption was what Margarita told Rosa to explain the child.
Laura had said Margarita was spoiling a boy, sure it was Tony. Maybe that was where the woman had gone when she saw Laura’s picture.
He stayed at the front door until the men Ruiz was expecting arrived. The vice-president, the heads of San Mateo’s Guardia Civil, the city’s police force, and the general who headed the air force were hustled into the office. Adding these men to the generals already inside, who were the heads of the army and navy, proved that a power play was in the works. President Valdivia was being sidelined by holding, or maybe threatening, all those who supported him until Ruiz got what he wanted. If it was war with the country to the north, Ernesto Ruiz was about to make his move.
And to do it, he was willing to destroy his country.
***
With no money left for a taxi, Laura took a bus to get back to the house where she and Mark had stayed. The only thing she could think to do was get one of Mark’s guns to confront Margarita and her armed guards.
Her mind spun. It all seemed so surreal. If she went back for Mark now, if he was with Ruiz, she might jeopardize him—if he hadn’t already been exposed because Margarita knew who she was.
She had no idea how to find Emilio Estrada again, or if he’d refuse to help yet again.
She had no choice. There was no one to turn to. She sucked in a huge gulp of air. She had to do this alone.
By the time the bus reached the Avenida Abancay, fifteen blocks from the house, it was dark and the traffic had reached critical mass. While traffic jams were a way a life in the city, this was unusual. They’d been stopped for far too long.
Inside the standing-room only bus, restless grumblings began. As they waited, one man asked the driver to open the front door so he could get out. Laura moved to get out with him, hoping to catch another bus, but a policeman on the street grabbed the man and put him back on the bus.
Following him in, the policeman said, “Stay inside. No one leaves. The bus will run its regular route. Do not get off before your stop.”
“¿Qué pasa?” What’s happening, an older woman asked as the bus inched forward.
“Nothing to worry about, señora,” the policeman said in a deferential tone. “When you get off the bus, go home.”
“What has happened?” an older man insisted.
“Do as you are told.” This time the policeman spoke harshly.
A middle-aged man ran up the steps into the bus, out of breath. “¡Guerra!” he shouted. “There is war. Monte Blanco has invaded our border!”
“Be quiet,” the policeman ordered. “Do not frighten these people.”
“They deserve to know.” The man jumped off the bus and vanished into the crowd.
Others joined the chorus of questions until the policeman finally acknowledged reports that Monte Blanco had invaded San Mateo. As the policeman waved his arms to calm people down, Laura searched for a way to slip off the bus unnoticed.
If she didn’t do something Tony would be would be trapped in a country at war and she’d never find him.
And Mark. Madre de Dios. Mark was still at Ruiz’s. If he were trapped there, if Margarita told her husband who Laura was, Ruiz would kill Mark. He could already be dead.
No, he would get away. He was good at what he did. She couldn’t think about that. She could only think about Tony. If she could get off the bus, she could run to the house, get a gun and go back for him.
“Atención, atención,” shouted the policeman when the bus stopped at an intersection. “If you live within a few blocks, you should get off here. If you live beyond the Plaza Madrid, stay on the bus. The government has ordered a curfew. You will be arrested if you are not off the streets by eight.”
Up ahead, the traffic had cleared as police took control of the intersection. Plaza Madrid was around six blocks away. Laura’s stop was four blocks beyond that. The curfew meant she only had a half hour to get to the house and use Mark’s truck to drive to Tony. But would it be quicker to stay on the bus, then run the final four blocks, or run from here?
Suddenly someone shoved her, and she was jostled and pushed to the back of the bus, down the three steps and out.
Into a world gone mad.
***
By the time the bus Mark was on got to his stop one block from where he and Laura were staying, men and women were running to their doors, urged to get off the streets by police using megaphones. Parents ran carrying their children. An elderly woman sobbed in anguish about family caught in the north of the country. A couple spoke of going south, away from what they believed would be an invasion.
He cut across the plaza to the house, dodging people, jogging, frantic about losing Laura in this bedlam. He’d seen it before. People got hurt or were separated. Some were never heard from again.
After opening the wrought iron door, he unlocked the ancient wooden front door, and stepped into the cool, shadowed entry.
“Laura!”
Silence.
Moving down the long hallway in the dark, he called again. Nothing. Once in the back, he flipped on a single overhead light, and took the stairs two at a time to her bedroom. “Laura!”
No Laura. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. Things were exactly as they’d left them this morning.
He bolted out the door and back down the stairs, drawing on the logical side of his brain to keep worst case scenarios at bay. Laura was smart. She was resourceful. She’d be okay. She’d get herself to safety. For her son.
But why the hell had he told her to go on alone? Why hadn’t he just cut and run with her? What the fuck was wrong with him?
He was an idiot. A damn fucking idiot.
The kitchen was empty.
