Читать книгу The Searchers - Kay David - Страница 8

MAYA WENT COMPLETELY STILL and stared at the man before her.

He smiled, his calculating expression as cold as the fear that suddenly possessed her. “All I want is a small portion of your time…and the truth,” he added. “Then I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never see me again.”

“Is that a promise?”

He actually seemed to consider his answer before he nodded. “You have my word.”

She felt as if she’d swallowed broken glass. Since the day she’d left Colombia, she’d worried that this might happen. She’d done everything she could to prevent it…in fact, her life had been designed to keep her past in the past, but if Shepard Reyes had found her, then she’d clearly failed.

Before she could say anything more, Patricia suddenly appeared in the doorway. Maya felt the blood drain from her heart and pool in her stomach.

He turned and spoke pleasantly. “Hello there.”

Maya crossed the room and came toward them, praying her legs would hold her up a little longer, her mind shuffling through the possible lies she could concoct, rejecting them until she came to one that sounded halfway plausible. “Patricia, this is an…associate, Shepard Reyes. Mr. Reyes…” she swallowed, then spoke quickly to cover her hesitation “…is co-counsel on a case I’m handling for some clients in Mexico.” She sent a warning gaze in Shepard’s direction. “This is one of my partners,” she said. “Patricia Livingston-Wallis.”

In her standard intimidating way, Patricia eyed Shepard up and down—then she smiled and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reyes. Did you fly in this morning?”

“Yes,” he replied in English. “I did. It’s always a pleasure to come to Houston, so I take any opportunity that I can. I visit frequently.”

He had no accent, Maya realized suddenly, and then she remembered. He’d been educated in the United States at the University of Miami, the long forgotten detail popping into her head. Renaldo had derided his older brother’s capitalist choice of a business degree.

Patricia responded to Shepard’s charm like a young girl. “Who are your clients, Mr. Reyes?”

Maya wanted to let him dangle, but she couldn’t. Who knew what the man might do? “It’s Sanchez vs. Sanchez,” Maya supplied. “It was a probate case we handled a few years back.”

Patricia frowned for a second. “I don’t remember that particular case.”

Maya started to answer but Shepard turned to Patricia, his expression so sincere and polite, Maya found herself gritting her teeth. “Señorita Velaquez and I were about to go out for coffee,” he interjected. “Why don’t you come with us and I’ll explain the situation in detail. I’m sure you’d like to hear all about it.” His eyes came back to Maya’s. “It’s a fascinating story, don’t you agree Ms. Velaquez?”

The threat was obvious.

Maya held her breath until Patricia shook her head, a regretful frown on her face. “Nothing I’d like better, but at the moment, I can’t. I have to deal with a fieri facias. We represent a CEO who’s on the hot seat right now, and I need to return to his problems.” She looked back at Maya. “That’s why I’m here, bothering you in the first place. You wouldn’t have the Andrews file, would you?”

“It’s on my secretary’s desk, waiting to be filed.” Seeing a way out, Maya took a step forward. “I’ll go get it for you—”

“No, no…” Patricia held up her hand and cut off Maya’s escape. “I can find it. You two go get your coffee, but keep me updated, Maya. Your case sounds much more interesting.” Shaking Shepard’s hand once more, she nodded to Maya and left.

Shepard inclined his head toward the hallway, his dark eyes steady and unperturbed as he held out his hand, the one still holding the umbrella. It dripped silently on the rug.

“Shall we go?” he asked. “I have a rental car out front.”

Maya felt her stomach clench at the way he’d manipulated her, but considering the choices—and his less than subtle threat—leaving the office was probably safer, at least for her reputation.

“I’ll take my car and you take yours,” she said tightly. “I drive a white Volvo. When you see me pull out of the parking lot, you can follow.”

Brushing past him, she headed down the hall without waiting to hear his reply.

SHE’D KNOWN he wasn’t Renaldo.

Renaldo was dead.

But it’d taken her heart a moment longer than her brain to remember that fact. When she’d looked up and seen Shepard Reyes in the doorway, the past had rushed in with him. He had the same smoldering look, the same glittering eyes, the same arrogant air of the man who’d become her lover when she’d been fifteen.

Her life before she came to the States seemed to have happened to another person. In fact, it came to her almost as a movie, the scenes something she felt she’d witnessed, instead of experienced.

