Summer Vows (Arabesque)

by Alers, Rochelle

  Her eyes wide with fear and panic, Ana screamed, “Help me!” She cradled Tyler to her bosom, her white blouse stained red with the warm blood seeping from his chest wound. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. The wait seemed interminable, but off in the distance she heard the sound of wailing sirens.

  “Let me have a look at him.”

  She glanced up to find an elderly man kneeling beside her. Her brain refused to process what had just happened. How could someone shoot Tyler and she not see them? She hadn’t noticed anyone close to them in the parking lot. Ana tightened her hold on her cousin’s neck. “No.”

  “Please, miss. I’m a doctor.”

  “No!” She screamed again, this time when a pair of strong hands pulled her up and held her fast. Ana fought like a cat, crying and clawing, but she wasn’t able to free herself from the arms that held her like manacles.

  Some of the fight went out of her, and she slumped against the wide chest of a man who towered above her by a full head. The wail of sirens came closer and closer and within minutes first responders and police officers filled the restaurant’s parking lot. She was barely coherent when she gave an officer the account of what she didn’t see.

  Working quickly, the paramedics stabilized Tyler, placing him on a gurney as she stood numbly by. A crime-scene unit had arrived as Ana was helped into the rear of the ambulance. Reaching for Tyler’s hand, she closed her eyes and prayed.

  * * *

  Ana sat in the family room at her parents’ house, reacting like an automaton. She’d become a prisoner. Easygoing, laidback David Claridge Cole had turned into a tyrant, taking the keys to her car and condo, while declaring he had no intention of burying any of his children and if he had to shackle her to keep her from leaving, then he would. Ana knew her father was incensed because she hadn’t divulged the details of the negotiations to sign Justin Glover, and she’d argued because he was no longer involved with the day-to-day operation of the recording label she wasn’t obligated to apprise him of the proceedings.

  And the media had exacerbated the situation when headlines blared about the attempted murder of a member of one of Florida’s most prominent families. An undisclosed source told a reporter at The Miami Herald about the alleged ongoing feud between Slow Wyne Records and Serenity Records, and that Dr. Tyler Cole unintentionally had become collateral damage. Ana prayed the source hadn’t come from Serenity, because all the employees had signed a confidentiality agreement as a condition to employment. And if not them, the rumors had to come from someone in the Slow Wyne camp.

  Reporters had also attempted to interview Jason, but his ‘no comment’ left them searching for other leads. Basil Irvine did agree to be interviewed, stating emphatically that there was no bad blood between his L.A.-based company and Serenity. He did admit he’d wanted to sign Justin Glover, but conceded when the singing phenom said the music produced by Serenity was better-suited for his singing style and vocal range. His Cheshire cat grin and velvety smooth voice had Ana screaming at the television that he was lying; she was incensed because she wasn’t able to rebut his allegation.

  It’d been three days since someone had gunned down Tyler and instead of fading, the image of her cradling him persisted. An unscheduled gathering of the family descended on West Palm Beach when the news hit that Tyler had become the victim of a possible sniper. Fortunately the bullet missed all major arteries; however, the wound was still serious enough for the attending physician to recommend he remain in the hospital for several days.

  The police were able to find the spent round and a ballistics expert had identified it as military issue; surveillance feed from cameras outside the restaurant and several other buildings showed a figure in camouflage repelling down the side of an office building and speeding off on a motorcycle. The police were able to identify the make and model of the bike, but when the video was enhanced the Kawasaki was missing the license plate, leading them to believe either it was stolen or the plate was intentionally removed.

  Ana had felt like a parrot, repeating the same thing over and over when interrogated by law enforcement officials. First it was the local police, then special agents from the FBI. The theory that the sniper was connected to the military was a cause for concern among family members. Particularly those who’d had military experience.

  Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her head on them and closed her eyes. Why, she thought, did her parents insist on keeping their home so cool. “I’m freezing, Mom.”

  Serena Morris-Cole stared at her daughter. She was shaking and it wasn’t from the air-cooled temperature but because she was still traumatized. “I’ll adjust the air and bring you a cup of hot tea.”

  Ana’s head popped up. Her registered-nurse mother had divided her time between sitting at Tyler’s bedside and providing emotional support for Ana. “Thank you, Mom, but I can get my own tea.” Serena gave Ana a look she recognized immediately: do not argue with me. “Okay,” she conceded. It was as if all the fight had gone out of her when she’d never been one to back down from any confrontation.

  David and Serena had raised their children to be free spirits in the tradition of 1970s hippies and Ana had become somewhat of a wild child. She was never one to turn down her brothers’ challenges and she preferred hanging out with them rather her architecture-historian sister who was the consummate girly-girl. For Ana it was baseball instead of cheerleading, shooting pool instead of ballet lessons. She’d earned an undergraduate degree in business and finance before enrolling in law school, with a focus on business law.

