by Ophelia Bell
“But it made me see that gray area in a different light. After hearing your story and all the rumors that fly around about Flores, I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to cling to some moral high ground about justice and not breaking the law. What’s on the surface doesn’t always reflect what’s inside, and it’s what’s inside that counts. You don’t have to be squeaky clean to be a good person.”
“You still feel that way even though your mom’s a senator? There’s got to be some serious cognitive dissonance being in a family whose livelihood is so bound up in government and the justice system.”
She lets out a wry laugh. “Especially because Mom’s a senator. There’s no way in hell she didn’t exploit as many legal loopholes as possible to help you get Zoe back. She has the power to do it, so she does it. Flores has his own power, as morally questionable as it is, but he uses it to protect people, not exploit them. As someone who saves lives for a living, I’m on board with that. I wouldn’t condone murder, but I’m not above looking the other way if it protects people I care about.”
We stare at each other for several beats, then I chuckle and shake my head. “You are something else, you know that? Here I am about to confess my darkest secret and you give me a speech about the greater good.”
“They said it was an accident. That’s good enough for me. Karma’s a bitch, right?”
She smiles and closes the distance between us again. I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, and bit by bit, that burning knot in my chest disappears.
43
Callie
I resign myself to a long night, grateful for the prospect of fresh coffee to get me through. I’m used to no sleep anyway, but I already worked a twelve-hour day and my second wind has come and gone. The only things keeping me going now are the lingering endorphins from the amazing sex Mason and I had, so I need to get the coffee in me soon.
I offer to stay in and watch Zoe while Mason takes care of his mom, but I’m not surprised when he turns me down. “I hate interrupting her routine, but I think having her with me when I talk to Mom will help soften the blow. You can stay and sleep if you want. Or head home.”
He gives me a searching look over the kitchen counter as he preps a diaper bag for the baby. Zoe’s in her carrier, babbling sleepily up at me. She’ll probably conk out again in the car, so I don’t feel so bad about the fact that we woke her up.
Mason reaches into the freezer for one of the containers of breast milk left Zoe’s mother left behind, a dwindling collection we retrieved from Mexico City. I stare at the small bottle and bite my lip, hot tears pricking my eyes. I know it’s just exhaustion, but I’m so gone over him and his little girl it isn’t funny.
The fact that Emilia pumped a few gallons’ worth of milk and stored it proves how very loved Zoe was. Every time Mason tells me something else about his friends, the enormity of the hole left behind by their deaths sinks in. I want so badly to fill in some of that emptiness for them both, but my own self-doubts still plague me.
Tonight I started to feel a shift for the first time all week, though. Mason’s insistent on sticking it out with me. Would it be so bad to meet him halfway?
He catches me staring at the container and shakes his head. “It’s not going to last forever. I’ve started mixing it with formula to stretch it out, but I’ll have to wean her off it soon enough anyway. When it’s gone, it’s gone.”
“We’ll still be here for her, so she won’t lack for anything. Won’t we, Zo-Zo?” I smile down at her and she coos back, batting her little fist at my hand and grabbing hold of my fingers. When I look up at him, he’s smiling.
“I hope that means you’re not running for the hills. I could feed you some pitiful line about how we both need you, but you know we’ll survive one way or the other. The fact is I want you in our lives. Hell, if I had a ring, I’d get down on one knee right now . . .”
“Mason, don’t,” I say, cutting him off and staring at him. My heart rate just skyrocketed, and my legs went wobbly, but I can’t let him finish. “I mean . . . not yet, okay? Not tonight when emotions are so high.”
He holds my gaze as he rounds the kitchen counter and stops to face me, his expression so very earnest I’d probably say yes if he got the question out. But he doesn’t ask.
“Sweetness, as I was saying, if I could do it right, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know it’s not a good time, but the subject isn’t closed. I’m going to ask you to marry me eventually. I know in my bones it’s the right thing for us both. So just be prepared.”
