by Julie Leto
“Do you want to meet your mother?”
“Yes! If she really wants me. I mean, of course.”
“Will your father let you do that?”
“Are you kidding? You heard him. He hates her.”
“I’m supposed to take you to her, back in the States, where she has custody, at least until you turn eighteen. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”
Jessica’s brows shot up, then knotted over suspicious eyes. “Why not?”
“Because frankly, I don’t trust your mother anymore than your father does. And I know you love your father and would be miserable if I took you away by force. I want you to meet your mother, but I’m not averse to changing the terms in your favor. But only if you want me to. So until you decide, I’m putting my life in your hands.”
A light rap on the door forced Marisela’s heart into her throat for the split second it took her to realize that if she’d been found out, no one would be knocking at all. Jessica shoved the locket and the letter under her pillow and after pressing her hand softly on Marisela’s, told whoever was on the other side of the door to come in.
Javier Perez leaned inside, his smile sheepish. “You’re awake. Señora Tosca, have you had breakfast yet?”
Marisela inhaled deeply, then pushed her breath out with a friendly smile. “No, I’m starved. I was just going to ask Jessica to join me for some of Alfredo’s amazing huevos rancheros.
“He made the salsa fresh this morning. Your husband is already in the dining room. Why don’t you go on? My daughter and I will join you.”
Marisela glanced at Jessica, who was looking down in her lap, revealing nothing. If the kid gave her up, she and Frankie would be dead by lunchtime. Did Jessica really understand? Did she care?
With no other choice, Marisela stood. “Of course. Jessica, you remember what I said. Your father loves you very much.”
And on that note, she left them alone. She caught up with Frankie on the terrace where he was sipping an espresso and staring at the surf.
“How’d you do?”
Marisela stole his cup and took a sip of his drink. She blanched when she realized he hadn’t added one speck of sugar. She shoved the demitasse back at him and swallowed a few times to erase the bitter flavor from her tongue.
“I made headway.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
Frankie chuckled, but she killed his humor with one pointed look.
“What truth?”
“The real truth. Jessica Perez now holds our fate in her seventeen-year-old hands.”
Frankie slammed the delicate cup onto the railing. It shattered, and he didn’t seem to care.
“You’re not shitting me,” he said.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Nope.”
He cursed, a rather impressive long line of connected vulgarisms that spanned two languages and made his point. “Now what do we do?”
“We have breakfast. Might be our last meal, verdad?”
Twenty
FUNNY, MARISELA DIDN’T remember falling asleep outside. And hadn’t the storm stopped hours ago? She vaguely remembered exiting the boathouse after the patter on the roof changed tempo from a raucous drumming to a slow, rhythmic beat. Wait. That wasn’t last night—that was the night before. And yet, the moisture splashing on her face right now definitely felt like rainwater, even though she could also sense soft cotton sheets caressing her body as well as the searing heat of Frankie’s skin against hers. She peeked open one eye to catch Jessica flicking water at her from a drinking glass.
She scrambled for the sheet, then elbowed Frankie awake. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
Marisela winced at Frankie’s harshness, but Jessica merely quirked an eyebrow, more interested by Frankie’s naked chest than she was by his morning growl.
“Some greeting for the person who’s about to save both your asses,” Jessica quipped.
Marisela yanked at the sheet, making sure Frankie was covered. He hadn’t gone to bed naked, but he’d ended up that way sometime around three o’clock.
“Keep your virgin eyes off his ass, okay?” Marisela warned. “I’ve corrupted you enough.”
“Who said I was a virgin?”
Marisela’s jaw dropped. “Like your father would leave you alone and unsupervised with any boy long enough for you to get busy.”
Jessica set the glass on the bedside table with a splash and nodded in defeat. “Got me there. There’s only one place my father ever lets me go alone.”
The saucy tone in her voice brought Marisela fully awake. She shook her hand in the direction of her robe and the girl obediently fetched and retrieved. Marisela shrugged into the terry cloth just before Frankie swiped the entire top sheet from the bed and made a semi-modest escape to the bathroom.
“He doesn’t stick around much when I show up,” Jessica noted, disappointment barely hidden beneath her wry tone.
“Maybe because you keep showing up when he’s half-naked?” Marisela offered.
“Well, I may be a virgin, but I’m not virginal. Big difference.”
“Apparently. So why are you splashing me awake so early in the morning?”
“It’s Sunday.”
Marisela waited for the rest of the explanation, which didn’t come.
“And that means…” Marisela prompted.
“Geez!” Jessica rolled her eyes. “Sunday? Hello? Church?”
“Oh,” Marisela answered, suddenly guilty for not thinking of that herself. Funny how her life had changed so drastically over the past two weeks. Not only was she getting laid with incredible regularity, she’d become adept at dodging bullets and lying through her teeth. Okay, so the last two things weren’t so unique to her life. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to her first confession after her latest escapades.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three weeks since my last confession. Let me sum up—I’m nearly ten for ten on breaking the commandments.
A few novenas were not going to do the trick this time around.
“I think I’ll skip mass, if you don’t mind.”
