Читать книгу Not Without Her Son - Kay David - Страница 9

JORGE ROUNDED the fender and the man dropped his hand from her wrist. Blinking in confusion, Julia didn’t have enough time to make sense of his words before Jorge was at her side.

“Here.” He thrust a small white box in her hands, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the stranger by her feet.

Julia took the first-aid kit numbly. Meredith had sent this man to help her? Who was he? What could he possibly do? Had he really come from Meredith or was this some new kind of cruel trick Miguel had dreamed up to test Julia?

She stared at the man and he stared back at her, pushing a strand of his long, brown hair out of his face as he did so. His hazel eyes held a toughness she couldn’t ignore, their severity a match to the muscular body his shredded clothing revealed. Because of his body, he looked to be in his twenties, but the resolution in those eyes told her he was much older. Several days’ worth of stubble covered his lower jaw and she guessed his last bath had occurred about the same time as his last shave. He seemed poised, as if waiting for her to make the first move, but his look told her she didn’t have long.

Afraid something even more dangerous would happen if she stayed quiet, Julia spoke recklessly, spewing out the first thing that came into her mind. “I don’t believe this! What on earth are you doing here? My gosh, is this crazy or what—”

The stranger shot her an approving look then he struggled to sit up, extending a hand to Jorge as he did so. “Stan MacDuff,” he supplied, looking at Jorge as he spoke. “How ya doing?”

His hands at his side and his gaze never leaving “Stan’s,” Jorge spoke to Julia. “You know this man?”

“I’m Portia Lauer’s nephew from Austin.” His drawl became more pronounced as he seemed to mock the bodyguard’s concern. “That’s in Texas, you know.”

“Julia?” Jorge’s voice deepened as he said her name, his voice wary.

A wave of unease rolled over her as she glanced at Jorge, who continued, “I asked you a question. Do you know this man?”

The biker looked at her, as well. She sealed her fate with three words. “Yes, I do.”

Jorge’s suspicious expression deepened but, after a heart-pausing moment, he tucked his weapon into his belt and put out his hand. The injured man winced and let out a sharp exhalation as Jorge pulled him to his feet. Julia stood, too.

Ignoring the man’s exclamation of surprise, Jorge patted him down with efficient thoroughness. He finished and stepped back, his wariness marginally less visible. Stan winked at Julia before straightening his shirt. “You guys get real friendly around here mighty fast.”

“This is a dangerous place.” Jorge’s reply sounded like a warning instead of an answer. “It is necessary to take precautions.”

“That may be true,” Stan drawled, “but where I come from, we at least know each other’s names when we get that close to someone’s cojones.”

Julia felt as if she should be able to see the tension it was so thick. Her pulse racing, she spoke quickly. “Of course. Where are my manners? Stan, this is an associate of my husband’s. Jorge Guillermo.”

The two exchanged a handshake as Stan glanced toward the SUV. “Damn, Julia Anne, I’m sorry about your vehicle there. You okay?”

The use of her middle name startled her. He was trying to prove he knew Meredith.

“We’re fine.” Her voice was a little strained, and she hoped Jorge thought it was caused by shock from the accident. “But I’m not so sure about you. Why don’t you let me look at that scrape? It’s bleeding pretty badly.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that serious. We can clean it up at Aunt Portia’s. That’s where you’re heading, right? She told me you were coming over later today. Didn’t know I’d run right into you on the way!”

What on earth was happening? How did this total stranger know she was going to Portia’s? Julia hadn’t told Meredith her plans, had she?

“Portia’s is exactly where we were going,” she acknowledged. “But are you sure? I think a trip to the clinic might be in order first—”

“No way,” he interrupted. “It’s nothing but a scratch. Don’t think I can say the same for the bike, though.”

The three of them looked at the crumpled motorcycle.

“I could probably pull the cycle out from underneath if you could back up the SUV.” He turned to Jorge. “What do you think?”

Jorge’s expression remained guarded. Miguel surrounded himself with smart people and Jorge was no exception, despite his frequent employment as Julia’s babysitter. He and Miguel were as close as brothers and had been ever since soon after they’d met at the University of Texas where they’d both been business majors.

The connection registered immediately. There was no such thing as a coincidence. What did it mean that this man was from Austin, too? Her earlier apprehension returned. What was going on?