I can only nod and smile, my vision blurring from happy tears. The next thing I know, he’s kissing me, and all the reluctance and the last shred of doubt I had about staying with him and Zoe dissolve.
Despite the reason for our late-night visit to the hospital, I’m happy for the trip. It feels completely natural to settle Zoe in her car seat and climb into Mason’s new Suburban with him, then ride across town to the Ronald Reagan Medical Center.
Marcella is awake when we get to her room. When we walk in, her face lights up at first, her gaze going straight to Zoe. But when the pair of uniformed Marines accompanying us appear, her eyes widen and she starts to shake her head. She hasn’t recovered enough yet for clear speech, but her anguished, “No!” is clear enough when they give her the news.
Mason was right about bringing Zoe. When we prop her on Marcella’s lap, she holds her close and her crying eases within moments. She seems to steel herself after that, focusing her attention on Mason and the baby after the two Marines leave.
“It’s going to be okay, Mom,” Mason says, squeezing his mother’s hand as he helps support Zoe on her lap.
She heaves a long breath and reaches out, cupping Mason’s cheek and stroking it with her thumb. Her tears have stopped but she swallows and opens her mouth to try to speak.
“Y-you’re al-alive,” she says in a halting voice, struggling to make the words. “I h-have all I n-need. Are y-you okay?” Her gaze slides to me, then back to Mason, and she lifts one eyebrow.
I’m not in my usual scrubs and white coat, so she’s probably caught on that my visit tonight isn’t official. I checked in on her a few hours ago before leaving for the night, but now I’m back with her son and granddaughter. No doubt the circumstances are a little telling. This is the first time she’s seen us together as a couple.
Mason laughs and his cheeks redden slightly. He clears his throat and reaches out a hand to me. “Mom, this is the woman who saved my life.”
I take his hand and let him pull me to his side. He looks up at me from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes so full of love my heart somersaults and I bend down to kiss him. When I look at Marcella again, she’s beaming, one hand pressed flat to her chest. She doesn’t speak again, but she gives a single nod of approval, which is more than enough to signal her acceptance.
As somber as the next few days are, it’s as if a weight has been lifted from both Mason and his brother Maddox. The other three members of the Santos clan are absent, though they’ve shared many phone calls since the news of their patriarch’s death.
His remains won’t arrive for several more days, and in the meantime, Marcella is improving . Her career as a dance teacher made for a healthy, resilient body, and a mindset that favors deliberate, practiced movement. Daily visits from her son and granddaughter provide even more incentive.
The fact that she’s preparing herself to be able to walk to her husband’s funeral isn’t lost on any of us, but she’s determined to get discharged before the service.
I surrender to my craving for Mason’s company and wind up spending nights at his house rather than escaping after booty calls. After the night of his father’s death and all we shared, it’s too difficult to stay away when we barely have time to see each other during the day as it is. But it works out for the first few days because he drives to the hospital every morning to visit his mother anyway, so at least I’m not the one dealing with navigating LA cross-town traffic
.
Marcella is discharged only a few days later, and Mason, Zoe, and I are the ones who drive her home. It’s been nearly a month since her stroke, nearly a month since Mason and I found each other again, yet it seems like a lifetime has passed.
All our lives have been turned upside down, and we’re all trying to acclimate to a new normal, but the mood on the way through town is optimistic. Marcella is buckled in the back seat next to Zoe, practicing her speech exercises. At a glance it looks like she’s just sticking her tongue out over and over at the baby. Then she shifts to repeating simple syllables, which sound like baby talk even though they’re designed to help her regain normal speech.
Zoe babbles back, every now and then managing to repeat the sounds her grandmother makes. After a little while it’s clear Marcella is repeating “mémé” more often than anything else.
“What does mémé mean?” I whisper to Mason.
