Love On the Run

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Okay,” Sampson said. “I will. Thanks.” He pulled out his wallet, counted out five one hundred dollar bills, and gave them to Marisa. “For you and your dad. It’s just a little something to remember me by.” Marisa tried to refuse, but Sampson glowered at her. “I want you to have it. It is nothing to me.”

  Finally, José allowed his daughter to take the money. Cassi knew that neither had any idea of the worth of the bills, and they would find out only when they made the trip into a larger town to a bank that could exchange them. She also knew that to Sampson the amount was negligible, but to José and Marisa, it could very likely be more than they made in an entire month or more.

  Jose’s farmer friend motioned toward his truck. “Vamos.”

  Cassi soon found that when Marisa said “on” the back of the truck, she meant it literally. Jared, Sampson, and the farmer’s teenage son stood on the back bumper and held onto the wooden slats that made up the sides of the truck. Cassi was worried about Sampson holding on after his recent brush with death, but the boy refused to trade places with her. “I never rode on a bumper before,” he said. “No way am I sitting inside with a girl when I can stay out here.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Jared told her. He also appeared worried, but he added in a quieter voice, “Look at him.”

  Cassi saw that Sampson was smiling and laughing with the farmer’s son, as though he hadn’t recently lost his father and seen his uncle shot. Like Jared, she wanted to allow him the escape from reality. “Have fun then,” she said.

  As before, she kept a strict watch in front and to the sides of the dirt road, but there was no one about except a motorcycle or two, also loaded up with marketable goods. The dirt road joined with a paved one and the pace picked up. Cassi glanced out the window repeatedly to catch sight of Sampson. Once, he caught her gaze and waved.

  In the first tiny town they passed, the farmer and his son drove to a small store and unloaded a few heavy boxes of vegetables. While they worked, Cassi stared about anxiously. There was no protection for them here should their pursuers find them. All she had were some squash and tomatoes—not of much use against guns or sleeping drugs.

  The farmer’s son finished unloading and jumped inside the back of the truck, where there was now enough space for Jared and Sampson to squeeze in beside him. Cassi was relieved, especially when the farmer pulled out onto the paved road and began to travel faster.

  Occasionally, they saw other traffic—motorcycles, old cars, bicycles, and a few newer cars that made Cassi’s heart beat rapidly. But if the men were following them, they were staying out of sight. The farmer’s teenage daughter smiled shyly at Cassi, revealing white teeth against her darkly tanned skin. She didn’t speak except occasionally in response to her father.

  Obviously the girl didn’t have Marisa’s command of English, or her outgoing personality. Cassi was comfortable enough with the silence. So much was going on inside her head that to carry on a conversation would have been a chore.

  She judged that they had been in the truck for a total of forty or fifty minutes when they arrived at the bigger town of Alvito. Rows of quaint buildings with red terra-cotta rooftops flanked narrow cobbled streets. Signs in several windows proclaimed that they accepted Visa and MasterCard.

  “Ah, civilization,” Cassi breathed. Well, almost.

  The farmer pulled to a stop and pointed at a building. A sign above the door read Guarda Nacional.

  “Thank you,” Cassi said. Then she tried it in the Portuguese she had learned from Marisa. “Obrigada.”

  They smiled and nodded.

  Jared and Sampson jumped out of the truck to stand on the cobblestone sidewalk with her. They watched the farmer and his children continue on to the busy marketplace that they could just glimpse down the road. The farmer’s son waved to them from his place among the vegetables.

  “Well, let’s do this,” Cassi said. But inside there was only one old man in view behind the desk. He shook his head when they tried to speak to him. He pointed at the clock and said something in hoarse Portuguese.

  “He doesn’t know English,” Sampson said.

  “Can you talk to him?” Cassi asked.

  “No. I can understand a lot of what he says, though. I think someone knows English, but he’s not coming in until later. It’s not even seven yet.”

