by Gemma Hart
“When Carlos went into his paranoid spirals, he would really spin,” Gloria said, wincing a little at the memory.
She then lifted her chin so the light of the hospital room could perfectly shine down on her mottled and bruised face. “He would get violent,” she added unnecessarily.
Julian remained silent and stoic as granite. He felt no sympathy for a woman who seemed to thrive on dangerous and reckless behavior.
“One night when he was beating me real bad, I said that maybe that was how Cora was surviving in the States. Maybe she had gotten a hold of some of the rival dealers and had partnered up and were robbing him….” Gloria’s voice and gaze trailed off. She gave a small shrug as if her actions were only inevitable given her circumstances.
Julian could feel the rage boiling through his body. He had seen the little shoebox of an apartment Cora had been living in in New York.
She was paid well at JB Enterprises—Julian made sure of it—and yet her apartment was as sparse as an abandoned lot. Clearly she was not spending any of her salary on herself. He imagined how hard and frightening it must’ve been to crawl from the belly of Mexico all the way to the border and then to cross with nothing but guts and gumption.
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out Cora’s secret battered and worn cell phone. The only link between Gloria and Cora. He threw it onto her bed where it landed with a soft plop next to her knees.
Gloria stared at it but didn’t pick it up. She understood what this meant. Without Cora, she had no more safety nets, back ups, or insurance. Slowly, she looked over this tall, powerful, wealthy man.
“You know,” she started, in a tone that made Julian’s guard immediately rise up even higher, “even this far south we get the news. JB Enterprises is quite a nice moneymaker, isn’t it?”
Julian felt filthy just being in the same room with this woman. From his back pocket, he pulled out a thick white envelope. He threw that down next to the phone. Gloria immediately picked it up and began counting the bills. She looked up, disappointed.
“This won’t be enough to—”
“That’s right,” Julian interrupted. “It’s not enough money for you to go gallivanting around causing more trouble. But it is enough money for you to go set up shop in a new town to live a more quiet and dare I say, peaceful, life.”
Gloria clutched the packet of money and glared at Julian. “I could easily go to the police and tell them Cora was connected to Carlos. I could bring back up the murder charge. She’d be stuck here in Mexico then and even with all that JB Enterprise money, it’d take months, if not years, to fully clear her name.”
Oh, a threat? So that was how she wanted to play it.
Julian leaned down over the metal side railings of the bed. He carefully placed both hands on the thin metal and squeezed. Not only did this help to demonstrate the size of his defined arms but it also helped Julian from trying to snap this woman’s neck in half.
“Just try it,” he said in a whisper that could cut through a mountain. “I fucking dare you to. Because Gloria, you have been working inside a drug cartel for the better part of a decade. You knowingly and consciously helped a drug lord distribute his goods. And that murder charge of Cora’s? You were an accessory in helping to organize a bribe to impede charges. Then what about kidnapping? We can contact the authorities back in the good old USA and pull up all the missing persons reports my father had made about you and Cora. How will a case look between a woman like that and a twenty five year old kidnapped daughter who used self defense against rape?” Julian watched Gloria’s face pale and her throat bob as she swallowed dryly.
Julian straightened up. “And just as you’ve so kindly pointed out, with all of ‘that JB Enterprise money,’ I will make sure you are fully, completely, wholly prosecuted for your crimes.”
A nurse hurried past the room, charts in hand. He knew he’d have to get going soon. There was still a lot to do. Giving her the benefit one more warning look, he added, “Believe me, you’ll be doing me a favor by going to the police because there is nothing I want more than to throw your ass in prison.”
Gloria sat stunned in her bed, the envelope of money drooping slightly in her hands. The old cell phone lay forgotten by her side.
Satisfied that he had got his message through, Julian turned around and walked away from his father’s ruination and Cora’s nightmare.
Four
Despite what he had said in Gloria’s hospital room, Cora’s murder charge was still a huge weight that hung over her and her future. He knew he had to have that resolved before they could think about moving forward.
Julian pressed the most recent and called upon number on his phone. “Paulson, are you here yet?”
“At the station, chief,” the gruff detective answered immediately. “Requesting Cora’s old files to be sent here to the Maraño police station.”
Julian felt his chest relax a little bit at hearing the competency in Paulson’s voice. “Good man. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Do you want me to bring you a change of clothes?”
Julian shook his head. The Mexican heat was no joking matter. He had sweated through his shirt allowing the dirt and dust of the streets to cling that much tighter to him.