He glances in the rearview mirror and chuckles. “It’s what we called our French grandmother before she died. Not that we had much interaction with her. Mom was disowned when she married Dad, so we only interacted with our grandma when we went to our grandfather’s funeral. I think it was just me and Maddox at the time too. If I remember correctly, Mom was pregnant with Marco. I always felt like the old bat disapproved of all of us, so I don’t think we missed out on anything.”
“Well, she is clearly thrilled to be a grandmother.”
Marcella reaches across the back of Mason’s seat and grips his shoulder. “More happy than sad,” she says, her diction clear but slow. Then she reaches for me, and I grasp her hand and squeeze.
We pull into the driveway a few minutes later and I’m giddy with excitement. We have a wheelchair for Marcella, but she insists on walking with only the aid of a cane. I gather Zoe while Mason walks alongside his mother, ready to catch her if she loses balance. Her usual grace is evident in her straight posture. She’s as tall as I am, but several weeks in a hospital have made her unsteady and a little stooped. She straightens and takes a deep breath, then begins the deliberate walk toward her front door.
The house is deceptively quiet when we step up onto the porch. Mason unlocks the door, then opens it and steps aside for her to walk through.
The moment she passes the threshold, voices erupt from inside in a chorus of, “Surprise!”
The outburst is expected, but what shocks me is the two familiar faces that smile out from the crowd. Faces that I thought I left behind in Denver.
44
Mason
I was dubious as hell about the idea of throwing Mom a surprise party when she’s recovering from a stroke, but after a few of the surprises she’s endured this past week, we decided she can handle it. We aren’t wrong.
When the lights come on inside the house and the whole crowd appears, Mom’s eyes go wide. Then she laughs out loud and hands me her cane, rushing in without any assistance to greet everyone. She’s surrounded in seconds by Elle and all three of my brothers. Marco secured leave to be here and lifts her in his arms, hugging her tight before releasing her to accept hugs and kisses from Sam and Maddox, then all the other well-wishers we invited.
I’m still grinning like crazy at how happy she is right now when I’m ambushed by a wall of muscle and enfolded in a pair of arms the size of anacondas. My breath leaves me in a whoosh when my brother Marco squeezes.
“Welcome back to the living, brother,” he says and when he releases me there are tears in his eyes. “Jesus, you have no fucking idea how glad I am you’re alive.”
“Glad to be alive, man. Happy as hell you could come.”
He stands back smiling and shaking his head as he takes me in. His smile fades as he glances back toward Mom, who has moved through the crowd and stands beside the small shrine of photos Elle set up to memorialize Dad. Neither me nor Maddox felt the need to give him any recognition, but our sister insisted we do it anyway for Mom, and I know she was right.
Marco leans closer, speaking under his breath. “I have to say, this is the best trade-off ever. You’re back, and he’s out of our lives for good.” His gaze swings to the doorway behind me and his face lights up again before I have a chance to respond.
“Hey, sweet thing,” he says, his voice a deep purr. A surge of possessiveness rises up when he faces Callie, but then I realize he’s looking at my daughter, not my girlfriend. “Aren’t you the most gorgeous girl?” he croons, tickling Zoe’s belly.
Her eyes go wide and she presses her face into Callie’s chest, peeking shyly back at my brother through one eye. Then he makes a goofy face, eliciting giggles followed by grabby hands as she practically launches herself into his arms.
“Yep, I have that effect on the women,” Marco says, laughing as he cradles her in his big arms.
“Ah, Marco, this is Zoe, your shameless niece. And this is my girlfriend, Callie.” I barely restrain myself from blurting out the love of my life at the end. There’s a time and place for that, but right now I want the day to be about Mom, even though this will be the first time most of these people have seen me since they learned I wasn’t actually dead.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Marco says, then enfolds Callie in his free arm and kisses her on the cheek. As the middle child, he’s always been the friendly one who went out of his way to put people at ease, to settle disputes, and generally keep the peace in our family. It’s no surprise that he’s the chief of his platoon of Navy SEALs.
