by Laura Marie
She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. Then she wished she had thought about shooting him. But she couldn’t go backwards.
* * * *
Gustavo had been right. Elloisa had been there and stayed at the hotel. She was a few hours ahead of him, but on foot, he would be able to catch up rather quickly. He gassed up the vehicle and headed out towards a small village that bordered open land before the U.S. borders and Texas. On his way, he decided to ditch the noisy, military Jeep. It was drawing too much attention to him.
He also made use of the town by making contact with the bureau. He was notified of the things to look for on Elloisa to confirm her identity. More information would follow once they were across and out of Mexico, they said.
* * * *
Elloisa glanced down at the papers and saw that she was now Juanita Aquilera.
Although she was mostly American, she was a descendent of Spain on her mother’s side and Italy on her father’s side. It was a Godsend that she had such an olive complexion and tanned remarkably. Being fluent in Spanish had saved her as well. She was sure it was one of the reasons Armando kept her alive.
After living in Mexico for the past year and a half, she had begun to look just like a local. Armando loved that about her. He would make her sunbathe in the nude so she wouldn’t have any tan lines. Damn, she hated that man and all the horrific things he had forced her to do. His control, his manipulation and ownership of her was sickening. But that was behind her now. She was headed into a new life and a new hope for a future without him.
She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but the impact of Armando Sintorez and his actions was sure to scar her forever. She tried to focus on the next step.
In three to four days, she could be safely in the States and the hell she lived through would be behind her.
“Hola, señorita Elloisa.” The priest smiled.
“Hola, Padre Zipotto.”
“Lograste ir por el desierto sin escolta. Impresivo.”
“Sí, Padre Zipotto. Estaba resuelto hacerlo y sabía que lo podía hacer.”
She smiled at the priest’s approval that she had made it across the border, and although he raised an eye when she told him she was determined to make it, she knew she could do it.
They got into the Jeep and traveled quickly down the dirt road.
She had been attending mass in a large village outside of the compound, and during confession, she confided in Father Zipotto.
As she developed her plan, she needed more help and asked Father Zipotto for assistance. She prayed that the priest was truly one of God’s workers and would choose doing right over doing wrong. By the grace of God, he immediately obliged despite the risk. Surely he knew about the consequences of betraying Armando Sintorez, yet he chose to help her anyway, and she was grateful.
The convent was about twenty miles away from the border. Also outside the small town was a border patrol station. This gave Elloisa a little peace of mind. As crazy and unpredictable as Armando was, he wouldn’t risk getting arrested or destroying the business he established over her. At least she had hoped that was the case.
She had every right to be afraid. Armando owned just about everything and everyone, perhaps even some of the officers on border patrol. Wearing the nun’s habit was her best bet to stay undetected.
Still, she knew she would never feel safe ever again. She would always be looking over her shoulder, questioning people’s motives, and trust would not come easy.
“Veo que sobrevivido el viaje.” Father Zipotto looked at her, acknowledging that she had survived the journey. She acknowledged him and spoke a little about where she had traveled through and how she accomplished getting here. He was impressed but also sympathetic as he told her that he continued to pray for her.
The priest continued to speak to her in Spanish and she responded a little. He explained the plan and described the small convent.
Twenty minutes later they pulled through the town. If Father Zipotto hadn’t pointed his finger, Elloisa would have missed the town.
Everything looked old and seemed to be falling apart. The convent was on the outskirts of town.
She had handed an envelope with another wad of money to the priest. She gave him eight thousand dollars now and would give him six more as soon as she was safely in the States.
Father Zipotto explained the backup plan. It was not one she looked forward to having to participate in. It involved being smuggled through the border by what the locals called “Escoltas deshonestas.” Dishonest escorts.
It was a major risk. However, if she got caught by the border patrol, she would be taken to prison or a holding facility and questioned. Then she could tell them who she really was and hope that Armando’s hand didn’t reach far enough to retrieve her. Or she could be killed, her body used by the escorts and her money taken. Then, of course, she could also be killed while waiting in the prison. Armando had followers everywhere.
Her insides twisted, especially at the thought of having to hide beneath a floorboard or small compartment in a vehicle. It would be dark and there wouldn’t be much air, and all she would have was a water bottle and a small flashlight. No…the nun disguise had to work. Besides, she had already made the decision months ago that she would choose death over going back to Armando. Returning as his prisoner and lover was not an option.
The priest welcomed the money she gave him. It was obvious the town needed financial support however it could get it.
There didn’t seem to be as much as there was back in Tijuana.
Could it be that no one like Armando Sintorez had gotten this close to the border? She highly doubted it. The man was well known, and he always claimed to own just about all of Mexico.
* * * *
“Ramos, our sources say that she has been through here. She traveled through Monterrey and stayed at a small hotel overnight. The receptionist said she looked like she was planning a hike,” Carlos told Ramos over the CB radio.
