Lone Raven

by Kristi Belcamino

  The Virgin Mary looked so sweet. She had petal pink roses at her feet. I crouched and their fragrance wafted up to me. I looked around. There wasn’t a house or road in sight. And during our drive, we hadn’t passed any homes for at least ten miles. And yet these roses were fresh and dotted with dew, even though it was close to ninety degrees, baking everything else in sight. Huh.

  My mother had been Catholic, but she’d never forced it on us kids. Looking at the small shrine, for the first time in my life, I felt a wave of regret that I hadn’t learned more about my mother’s faith.

  Bobby had believed in God. He’d mentioned getting married in a church. I’d pretended to be annoyed by the idea, but secretly it sounded really sweet. I think if he’d lived, I would’ve even tried going to church. There was something so peaceful and serene about Bobby. As if he knew something—some secret—that nobody else did, that somehow made everything okay. There in the middle of the dry desert, I think I finally knew what it was. His faith. It was always there, just below the surface.

  None of that mattered now.

  A lone raven landed on top of the shrine and stared at me. A cold chill ran down my back even though I was sweating in the hot sun. It was a bad omen. One raven meant somebody was going to die. It was only a few feet away and it stared at me, its black eyes an endless pit of nothingness.

  I hurriedly stubbed my cigarette out on a rock and then carried it back to the car where Austin was waiting. As we drove away, the raven turned its head to watch us.

  We pulled into La Paz at sunset.

  We were staying on Austin’s boat, docked in the harbor. He’d called ahead and when we stepped onto the dock, a heavyset man in a white shirt was waiting.

  “Señor. Señorita.”

  “Manuel,” Austin said in greeting.

  I trailed behind Austin and then my eyes grew wide.

  Holy crap. It wasn’t a boat. It was the goddamn Queen Mary.

  “You’re kidding me?”

  He grinned. “What do you think?”

  I let out a low whistle. “How fast does she go?”

  “Fast enough.”

  I looped my arm through his. “Give me a tour.”

  When we stopped in the galley, a room filled with stainless counters and appliances, he hit play on an old-fashioned answering machine and one female voice after the other came on and asked him when he was going to be back in town because he was sooo missed. Apparently by every single woman living in La Paz. And a few married ones, judging by the messages saying that hubby was out of town for the week.

  He acted like it was no big deal and wandered away in the middle of one woman talking about all the things she was going to do to him.

  No wonder he was friends with Marc. I was relieved that I was only hanging out with Austin to get to Marc. Otherwise, I’d be gone in a hot second.

  “Why the old fashioned-answering machine. Don’t you believe in voice mail?” I asked.

  “It’s for the staff. I leave messages for them on it. It works better for them.”

  Also, a good number to give his one-night stands, apparently. Less bothersome when he was in bed with someone else, I bet.

  The master suite was divine. There was even a small closet containing female clothes with tags still on them. I didn't ask any questions. But I pulled out every drawer in the bedroom until I found one filled with condoms. Good. I didn’t need to catch something from Hugh Hefner, Jr.

  While Austin went to check with the captain, I hit the fully stocked bar in the master suite. I poured myself a bourbon from the fanciest looking bottle I could find, ripped off my clothes and spent forty minutes under the hot water in the shower, until my skin on the pads of my fingers was wrinkled.

  When I got out, I rummaged through the chest of drawers built into the wall and found a dozen brand new bikinis with tags. I picked out a turquoise one in my size and headed to the upper deck with another drink. Austin whistled when I came topside, and I winked before remembering I was wearing dark sunglasses.

  Austin was holding a beer. I clinked my glass to his and kissed him long and hard.

  I spent the next day alternating between sunbathing and martial arts practice.

  Austin was amused. I left the knives in my bag, but told him if he was lucky I’d show him my real skills later, how deadly I was with weapons. He’d laughed but looked a little frightened. Good.

  By late afternoon, I was firmly ensconced in a lounge chair, only lifting my head occasionally to chug water and reapply coconut tanning oil. Austin said Marc would be in late that evening. I had a few hours to soak up some sun.