  She’d taken control of Serenity Records once her father retired, while her twin brother, Jason, had become the label’s musical director and producer. She’d negotiated deals with artists who had served time for felonies, yet never at any time had she ever felt threatened or intimidated until now.

  Ana didn’t want to believe Basil’s denial that there wasn’t bad blood between them, despite his too-sweet letter congratulating Serenity on Justin’s successful record launch. But the more she thought about it the more she felt it was retribution for signing up an artist the head of Slow Wyne coveted as if he were the Holy Grail.

  A tentative smile parted her lips when Jason walked into the room. Ana patted the cushion beside her on the love seat. “Hang out with me for a while.” Fraternal twins, and older by fifteen minutes, Jason was her masculine counterpart. He was undeniably a Cole: tall, broad-shouldered, olive complexion, black curly hair, delicate features and dimples.

  Extending his hand, Jason pulled her to stand. “Come with me.”

  Walking on bare feet, Ana had to practically run to keep up with his longer stride. “Where are we going?”

  Jason flashed a wolfish grin. “To my place.”

  He was the only one of his parents’ four children who still lived at home. He had his own apartment in the expansive house and had access to an in-home recording studio. Although he was provided ultimate privacy, Jason refused to sleep with a woman under his parents’ roof. If his dates didn’t have their own place, then he entertained them at hotels.

  Jason had surprised everyone once he’d announced that he’d bought property in Oregon near the Cascades where he’d built a sprawling house he dubbed Serenity West. It was where he spent months writing and recording music, and he made it a point to spend at least half the year there.

  Ana followed Jason into the living/dining area and sat with him on a sofa covered with Haitian cotton. The seating arrangement face
d a wall of pocket doors that overlooked the patio and inground pool.

  Shifting, he turned to face his sister. “They’re making plans to send you away.”

  Ana’s eyes widened until he could see the dark centers of the golden orbs. “Send me where?”

  “Diego said he has a friend who is a U.S. Marshal. It appears the man has a house down in the Keys, and that he’s taken an extended vacation leave, so Diego asked him to look after you.”

  “Look after me!” Ana’s voice had gone up several octaves. “What the hell do they think I am? I’m not a three-year-old that has to be looked after.”

  Reaching out, Jason caught her shoulders and pressed his forehead to his twin’s. “Calm down, Ana.”

  “Calm down! Would you be calm if someone decided to send you away against your will?”

  His eyes, so much like Ana’s, bore into hers. “I would if my life depended upon it.”

  There was something in her brother’s voice and expression that made her pause. “What is it, Jay?” she asked, using her pet name for him.

  Jason closed his eyes, a fringe of long, thick black lashes touching high cheekbones. “That bullet was meant for you.”

  She went still, nothing moving as Ana held her breath. “How do you know that?” she whispered once she exhaled.

  He patted his chest over his heart. “I feel it here.”

  People had always asked them as twins if one felt when the other was in danger, and the answer was yes. And even before he’d gotten the phone call that Tyler was with Ana when he’d been shot, Jason had known something was wrong. He’d been in the studio editing a song when he’d suddenly felt as if someone or something had squeezed his heart, making breathing difficult. He’d called Ana’s cell phone at the same time she was calling him, and he was at the hospital minutes before Tyler was wheeled into the E.R.

  Ana’s eyes filled with tears as she slumped against Jason, who was rubbing her back in a comforting gesture. She could admit unequivocally that she trusted her twin more than anyone. They shared a special bond that gave them the ability to complete one another’s sentences and know when the other felt joy or sadness.

  “You’re saying I should go?”

  “I’m saying you shouldn’t fight Mom and Dad on this.”

  She eased back. “What about you, Jay? You’re also Serenity Records.”

  He shook his head. “Not like you, Ana. You’re front and center, while I work behind the scene. You negotiate the contracts and handle all the legal entanglements. I know that bullet was meant for you.”

  “I go away for a couple of weeks, then what? What if the police don’t catch the person who shot Tyler?”

  “The police have made this case a priority. They’re going to find the shooter.”

  “What if they don’t?” she asked again.

  “Dad and Uncle Martin have contacted a P.I. firm who employ ex-military and law enforcement. They have their own methods of uncovering details the police may overlook.”

  Ana ran her fingers through her short hair. “What about Serenity?”

  Jason gave her a long stare. “It’s not going to implode because you’re not there. I may not be familiar with all the legalese, but I do have an MBA. I believe that qualifies me to know a little about running a business.”

  Pinpoints of heat stung Ana’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply it would fall apart without me, Jason.”

  He ruffled her hair as he’d done when she was a little girl. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  Ana sucked in a lungful of air, held it and then exhaled slowly. “It’s not going to be all right until they catch the person who shot Tyler.”