With exaggerated movement, Jessica skipped her gaze back and forth from Marisela to the door, her lips tight as she spoke. “You’d think you’d want to say a few prayers of thanks, you know? That we didn’t get killed the other day?”
Marisela rubbed her face and eyes, trying to clear her head. The girl was trying to tell her something, but the message wasn’t breaking through her early morning brain fog.
“Yeah, you’d think.”
Jessica slapped her thighs in exasperation. “If you could stop being so stubborn and sarcastic, you’d realize that going to church with me, on the mainland, would be a great idea.”
Click.
The child was brilliant. But why didn’t Titan know about this weekly excursion? They’d researched Jessica and her movements prior to her and Frankie’s arrival.
“You do this every Sunday?”
Jessica shook her head. “No, I usually go on Fridays when I’m in school. But since Papi won’t let me go to school, I convinced him to allow me a Sunday in church. The security will be very tight.”
Marisela heeded the warning, but trusted Ian and Max could work out the details. “Your father wouldn’t mind if we tagged along?”
Jessica grinned in relief. “Why would he? He won’t go. My father is a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn’t one of them. He has coffee at the café across the street while I go with my bodyguards.”
“What about Inma?”
Jessica slid on to the bed beside Marisela, a frown underlining her knitted brow. “She’s still on the job, along with a new girl named Carla. I think she was a man in another life. Papi isn’t fooling around anymore.”
Marisela smirked. “Like he ever was?”
Marisela pushed herself off the bed and stretched, invigorated by the opportunity Jessica had arranged for them. Only. Oh, hell. She’d promised Jes
sica a chance to meet her mother, not to run away. Marisela didn’t even know if Elise Barron-Ryce was anywhere near Puerto Rico, much less available for a tête-à-tête with her long lost daughter in a little less than…
“What time do we have to leave?”
Jessica glanced at her watch. “I’d say we have to leave no later than eight. I usually attend the nine o’clock service.” Marisela hurried to her closet and threw open the doors, certain she didn’t have anything in her current wardrobe appropriate for church. “What time is it now?”
“Ten.”
Marisela spun around. “Ten? We missed it?”
Jessica’s lips had folded inward. She was struggling to keep from laughing, which made Marisela want to grab the girl and shake her silly.
“Ha, ha,” Marisela said. “The joke’s on me. You had no intention of taking me with you to church, did you? What? Afraid you’d get hit by lightning just by standing next to me?”
Jessica opened her mouth, probably to explain, but snapped her lips shut with an audible pop a split second later. Her wide gaze seemed locked on some spot over Marisela’s shoulder and in ten seconds flat, her skin went from seashell pink to ashen white to fire engine red.
With her hands on her hips, Marisela turned and caught sight of Frankie leaning against the doorway, dripping wet from his shower and covered only around the waist in a very small white towel.
“Have you no shame? She’s just a kid. Put some clothes on.”
“Clothes for church? Vidita, it’s not Sunday. It’s Saturday. Seems our pájarita has given us a twenty-four hour head start.”
* * *
By eight o’clock the next morning, a plan was in place, though Marisela had had no idea how the scheme would progress until they docked at the pier in San Juan and on the short walk to the waiting limousine, caught sight of a jewelry-selling street vendor who looked vaguely familiar. The disguise Dionysus had donned made him look every inch the Puerto Rican entrepreneur, so when Frankie stopped to buy Marisela a lovely pair of carved, mother of pearl earrings, none of Perez’s men looked anything more than impatient. He bought a pair for Jessica as well, and in fine distracting perfection, the girl spent the rest of the walk and the first few miles of the drive squealing with delight over the five-dollar gift—just enough time for Marisela to put hers on and activate the listening device planted inside.
She pressed the tiny button on the clasp and a few seconds later, heard Max’s voice buzz near her ear like a bug.
“Tap the earring three times if you can hear me clearly.” She winked at Frankie and did as she was told.
“Good. Elise is at the convent with Blake. If Perez follows his reported routine, he will have the limo drop his daughter, and the two of you, at the entrance to the church. The convent is in the back. Perez has ten bodyguards stationed around the inside of the sanctuary, but we can detain two without alerting anyone right away. Go with her to communion. On the way back, divert to the alcove off the west aisle where there’s a statue of the Virgin Mary. Let the kid light a candle. Elise will meet you there.”
Marisela tapped the earring three more times to signal that she understood and her heartbeat steadied’ as she replayed the plan in her head. Max and Ian seemed to have covered all the bases. She wasn’t sure that Jessica would be able to make a life-altering decision about her mother after only a few minutes, but Marisela figured that was Elise’s problem. In her last communication with Max yesterday, she’d made her point of view clear that in light of the mysterious third party possibly still working against them Jessica needed to make the choice whether or not to go with her mother for herself. The kid had gone through too much for her and Frankie to swipe her now, mission or not, especially since she’d kept their secret. The mother had to do the convincing before Marisela made another move.
“Those earrings look quite beautiful on you, señora,” Perez said, his eyes trained on how she continued to fiddle with the jewelry.
She reached over and grabbed Frankie’s hand. “I don’t usually let my husband buy me such presents, but I couldn’t resist.”