  “Okay, we’ll come back,” Cassi said. They walked out the door and paused in front of the building. “But where to now? Maybe we should wait here.” At least it seemed unlikely that their pursuers would look for them at the national guard.

  “We could go to the marketplace!” Sampson said eagerly. “Paulo said there was lots to see.”

  Cassi bit her lip. “Paulo?”

  “The farmer’s son.”

  “Do you think we should?” She couldn’t shake the feeling that the men chasing them would soon arrive. Where else could they search but in the nearby towns? And this one certainly wasn’t large enough to offer much anonymity.

  “We could try to find a car to rent,” Jared said, “and go on to the next town, but there’s no way we can know if it’ll be this big. We don’t even know where we are. The map is back at the cabin.”

  “We could go to a hotel and call Fred,” Cassi suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

  “Marisa said the old castle here has been made into a hotel of sorts.” Sampson’s eyes were bright. “We could stay there.”

  Jared’s brow wrinkled in thought. “They might be waiting for us. That’s the first place I’d look. I’d have people placed at all the hotels and public phones. It would be better to wait here, but after what happened in the cabin, I’m not so sure our being at a national guard post this small would stop them. They might just shoot everyone. The other idea would be to hide out someplace with a lot of people. And around here, that appears to be the marketplace.”

  “Yeah!” Sampson cheered. “Let’s go!”

  Cassi didn’t have the heart to wipe the eagerness from his face. “Okay. Maybe we can buy some of the native clothes to blend in better.”

  “Do you mean a disguise?” Jared asked with a grin. No doubt he remembered the old man and woman disguise they had once used when trying to hide from Big Tommy’s thugs en route to New York, and also the French maid disguise Cassi had used only weeks before in front of Laranda Garrettson.

  Cassi shrugged. “Why not? It’s getting to be a family tradition. I can just see our kids now, running around in little Portuguese disguises.”

  “We have to make the kids first,” Jared said. “If you remember, this was supposed to be our honeymoon.”

  Cassi put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I seem to remember that very faintly, oh-husband-mine.” Jared laughed and kissed her back.

  “Gross!” Sampson made a sour face. “Can’t you guys ever give it up?”

  Jared laughed. “You’re just jealous you didn’t kiss Marisa when you left. I saw her try. You know, it’s customary here for friends to kiss on both cheeks in greeting or parting.”

  Sampson’s face turned red. “You weren’t kissing on the cheek.”

  “All right, stop it, you two,” Cassi said, moving away from Jared’s embrace. “Let’s go to the marketplace. But if you see one person who looks American, or anyone suspicious, tell everyone immediately. Try not to talk too loudly, so people won’t suspect we’re not Portuguese. Of course, since both of you have blond hair, that might be hard to hide. You need hats. That should be the first thing we buy.”

  They walked down the sidewalk, neatly cobbled like the street. At another time, Cassi would have marveled at the patterns and the work that had obviously gone into each rock, but now she was too busy looking for shadows.

  They passed a stone bench several stores down from the national guard building, where grizzled, toothless old men with white or iron-gray hair talked and grinned at the passersby. One man on the end wasn’t quite as old and somehow seemed familiar to Cassi. She stared, but couldn’t place the memo
ry. His brown hat—an oversized beret—was pulled low on his head, and his eyes were shut, but Cassi had the feeling he watched them behind dark eyelashes. Where had she seen him before?

  “Jared, do you know him?” she asked softly.

  Jared stared a minute. “No, I can’t remember seeing him before. But it is odd that a man of his age isn’t up working—even on a Saturday. Let’s hurry. I think the sooner we get our disguises, the better.” Sampson was only too eager to walk faster. Cassi tried not to glance back, but when she did, the man she had seen on the bench rose and slowly walked in the opposite direction.

  Where had she met him before? The thought wouldn’t leave. Could it only be her imagination? Perhaps. She fought the desire to run back to the national guard building. Jared was right. With only one man in front and possibly only a few more in the back, they would be easy targets for men who had bested two FBI agents and Brohaugh and his thugs.