  Meanwhile, Austin was busy playing an idiotic video game in the lifestyle room. It’s as if he was making up for a few days on the beach without technology. Getting his fix. He was an overgrown baby. Like many men. But worse.

  That’s okay. I’m wasn’t there for love. I was there to find Marc. And Cassie. I’d know more in a few hours.

  If Marc showed up with Cassie on his arm, then I’d try to be more open-minded about her. Dante must like her for a reason. I’m sure I saw her when she was at her worst, shit-faced, coming off a bad split up.

  However, if Marc showed up without her and didn’t have a good excuse? Game on.

  After an amazing dinner of saffron rice with clams, scallops, and shrimp, I fended Austin off for another go around by telling him I was tired. It was nearly midnight, and I was smoking a cigarette in the darkness of the prow. The lights of La Paz were behind me and the dark ocean before me. A Tiki torch nearby was the only light on my end of the yacht. I glanced at the other boats docked nearby. There wasn’t a sign of life. It would be romantic to be here if you were with someone you loved. Bobby’s smiling face was starting to fade in my memory, becoming slightly blurry around the edges. I was only able to see snippets of his face: His eyes. Or his mouth. Or a sliver of his cheekbone. But not the whole face. It sent panic surging through me. I clutched my side and closed my eyes. I heard voices and then a whoop from the other end of the yacht.

  Marc.

  Chapter Nine

  Dark sea

  I finished my cigarette, lit another one, and waited. I looked out at the dark sea. There was no moon tonight. The sea beyond was dark and sinister, sending a chill down my spine. Far in the distance a small green light from a boat flickered across the vast blackness.

  The wind brought wisps of words from the other end of the yacht. I listened for Cassie’s high-pitched voice, but only heard low rumblings.

  The creak of the teak wood under my feet made me tense up. Then Marc was at my side.

  He was alone.

  “Where’s Cassie?” My voice was flat.

  “What?” To his credit, he sounded genuinely surprised.

  I turned toward him and watched his eyes in the flickering light from the Tiki torch. Not speaking. I wouldn’t give him an inch. I raised one eyebrow and waited while he squirmed.

  A kaleidoscope of emotions scattered across his face.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “No.” I said, wondering if I was lying.

  “I haven’t seen her since the restaurant in Mulegé.”

  Dread washed over me. This was bad. But I couldn’t let it show.

  “Neither have we.” I watched him carefully. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He chewed on the inside of his mouth. I was certain he wasn’t aware he was doing it. It was a tell. Like in poker. He was definitely nervous.

  He laughed. A hollow sound. “Weird.”

  “I know.”

  Austin appeared, holding two glasses.

  “I had to dig around in the hold, but I found it. As promised. The finest.” He handed Marc a glass and ignored me.

  “You’re the man.” Marc slapped him on the back. He cast another glance at me. I chewed on my inner cheek, watching him.

  I’m on to you.

  As if sensing the tension between us, Austin slung his arm around my shoulder, possessively. My instinct was to rip his arm off, but I relax
ed. Let Marc think we were a thing.

  “Gia and I are going swimming at Todos Santos tomorrow, want to come?”

  News to me.

  “It’s some party celebrating someone’s new hedge fund or something,” Austin said. “I promised Nick I’d drop off my copy of The Force for him before we left for Costa Rica. We can take off the day after.”

  “Damn good book.” Marc nodded at me. “I’m in. I got no schedule.”

  I yawned exaggeratedly. “I’m exhausted. I’ll let you two catch up and see you in the morning.”

  Austin crawled into bed late, so stoned or drunk that he fell asleep halfway through his half-hearted attempts to seduce me.

  I stumbled out of bed at eleven. Austin’s spot beside me was empty. The smell of bacon lured me topside.

  Marc and Austin sat at a table sipping coffee and eating bacon, eggs, and toast. They both look wrecked. I pulled my sunglasses down and stepped into the sun, tugging my sweater tighter over my silky nightgown.

