Although it seemed like forever until the birth of the baby, every day that he saw Josephine and her growing belly reminded him that he only had to wait another few months for his dreams to be fulfilled.
He’d soon be her husband, but also a father, though not in the way that he’d once imagined. It was impossible not to remember that when every day some token of Rake’s impending fatherhood stared him in the face, like the fancy new crib that was now sitting in Josephine’s bedroom.
His hand shook as he picked up the glass and took a sip, thinking about the real father and how Rake intended to be a part of their lives after the birth. Even though he’d told Josephine that he could handle that, he worried about how he would. This situation wasn’t like the family he’d grown up in. A loving and faithful mother and father.
He always enjoyed when they would come down for their yearly visit closer to the Christmas holidays. The workload on their Ohio farm was usually lighter then, and a farmhand could be trusted to manage it. He knew his parents had wanted him to stay on the farm, but the Pinkertons had drawn him away because they hadn’t been able to place him in the area.
The allure of the big city had called away his older brother, not that they had much in common. Where he normally toed the line, his brother delighted in dashing past it, frustrating his parents with his errant ways. Come to think of it, his brother was a lot like Rake.
Rake, he thought with a grimace as the liquor’s bite and heat slid down his throat.
He had hoped that they would have made a break in the case by now. A break that would have proved that Rake Solvino was Sin Sombra, but so far no luck. The only luck they had was that Ernesto Solvino, who was suspect number two, was still in Miami. If either of them made a mistake, Martin intended to be there to make him pay for that error.
A strong clap on his back drew him from his dark thoughts.
“Detective Cadden. So good to see you,” said Ronaldo de la Sera as he sat on the empty stool beside him.
“Mr. de la Sera,” Martin said respectfully.
With a flourish of his hand like a magician’s reveal, and a broad welcoming smile, the older man said, “Ronaldo, please. You are family.”
“Not yet, but hopefully soon, Ronaldo,” he said and motioned for the bartender to come over.
“What can I get you?” the young man asked.
“Another whiskey for me. Ronaldo, what would you like?” Martin asked.
“Champagne. Chilled, of course. But not too cold. It damages the bubbles,” the older man said, earning an annoyed look from the server.
“You heard the man,” Martin instructed, and the bartender hurried off to fill the order.
Martin tossed back the last of his whiskey and grimaced once again at the sting of the alcohol.
“You drink like a man with demons,” Ronaldo said and arched an inquiring brow.
Martin shrugged, and as the bartender placed the round of drinks before them, he picked up his glass and held it up for a toast. “To our lovely Josephine.”
“To my wonderful daughter, Josephine,” Ronaldo said and clicked his glass against Martin’s.
“She is wonderful, isn’t she?” he said, almost as if he was reassuring himself, and took a smaller sip of the whiskey. He wasn’t normally a drinker and didn’t want to overdo.
“You of all people should know. You’re going to marry her, are you not? I must say I was both surprised and pleased by that,” Ronaldo said.
He hadn’t known Ronaldo long, but in the last month or so, he’d spent some time with Josephine’s father. In that short time, he’d come to like the man. He’d also sensed that beneath that colorful and seemingly self-centered persona was a very caring man. For that reason, he felt free enough to share his concerns.
“I never thought she would…you know,” he confessed.
“It takes a strong man to forgive something like that and to raise another man’s child,” Ronaldo said and glanced his way. “I think that you, Detective Martin, are a very strong man.”
Martin laughed harshly and sipped his whiskey again. “I hope I am strong enough, Ronaldo. I never pictured myself in such an unusual family. Mine was rather…normal. It may take some explaining to them when they come down for the wedding.”
Ronaldo shrugged and tsk-tsked his denial. “I’ve always thought normal was boring. You’ll never be bored with my Josephine.”
Martin laughed again, but this time with humor. “Yes, I won’t be bored, and while I thought I knew her, she surprised me.”
“Women are often filled with surprises,” Ronaldo said and smiled after a sip of his champagne. “Bubbly, just like my Zara and your Josephine.”
He smiled at that description of his fiancée, because she was spunky and filled with spirit. Those were just two of the many things he loved about Josephine and yet…
“How did you deal with your surprise?”
The older man smiled indulgently, sipped his drink again, and then laid a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “I was shocked at first, but we were out in public, and I have an image to maintain.”