But he hadn’t paid any mind to any of it. There had been so many things to do, Julian could care less what he or his shirt looked like.
Paulson shrugged and leaned against the hospital room wall, near the door. The older man watched as Julian sat next to Cora’s bed, his elbows on his knees and a clear prayer emitting from his entire being for the girl’s recovery. The love the younger man held for this woman was clear as day. It broke Paulson’s heart to see Julian so enveloped in his grief.
Not wanting tragedy to take the younger man unawares, Paulson cleared his throat before saying, “The doctors here don’t recommend her being moved. She’s too fragile right now.”
“I know that,” Julian replied hollowly without taking his eyes off Cora. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Even taking her on the helicopter to Maraño had been a huge risk and it was only by luck and the skilled people of the Maraño hospital that Cora had survived the journey.
“They say that with each passing day with her in a coma, there’s less chance of her—”
“I know that,” Julian interrupted, his voice a little harsher.
The detective rubbed a hand against his cheek. He did not wanting to be the bearer of more bad thoughts but felt a measure of responsibility in giving his boss a small reality check, if only to save him from more heartache. “Then should we prepare for arrangements to be made…funeral or otherwise…just in case? That way we can have a plane waiting—”
Julian slammed his fist against a small side table. He glared at Paulson with a rage only barely covering up the deep fear within. He knew what the doctors and nurses had said. They had been very blunt with him. Cora had shown no improvement in the last three days they had been in Maraño.
But Julian hadn’t focused on that. Instead he had focused on trying to fix everything else. He had turned his attentions instead onto Gloria, Carlos, the murder charges—everything except Cora’s coma. He had worked and worked under the desperate assumption that Cora would wake up. And when she did, she would wake up to a world of no more fear or past obligations. He would make sure of it.
All of his efforts were for a Cora who would wake up.
A Cora who would live.
But if that didn’t happen? If she never woke up again?
Julian shook his head. Looking blindly at the bed, he said slowly, “No funeral. No arrangements. She will wake up.” He looked at the detective as if trying to force him to agree with him. “She will wake up.”
Paulson nodded, his face showing no flicker of doubt or pity. “Of course,” he murmured.
The detective leaned his head back against the wall and began quietly planning the necessary arrangements to bring back home a body and a grieving man.
/>
Five
There was a soft ringing sound.
It reverberated as if it was coming through a large pool of water.
Slowly she turned her head.
Feeling like her whole body weighed a thousand pounds, Cora blinked and felt herself drown in white light.
Echoing voices surrounded her. Cool hands touched her arms. Words slipped in and out of clarity.
Where was she?
Her head pounded with ferocity. She couldn’t be dead if her head hurt. Right?
If she had the energy, she would panic from her sense of confusion but she was just too tired. Even blinking took too much effort. But even as she felt her thoughts race through her mind, she felt the softness underneath her, the coolness around her.
She was somewhere safe. That much she could tell.
But feeling the thumping pain of her head, she wondered if she could trust this feeling of safety. After all, if she truly were safe, why would she be in any kind of pain?
The voices around her grew more fervent. She felt like she was surrounded by a cloud of buzzing bees, each trying to grab a slice of her attention.
Where was she?
“Cora.”
Her breath hitched. Her heart skipped.
She remembered that voice. She knew that voice.
She loved that voice.
“Cora.”
That deep timbre of protection, strength, love. Yes, it was to that voice she would swim towards. It was to that voice she would reach out for.
Her throat felt numb and her tongue swollen. But she could hear her heart cry out, Julian. Julian.
Six
“Señorita, please feel better,” the large police officer said as he rose heavily to his feet. “And we appreciate your statement. It’ll help our case against many of the cartels in this area.”
Cora nodded then immediately stopped, regretting the shaking movement. It was only the second day she was allowed to sit up in bed and she was already feeling quite exhausted from the effort.
The police officer shook her hand and then had a friendly word with a passing nurse before leaving.
Cora looked around the hospital room, still marveling at her surroundings. She hardly had any memories of the last few days. She remembered the shack. Gloria.
She remembered Carlos’s tobacco laden breath tickling her ear as he gripped her tightly against him, the cold metal barrel of his gun pressed against her temple.
And she remembered Julian.
She remembered the love she felt for him and the regret that she would never get a chance to express it.
Then it all went black.
Cora blinked hard to push back the terrifying memories of that night. The fear that she had felt when Julian had faced off against Carlos had been overwhelming.
She looked towards the empty chair next to her bed.
Since regaining consciousness, every moment she woke up, she would see Julian next to her. She would see the hard lines of his face etched deep with worry and what looked like guilt.