Interrupting her thoughts, Jorge handed her the keys. “Back up the truck,” he ordered. “I’ll help him remove the motorcycle.”

He didn’t trust her to be alone with the man—not even for the short time it would take to reverse the SUV. Or was it vice versa? While considering, she hesitated for less than a second, but Jorge noticed regardless.

“Is there a problem?” he asked sharply.

“No,” she said. “Absolutely not. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. Is it safe to do this? We could call a wrecker—”

“We’ll be fine,” the biker said with a slow smile, his eyes locking on hers. “Just fine. Don’t you worry.”

Once, when she’d been six years old, Julia had left the back door of their Mississippi home open and a rattler had slithered inside. When she’d seen the snake in the kitchen a few minutes later, she’d screamed so loudly the yardman had run into the house without even knocking. He’d compensated for his lapse in protocol by dispatching the unwanted guest.

Since her marriage, she’d often thought she’d let another snake into her life.

Suddenly Julia had the feeling she’d done it again.

THE TWO MEN YANKED the remains of the cycle from beneath the SUV, the Harley’s fender screeching a shrill protest against the pavement. They proceeded to gather up the bits and pieces scattered around the road and put them in a pile to one side.

“There’s a decent mechanic in town,” Guillermo said when they finished. “But I don’t know if he’s good enough to handle this.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands with it. “He’ll need parts from Bogota. If I were you, I’d start looking for another mode of transportation.”

The bodyguard’s expression was neutral, but Cruz caught the undercurrent of his words. “Good idea,” he said in an equally indifferent way. “I’d hate to be stuck here without a way out. Poor planning, you know?”

They exchanged another look, then Julia beeped the horn. Leaning through the open window, she called out. “Are you finished?”

Guillermo nodded and started toward the driver’s side of the SUV. Julia got into the passenger seat, and Cruz took the back by himself. Cruz could tell the arrangement made the bodyguard nervous but he held his tongue, started the vehicle and pulled it back onto the road.

“Skip the market,” Julia ordered Guillermo, “and go straight to Portia’s. We need to get Stan’s scrape cleaned up as soon as possible. You can drop us off there then go back and buy the supplies we need.”

“That’s not how we do it, Julia. Miguel won’t like it—”

“It’s how we’re going to do it today,” she replied. “Because Miguel wouldn’t like a lawsuit, either. You were driving way too fast or you would have been able to stop in time.” She shot a look over her shoulder at Cruz as if for confirmation. “I’m sure Stan doesn’t have plans to raise a fuss but he certainly has grounds to do so.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Cruz answered in a deliberately lazy voice. “I’m not into the justice system myself. I think we oughta dump all the lawyers out to sea and settle our problems ourselves. I bet you agree with that philosophy, huh, Bill?” He reached over the seat and patted Guillermo’s shoulder in a friendly way. The touch was brief, but underneath his fingers, he felt the broad strap of a second holster. The body guard had two weapons, just as Cruz expected.

Behind the wheel, Guillermo grunted. Scattering children and dogs, old ladies and chickens, they wound their way through the narrow streets of San Isidro, a cloud of dust marking their passage. There were pockets of privilege and wealth that came close to resembling Miguel’s compound with its broadband Internet service and satellite telephones, but most of the city remained in the past. Cruz had been to Havana once and he couldn’t help but compare the two places.

There the clock had stopped when Fidel had taken over—the cars were straight from the fifties, few homes had televisions and even fewer had enough food for every member. Here in San Isidro, on the back streets anyway, time had stopped before then. The cars he saw were older and more beat-up and most of the homes had no electricity. Their definition of running water meant it was running in the street, not inside the homes.

They slowed before Portia Lauer’s home and Guillermo honked the horn. Under a red-tiled roof, white stucco walls gleamed in the bright sunshine while along the side of the house, rows of bougainvillea swayed in the breeze. In stark contrast to the street they’d just come down, the Englishwoman’s villa could have been featured in Architectural Digest.

Underneath the beauty, however, the same realities existed. Everyone had to get along and get by. A uniformed guard ran out and opened a set of large metal gates.

Clearly apprehensive, Julia Vandamme turned around in her seat to look at him. “How long have you been staying at Portia’s? She didn’t tell me she was expecting you.”