Where the hell was she? She’d left over an hour before he had. She could be anywhere between Ruiz’s and here, stuck on the streets.
He’d backtrack and find her.
He ran back to the front door, opened it and came face-to-face with an armed policeman.
“Adentro,” he ordered. Inside.
“Mi mujer—”
“There’s a curfew. Our orders are to shoot anyone on the streets after eight. You must go inside.”
“That’s only ten minutes—”
“If she does as she’s told, she will not be shot,” the policeman said. “The streets are jammed. It’s taking a long time to move through the city.”
“She’s alone—”
“Back inside.” The policeman aimed his pistol at Mark’s head. Another policeman a few steps away shot into the air. People ducked. “We will shoot anyone who does not cooperate.”
Hands up, Mark backed away and closed the door. He looked out the tiny window, scanned the street. She was okay. She had to be okay.
With one last look at the p
olicemen now forcing people into their homes, Mark rushed back, past the kitchen to the patio. He could leave undetected through the back. No truck though. He couldn’t take the truck with this traffic. He had to walk.
Except he had no idea where she could be. If he left, he could be stuck in the chaos. If he were arrested or shot, he’d be of no use to Laura. He rushed back to the front and leaned against the door, eyes closed. He was as helpless as he’d been four years ago.
Throat suddenly dry, he swallowed and pushed away the thoughts. This wasn’t about him. It was about Laura and her son. The policeman had to be right. She’d just been held up because the city was in turmoil.
***
Laura broke free of the cluster of people she’d gotten off the bus with. All around her, people hurried, but no one ran. If they did, the police shot into the air or grabbed them and hustled them away to a waiting bus. She walked the remaining blocks as fast as she could, head bowed, breathing in shallow gasps.
Tony and Esperanza. Her father. Mark. They had to be safe.
She’d thought that by moving to the States, away from her father and memories of José Antonio and her brother, she had taken charge of her life. But the truth was that she hadn’t. She wasn’t strong, she wasn’t brave and she needed help.
Ruiz still had Tony and Esperanza. Who knew what her father was going through. And Mark… Was he still alive?
Another shot rang out.
She reached the house and fumbled with the key, a policeman so close she could smell his aftershave.
The door swung open. Mark!
She stood there for a moment, trembling, before she fell into his arms.
Chapter Fourteen
Mark pulled Laura inside and slammed the wrought iron door shut behind her before closing the wooden one. Shots continued to be fired outside at random intervals.
“Tony is okay,” she said, her body shaking. “Margarita has him in a corner house on Calle Lozada, the third block.”
“Thank God,” he whispered, gathering her close.
“Do you know where that street is?”
“Yes,” he assured her, his cheek against her hair. “Close to the banking district and a few blocks from the Presidential Palace.”
“There were armed guards at each door, but I should have gotten him. Now, with the curfew—”
“You did the right thing. They would’ve had you arrested.” Or worse. He stepped back and placed his hands on her cheeks, searching her features for any sign of harm. She’d been crying, her face was wet, her lashes spiked.
Outside, a megaphone blared. Someone—a policeman or a soldier—ordered everyone to stay inside, that venturing out could result in being shot.
“We can’t get Tony right now. It’s too dangerous.” He stared into her eyes. “In the morning, when it’s quiet.”
She shook her head. “No, now. They say it’s war. There’ll be fighting, troops could march into the city.”
“It’s almost eight. We can’t get out with the curfew and so many enforcing it. Margarita Ruiz won’t let anything happen to him. She wants to adopt him.”
“What? Adopt him? What are you talking about? That’s crazy!”
“Rosa told me Margarita wants to adopt a little boy of six. That’s probably Tony. She loves him, Laura. I really believe that.” Thanks to Emilio Estrada. “Think about the way she’s been giving him things.”
“He has to be okay,” she whispered, her eyes locked to his.
“No one can go anywhere tonight,” he said. The boy had to be safe. They didn’t stand a chance of getting past the police and whoever else was enforcing the curfew. “As soon as the curfew’s lifted. First thing.” He was already thinking, planning. He’d go alone.
“I know we can’t leave now, I know that. I’m just so scared for him. It’s all I can think about.”
A flurry of gunfire erupted outside as a nearby church bell rang eight PM. Mark grabbed Laura’s hand and ran for the back of the house. “Upstairs,” he said. Upstairs would be safest since the bedroom windows opened to the patio along the narrow back street. Stray bullets wouldn’t reach them there. No one could easily break in because of the iron bars on the windows and doors.
They ran up the polished and worn steps as the shooting intensified. Mark pulled her into the bedroom he’d used the night before. Quickly, he took his Glock from his bag and placed it on the bedside table.
“The world has gone insane,” she said with a tremor in her voice. Tears still dampened her cheeks. “Doesn’t anyone think of their children?”