Driving toward Montrose with Shepard Reyes behind her, Maya let the memories flood her, the difference between the two brothers coming into sharp relief.

Renaldo had been twenty-two when he died so Shepard had to be forty-five. Renaldo had been sleek and quick, a shadow who had lived in the darkness. Shepard seemed just the opposite—his presence couldn’t be ignored. He was taller and heavier than Renaldo would have ever been, his shoulders broad beneath his expensive suit, his black eyes more focused.

And he was, Maya suspected all at once, much, much more dangerous.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could handle this man and his threats, she told herself. Shepard Reyes and all he represented meant nothing to her and she’d be silly to let him rattle her. His demands had frightened her but they were meaningless—as long as he wanted something from her, which he clearly did.

Which brought her to the next question.

Just what in the hell did he want?

She exited the freeway and turned right, going beneath the underpass. In any other section of Houston, the streets would have been full of commuters heading to work but not here. The off-beat haven of the artistic and gay communities, Montrose never shut down. Slowing as she reached the main commercial area, Maya passed a tattoo place with three people already in the chairs, a group of twenty-somethings spilling out of the latest trendy diner and a beautifully decorated pocket park, maintained, a sign on the sidewalk said, by the Houston Gay Men’s Choir. After a moment, she spotted her destination, directly across from the park.

She’d been to the outre coffee shop a few months before to meet a blind date. The guy had been a disaster, but she’d liked the place, probably because it wasn’t the kind of restaurant she normally visited…which was exactly why she’d come here now. Most of the lawyers she knew would abandon their Beemers in the middle of Interstate 10 before they’d be caught in the Jumped-Up Java Bar. She parked then climbed from her car and locked it. Her eyes went to the townhouses under construction across the street. Despite its eccentricity, the area was growing. To buy a home in Montrose, you needed a fortune.

But a very small one…compared to that of the Reyes clan.

They owned half of Colombia, the half that held the emerald mines, and their power was unquestionable. Renaldo had turned away from a future filled with ease and luxury when he’d taken up la causa. He’d been foolish, of course. If he’d wanted a better life for those less fortunate, he should have worked with the wealth of his family to bring that about. But he’d been too young and foolish to see that.

And she’d been too young and in love to see beyond him.

Shepard Reyes pulled his rental car into the empty spot where she waited, their eyes meeting through the windshield. A sinking sensation assaulted her; the past was about to catch up with her.

SHEPARD REYES WAS a bastard, but he didn’t care.

He’d come to Houston for answers and he was prepared to do whatever it took to get them.

Following Maya to a small café, he held open the door and they went in, Maya leading him to a table in the very back. They gave their orders to a young girl who sported three eyebrow rings and a snake tattoo on her neck.

Just as she stepped away from their table, the bell above the front door rang loudly. Maya’s gaze shot over Shepard’s shoulder and he took the moment to study her without her knowledge. She wore a business suit the color of café au lait and a dark silk blouse beneath it. The fabric shimmered in the harsh overhead lights but not as much as her hair. The thick, shining mass was pulled into a severe bun, and he suspected she wanted to disguise its beauty for some reason.

The thought was ridiculous, he told himself, but the fact that he had it in the first place was even more outrageous. Why did he care? Shifting in his seat, he followed Maya’s stare, taking in the two people who’d entered. They were dressed in the same nondescript clothing their server wore and seemed to favor the same body jewelry. One had pink hair and the other had blue.

Shepard turned back to the woman across the table from him. “Is this where all the important attorneys in Houston come for coffee?”

Unamused, she stared at him with a sudden and heated directness, her answer as obvious as his question. “I brought you here so no one I care about would see us. I don’t know what you want, Mr. Reyes, but I’d just as soon we do this fast—”

“Por favor, call me Shepard.”

She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. Anyone seeing them might think they were lovers reluctant to part, sharing one last intimate moment before leaving reluctantly.

But that image only worked if their conversation was not overheard.

“I don’t want to call you anything,” she answered, her voice tight with undisguised anger. “I don’t want to be here and I don’t want to talk to you. The only reason I agreed to this—” she waved her hand to the tables around them “—was to get you out of my office.”