“She didn’t know I was coming. It was a surprise visit,” he said. “But I think she was happy to see me.” His laugh sounded rusty, even to his ears. “If she wasn’t, she put on a good act.”

“Portia’s always gracious,” Julia said, her eyes meeting his. “She’s a very special person. I think a lot of your aunt.”

Julia Vandamme didn’t know what was going on, but her message was obvious. If he had hurt her friend, Cruz could expect some trouble of his own. Although pointless, he was struck by her warning. Just looking at Julia, he would have made the assumption that she wasn’t someone who valued loyalty but he’d be mistaken. Maybe that explained her appeal to Meredith. That kind of devotion meant a lot to her.

The SUV pulled to a stop and Guillermo reached for the door handle.

“We’ll take it from here,” Julia ordered, stopping him with her voice. “There’s no need for you to bother.”

The bodyguard’s jaw twitched and he opened his mouth to protest, but Julia was already out of the vehicle. She slammed the door in his face, then turned to Cruz. He limped pitifully out of the car.

Julia reached out and touched his arm. “Can you walk? Should I go get help?”

“I’m fine,” he said stoically. “No problem.”

As if realizing what she’d done, Julia snatched her hand away from his arm and sent an uneasy glance toward the SUV. The bodyguard looked at them both then he put the truck in reverse and backed away. Only after the gates had closed, did Julia turn to Cruz.

“You’ve got ten seconds to explain who the hell you are,” she said evenly. “If the story isn’t a good one, you’re a dead man.”

“CAN WE GO INSIDE first?” The man in front of her took a step back and flinched again. “I don’t know how much longer my knee is going to hold.”

“Did you hurt my friend?” Ignoring his question, Julia tilted her head to the house behind her. “If you hurt Portia—”

“She’s fine,” he said. “She wants to help you, just like Meredith does. Just like I do, if you’ll let me.”

She stared at him, trying to judge the truth of his answer, but he gave her no more time. Limping, he headed for the front door. Short of screaming for the guard, there was nothing Julia could do but follow. Ever since she’d recovered from her last escape attempt, she’d been working out, but there was no way she could take on this man. He was more than simply tough looking, he really was tough and the coldness in those eyes of his told her he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her, either.

He rang the bell then opened the front door and called out. “Aunt Portia, it’s me. I’m home.”

Before his voice had finished echoing in the marble entry, Portia appeared at the top of the staircase. In her seventies, she’d always seemed like a timeless beauty to Julia, her silver hair shiny, her bearing elegant, her eyes bright. To anyone else, she would have appeared the same now, but Julia saw that she’d aged overnight. Gripping the railing with an unsteady hand, she started down the stairs. “Are you all right, Julia?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Portia.” Julia hurried to meet her. “But are you okay?” She took the older woman’s arm. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Oh, my goodness, child, no. Nothing’s wrong with me. Mr. Cruz is here to help you.”

Julia turned to the man who waited below, her eyes narrowing. “Mr. Cruz? Is that your real name?”

“Yes, it is.” He walked to where Julia and Portia waited, his limp gone. “My name is Jonathan Cruz and before you can ask again, yes, Meredith did send me.” His expression shifted slightly. “She said to tell you I’m a bueno gib, whatever in the hell that means.”

Julia kept her face neutral but with those two words, Meredith authenticated Jonathan Cruz in a way that left no confusion. She and Julia had made up the code words in college for guys they thought would be really good in bed. Using the term now for another reason, Meredith knew this would be the best way for Cruz to gain Julia’s trust. No one but the two of them even knew the foolish phrase.

Still, she hesitated. “Why would Meredith send you? If she wants to help me, why didn’t she come herself?”

“Let’s just say I have some special skills that Meredith doesn’t. We thought this would be the best way.”

Julia felt her pulse begin to race. Jonathan Cruz had already scared her, but now he was making her worried. “I don’t think I believe you.” She started to walk away from him. “I’m calling Meredith right now—”

He stepped to her side and stopped her, his fingers gripping her arm. “No phone calls. The lines are bugged.”

In reflex, Julia’s startled eyes met his.