“Okay, so we are on the right track. How is she paying for this? She must be getting some help,” Ramos replied.
“The receptionist said she used cash and that she noticed in her bag was a small radio or communication device.”
“Probably a walkie-talkie or CB radio. That means that someone is helping her. Put out your feelers around town and see what you can find out.”
“No problem.”
* * * *
Elloisa adjusted her disguise. She had covered her hair with a scarf, wore black sunglasses, and tried to stay unnoticed. She paused a moment as they passed the small store and a tiny church. She had yet to take an easy breath because she knew she was far from safe. An older man sat on a rickety old chair playing the guitar. It was a pleasant melody but there seemed to be a hint of sadness in it. She avoided eye contact. Taking in her surroundings, she caught sight of someone standing near an old building her and the priest passed. Others watched her enter the town, probably more curious than anything, it seemed. Except for the one man she locked gazes with.
Her insides fluttered with nervousness and reservations.
There was a tall man leaning against the broken fence. His face was shadowed by the large hat he wore until he tilted his head up towards her. He wore a dirty red bandana around his neck. She noticed that his beige pants were torn, and his boots were scuffed to nearly unwearable.
He looked up at her as the Jeep slowly passed by. She couldn’t turn away as she looked him in the eyes. Deep brown eyes stared directly at her and her heart raced. There was something about him.
Was he one of Armando’s men? Did he work for Señor Rimarez? Something was familiar about those eyes, and she turned away quickly, suddenly paranoid and scared again.
She would surely be punished for escaping if Armando caught her. It was something she tried not to think about. He may be so angry that he would kill her. Either way, she wanted to make it into the States. She needed to be free of the chains that had bound her for too long. S
he never wanted Armando to touch her again. She would rather die a thousand deaths.
* * * *
An hour later, she was showered and dressed in a nun’s habit. Only two days until she crossed the border. She tried to focus on her next move once she made it across. Was her family alive? Should she try to contact them? She wasn’t sure what to do. Chuckling to herself, she realized that she hadn’t planned that far ahead. Was it her subconscious telling her that she wasn’t going to make it? She couldn’t help but feel less confident now that she was so close. Armando was clever and always two steps ahead. Had she really tricked him?
Knowing how resourceful Armando was, she thought perhaps he was already aware of her location. He liked the chase more than the capture and had told her so many times.
It was scary to be hunted, and it gave her a new perspective on life. It made her second-guess her decision to leave the way she did. Then she took the thought back. Her life did not belong to her. It seemed that her life belonged to Armando. The longer she stayed with him, submitted to his control and manipulation, the more she lost her soul.
“Elloisa, are you feeling all right?” Father Zipotto asked as he joined her by the doorway.
“I was just thinking about what I need to do next. To be honest, I hadn’t planned on getting this far.”
Father Zipotto smiled then touched her shoulder.
“I saw how Armando wouldn’t let you out of his sight and how he controlled you like a possession instead of a human being. I am sure it feels strange to not have him beside you, but you can’t give in to the weakness now. If he finds you, he may treat you worse than I would want to think about.”
Elloisa nibbled on her bottom lip. The priest was right. She needed to be strong and focus on getting as far from Armando as possible. If she gave in to the fear and insecurity she was feeling without Armando beside her then she would never make it.
“You are right. I’m just feeling tired and nervous. I want to get across the border, and being on American soil will make me feel more confident.”
He smiled then crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“If you would like to, you can go outside in the garden and pick flowers. There is a basket by the gate. Just be sure to drop a bunch off to Sister Maria. She loves them,” Father Zipotto said and Elloisa smiled. She was grateful for the distraction from her thoughts even if it were only for a short period of time. She cautiously went out to the gardens.
* * * *
She took her time walking through the colorful flowers and plants. There was a pleasant breeze despite the fact that Elloisa felt something sharp on the tip of it. The nun habit was a bit to get used to, especially in this heat. She tried not to fidget with the collar, but it was annoying and clung against her throat. This get-up was her ticket out of here. Suck it up, Elloisa.
She glanced around her, noting that the rickety old fence would prove minimal protection to the garden or its visitors. With each breeze, she felt the sensation again. Someone was watching her.
She looked around but there was no one in sight. Her imagination was playing tricks on her, and now her mind was reminiscing. The gentle sound of the music playing in the background made her first imagine the older man on the street side. He looked sad and as if he was stuck in the monotony of the same day-to-day life.
The sound drifted across the village, and with it came the memories of Armando. She nearly felt his presence beside her, and the fear and guilt touched her chest.
Armando’s whisper brushed against her ear. She practically felt it.
“My beautiful Elloisa. I love your body, your long, silky hair, and perfect smile. Tell me that you want me and that you love me with all your heart.”