  “Morning.” Austin was chipper. Annoying.

  I nodded and gulped my coffee. I piled bacon and eggs onto my plate from a platter in the center of the table and smothered it with hot sauce.

  By my second cup of coffee and my second plate of food, I felt halfway normal. Neither of the men had spoken, just grunted and shoveled food from plate to mouth. A man in a white shirt kept our table stocked with food.

  “What time we leaving?” I finally asked.

  Austin looked at his watch. “An hour.”

  I pushed back from the table. “I’m hitting the shower.”

  I’d only been in the bathroom for a minute, when I remembered I had a razor in my bag to shave my legs.

  Grabbing a towel that barely covered me, I stepped into the bedroom. And froze.

  Marc was standing by the bed, his hand deep in my bag, which I’d left on top of the bed.

  He met my eyes. The only sound was water dripping from my wet hair onto the sleek teakwood floor.

  My eyes dropped to my bag. The missing persons poster with Marc’s face on it was somewhere inside. Not to mention my knives in the hidden compartment. Too late, I realized I should’ve hidden the poster with them.

  “Austin said you might have an extra pack of smokes,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. Was he nervous? His hand came out of my bag and dropped to his side.

  I nodded at my nightstand. “Over there.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t look. Or move to get them.

  “Go ahead and take them.” My heart was pounding in my throat. All I wanted was for him to leave. I wondered if anyone would hear me if I screamed.

  His hand dropped to his side. He tilted his head, his mouth partway open. The vein on the side of his neck pulsed.

  I pulled the towel tighter around my bare breasts and swallowed.

  “Why are you here?” His voice was low and dangerous.

  My breath caught in my throat. Keep your cool, Santella.

  “Look around at this place. Why do you think?” I kept my voice blasé. Play the playgirl. Even though I was fairly certain my wealth exceeded my hosts. “And he’s not so bad in the sack, either.”

  Marc was silent. I looked over. His eyes flashed with anger. I’d embarked on dangerous ground. His eyes roamed my body. He licked his lips.

  Leaning over the bed, knowing the towel was riding up behind me, I reached for my gold pack of Dunhill cigarettes. I tapped two out, lit them and then walked to the end of the bed where he stood, forcing myself not to look down into my bag.

  Keeping my eyes on his, I put one of the lit cigarettes between his lips, letting my fingers linger at his mouth, feeling a swell of both lust and terror. He grabbed my wrist and yanked my body close to his, pushing himself up against me suggestively. I drew back as much as I could, but he held my wrist in a vice-like grip, preventing me from moving away.

  “I don’t fuck players.” I tried to keep my voice light, nonchalant.

  An icy trickle of fear ran through me. I needed to play it cool and fight against what my body yearned to do: Fuck him up. I knew exactly how to extract myself from his hold. In a hot second. My instincts as a martial artist throbbed, eager to act. I could disable him in an instant. So why did I feel so afraid? Why had I hesitated?

  He was still silent.

  “You’re the one who disappeared on me.” I tried to sound irritated and jealous. I waited, holding my breath. His move.

  “Excuse me?” A vein in his neck throbbed with anger. “You left the motel room without a note or waking me up…”

  He was right.

  From somewhere above I heard Austin shout something. It sounded like Marc’s name. It was enough to get Marc to release my wrist.

  He leaned in close as he spoke so I could feel the warmth of his breath. “You think Austin is better in bed than me?”

  I examined his face. Was he really just a jealous lover, or did he suspect something? I lifted my chin. “I never said that.”

  “The pack?” He stretched out his hand. I searched his eyes. He smiled. I smiled back even though my hand was trembling as I placed the pack into his open palm.

  “Nearly forgot.” I tried not to let the relief show in my voice.

  I waited until he walked out and then I rushed over and locked the bedroom door behind him, heart pounding. Peeking in my bag, I couldn’t tell if he’d seen the poster or the knives. The knives were still sheathed in the bottom of my bag. The poster was unfolded and toward the top. I couldn’t remember if it was how I’d left it.