  There had to be a way out of this mess. But how?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  FOR SEVERAL HOURS JARED, CASSI, and Sampson wandered in the open marketplace. They quickly discovered that while many of the stores in town might accept Visa, no one did in the marketplace. But the farmer who had brought them to town arranged for them to exchange some of Sampson’s American bills. Jared had no idea if the exchange was fair, but was grateful for the help and the ability to buy their disguises—hats and shirts for him and Sampson, a flowing black skirt for Cassi.

  Jared almost stopped glancing behind him. Sampson’s enthusiasm was refreshing and welcome, and the market full of Portuguese culture. He found himself laughing. Occasionally, he met Cassi’s eyes, and he desperately wished he could be here with her under other circumstances.

  Who was after them? Laranda is dead, he told himself repeatedly. I saw her ashes. The thought didn’t reassure him.

  After a few hours, they returned to the national guard building and were interviewed by a man who spoke terrible English. At least he understood enough to realize the seriousness of the situation. Hours passed as he talked to his superiors, who in turn talked on the phone to their superiors, who made phone calls to the American Embassy in Lisbon, which in turn contacted the FBI.

  Each time the door to the room opened, Jared stiffened and prepared to protect Cassi and Sampson by any means possible. He wished he had a gun. Two of the three dark-haired men in the room with them appeared seasoned and strong, but how much action had they seen in this small town? Could their experience protect them? The third man—the translator—appeared as frail and sedate as his English was poor. The only thing remarkable about him was the thick gold necklace he wore around his neck.

  Finally, a phone call came through and the guard handed it to Jared. “Hello?”

  “Jared, this is Special Agent Justin Rotua in San Diego. I hear you haven’t been having a great deal of luck in Portugal.”

  “What an understatement. So are you sending someone?”

  “Yes, the best. Fred is already on his way. He should be with you sometime tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, I’ve arranged for you to stay at a bed and breakfast there with some escorts from the national guard.”

  “Are you sure they’re up to this?”

  “They’ve promised me their best men.”

  Jared wondered what that could mean in such an outback where there must rarely be any disturbances.

  “They’ll be prepared at least,” Justin said. “And Fred will be there soon with more backup. He’ll stop at the cabin first. You just sit tight.”

  “Not much choice,” Jared said.

  “Are they still trying to drug you?”

  “Yes, but I can’t think why.”

  “Neither can we. It doesn’t make sense., but for some reason you’re valuable to them.”

  Jared knew that was the only reason they were still alive.

  “Look, here’s the number for Fred’s new phone. If something develops, let him know.” Jared wrote down the number and hung up. He quickly recounted the conversation to Cassi and Sampson.

  “I guess there’s nothing to do but wait.” Cassi eyed the Portuguese men. “I wonder who our escorts will be.” Then more quietly she added, “I hope they don’t get hurt.”

  The two seasoned men were assigned to be their escorts. Immediately they took Jared, Cassi, and Sampson to a nearby house where they were given two rooms, each of which held two single beds. “I guess I’m bedding down with Sampson again,” Jared said.

  Cassi shook her head vigorously. “I’m not staying by myself. When it’s time to sleep, we can stay in the same room. All together.”

  “That way when the shooting starts, we can help each other.” Sampson’s words were light, but there was fear in his eyes.

  “I think we’re safe for the time being,” Jared felt compelled to say.

  Lunch time had long since passed while they had been at the guard station, but the matronly landlady prepared them an afternoon lemon tea with small cakes, biscuits, crackers, and rolls stuffed with ham and cheese. Then they rested in their rooms until dinner. Jared was jumpy and felt his sore muscles aching from the constant pressure. The stitches on his forehead itched.

  Over their evening meal, the landlady stared openly at his bruised face. She had curious brown eyes and short black hair streaked with gray. Her dress was brown and stretched tightly over her ample body, which was large without being fat. She wore gold earrings, a necklace, and several bracelets and rings. Occasionally she directed a comment at the two national guardsmen who stood by the kitchen door, alert and ready. She also patted Cassi’s hand in sympathy several times and spoke to her, though Cassi couldn’t understand her words.

