NOMAD (Sons of Sanctuary Book 3)

by Victoria Danann

  The second vehicle that slowed was their guy.

  Through the open window of an ancient Toyota that had badly needed paint years before, the driver said, “Sanchuery Jahns.”

  Cann nodded. To Bud, he said, “I’m gettin’ in the front passenger seat. You get in back but not until after I’m in the car.”

  She nodded.

  Once they were both in the car, the driver made a call and handed the phone to Cann.

  “Yeah?” Cann said.

  It was Brant. “There’s a hotel in Ojinaga. Stay there tonight. Tomorrow morning somebody’ll come get you and drive you to Del Rio. We have friends there. They’ll take care of you till birthday Friday. I’ll let you know what to do when you get there.”

  “All right. And, Prez…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me, fuckup. I’m gonna take this outta your hide in good time.”

  The Ojinaga Hotel wasn’t half bad for thirty seven dollars a night. The clerk gave them both looks related to having jeans that were wet from the waist down in Bud’s case, thigh down in Cann’s. Cann got a room for the two of them with two double beds. It had weird murals of a cityscape on one wall and the silhouette of a long haired dancing woman on another, but it appeared to be reasonably clean.

  “Hey. This is a lot better than the place where you picked me up,” Bud said.

  “I did not pick you up.”

  “Well, what would you call it?”

  “I did pick you up, but when you say it like that…” He looked away. “Never mind.”

  “I can’t wait to take a real shower. Even if I don’t have any clean clothes to put on. You think our boots will dry out by tomorrow?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “I don’t want you to freak out, but I need to hang these wet clothes up. So I’m going to put a towel on.”

  “Why would I freak out?”

  “Because you’ve made it so clear you’re not interested in me.”

  “I’m not going to freak out at the sight of you in a towel, sugar. But I’ve got a better idea.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a supermercado a couple of blocks away. If you’re up for a walk, we can go get some dry clothes and some stuff to eat.”

  “Let’s go.” She was already waiting at the door when she finished that sentence.

  Two hours later they were back in the room with clothes that were cheap but dry, bottles of water, fresh fruit, specialty crackers and peanut butter from across the border.

  Bud took a shower before dining on oranges and peanut butter crackers while Cann marveled at how adaptable and upbeat she was. Considering all the changes she’d gone through in a scant three days, it was amazing how she took it all in stride.

  “What are you thinking about?” she said.

  He refocused his attention on her. “That you’re not like most girls. You’ve handled yourself really well.” He paused and looked over at her. “Admirably.”

  “Wow, Johns. That sounds a lot like a compliment.”

  “Intended.”

  “Then thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “You think there’re any English shows on TV?”

  Cann smirked. “Go ahead and look. But your Spanish is never gonna get better that way.”

  She did find reruns of “I Love Lucy” with Spanish subtitles. She curled up under the covers and was asleep in minutes. Cann put down the book he’d brought along in the backpack and looked at her. She seemed younger when she was asleep, all the cares and strain gone from her face with nothing left behind but the flawlessness of youth. He turned off the TV and got under the covers of his own bed.

  “I’m not leaving any of this stuff behind. What if we don’t have a chance to get more?”

  She was talking about three bottles of water, two oranges, a half-eaten jar of peanut butter and a few crackers.

  “Suit yourself, but if you’re bringin’ it, you’re carryin’ it.”

  “Fine by me, but then you don’t get any.”

  Cann rolled his eyes.

  A guy named Marco had shown up five minutes before and identified himself as their driver. They followed Marco down the hall without being self-conscious about ill-fitting clothes. They had other problems. Like the brand new dry socks that had gone damp within minutes of pulling on boots. Their boots wouldn’t be completely dry for days and, even then, would never be comfortable again.

  Bud knew the drill. Cann got into the front seat then Bud claimed the back. When they were loaded into the nondescript sedan, they turned west. Cann said, “Del Rio’s the other way, friend.”

  Marco said, “Going to Chihuahua, señor.”

  “Chihuahua? Why?”

  “Closest airfield.”

  The Chihuahua airport was just an hour’s drive. It was small, but new. They didn’t stop but went past to a row of private small craft hangars. A four passenger prop plane was waiting on the tarmac looking surprisingly spiffy with bright yellow paint and spotless windshield.

  When Bud got out of the car, she hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” Cann asked.

  She stepped close to Cann so she could speak without being overheard. “I’ve never flown before.”

  Cann looked from her to the plane and back again. He smiled. “Then it’s gonna be a helluva first experience. Flyin’ in big commercial jets isn’t really flyin’. This is. You’re gonna love it.”

  She figured she hadn’t gone wrong by trusting the big biker so far. So she might as well be all in and see it through. No matter what. So she pushed the fluttering in her stomach down and told her feet to walk forward.

  The pilot spoke to Cann in Spanish.

  Cann said, “You need to go to the ladies’? Cause it’s gonna be about four and a half hours in the air.”

  Her eyes flicked to the pilot and back to Cann. “Yeah. Please.”

