Читать книгу Force of Nature - Dana Mentink - Страница 12

THREE

Reuben was prowling the hotel grounds long before sunup, and the massive cloud wall illuminated by the moon didn’t bode well for the coming day. The scenario was all too grimly familiar. He and everyone else from Jamaica to the eastern seaboard had been tracking the progress of the monstrous storm, which started as a tropical wave that ballooned over the west coast of Africa before strengthening into a depression. From there it burgeoned into a tropical storm that parked for a while over the Caribbean Sea, taunting almost, before launching itself into what the National Hurricane Center had officially deemed a bona fide hurricane. It would strike land in less than forty-eight hours.

He swallowed a sick feeling. Hurricane Charley had been a Category 4 with wind speeds of 130 miles per hour. The hotel had barely survived. This approaching menace, which had now been named Hurricane Tony, was projected to equal or surpass that rating.

He arrived in the kitchen and grabbed a piece of the succulent green banana and pork patties left over from Paula’s delectable meal the night before. She’d been cooking all his favorites lately. The worse things got, the more Paula cooked. As he savored each bite, he decided to make a renewed effort to get her and Silvio off the island. And, of course, Antonia. His thoughts wandered to the tiny bungalow.

He wondered if she had been warm enough. Perhaps he should have lit a fire or brought her a snack.... He mentally chided himself. Over and done. She’s not yours to worry about. As he wrestled the front door open to round up boards and nails, he stopped short. A boat was moored next to his. An expensive cabin cruiser that looked out of place against the rickety dock. He froze, thinking whoever had been after Antonia the night before had come to finish the job.

He’d sprinted a yard down the path toward the bungalow when a voice stopped him.

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.”

His brother stood at the side entrance to the hotel, a cigarette held between his slender fingers. He flashed a lazy smile. “We need to talk, brother.”

Reuben sighed in relief and joined Hector on the veranda, where he got a better look at the bruise darkening his cheekbone. “What happened?”

Hector shrugged and shot a look at the roiling sea. “Inside. No need to stand in the rain.”

“Lose the cigarette,” Reuben said.

Hector did so without the usual flippant comment.

Reuben followed his younger brother inside, suddenly colder than he had been moments before. The hotel lobby was gloomy, quiet, as though the old building itself was waiting for the storm to land.

Hector paced in front of the bay window, and Reuben let him do so without interruption. You couldn’t hurry Hector, no matter how hard you tried.

When he’d gazed out at the wind-lashed palms for a while, and then seemingly studied every inch of the pine molding and floors, he turned around. “There’s trouble coming. I tried to keep it from you, but it’s bigger than me.”

Reuben braced himself. That his brother would admit to weakness was the most telling thing. He was not talking about the storm. “Who?”

Hector broke off, eyes narrowing as the floorboards creaked. “Who’s that?”

Gavin came into the room, his expression sheepish. “Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt.” He held up his pack. “Thought the boat was leaving.”

Reuben introduced Gavin to his brother.

“A pleasure,” Hector said in a voice that indicated it was anything but.

“I’ll just go back upstairs. Call me when you’re ready to go.” He left.

Hector waited a long moment before he resumed. “It’s Garza. He wants Isla.”

Reuben steeled himself. “He’s always wanted it.” It was the perfect hub for him to get his drugs into Florida. The Garza family, led by Frank Garza, was in tight with the Colombian drug lords who flew their products to the Bahamas, using a number of ingenious methods to get it to prearranged spots in the ocean where speedboats would pick it up. What Garza needed was a piece of land with few people to interfere, within close proximity to the mainland, from which he could set loose his fleet of speedboats for any given operation, so many that the coast guard could not possibly nab the one vessel that held the illicit cargo.

“He’s decided it’s time to acquire it. Now.”