“You’re just going to have to believe me,” he said. “After she saw how things were at the party, she wanted to do something to help you. She said she couldn’t stand by and let your husband ruin the rest of your life. She really did send me.”

“Well, if she did, she made a mistake.” Julia started to add more, then she stopped. Meredith didn’t know who she was dealing with—Miguel was ruthless. The only law he respected was his own and if she got in his way, Miguel wouldn’t hesitate to remove her.

“I’m sorry you went to so much trouble, but you can turn around and go back from wherever you came. I don’t need Meredith’s interference.” Still wary despite the code word, she kept her own plans to herself, only adding, “It’ll just make things more complicated. If Meredith did send you, then she’ll understand why your presence here isn’t helpful.”

“I’ve been given a job to do and until that job is done, I can’t leave San Isidro.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I take care of my own problems,” she replied icily. “I don’t want to be rescued.”

“That sounds good.” His drawl disappeared, along with his injury, and he spoke in a way that matched his hard, cold eyes. “But you’re going to think differently once you get in the jungle and your husband comes after you. You can’t just run away and expect a man like Miguel Ramirez not to react. He’ll come after you and won’t stop until the day he dies. I’m here to make sure that day arrives sooner than he’d like.” He stared at her flatly. “I’m going to kill your husband and you’re going to help me do it.”

Suddenly she felt as if her life had turned into a bad movie and all Julie could do was stutter. “Wh-wh…?”

Moving closer to the bottom stair, he repeated himself as if she’d asked him for the time of day. “I said I’m going to kill your husband. And you’re going to help.”

Julia turned in a daze and stared at Portia.

The older woman clutched Julia’s arm. “Come and sit down, Julia. I think you need to hear what Señor Cruz has to say.”

She let herself be led into the living room. The area was huge and it merged seamlessly with the patio outside. There were French doors between the two, but Julia had never seen them closed. At one end of the vast space, Portia kept cages filled with wild canaries. The birds were singing when they entered the room, their colorful wings flashing, their sweet voices mingling with the sound of the wind chimes Portia collected. There were dozens of them dangling outside, in the trees, on the patio, off the overhang of the roof.

Refusing the older woman’s urging to sit, Julia stood beside one of the couches in a state of shock. Jonathan Cruz took off his jacket and dropped it onto a nearby chair, then he walked to the unlit fireplace.

“I’m going to get tea,” Portia said. She gave the unshaven man a look that Julia wasn’t able to interpret, then left the room. Chita, Portia’s maid, scurried in with a basin of water, clean towels and antiseptic ointment. She dabbed at Jonathan Cruz’s face with an efficiency that said she’d done this sort of thing before. When she reached for the bandages, though, he shook his head.

She left and the birds continued to sing, but this time their songs were more subdued, as if they felt the tension in the air.

“Explain yourself,” Julia said to the man.

“You’ve gotten all the information you’re going to get,” he said. “The only question that remains is whether or not you’ll help me or get in my way.”

“Do you actually know Meredith or did she just give you the words to use?”

“I know her.”

“How?”

“That isn’t important.”

“It is to me.”

He made no further comment and Julia’s mind spun. Meredith had refused to say anything about her time at the CIA, but Julia knew it had ended on a sour note about a year after she’d married. Meredith and her father had started their company after that. Had Julia met Jonathan Cruz at the CIA? Had she really hired him to do this?

“If, and that’s a huge if,” she said finally, “you’re telling me the truth, why on earth would Meredith want to kill Miguel?”

“She’s trying to save your life.”

“I can do that myself.”

“Maybe so, but having some help wouldn’t hurt and she knows that. There’s always a need for people like me. Sometimes it’s the only solution.”

Julia could hardly speak. “Are you telling me Meredith paid you to come down here? That you’re some kind of…hit man or something?”

Instead of answering, he walked over to her. She wanted to back away from him, but she stood her ground. His eyes held flecks of gold as well as green and for the first time, she saw his scar. A long thin line ran from his right ear all the way down his neck before disappearing beneath his shirt.

“Meredith told me she wasn’t sure you knew who your husband really is, but I think you do. I think you must also know that you won’t survive once you leave here unless Miguel Ramirez is dead. You might get out of the jungle, hell, you might even get out of the country but if you do, you’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder because you know—” he stopped for emphasis and repeated himself “—you know that you can’t take away his son and expect him to just forget about it.”