  When she emerged from the bare bones hangar unisex toilet, she climbed in behind the pilot. She’d been told to sit there to equalize the weight. Cann would sit in front with the pilot. She supposed that meant that she and the pilot together weighed about the same as Cann. Although the backpack and groceries were stowed on the empty seat next to her.

  The next few hours of flying low across northern Mexico was something she would never forget for the rest of her life. And Cannon Johns was exactly right. The trip from the city of Chihuahua to Del Rio was really flying.

  After a couple of hours the pilot announced that they had just flown over the state line and were in Coahuila. An hour after that they flew over the Maderas del Carmen range and the winds buffeted the plane about. Bud didn’t feel frightened by it. When the plane dropped a few feet leaving her stomach aloft, she laughed out loud.

  They landed, taxied, and pulled to a stop just steps away from a newish silver van. A young twenty-something guy stood by the sliding door wearing a smile and a leather vest with patches. He’d clearly left the door open for Bud and Cann.

  Another man wearing a cut approached and offered his hand to Cann.

  “I’m Gerson. Driving you this fine day.”

  “Thank you.” Cann shook the man’s hand then turned to Bud. “You good?”

  She shook her head. “Restroom,” she said under her breath.

  “Lady needs a pit stop.”

  Gerson turned and told the guy leaning against the van to show the woman to the toilet. Cann nodded at Bud to indicate it would be okay for her to go without him.

  Cann and Gerson chatted about the weather until Bud rejoined them.

  As Bud climbed into the backseat Cann nodded to the guy who was apparently riding ‘shotgun’ before joining her. The van was luxurious, custom outfitted. Cann wondered if it was bulletproofed, but it would have been insulting to ask. So he didn’t.

  When the van reached the road that would take them into the city, they were joined by about thirty-five bikers wearing cuts like Gerson’s. The rockers said Demonios de Vien
to. Wind demons.

  Half of the bikers went in front of the van. The other half pulled in behind in a formation that had apparently been worked out ahead of time.

  Bud said nothing, but raised her eyebrows as if silently asking about the exchange. Cann shrugged in response then impulsively reached over, put his hand on hers and gave a little reassuring squeeze.

  When Bud looked from Cann’s face down to the big hand resting on top of hers, he quickly pulled back and looked out the window.

  “What’s all this?” Cann asked.

  “Full honors,” Gerson replied. ”You and the lovely lady must be a very big deal.”

  Cann laughed softly. “No. That would be my Prez, I guess.”

  “These days Del Rio can be unpredictable. We’ve been told to make sure you arrive safely. And that is what we will do.”

  “Where’re we goin’?”

  Gerson looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

  “I’m a soldier. I was told that people would get us to Del Rio. I wasn’t briefed on logistics.”

  “I see. Well, seems the two of you will be privileged to be guests of one of Del Rio’s most important families.”

  Twenty minutes later they pulled up to a walled estate with armed guards posted at the gates. The van was allowed inside. The bikers stayed where they were.

  After a couple of minutes of winding driveway, they pulled up in front of a parking court with a fountain in the middle. The hacienda-style house with cream stucco walls and red tile roof was palatial.

  A man opened half of an impressive double door entry and a woman swept through. She descended the steps with the intention of greeting guests it seemed.

  Bud was instantly on feminine alert. The woman was impeccably styled from the top of her slicked back hair to the red bottoms of her two thousand dollar Jimmy Choo high heeled sandals. She wore red lipstick to match her red suit with gold buttoned lapels that swept into a deep vee neck just a little too revealing for Bud’s taste. The suit was custom tailored so that it hugged curves and waist like a second skin.

  When the woman ignored her and began fawning over Cann, Bud disliked her even more. She wasn’t paying attention to what was being said until Cann turned to her. “Bud. This is Señora Gutierrez.”

  The woman made a point of looking surprised, like she hadn’t noticed Bud had been standing there the whole time. Bud offered her hand to Señora Gutierrez politely. The señora responded by pinching two of Bud’s fingers between two of her own for a pointedly brief two seconds. Bud was tempted to laugh at the bizarre behavior, but remained quiet and watchful.

  The woman was talking to Cann, who said, “My companion is just learning Spanish. Perhaps we could speak English so that she will understand?”

  The woman looked at Bud and did another scan from top to bottom and back again while making a point of conveying disdain. “Of course.” She then proceeded to speak to Bud with aggravating precision and slow pace. “Welcome to our home. Please come inside.”

  Bud’s eyes flew to Cann as she asked the silent question, “Is she for real?”

  Cann’s eyes were alight with amusement. He pressed his lips together and shook his head ever so slightly. As they climbed the steps, she turned and said, “That will be all, Gerson.”

  Gerson’s eyes widened slightly like he couldn’t imagine that she had the nerve to dismiss him like a servant. He exchanged a brief look with Cann and turned to go.

  Bud had never been in a restaurant or hotel with twenty-foot ceilings, much less a house. Looking through the windows, Bud could see that the house was built in a rectangle around a central courtyard that featured manicured gardens and a fountain.

  The furnishings and appointments were lavish enough to be bordering on the obscene, everything in variations of white, cream, brown, and rust.