Reuben groaned inwardly. Plenty of dark shallow shoals around Isla where boats could lead authorities on a goose chase if it came down to it. Isla was perfect. Garza had sent people before with offers to buy. When he’d declined, one of Reuben’s bungalows had mysteriously burned down and his best boat had been scuttled. “I told him to his face that Isla was mine and I won’t sell it at any price, and he’s not going to bully me into handing it over.”

“And he believed you,” Hector said with a wry smile. “That is why he means to take it without your permission.”

Reuben studied his brother. “So he’s asked you to persuade me?”

“I refused, of course. My guy, Benny, arrived before they got too far into trying to convince me, but he knows we are close and so he asked me to tell you as a courtesy. I guess he thinks since we were in the same business together once, I will understand the urgency of his request. I do. He’s dead serious, Reuben.”

“I can’t believe this. I’ll go to the cops.”

“If you wish, but you and I both know that’s a waste of effort. You can never get any proof to stick on Garza. He’s like Teflon.”

Reuben’s mind raced. He forced himself to say it. “Hector, you’re clean, right? You weren’t trying to leverage your way back into the business using Isla?” He waited for his brother to face him, to look deep into his eyes and proclaim he had not returned to running the cocaine trade that had made his father rich.

Hector’s eyes burned, and Reuben knew he’d made a mistake. “It was not enough to have my wife almost kill me because she didn’t believe me? I’m to repeat it over and over to you, brother?” Hector closed the gap between them. “I made a promise to you. I was out of it. I promised Mia, too, but she wouldn’t believe me, and now I have no wife and she took my child.” His voice cracked slightly. “My wife, my daughter. Don’t tell me it will cost me my brother, too.”

Reuben gripped his brother’s shoulder. “No, it won’t.”

Hector allowed a tight smile, his gaze wandering around the aged kitchen. He touched the bruise on his cheek. “Isla is a wreck, you know. Maybe it’s not worth it.”

Anger flamed inside Reuben’s gut. It was worth everything. The old hotel and the island on which it barely stood were their mother’s legacy, the shining piece of hope she held on to when her husband took up drug running, when he turned into someone she could no longer respect. “I won’t let it go.”

“Our mother wouldn’t, either,” Hector spat, “and now she’s dead.”

The past crackled between them like lightning. “We’ve been through this. She wanted more for us.”

He shook his head. “She ran.”

“She felt she had no choice.”

“Our father loved her, worshipped her, like I did Mia.”

“Our father worked for drug runners.”

“Yet she did not mind the nice clothes, the private schools for her boys, the trips. She didn’t protest about those things, did she?”

“She stopped respecting him, Hector, and that was the end.” He added quietly, “You can’t force someone to love you.” That lesson was ground into him, at least.

Hector did not answer.

A palm branch slapped against the window. Reuben took a deep breath and stepped back. It was not the time. “I’m not giving Isla to anyone.”

Hector sighed. “I know, and I would be disappointed if you gave in. I just needed to warn you. There’s more coming at you than a hurricane, and you were never the ruthless type.”

Ruthless, Reuben thought, is a relative term. Though he wanted nothing more than to live a quiet life with his orange groves and to shuttle guests to and from the island, it might be necessary to fight.

I’m not afraid of a fight, little brother.

Not afraid at all.

* * *

Antonia hurried through the rain to the main house, hoping there might be some instant coffee she could help herself to before anyone else awoke. Truth was, she was hungry, too, but she would not take food from Reuben. It seemed wrong to take anything from him now.

Letting herself in quietly, she saw Reuben standing, hands on hips, face a mask of irritation or concern, she could not tell. She stopped in the doorway, uncertain. She’d just made up her mind to turn around and go see if she could find Silvio and convince him to ferry her without involving Reuben when, to her horror, Hector stepped out of the shadows, seeming not the least bit surprised to see her.

“Like the cat that keeps coming back,” Hector said, giving her the once-over.

Antonia straightened, wishing she didn’t look quite so much like a half-drowned tabby. “I didn’t come back. I had an accident. Reuben is giving me a lift back to the mainland.”