Perez chuckled, completely unaware of the threat that lay ahead. “My daughter’s influence on you is undeniable, I’m afraid. I hope you won’t regret making her acquaintance, señor.”
Frankie managed a half-grin. Marisela couldn’t believe they’d gotten this far. Or that in a few short hours, the entire mission would be over.
“Your daughter is charming, Señor Perez,” Marisela said.
Charming and resourceful. For a kid, she had a sharp mind and good instincts. Marisela could only hope she’d be able to see beyond her childhood loneliness to judge her mother fairly. And accurately.
Jessica snuggled next to her father and from across the seat in the limousine, Marisela caught the look of uncertainty in the young girl’s eyes, along with the clear, sharp reflection of determination. And trust. The young girl had put her future in the hands of a stranger, her, all because she wanted desperately to meet the mother who likely had an ulterior motive for wanting her home.
So far, Max had come up empty in his investigation of Elise Barton-Ryce’s finances. And yet, something in his tone yesterday clued Marisela that he’d at least discovered some vague and unverifiable indication that maybe something wasn’t quite right. Knowing that, Marisela decided she wasn’t letting Jessica out of her sight for one minute. When Elise pleaded her case to her long-lost daughter, Marisela was going to be right there, watching the kid’s back—and more importantly, her fragile, teenaged heart.
The drive to the church was noneventful, with Frankie staring sullenly out the window, having made Rogelio’s displeasure at being dragged to church abundantly clear. Perez hung on every word his daughter chatted into his ear—and that was no small feat since the girl didn’t stop talking. Marisela watched the driver and from time to time, checked out the traffic around them. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place. Two cruise ships had come into port, so the streets of San Juan teemed with tourists. The convent and school were on an outer edge of the city on the way to the fort in the area known as Old San Juan. Little by little, the buildings grew smaller, the streets more narrow, the atmosphere decidedly more old world.
The cross on the top of the church thrust into the sky in simple wooden glory. Bricks washed white by the sun and wind curved and stacked into a building completely unremarkable except for kaleidoscopic stained glass windows. As the limousine pulled to a stop just outside the brittle concrete steps, Marisela immediately spotted the first of Perez’s bodyguards.
God, she hoped Titan didn’t fail them now—and that included not offing any of Perez’s men. Jessica would never forgive Marisela if someone in her father’s employ took a bullet because she couldn’t resist the chance to meet her mother.
The bodyguard stepped forward to open the back door. Marisela had already started to scoot toward the exit when a loud pop sent her diving toward Jessica. Perez already had his daughter covered. Out the back window, Marisela saw the bodyguard stagger toward the church, gun drawn. He was hurt, but still standing.
“¡Déjame! ¡Déjame!” Perez shouted to the driver, who slammed his foot onto the gas. Tires screeched as they tore down the street, but a second explosion directly underneath the car jolted them all into the air. Jessica screamed, rolling herself into a tight ball. Her father tried to curve his body over her at the same time that he removed his gun from his jacket and yelled orders to the driver.
Only a few moments elapsed before Marisela realized that the driver couldn’t comply. The explosion had locked up the steering and judging by their increasing speed as they hurtled down the hill, the brakes were gone, too. Frankie flung himself through the narrow opening into the front seat, but he could do nothing to stop the inevitable. They were going to crash.
Marisela grabbed Jessica and Javier and flung them to the floor seconds before the impact threw her into the opposite seat. Her shoulder smashed hard into the side panel, but not with enough force
to knock her gun from her hand.
“Stay down!”
Frankie had flung open the passenger side door and Marisela did the same from the back.
“What’s happening?” she shouted, aiming at the empty street behind them while Frankie covered the front. They’d crashed into the side of an abandoned store. The front end of the car tilted up onto a curb and broken glass sparkled around them in the stark white morning sun.
“Ambush!” Frankie shouted.
Their driver emerged from his side of the car with a wicked looking XM8 lightweight assault rifle clutched in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but a shot through his skull instantly silenced him. His body shuddered, then crumbled to the ground.
Marisela ducked back inside the car.
“Stay down. Your driver’s dead.”
Jessica’s eyes were wide with terror.
Marisela had to trust that Javier could take care of Jessica until she and Frankie worked out a plan. This attack couldn’t be a Titan operation. They wouldn’t kill so indiscriminately. Would they? When she emerged from the car, she realized she had no time to work out the possibilities. An SUV with a tinted windshield veered down the street toward them, sleek black weapons dangling out of the passenger side doors, clearly meant to invoke fear. Was this an assassination attempt? Were they trying to kill Perez? Jessica, too? Or was this just another elaborate scheme to kidnap the girl? And if so, who was calling the shots?
Marisela tapped on her earring. She heard nothing and tried again until the rapid fire of bullets shifted her attention from communication to survival. She spun around in time to catch Frankie diving across the front seat and retrieving the driver’s rifle. Their arsenal included two handguns—three if they counted Perez’s—and a rifle against two men with automatic weapons and an unknown sniper. No backup from Titan and as of yet, nothing from Perez’s men down the street at the church, either.