Callie seems distracted during the introduction, and when Marco releases her, she offers an apology and pulls away. It isn’t until then that I see why. Both her mom and her best friend are standing in the corner near the small fireplace. They envelop her in enthusiastic embraces when she reaches them.
Marco disappears with Zoe, moving to sit beside Mom on the sofa. I slip into the kitchen to find a drink, then head over to greet Nina and the senator.
“Mason, it’s so good to see you,” Katherine Longo says, surprising me with a big hug that is entirely at odds with the impression I’ve had of the ball-busting US senator I first met on New Year’s Eve.
“Not sure whether I should be honored or terrified that you’re here,” I say, extracting myself and giving Nina a hug. I give her a quizzical look, on the verge of asking where Wyatt is, when she purses her lips and shakes her head. I read the warning and hold my tongue.
It’s not hard to put together that things might have gotten complicated between the two of them after Nina discovered Chris Longo might actually be alive. During our trip, Callie shared the gist of Nina’s confession that something happened between her and Callie’s older brother not long before he disappeared. But it doesn’t explain their presence here, because Katherine has had the intel for a couple weeks now, so she knows as much as I do at this stage. Possibly more, since I haven’t had much time to dig through all the files yet, whereas she no doubt has an entire team of analysts on it. At least on everything except for the few crucial pieces I held back, unbeknownst to her.
“Mom, you guys should have called,” Callie says after giving them both a hug. “I am happy to see you, though.”
“I apologize for arriving unannounced,” Katherine says. “But we didn’t exactly get a lot of quality time together in Denver with everything going on, so I wanted to see for myself that you made it back from Mexico in one piece.” She reaches out and squeezes Callie’s hands, then her expression turns serious and she glances between us both. “I also have some news. Is there someplace we can speak in private?”
I lead them down the narrow hallway into Zoe’s nursery and close the door behind us. Outside the window, the party has spilled into the yard, which is set up with an awning and tables that gradually fill with dishes more guests bring. Our neighbors from across the street are here, Elle’s best friend Rose Vega, and her mom Leny. Several of Mom’s former and current dance students have shown up to welcome her home too. Our family has been part of the community for decades, and while many people are here to offer condolences for Dad�
��s death, it’s turned into more of a festive potluck to celebrate Mom’s homecoming.
“What did you find out?” Callie asks, before I get a chance.
“He’s alive,” Nina blurts, her voice catching. She clamps her mouth shut and raises her hand to cover her mouth, shaking her head to hold back a surge of emotion. Katherine nods, and takes Nina’s hand, squeezing tight.
“We found more recent footage taken outside Amador’s compound, near the water. A man matching Chris’ description is seen on a daily basis among a small group of laborers who work under armed guard. Amador evidently has a group of who we assume are captives he uses for slave labor doing construction around his compound. During the springtime they’ve been building what looks like a breakwater off the coast below the house. It suggests he’s planning to dock something close, and not his yacht, which he keeps in a marina farther down the coast.”
Callie nods as she takes in her mother’s news, but the grip she has on my hand is so tight I have a feeling she only heard the first part and is just waiting to speak. When Katherine stops, she finally lets loose.
“When can you get him out?”
Katherine shakes her head, grimacing. “It’s not that easy, honey. We’ve been planning this operation for years already. The intel Mason secured for us is enough to move forward, but it’s still going to take some planning before we can mount our attack on Amador’s compound. Captain Watts is on the ground in Belize, putting together a team, but they’re nowhere close to ready. We need to cover every single angle so we don’t go in unprepared. Getting Chris out is only a secondary priority.”
“But it is a priority, right?” Callie asks, her voice turning shrill.
“Honey, finding the right men for the team doesn’t happen overnight. We need to do this right to minimize collateral damage and make sure the mission is a success. Like I said, Captain Watts is building a team. That part is in his hands. It’ll take time before all the intel has been fully analyzed and the plan nailed down. I just wanted to come and give you two a personal update that all evidence points to Chris being alive, and that we’re moving forward on the next phase of the operation.”