“He isn’t hard enough to hold a grudge,” Hector said, eyes narrowing. “But I am.”

Reuben moved between them. “Not now.”

Hector shrugged. “We are finished with our talk. Don’t stay here, Reuben. It’s dangerous.”

Antonia noted the look between the two Sandovals.

“I’m going up to the cupola. I want to see this monster storm approaching. Maybe I will stay here and ride it out.” Hector walked close to her to pass by. She felt her nerves go taut, and she cemented her feet to the floor.

“You know that I will find my daughter,” he murmured.

“No,” she shot back. “You won’t touch her.”

He smiled. “Oh, yes. I will spend every penny and every remaining minute of my life until I find Mia, and then she will return to jail for stealing my daughter from me.”

Antonia felt her fingers balling into fists. “You won’t get a chance to hurt them again.”

“When Mia tried to kill me, she ended her right to be Gracie’s mother.”

“She figured out you were dealing drugs. You attacked her and she defended herself. She paid for that decision by going to jail, but now she’s free and you have no hold on her anymore.”

“You and your sister, you are trash, from a family of peasants.” Spittle gleamed on his lips.

It felt as if she had been slapped. Her father had been a fisherman, her mother a seamstress. Hardworking people who toiled every day of their lives to provide for their girls. And Hector, the man who never had an honest job, would dare to speak of them with such disdain?

Through the anger that nearly blinded her, she realized Reuben had stepped between them. He was inches from Hector. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Hector’s eyes flashed. “She’s...”

“I don’t care,” Reuben said in a quiet voice that had the current of danger running through it. “You will not speak to her that way,” he repeated.

Antonia felt the tension ribboning through Reuben’s back, through the set of his muscles, the squaring of his jaw. She felt a flash of gratefulness.

Hector offered a half smile. “I was right. In spite of everything, you still have feelings for her.”

Reuben flushed. “I will not tolerate you disrespecting her, or any other woman, in my presence. We weren’t raised that way.”

Hector looked once more at Antonia and then stepped back. “I’m going up now.” He left.

Reuben sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

She was breathing hard, trying not to cry. Gracie, sweet two-year-old Gracie. How could Mia keep her safe with Hector determined to find them?

Reuben’s brown eyes were soft, and he put a hand on her forearm. She pulled away.

“Don’t. We both know you think he’s right.”

“No.” Reuben shook his head. “He’s not right, and even if he was, he doesn’t get to speak to you like that.”

She gulped as he stroked a hand over her hair with the lightest touch. “No one will disrespect you around me.” His fingers trailed down her hair, onto her shoulder and dropped away, leaving a trickle of sparks behind. “Ever.”

She breathed hard, trying to gain some control over her stampeding emotions. Quickly she gripped his hand and then released it.

He turned away. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as it’s full light.”

Skin still tingling, she grabbed hold of the threads of common sense. Hector was bad, and supporting him made Reuben bad, too. She found that she had twirled a strand of her black hair tightly around her index finger. Quickly she let it go. “I’ll wait in the bungalow.”

“You don’t have to. Stay here.”

She wanted to stay, to sit in the worn cushioned chairs in this place that had once been a charming respite, to put away the horrible memories and remember the precious ones, like the chipped junonia shell that now caught the feeble light of dawn. Instead she turned a bit unsteadily and headed into the storm-charged morning.

* * *

Reuben went through the motions mechanically; downing a glass of orange juice, trying unsuccessfully again to persuade Silvio and Paula to leave the island, compiling a mental list of things to purchase on the mainland when he dropped off Antonia. Nails, more water, extra batteries, and then back to the island to secure the boats as best he could. None of the preparations dispelled the discomfort he felt at his brother’s visit. Trouble was coming from all fronts. He could not protect his brother; Hector would find a way to take care of himself. But he could, at least, deliver Antonia out of the battle zone. She would never understand why he supported Hector. It cut him. She, like everyone else, would forever believe the Sandoval boys guilty of their father’s sins.