Elloisa closed her eyes. She tried to block the images, the words, the pain she felt recalling his power over her, but he had a hold on her, and she was certain it would take forever to cut free from it.
She willed her eyes open and attempted to focus on the color of the flowers. Then she felt the breeze and the sharp pinch on the end again.
Go inside. She picked some flowers then glanced around the perimeter.
She saw someone tall in a dark shirt, and she remembered the man on the street with the brown eyes. It was odd how she immediately made the correlation.
Her heart raced and she nearly tripped as she ran back into the convent. No way was she going outside again. She would stay in the convent for now. “Only two days.” She headed to Sister Maria’s office.
* * * *
“Yo la quiero de vuelta. I want her back…preferably unharmed,” Armando stated into the CB radio. He held the ice against his head, the pain getting worse by the second.
“Sí, Armando. I will find her for you if she is not dead already,” Ramos replied.
Armando got the chills from the statement. He also heard the vehemence in Ramos’s tone. He would find her and do everything in his power to bring Elloisa back. As angry as Armando felt with Elloisa, he also feared for her life. Any man out there would want her, but she belonged to him. He had dedicated so much time to her. His associates were envious, and he personally had grown attached to her. She had become his everything in such a short time.
“Let’s hope you find her soon. If she somehow gets across the border, it will become more difficult to get to her.”
“The tracker said she made it quite far. We are out of Saltillo and moving into Monterrey. That’s where she was last.”
“What?” Armando was shocked. That was miles and miles across treacherous land that Elloisa had made it through. She had to have had help. There’s no way she could have made it alone on foot. His anger grew. “Someone helped her, Ramos—”
“I’m on it, Armando. My men have tracked one person down that we know gave her a ride into town once she emerged from the mountains. She stayed at this hotel overnight. We are working on getting him to give up more information.”
“Do what you must. Kill his family if necessary, but get him to give up her resources.”
“I will find out who helped her and I will kill them.”
* * * *
Mathew arrived at his parents’ house. He called ahead and invited himself over for lunch. Luck had it that his mother Teressa wasn’t home. She was at a charity function and due back this afternoon. That would give him enough alone time to make his father aware of the situation. He prayed that this wasn’t another case of mistaken identity. He had been on edge since John’s call, and he debated about telling his father until more information arrived. He didn’t want him to go through the turmoil Mathew was currently experiencing. But he followed his gut. It was telling him to confide in his dad, and he also could use the additional moral support. If things panned out well, the family could have their prayers answered and Elloisa would be home and in their arms once again.
Mathew pulled up in front of the Colonial-style mansion. The long, Douglas-fir-lined driveway welcomed every visitor. The large front porch was decorated for spring with brightly colored flower baskets filled with perennials. His mother basked in outside planting projects.
His father stood by the colorful planters prepared to meet Mathew on the front porch. He always looked so commanding and superior. It was a trait Mathew hoped one day that he would have. The man was a legend in the DEA. Even agents in ATF, FBI, and the U.S. Marshalls knew Jerry Givani. They also knew how much he suffered after Sintorez took Elloisa away.
His presence was superior in nature. When he walked into a room, people took notice of his father immediately. His father was tall with dark black hair that now showed streaks of gray. He had a broad face, was muscular, and had a dark tan complexion. To the unknowing civilian, he would look like a typical businessman on Wall Street. Little would they know that the man was a superior martial artist and gunman.
He waved as Mathew got out of his car and met his son by the stairs.
* * * *
Mathew never showed up for lunch and he sounded relieved when his father said his
mother wouldn’t be home. Something important was going on. Jerry had felt the sensations in his gut since last night.
He remembered jolting up in bed, the nightmares horrific and his body sweating. It had been a year since he had an episode, and he wondered if it had been some kind of premonition about today and Mathew.
Jerry shook the thoughts from his head as he shook his son’s hand hello and pulled him into an embrace.
“Dad, how are you?” Mathew asked.
“I’m good, son. It’s nice to see you, especially in the afternoon for lunch.”
Mathew chuckled. Mathew followed his father into the house and to the kitchen where Rosetta the housekeeper was preparing some tuna fish sandwiches.
Mathew exchanged pleasantries with the maid, and then he and his father ate some lunch. Shortly after, Rosetta left the kitchen, and Mathew appeared rather quiet to Jerry.
Jerry placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. Mathew looked up with an expression that told Jerry this was something serious.
“So what is going on, son? You haven’t said a word since we started lunch,” Jerry asked.
Mathew took a drink from the bottled water.
“Let’s go into your office, Dad. It’s important,” he told him, and Jerry’s feelings were right. Something big was up and Mathew didn’t want to take any chances of being overheard.
Jerry nodded then they headed to Jerry’s study.
Once they were inside the study and the door was closed, Jerry took a seat on the edge of his desk. Mathew stood a couple of feet in front of him. He took a deep breath then exhaled.