Shepard looked into her eyes as she spoke and all at once, he was struck by a realization; Maya Vega was a very complex—and contradictory—woman. Beneath the cool exterior, there was heat. Beneath the sophistication, there was doubt. Beneath the beauty, there was pain. The wall she’d built around her true emotions was thick and sturdy, and it’d obviously been in place for years. No one, especially him, could ever get around it.

Shepard wasn’t a man who had insights and the unexpected revelation surprised him. But he knew it was right. “I understand,” he said quietly. “But—”

“No, you don’t,” she interrupted. “You don’t understand and you don’t care or you wouldn’t be here.” Her lips compressed into a narrow line, as if she were trying to hold in her words but couldn’t. “Just tell me what you want, then get the hell out of my life.”

His coffee arrived before Shepard could answer. He pulled his steaming mug toward him but Maya ignored the tea she’d ordered.

“I will do exactly that,” he replied. “As soon as you answer my questions.”

“All right.” Her voice was not as steady as it had been in her office. “But tell me first, how did you find me?”

“The Reyes family has many friends here in the States.” He added sugar to his coffee and stirred slowly, lifting his gaze to hers. “They were happy to help me when I told them I was trying to locate you.”

She took a second to absorb the implication, then filed it away for further study. Truth be told, she probably used the same investigators he’d hired. They were the best in town and even the fact that she’d changed her last name would have meant nothing to them.

“And why did you need to locate me?”

“As I said earlier, I’ve been given some information that I need to confirm. No one but you can do that for me. It involves my brother…and you.”

“There’s nothing there to confirm or deny. What happened between the two of us took place too many years ago to matter now. You’ve come a long way on a fool’s errand.”

“You don’t want to revisit your past?”

“Not the one you know,” she said.

“You have another one? One I don’t know about?”

Her eyes were so dark he had the sudden thought that he wouldn’t be able to read them if the lights were dim and they were in bed.

Her answer stopped him from taking the image any further. “You’re clearly aware that no one here knows anything about…my younger years. For obvious reasons, I want to keep it that way.”

“Because of your career?”

“Partially,” she admitted.

“But also because…”

“But also because it’s painful for me.” Her fingers rested lightly on the tabletop. They were tipped in pale polish and perfectly manicured. “I prefer to focus on the present and my work. Nothing else is relevant. My friends have accepted the facts for what they are. They know that I came to the U.S. from South America following the death of my parents. That I was young. That I made it on my own with the help of some good people. That’s it.” She paused. “And while we’re being so frank, I’ll take the opportunity to correct you, as well. I was not a leftist guerrilla. I did not share your brother’s politics.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She threaded her fingers together but she gave no other sign of nervousness, answering his question with one of her own. “Why are you here, Mr. Reyes? What is it you really want from me?”

“I want the truth.”

“Why?”

“It serves itself. That’s the reward.”

“You’re too smart to believe platitudes.” Her voice was blunt, her expression cynical. “You grew up in Colombia. There is no one truth, especially there. Surely you know that.”

“Perhaps…” He moved to the edge of his chair and leaned closer to her, his words so softly spoken no one else could possibly hear them. “All I care about is the truth that concerns mi familia. And you understand that truth, as well. You were part of it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” he said. “When you were a teenager, you took a lover five years your senior. He was my brother but he was also a criminal who killed and stole then justified his actions in the name of a revolution. And you were right there with him, every step of the way. In the end, he paid for his foolishness with his life.”

“He made his own choices,” she said stubbornly.

“And so did you. But there’s more to the story than just that, isn’t there?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “A woman recently came into my office. For reasons that are not important, she told me something. It was a secret, she said. I think now she gave this information to me as much to relieve her own guilt as for anything else.”

Maya Vega’s face slowly became the color of bones.

“You know what she told me, don’t you?”

“Of course not. How could I?” She licked her lips. “Who was this woman?”

“She claimed to be your tía.” He stared at her closely. “Did you have an aunt?”

“Yes, I did,” she admitted. “But she’s probably dead by now. She lived a very hard life and I doubt it was a long one. I can’t imagine why she would come to you with any kind of secret.”

“You have no idea?”

“None whatsoever.” She looked him straight in the eye.

“You’re lying.”

Her hand went to her throat and the gold cross that lay in the hollow of her neck. The chain that held it glistened in the light from the windows behind Shepard.