  “This way,” Señora Gutierrez motioned to the grand staircase and began to ascend swaying her hips back and forth in an exaggerated way.

  As they began to climb side by side, Bud touched Cann’s arm. When he looked over, she mocked Señora Gutierrez’s hip movement. Before he could stop himself Cann barked out a laugh.

  The señora stopped and turned to look at them.

  Cann said, “Sorry, Señora. Bud was just making fun of my boots.”

  Satisfied that a joke was not being had at her expense, the lady of the house led them to the second floor. They turned right and walked until they reached the end of the hallway.

  “I hope this is to your liking, Señor Johns,” she said.

  “Call me Cann. This is wonderful. Thank you.”

  She lowered her eyelashes in response then turned to Bud. “Your room is this way.” She gestured toward the other end of the hall.

  “Hold on,” Cann said. “She stays with me.”

  “Oh?” The señora looked surprised. “Forgive me. I was led to believe that she is a child.”

  “Until the day after tomorrow,” he replied. “In any case, she’s under my protection. I’m her guardian and she’ll sleep where I can see her. Even if we have to sleep outside.”

  There was no mistaking that he was serious.

  Bud had remained still and quiet through the exchange. Though she didn’t show it outwardly, she was grateful that she wasn’t going to be separated from Cann.

  “Of course that won’t be necessary,” Gutierrez said. “We have another room with two beds. Will that suit your needs?”

  “Perfectly,” Cann said simply. “Thank you.”

  Gutierrez pressed her lips together in the bitchiest smile Bud had ever seen. She couldn’t wait to get a look at the man who’d been taken in by the distraction of full red lips, flashing brown eyes, perfectly even tan skin, and hair so black it almost looked midnight blue.

  Again they dutifully followed her around another wing of the house to the other side of the courtyard. She opened the door to a large room with a fireplace, high ceilings, cowhide rugs and plush leather furniture and what was, apparently, a fully stocked bar.

  “Since I wasn’t expecting you to stay here, the room isn’t quite ready. I’ll have fresh fruit and flowers sent up in a few minutes. Dinner at eight. My husband will be joining us.”

  Again, Cann answered on behalf of both of them. “Thank you.”

  When the door closed, Bud, who was standing in the middle of the room said, “I can’t be expected to stay here.”

  “Why not?” Cann’s forehead had formed that wrinkle that he got between his brows when he was concerned about something.

  “Because the fresh fruit and flowers haven’t been delivered yet.”

  Cann laughed out loud. “Yeah. The nerve.”

  “Still. This room is bigger than the house I grew up in.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “So I suppose I could rough it for a couple of nights.”

  Bud watched Cann’s smile creep all the way up and into his eyes. He was beautiful when he smiled. Well, she thought, he was beautiful all the time, but even more so when he smiled.

  As promised, within five minutes there was a knock on the door. One man entered carrying a huge polished wood bowl filled with fruit. A uniformed woman set a tray of assorted cheeses and crackers on the bar while another placed an enormous bouquet of flowers at the other end of the bar.

  When they left, Cann looked over at Bud, who said, “That’s more like it,” just before she ran toward the cheese tray.

  “No!” Cann said.

  “What?”

  “The cheese. It has dairy in it.”

  “Yeah? Are you prejudiced against Mexican cows or something?”

  “No. I’m prejudiced against the Mexican homogenizing process. That cheese may be perfectly safe, but it’s not worth takin’ a chance. Eat the fruit and the crackers.”

  She plucked an apple out of the basket. He took it out of her hand, walked to the bar sink, opened one of the bottled waters and used it to wash the apple off. She thought about saying something smart, but was enjoying being cared for
too much to spoil it.

  “Muchas gracias,” she said when he handed her the clean and polished apple.

  He chuckled and looked at his watch. “Three hours until dinner. What are you wearing?”

  “Oh. I thought I’d go in, let’s see… what I have on?”

  “Yeah. Same here,” he joked.

  “You want a toes up?”

  “Sure. You know the airplane thing today?” He looked at her and waited. “It was really great.”

  Cann nodded. It had been great. A real pleasure to see the world from a bird’s eye view. “Yeah. It was.” He was glad he’d gotten to see that before his demise, which had already been delayed and rescheduled until whenever he got out of prison. He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all,

  At precisely eight o’clock Cann and Bud arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

  One of the house staff greeted them and showed them to the dining room where Señora Gutierrez was giving direction to someone from the kitchen.

  She’d changed into a white gauzy belted dress with a hem that hit at mid-thigh. That was accessorized with a lot of gold jewelry that looked real. A collection of chains from delicate to thick herringbone. Big hoop earrings. And a collection of bangles that clinked together with every move of her wrist.

  When she caught sight of Cann, she brightened.

  “Come in. Come in.” She opened her mouth to say more, but there was a flurry of activity near the front door and some male laughter. They had all three turned toward the sound when the man of the house came hurrying in.

  Bud didn’t know exactly what she’d expected, but it wasn’t anything like Señor Gutierrez. The man was in his early thirties and was giving his wife a run for the money in the beauty department. No wonder she was insecure. He was prettier than she was. At least in Bud’s opinion.