She wondered hazily why he should feel any kind of guilt. Then she would slip back into a dark sleep, only to wake up to the comfort of Julian’s protective presence.
But this was the first time he was not here.
This was the first time Cora had woken up alone and she felt the ache for Julian’s presence distinctly.
She wondered where he was. Come to think of it, she wondered where Gloria was. Cora had yet to see the woman and she wondered vaguely if she was okay.
This hospital room, the police officer, even the absence of Gloria—Cora somehow knew Julian was behind it all. Cora had lived in Mexico for the better part of her life and the level of care she was receiving spoke of some kind of higher power at work. This was beyond what any typical Mexican patient would receive.
The police officer had come in and asked for her statement of that fateful night’s events. Her memories were still hazy but she gave her full account. She had been worried that her murder charge would be brought back up again. But almost immediately, the officer had put her mind at ease.
“You are very brave,” the officer had said as he finished taking his notes. “After the attack you endured many years ago…and now this.” He scratched at his forehead and sighed. “Many men would not have had the courage to return, even to save their own mother. You are very brave.”
Cora had been shocked speechless.
The police officer was on her side.
He recognized her attack as attempted rape rather than attempted murder.
Tears had immediately sprung to her eyes. Gratitude and relief overwhelmed her.
Julian had done this.
He had somehow cleared things up with the police and made sure that her attempted murder charge was re-investigated. Cora had a sneaking suspicion that Julian had been busy cleaning things up for her while she had been in the hospital.
The Model Millionaire was cleaning up her mess.
Cora would’ve laughed if it didn’t ache so.
Julian had overcome a neglectful father to rise into unbelievable prominence in the business world. He had amassed an incredible empire on intellect and guts alone. All the while, he had tortured himself with thoughts of his lost stepsister.
He had probably imagined destitute situations for the lost Karen. Maybe a welfare recipient. Maybe a soup kitchen regular. But in no way could he have possibly imagined her real life—the daughter of a Mexican drug lord’s girlfriend, living in a shack in the middle of cartel territories, having once been as low as a beggar on the streets.
And now, instead of heartfelt reunion, all Cora had brought into Julian’s life was chaos and danger. God, he had almost been shot because of her!
But the absolute worst part was something even Cora did not want to admit to herself. But looking down at her hands as they gripped the hospital sheets, she knew she couldn’t deny the truth.
She no longer was Karen Denton.
She was Cora Rámon.
Maybe at some point, she had been Karen, the scared and scarred little girl.
But now she was Cora Rámon. She was the street urchin who had grown up around gangs and crooked cops and had saved enough pesos through blood, sweat, and tears to make a new life for herself in America. It was Cora Rámon who had made her way to New York and had gotten job after job till she rose incrementally up the working ladder.
And when Julian met her, it was Cora Rámon he had interviewed.
Not Karen Denton.
Cora sighed and leaned back against her pillow.
Who did Julian expect to pull out of this wreckage? Did he think that with the death of Carlos, Karen would magically reappear to replace Cora? When he flew back to New York, who did he think he would have with him?
Cora’s stomach twisted and sank a little.
She had a feeling it wasn’t her.
Seven
“Ah it’s Señor Benedict to see you!” the nurse said cheerily. It was clear all the nurses were quite smitten with this American businessman. Cora had caught a few of them tittering in wistful sighs as they saw how protectively Julian had watched over her.
Cora looked up and had her breath catch in her throat at the sight.
The nurse had suggested they walk about the small garden behind the hospital. After lying prone in a coma for several days, Cora’s muscles had badly atrophied. The nurses had taken turns in helping her walk to regain some muscle definition.
Today they had taken several slow turns around the modest garden before taking a much needed break on a bench.
Cora looked up from her rest at the mention of Julian’s name though.
And in front her, came strolling virile masculinity itself.
Tall, broad shouldered, and a face that spoke of a man who always made sure to get things the way he wanted when he wanted it—it made Cora’s heart jump in joy and ache in longing at the same time.
His presence felt so large and encompassing, he seemed to fill u
p the entire garden with his strength. Just seeing him, Cora felt stronger.
She gave him a small smile.
Julian grinned and gave her a roguish wink, making Cora’s heart leap like a jumping bean.
For days Julian had sported rough stubble that was crossing into beard territory as he stood over Cora’s hospital bed, murmuring words of love and encouragement for her to pull through.
Now he had cleaned up and put on a fitted suit. The man sliced through the humdrum Mexican town like a steel cut blade.