Mark gathered her in his arms and held her for long minutes, rubbing her back as she took deep breaths. Outside, the gunfire became sporadic again, the man on the megaphone continued to shout. Finally, she sighed as tension left her body.
“He has to be okay with Esperanza. If Margarita has fooled herself into thinking she can adopt him, she’ll make sure he’s safe.” She pulled back. “We’ll go for him as soon as it’s safe.”
“Yes,” he said, knowing the lie for what it was. No way was he taking her with him.
He rubbed the tears from her cheeks. She sighed and relaxed against him again. He continued to rub her back as he tried to think of other words to reassure her, but she went up on tiptoes and skimmed his lips with hers.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me. For being here for me. For being the man you are,” she whispered, her lips inches from his.
Desire caught him off guard so quickly he actually shook. Her words were wrong, the timing wrong, the intense need. All of it so damn wrong. “Laura—”
She brushed her lips against his.
He had to walk away, had to be responsible. He owed her that.
No, he owed her a life different from the one she’d lived for four years.
But she wound her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his.
“I can’t take, Laura.” He shouldn’t respond, even though all he wanted to do was hold on and never let go.
“Then give.” Her eyes glittered in the dark. “Give me this. Let me give to you.” She kissed him, ignoring the tension in his body. Her tongue gently swept his lower lip.
Good intentions flew out the window. He crushed her to himself, opening his mouth over hers. She tasted rich with promise, and he was so hungry. The kiss spiraled quickly as their breaths blended. He couldn’t get enough of the heat of her, of the stroke of her tongue.
Then she was tearing at the back of his T-shirt, her mouth still locked to his, trying to lift the shirt over his head. She broke the kiss and jerked his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. She pressed one hand against his lower back, the other clutched his neck, her mouth open against his once again.
He had to touch, had to feel the femininity of her, the softness. Between desperate kisses he began unbuttoning the gray uniform she wore. His fingers bumped against the plumpness of her breasts.
She stepped back to help him. Her fingers tangled with his as they worked the buttons through the stiff holes, their breathing ragged in the room lit only by the glow of the city lights reflected from the clouds.
Dressed as she was in her simple bra and panties, he shouldn’t have found her so seductive, but he did. Gently, he traced the soft skin at the tops of her breasts. Her breath hitched and she met his gaze. Slowly she reached back and unfastened her bra.
Bathed in the dim lighting, she was a fantasy come to life. With one hand, he traced a line from her chin, down her neck and chest, to her left breast. Cupping the full weight, he gently teased the nipple to a point, only to have her do the same to him.
Desire shot straight to his dick. He sat back on the old-fashioned four-poster behind him and pulled her between his widespread legs, starved for the taste of her. He kissed a path to one nipple, drew it into his mouth and sucked.
***
Laura clutched Mark’s head to her breasts. She ran her fingers through the silk of his hair and relished the feel of
his mouth, the wetness, the pressure. Desire curled rich and deep in her stomach.
For so long, she’d ached to touch, to taste him. She gloried in the freedom and let her fingers slide to his neck, his shoulders. When he moved his mouth from her breast, she bent and placed her mouth on the thick muscle of his shoulder. He tasted salty, male. Delicious. Her fingers found his right nipple and brushed it to a stiff point. She kissed a path to his left nipple and laved gently.
He hissed out a breath and trailed his hands from her hips to her back. She took the tiny pebbled nub into her mouth, her hands braced against the hardened muscles of his upper thighs. His heart beat a staccato rhythm beneath her mouth. The richness of the moment was heady, emboldening. She rubbed her hands up his thighs until they rested at the very tops. His hips shift forward and she moved one hand to the front of his pants.
Beneath the soft cotton, she felt his erection, long and thick and hard. She ran her hand up and down as he groaned, then backed away enough to see what she was doing and reached for his belt. Somehow she managed to undo it and deal with the single button. The zipper proved difficult, but she fumbled until she lowered it, all the while listening to his harsh breathing.
His white knit boxer shorts stretched tightly over his erection. She spread his pants open to run a finger down his length which strained against the fabric.
He blew out a breath and she pulled her hand away. “Sorry.”
He laughed, a soft, rumbling sound. “No. It feels good. You feel good.”
With more confidence, her heart racing, Laura bent to kiss his stomach and again placed her hand on him through the thin cotton.
He flexed against her hand once, twice, then hauled her up to kiss her stomach before falling back on the bed with her on top.
Laura pushed herself up, her hands against the mattress next to Mark’s shoulders. Looking down at him, the glow of city flowing through the window, she was struck again by the masculine angles of his face. Bending low, she kissed a path from his jaw, down his neck to his left shoulder. As she tasted his skin, her lips felt the change in texture from smooth to the raised and puckered scarring. She wanted to erase the pain he must have suffered. Suddenly he rolled her over onto her back and she felt him thrust against her, through their remaining clothing.
Whatever it Takes (Shadow Heroes Book 4) Page 16