  There was a light knock on the door and Jason and Ana turned to find Diego Cole-Thomas standing in the open doorway. Folding his arms over his chest, the head of ColeDiz International, Ltd. leaned against the frame. People who saw photographs of Samuel Cole usually did a double-take whenever they looked at Diego. He was his great-grandfather’s clone. Not only did he look like the man who’d amassed a fortune growing tobacco, bananas and coffee, but his approach to business was similar.

  “Did you tell her?” Diego asked.

  Ana pushed off the sofa and approached her cousin. “Why are you talking about me as if I wasn’t here, Diego? And yes, Jason did tell me.” She tilted her chin, staring up at Diego staring down at her. “Where exactly in the Keys am I going and who’s going to babysit me?”

  Diego flashed a rare smile, transforming his stoic expression. “His name is Jacob Jones, he lives on Long Key and he’s not too pleased that he has to babysit you, but he’s willing to do it as a favor to me. As soon as you pack enough to last you a couple of weeks I’ll fly down with you. Jacob will meet us at the Marathon airport.”

  Ana’s stomach did a flip-flop. “You want me to leave now?”

  “Yes. That’s what your folks want.”

  She wanted to ask him if what she wanted figured into the equation. Ana knew she definitely would’ve rejected anyone’s suggestion she go into hiding if Jason hadn’t voiced his fear that her life was in danger. “What time is liftoff?”

  “Three.”

  Ana took a quick glance at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. She felt like crying, but refused to let her brother and cousin see her break down. She knew her family wanted her safe as much as she wanted to live. At thirty-three she had her whole life ahead of her. And like her sister Alexandra she wanted to fall in love, marry and have children. She wanted what most normal women wanted, but there was someone out there who’d decided they wanted her dead.

  “Do I have time to see Tyler before I leave?”

  Diego nodded. “I’ll call the pilot and have him delay takeoff.”

  Ana knew they were flying down in the corporate jet, so she didn’t have to concern herself with going through airport-security checkpoints. “I guess I better go and pack.”

  She walked past Diego and out of Jason’s apartment and into the one that she’d occupied for years. The studio apartment rental and her condo had wonderful ocean views but lacked adequate closet space, so she’d stored most of her clothes in her parents’ house. When she entered her bedroom Ana saw her mother sitting on a cushioned rocker. The strain of the past three days was etched around Serena’s mouth.

  Ana closed her eyes and when she reopened them she saw tears making their way slowly down her mother’s face. “I don’t want to go.”

  Serena stood up. “But you have to go, baby. And you have to stay away until we settle this.”

  She took a step, then another until she hugged her mother so tightly both struggled to breathe. “Will you help me pack, Mama?”

  Serena nodded, unable to speak because of the constriction in her throat. It had been years since her wild child had called her Mama. Reaching into a pocket of her slacks, she took out a tissue and blotted her face. She kissed Ana’s cheek. “We’re going to get through this. It’s not the first time we’ve had a family crisis and it probably won’t be the last. Your father, uncles and the other men in this family will make certain nothing will happen to you. They always protect their own.”

  Ana held her mother as if she were her a lifeline. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she was going into exile without a hint of when she would return. Diego had mentioned she should pack enough for a couple of weeks, yet something told her it would be longer. She was leaving everything that was familiar to live with a stranger who’d assured Diego that he would protect her.
She had to believe him or whoever wanted her dead would determine her destiny.

  No permita que nadie le defina ni determine su destino. It was as if Marguerite-Joséfina Isabel Diaz-Cole was in the room whispering in her ear. Her grandmother had always cautioned her not to let anyone define her or to determine her destiny. Ana’s grandmother had been born during a time when women had little or no rights, and even less when it came to selecting a husband. Cuban-born M.J. had defied her father, married an American and left the country of her birth to become the matriarch of a dynasty. Ana kissed her mother again.

  “I’m ready, Mom.” And she was ready to do whatever she needed to do so she could live her life without having to look over her shoulder.

  Chapter 2

  Los Angeles

  Basil Irvine pounded a fist into his open palm when he really felt like punching the wall. Perhaps the pain would help him forget the debacle that resulted in Tyler Cole being shot instead of Ana.

  Turning a menacing glare on his brother, he narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I get for sending a boy to do a man’s job.”

  A feral grin spread over Webb Irvine’s scarred face. “Do you want to hear I told you so?”

  Basil’s gray eyes glittered like chipped ice. “If it will make you feel better, then say it.”

  Like quicksilver the smile faded and Webb peered down at the toes of his spit-shined shoes. “I’m not going to say it because it’s not going to change anything. I told you that I’d take care of the bitch, but you wanted to do it your way.”

  “That’s because I didn’t want you involved. You just got out of jail—”

  Webb waved a hand as if swatting away an annoying insect. “Don’t worry about me going back to jail. That’s not going to happen.”

  “I still don’t want you involved in this.”