  I smoothed it out and stared at the man’s face before folding it into a tiny square and tucking it into a pair of rolled up socks.

  I zipped up my bag and tucked it under the bed.

  I’m on to you, Marc. Or James. Or whatever your name is.

  Chapter Ten

  Bonfire

  Marc sat in the backseat right behind me for the hour-long drive to Todos Santos. Every once in a while, I’d glance at the side-view mirror and catch him staring at me. I kept my dark sunglasses on and tried to ignore him. But I couldn’t deny the shock of fear that his gaze provoked. If he’d seen the poster, I was fucked. But if he had, why hadn’t he said anything? It worried me.

  I scrambled to figure out a plan. I didn’t want to admit it, but it sure felt like I was in over my head. Tonight, when we were back in La Paz, I’d make some excuse to go into town and call my lawyer, Sal, back in California. He wasn’t just my lawyer. Sal was a long-time family friend. And over the past few months, he’d turned into a confidant for me, now that Dante had left me high and dry. If I were in the mob, he’d be my consigliere.

  Thinking of the Mafia reminded me that I still carried my aunt’s card in my wallet. But I’d memorized the phone number of the Queen of Spades. If things got really bad, I could call on her and her army of female assassins. But right now, I could handle it. And Marc. After all, I’d dealt with Mafia bosses. I could handle some con man, who was, at best, a heartless playboy, and at worst—a stone cold killer.

  Keeping my sunglasses on, I watched Marc at the party.

  Bowls of food covered Mexican blankets spread out on the sand. Chips. Salsa. Guacamole. Pasta salads. Sub sandwiches. Fruit salads. Quinoa salads. Massive ice chests with drinks surrounded the spread and served as handy seats. People wandered around drinking or swam or lay lazily in the sun.

  I was bored.

  Stretched out on a blanket, I pretended to nap while I watched Marc for signs that he was suspicious of me. Austin was off surfing. I waited for Marc to join him, but he kept brushing away the suggestion. I caught him looking over at me several times, but pretended not to notice.

  Was he sticking around because of me? So, he could confront me? Or worse? Did he know I was on to him, or did he just want to fuck me again out of some sense of ownership or jealousy?

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as Marc glommed onto some tipsy young woman. It was if the drunk ones had a bullseye on them when it came to Marc. But this one was
young. Looked barely old enough to drink.

  They were curled on a blanket kissing. Every once in a while, he’d lift his head to look at me. Brother. After he did it for the third time, I decided I’d had enough.

  Grabbing a towel, I headed toward the water. The waves looked too big and crazy where the guys were surfing. Not to mention I wasn’t keen to get a surfboard to the head, so I wandered down to a small beach bordered by an eight-foot-high bluff. I found well-trod earthen stairs that led to the water. I splashed in the sea. The water felt wonderful. The sand under my feet was silken. I walked out until the water was up to my neck and began to swim.

  I hadn’t been in the ocean since Italy when I swam with the whale sharks. The memory brought tears to my eyes. I’d done it for Bobby, who was a marine biologist and had dreamed of swimming with the magnificent creatures.

  Now, I ducked my head underwater. I didn’t have time to grieve. I surfaced and looked around. I was further out than I’d thought. It’d happened so fast. My arms and legs were already feeling the strain of my swim.

  That’s when I noticed that the sea around me had grown eerily calm. The crashing waves had disappeared. The water was like glass around me. At the same moment I realized this, I was violently pulled out to sea and flung around by thrashing waves.

  Terror surged through my limbs.

  A riptide.

  No matter how hard I paddled, the current was swiftly pushing me further out to sea. Facing the shore, I spotted a tiny figure on the bluff. I raised an arm in the hopes that the person would spot me flailing around. As I did, a tremendous wave smacked down on me, pummeling me as it dragged me into the depths, churning violently and flinging me around like a rag doll. The white roiling mass sucked me deep until I was completely out of air.