  Jared endured the dinner, waiting for what he knew was coming and hoping that he was wrong, that Fred would arrive in time.

  But nothing happened. It was too good to be true.

  They went early to their beds, trusting the guards to watch the doors to the house. Without being asked, Sampson settled on the floor, leaving the beds to them. They lay down in their clothes, as they had once again left their luggage behind. Soon Sampson’s soft snores echoed in the small room, but Jared heard Cassi moving and knew that like him, she couldn’t sleep. He arose and went silently to her bed. Without a word, she welcomed him with open arms.

  The nearness of her was overwhelming—her scent, her softness. Jared’s arms tightened around her as their lips met. He thought fleetingly of the room next door and the privacy it offered, but neither he nor Cassi wanted to leave Sampson alone in case they were needed.

  Jared let out a long breath and held onto her more tightly. “I love you more than anything,” he murmured. Her answering kiss showed that she felt the same. Jared knew that in spite of all their problems, he was a lucky man.

  Nestled together, they finally dozed. The nightmares Jared had suffered since being held by Laranda returned that night in force, but he was aware of Cassi’s arms around him and the terror was bearable. One day, he would leave the dreams behind.

  * * *

  SAMPSON AWOKE EARLY SUNDAY MORNING, feeling much better than the previous day. He stretched and noticed that his strength was back to normal, with no traces of the drug in the way he moved. His stomach growled. There was certainly nothing wrong with that part of him.

  Grinning, he scanned the room and saw Cassi and Jared sleeping together in one of the single beds. Their arms were entwined, their heads close together. For a moment, Sampson felt the old jealousy that had bothered him with his father’s girlfriends. After his mother died, his father had dated, and Sampson hated it. His father had tried to explain, but only since Cassi had visited his house that night had Sampson understood. He thought he could love Cassi. She was so beautiful. He had even agreed with his father’s decision to send him to her in France, before he realized that she and Jared were married. At first he had hated Jared, but he’d since changed his mind. Jared had turned out to be an okay guy, and Sampson wanted both of them to be happy.

  Rising silently
to his feet, Sampson went to the tall, narrow glass door which opened onto a tiny balcony, large enough for only one person. He didn’t go outside but watched the activity below. There were considerably fewer people in the street than at market time the day before, and the people he did see were dressed differently. He still saw the prominent snatches of black that marked many of the widows, but now there were gayer colors and nicer dresses on the women. The men wore dress pants or suits. Where were they going? He had to know.

  Sampson was consumed with curiosity and hunger. He glanced back at Cassi and Jared, sleeping soundly, and then grabbed his hat and quietly unlatched the glass door to the balcony. Outside, he studied the area for a moment and then scrambled over the railing, down a drain pipe that shook with his weight, and onto a stunted tree. From that he dropped to the ground. He glanced around, sure no one had seen him.

  “I’m not afraid,” he told himself. “They won’t find us here.” His uncle had probably chased them down and would soon come for him. There wouldn’t be much time to investigate this small town, so he’d better do it now. Besides, no one would look twice at a Portuguese boy alone. With his hair hidden inside his hat and his new shirt, he shouldn’t appear much different from the many other brown-eyed boys here. His skin was slightly paler, but that shouldn’t matter.

  He started down the cobblestone sidewalk, stooping to examine the rocks. When he got home, he would have cobblestones put in the driveway, just like at the family estate in France where he had spent so much time with his mother. His father would have liked that.

  An aching sadness filled Sampson’s heart, and he almost cried. I must be a man, he thought. I will get my revenge.

  Of course first he would have to grow up a little and learn the business. He shot a glance back at the building where he had left Cassi and Jared. I’ll miss them. But that wasn’t until later. He still needed them to help find his uncle.