“Now is the time for the truth to come out.” He leaned closer still. “Tell me, Maya Vega. Did you have my brother’s child?”

MAYA STIFFENED at Shepard’s question, ice-cold fear suddenly barring an escape. She wasn’t sure, but she thought her heart might have stopped, as well. There seemed to be no blood flowing in her veins, no oxygen going to her brain.

Then he softly spoke. “Maya?”

Hearing her name broke her paralysis. She stood abruptly, her leg hitting the edge of the table so hard it rocked violently and threatened to tip over. As Shepard’s mug did just that and his coffee spilled, he grabbed the table.

Maya was across the street and heading for the park before Shepard caught up with her.

HE REACHED HER SIDE and put his hand on her arm, pulling her around to face him. In another time and place she would have protested the touch, but it hardly seemed important at this juncture. His grip was strong and unequivocal. She looked down at his fingers, and then up, into his eyes. “Go away,” she said. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that. Not until you tell me the truth.”

“I could call the police, Mr. Reyes. In case you don’t know, things work differently in the States. Your name means nothing here. The authorities would be happy to help me.”

“I’m sure they would,” he said quietly. “As happy as the press would be to hear the reason I came to you in the first place.”

“No doubt you’re right, but there are other avenues I could take. I have friends, too. And I don’t think they would appreciate your harassment of me.”

“Are they the ones who will help you become a judge? If they are, you’d best watch them yourself. Friends like that flee when they find out they’ve been lied to.”

“I’ve lied to no one.”

“Your lies are lies of omission. You’ve built your reputation on strong ethics and a solid stance. You are known for being a woman who always does the right thing, the proper thing. If your supporters knew you’d been hiding a violent past, how do you think they’d feel?”

“What do you want from me, Mr. Reyes?”

His black eyes pinned her. “I want the truth.” He paused. “Did you have my brother’s child or not?”

His gaze held her fast, forcing her to realize she had no way out. She had to comply…or lose everything she’d worked for—which was probably going to happen regardless, she realized with a sinking heart. “Yes,” she said finally. “I did.”

Something flickered across his face—surprise or disbelief, she couldn’t tell which—then he dropped her arm and went to a nearby bench to stand motionless, his hand gripping the back of it as if he needed the support. Ironically, the sun had come out and chased away the clouds. It was cool and quiet as she came to where he stood.

They stayed that way, still and silent, until he turned to her. She immediately lifted a hand to stave off his questions. “I’ll tell you everything,” she said, “but I want something in return.”

“What?”

“I want you to leave me alone. I never want to see you or anyone in your family near me ever again.”

He inclined his head slightly. “If that is what you want, you have my promise.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she believed him. She sat down abruptly and her heart tightened, preparing her for the fresh pain she knew her words would bring.

“The child died.” She looked across the park at a bed of antique roses. Strangely enough, one held a single bloom. “At birth. I almost followed.”

Shepard’s features shifted into an expression Maya couldn’t read. “When did this happen?”

“The day he was born—the same day Renaldo was captured.”

“You lived with your aunt…and uncle, right?”

“Until they threw me out of their house the day I gave birth.” Remembering Renita’s fierce fight with Segundo, Maya felt ill, the angry words and sounds as penetrating now as they had been then, piercing her consciousness with fresh pain. She closed her eyes, unable to imagine what circumstance could have forced Renita to come to the Reyes family with her secrets. Praying her aunt was all right, Maya opened her eyes when she felt movement beside her. Shepard had sat down.

“They were unhappy with you for being pregnant?”

“My uncle was, but in reality I had to leave. It would have been dangerous for them if I had stayed. As long as Renaldo was there, the regular Colombian Army left the family alone. The soldiers were scared of him and the rebel cadre he commanded. But he’d already gone into hiding when my labor started. Rumors of his pending capture had been circulating and he’d been worried.”

Shepard frowned as she spoke, but he didn’t interrupt her and she continued.

“With Renaldo gone, Segundo and I both knew the whole family might be killed, either by FARC or the Army, the first because I knew too much and the latter because they could… My uncle was a cruel and stupid man, but at the same time he understood how things worked.”

“You didn’t care for him?”

She hesitated. “He wasn’t a good person.”