He knew Hector, knew his faults and weaknesses, but he also knew how his brother defended him when they were teens, stood up for him against a crowd of people who believed him guilty of taking advantage of a local girl. The hatred of the community who was all too willing to accept that he’d done it. The sideways looks and sneered remarks of peers who believed the girl’s story. Cops with an eagerness to convict him glittering in their eyes right up to the moment when they decided they had no evidence to hold him. All because his last name was Sandoval. And when the half dozen boys cornered him at his uncle’s orchard and began to beat him, it was his brother who stood there beside him, taking the punishment, knee-deep in the melee until the cops arrived and broke things up.

That was the real Hector. Wasn’t it?

“Enough,” Silvio said.

Reuben jerked from his thoughts to find Silvio pointing at the water jug he was filling to overflowing in the sink. He turned off the tap. “I’m taking her back now.”

“Good,” Paula said.

Silvio chided his wife. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

Paula didn’t answer as she brushed a kiss on Reuben’s cheek. “Hurry back. Don’t want you caught in the storm.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Reuben said. He gestured to Silvio to follow him outside and told him about Garza’s threat. “You should take Paula away.”

“I’ll tell her, but she won’t budge.”

Reuben experienced twin pangs of both tenderness and worry. The emotions quickened his pace as he hurried to the Black-Eyed Beauty, his breathing edging up a notch when he saw Antonia waiting there, black hair ribboning around her like wings.

Gavin joined them and stood uncharacteristically quietly on the dock a few paces behind. He’d have to be blind and deaf not to pick up on the tension between the two of them. He merely whistled to himself and looked at the birds wheeling above the water.

Hector’s boat was gone, and Reuben felt a surge of relief. His brother was a distraction he could not afford. He marveled at the thick wall of black clouds, massed like soldiers on the horizon. This hurricane would not retreat until Florida had experienced the full weight of its power. There were no leisure craft to be seen out in the open. The water empty of the usual ocean lovers. Normally he relished the early morning quiet, but now it bothered him. He thought about calling Silvio to make sure he’d locked up, but was annoyed to discover he’d left his cell phone at the hotel.

“Look there,” Gavin said, jerking his chin toward the expanse of sea between Isla and the mainland. Just past a clump of black mangroves, a sixteen-foot skimmer tossed up and down on the waves. His gut tightened. Garza had an arsenal of men and boats. Had he decided to start his campaign of intimidation already?

“Whose boat is that?” Gavin asked.

“Not sure.” Reuben sent up a prayer that he would be able to deliver Antonia out of the nasty business. She’d been entangled in his family long enough. Their love was irreparably ruined, but he did not want to see her hurt. He would not allow it.

He blew out a breath when he realized the boat was anchored against the heaving waves. Ridiculous to be out in such weather, but the captain was certainly not one of Garza’s men poised to pursue Reuben. Not yet, anyway.

Reuben sucked in a deep breath full of humid air. Exhaling slowly, he tried to summon up a sense of calm as he strode toward the Black-Eyed Beauty. The smell hit him, pungent and foul. Gasoline. Moving closer he could make out the puddles on the bottom of the boat, filming the seats, dampening the wooden boards under his feet.

“Gas?” Antonia said, around his shoulder.

The crack of a gun cut through her words. He had time to look up and see the incoming flare as it arced gracefully across the sky, splaying a shower of sparks in its wake. Time stood still, freezing him with terror for one endless second before adrenaline propelled him into action. He turned and shoved Gavin off the dock and into the water.

“Swim, both of you,” he yelled, grabbing Antonia’s hand and yanking her to the edge of the dock.

She opened her mouth to scream or shout a question, but there was no time. He pushed her off the dock, her slender body neatly cleaving the water.

When she surfaced, he yelled, “Swim away from—”

The boat exploded behind them as the flare ignited the gasoline, fiery splinters spiraling around, painting golden arcs in the chaotic wind.