“I understand the dynamics of my situation, Mr. Cruz. I don’t need you to explain them to me.”

“How do you intend to handle the problem?”

She felt herself flush. “I have to get out of here first. Then I’ll deal with Miguel.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got it backward. First you’ve got to deal with Miguel, and then you can get out of here. If you don’t, you’re going to end up dead. Maybe when you least expect it.”

He’d said nothing that she hadn’t thought of already, but Julia suddenly felt sick. She’d been too short-sighted. Again. His bluntness lifted the blindness that her determination had masked. Miguel would come after her. Forever. Or until he had Tomas back.

But kill him? Just like that? Could she stand by and let that happen?

She looked at Cruz. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Do I look like a man who kids?”

They both knew the answer to that question, but Julia was the one who spoke. “No, you don’t,” she admitted, “but you don’t look crazy, either. You have to be, though, if you think you can harm Miguel. We live in a fortress with too many bodyguards to count. He has weapons close by at all times. He keeps me and my son virtual prisoners. No one can get to Miguel.”

“I got to you,” he said with confidence. “I can get to him, too.”

He spoke with such assurance that she couldn’t help herself. She thought of what it would mean if he could really do what he was proposing.

She’d be free. Free to live her life again. No more endless questions about her activities. No keeping quiet when she wanted to scream. No more fear for Tomas and his future.

The thought of her son brought her back to earth with a crash. Help would be great, but the freedom she sought for herself and Tomas was too important to leave in the hands of a stranger. She’d trusted Miguel and look where that had gotten her.

“You’re nuts,” she said bluntly. “I’m not helping you do anything, much less kill Miguel.”

UNDER HIS BREATH, Cruz cursed Meredith. And then he cursed himself. He’d let her persuade him that the direct approach would be the one to use with Julia Vandamme. He should have done the job like he always did. On his own. Quietly. Simply.

Normally, Meredith wouldn’t have convinced him to go against his better judgment, but time was short. Armando had been right. Julia had become a shortcut Cruz had to take.

It didn’t matter, though. What was done, was done. Julia Vandamme knew the truth now, so he had to proceed the best way he could.

“You no longer have a choice in the matter,” he said. “If you don’t see things my way, I can pretty well guarantee you’ll be arrested for Miguel Ramirez’s murder. He is going to die and you’ll be the only one left for the policia to blame.”

She seemed to blanch, but it was hard to tell. Her ivory skin had lost most of its color at the start of their conversation.

“That sounds like a threat,” she said softly.

“It’s called the truth from where I stand,” he replied. “But the results are going to be the same regardless of what we call it. I’m going to come into your house and kill your husband. Unless you agree to help me out, you won’t know when and you won’t know how. You’ll be in the dark until the local uniforms arrive, find his body and throw your ass in jail. That will be the last anyone will ever hear about you.” He moved a step closer to her. “Unless you choose the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Do what I ask when the time is right.”

“And in return?”

“I’ll help you and your son get out of the country.”

She licked her lips nervously, pulling his gaze to her mouth. “Meredith is my friend. She’d never put me or Tomas in danger like that. She’d get us out first.”

“Maybe so,” he answered harshly. “But Meredith isn’t here. I am. And I’m going to do this my way. All you have to decide is if you want to help me and escape, or if you want to stick around and gamble with your future. I’m very good at what I do, Mrs. Ramirez. You’d better think hard before you make your decision, because once it’s been made, there’s no going back. For any of us.”

“I hate Miguel, but killing him?” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Murder is something entirely different.”

“That’s not what you told Meredith. You said you’d kill him yourself if you could.”

“I did say that,” she conceded. “But in the heat of the moment we’ve all said things that might have been better left unsaid. Surely, you’re guilty yourself of what I’m talking about, Mr. Cruz.”

“Actually, I’m not. When I say I’m going to do something, it gets done.”

She looked at him, their impasse building, until he reached out and took a strand of her hair. Winding it around his finger, he dropped his voice. “I’ve heard the jail over in Cali is a pretty rough place but las rubias go over big everywhere. You’re pretty and young, thin and blond. You’d probably be able to cut some kind of deal along the way, but you’ll never see your kid again.”