Falling silent, Shepard seemed to consider her answer. After a bit, he spoke again, his unexpected words a bombshell in the stillness of the park. “Your aunt told me that your child survived.”

Maya jerked her head up, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”

“She said the child didn’t die.”

“No, that’s not true.” Maya shook her head. “I— I don’t know why she would lie about that.”

“Are you sure it’s me she is lying to? You were young, you were scared, you had to have been in pain. You could have been confused…”

“The baby died.”

“You are positive?”

Her throat ached but she’d choke before she’d let him see her cry. She waited until she could control herself, then she answered. “You came for the truth and that’s what I’m giving you. I have nothing to hide because you know it all.” She drew a breath then let it out slowly. “The child died, Mr. Reyes. Believe me… I saw the body and there was no life left in it. That baby did not survive.”

THE BREAK IN HER COMPOSURE affected Shepard unexpectedly. He raised a finger to her face and drew a line down her cheek with the back of one knuckle. Her skin was the color of marble but it felt like velvet, warm and soft. She didn’t move and he dropped his hand, the whole incident over so quickly, he wondered for a second if he’d lost his mind and actually touched her or just thought about it.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked once more. “It’s very important.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“All right then,” he said quietly. “I will leave.” He stood up and started down the sidewalk. But two steps away from Maya, he stopped and turned. She hadn’t moved and for some reason, Shepard knew he would never forget the sight of her sitting there in the pale winter sun.

“I’m sorry.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

She lifted her gaze, the rest of her as still as a statue. “It was for the best.” Her words had the hollow ring of something she’d told herself many times but had yet to believe.

“I’m not talking about your loss.”

She waited.

“I’m sorry you loved my brother,” he said. “He wasn’t worth what it cost you…but I guess you know that by now.”

WITH NO REASON TO STAY longer, Shepard went straight to the airport. He’d gotten what he’d come for. He wasn’t shocked or even surprised by Maya Vega’s admission of having the child, but he felt she had told him the truth.

If she’d lied, however, then it was just a matter of time. Others would learn what Shepard had and Maya’s son would be discovered. Then killed. If that happened, Shepard would have the blood of his nephew on his hands unless he did something to protect him.

His cell phone rang as he entered the airport terminal.

“Sí.”

Eduard Reyes’s voice wasn’t the stern one of Shepard’s youth, but his father’s haughty demeanor belied his age. He wasted no chitchat on his son. “When are you returning?” he demanded. “Javier has a problem and we need you here.”

Shepard paused by one of the huge windows that looked out toward the runways. They stretched for miles, it seemed, their expansion restricted by a ring of industrial hangars. His father’s bed faced the Andes, and Shepard wished he were staring at those mountains instead.

“I’m at the airport now. I’ll be on the next flight out. What’s the problem?”

His father ignored his question. “Did you attend to your foolishness?”

He’d told his family he was thinking of opening a second retail outlet in Houston. The excuse had seemed reasonable to him because they had a small shop in Bogota already. Its profits were huge, but so were the hassles. No one had been pleased by his idea but they would have been even more upset had he told them the truth of his mission. Especially Javier.

“Yes, I did.” Shepard lied, but followed it with the truth. “I’m not sure what my next step will be.”

“I suggest you come home and tend to your real business before the mines fall in and I must rescue everyone myself. I’m not too old, you know. I could go back to work tomorrow.”

“That’s not necessary, Papá. And besides, you know the doctors—”

“Los doctores pueden ir al infierno.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure they need doctors in Hell, but you need them more.” Shepard shook his head. “Tell Javier I’ll be home as soon as I can.” He started to say more, then he realized he was talking to an empty line. His father had hung up.

Shepard muttered a curse, then continued down the hallway toward his gate, the added worry of what Javier’s problem might be now accompanying him. Every time Shepard left, Javier would call their father and inform him of some catastrophe. Before Shepard could return, however, Javier always “handled” the mysterious problem, earning for himself, as always, more credit than was ever due.

It’d been his technique for years.

Renaldo had been the baby of the family, and he’d always been indulged. Luisa, the boys’ sister, did nothing right. Shepard, the middle son, cleaned up after everyone.

After Renaldo’s death, however, Javier had claimed the spot of favorite and how he’d chosen to do so was simple.

He’d killed his way to the top.