“You couldn’t make a scene,” he said, understanding.
“Of course not, but when I went to see Zara later, it was quite a scene. I was angry. I’d missed so much of my daughter’s life and Zara’s. She had always stayed in my mind over the years. These Valencia women are potent.”
“Yes, they are,” Martin said with a smile.
“But it was not easy to suddenly find out I was a father. Just as I imagine it was not easy for you to find out you’re going to be one.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Martin agreed. It was a lot to handle, and he hadn’t handled it well at first. Of course, most men who were going to be fathers had lain with their wives, so by all accounts, he had reason to be out of sorts. And then there was Rake and Josephine’s “friendship” with the man and his concerns that Rake would not be content to leave it at that.
Ronaldo squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “You have doubts, but that doesn’t make you a bad man, Martin.”
Martin laughed harshly. “I wonder about that sometimes,” he said, recalling his earlier wishes about removing Rake from the father equation. What kind of man would want a child’s father to be a criminal so that he could get him out of the way?
“I don’t, Martin. I may seem a little focused on myself at times—I’m often misunderstood that way, you know—but I can see you care a great deal about my daughter. You want her to be happy—”
“I do, only…sometimes I wonder if she’d be happier with someone else.”
Ronaldo released Martin with a dramatic push and a loud scoffing laugh. “Do not play with me, Martin. It is obvious who has Josephine’s heart and who would make her the happiest.”
As long as Ronaldo was being so understanding, Martin let himself wallow for a little bit longer. “It is not obvious to me.”
With a wave of his hand, Ronaldo challenged him again. “Because you are too focused on the future instead of the present. You need to be more like me and not worry about the future.”
Martin could not have been more confused, since he always worried about planning for the future. He shook his head and picked up his glass. He stared at it, wondering if maybe he’d had too much to drink, because that last statement hadn’t made sense, but Ronaldo urged his hand down.
“I am not crazy, despite what some may say, Martin. Josephine needs a strong man beside her now to show her what’s truly in her heart. If you stand by her, show her how much you love her, the present will take care of the future you are worrying about so much. For example, I wished I had told Zara that I cared about her. Maybe if I had, she would have asked me to stay and I would have known I had a daughter. Been a part of their lives.”
Surprisingly, his words made sense in a crazy kind of way. “So what about you and Zara now?”
A little of Ronaldo’s bluster dimmed at the mention of Josephine’s mother. “I was so worried about becoming a star that I didn
’t see the precious gift that I had been given. I didn’t appreciate Zara and her beauty. Her spirit. I do not intend to make that mistake again.”
Martin considered all that Ronaldo had said and how it applied to him and Josephine. Like Ronaldo, he didn’t intend to make that mistake again either. “I appreciate you talking with me, Ronaldo.”
“Well, of course, Martin. We are family now, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a very important question,” the man said.
“No, sir—”
“Ronaldo, please,” he reminded and swigged down some more champagne.
“Ronaldo, I truly love your daughter more than anything. You do not have to worry about that,” he said, assuming what Ronaldo was about to ask.
The man laughed and clapped a strong hand onto Martin’s shoulder. “Of course, you do, Martin. Only a man who truly loves a woman would forgive her the way you have my Josephine.”
Confused, Martin peered at the other man. “Then what important question were you going to ask me?”
“You are ready for your first wedding dance, are you not? Latin families love to dance, and it’s very important that you’re ready for that big moment,” Ronaldo said.
Martin was about to laugh again, but as he met Ronaldo’s gaze, it was clear he was totally serious. That suddenly made him very nervous, because he had the proverbial two left feet. “I’m really not ready for that,” he confessed.
“Then we must teach you!” Ronaldo slipped off the stool and held his hand out, but when Martin hesitated, Ronaldo looked around. “Ah, I understand. A Pinkerton has an image to uphold much like I do.”
He flagged down the bartender. “Please send bottles of your best whiskey and champagne to my room.”
The bartender eyed him dubiously.
With a twinkle of amusement in his own eyes, Martin stood and laid a hand on the server’s shoulder. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t know who this is! It’s the one and only Ronaldo de la Sera. Be sure to remember that.”
The bartender rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Detective Cadden. I’ll have the bottles sent up.”
“Thank you so much,” Ronaldo said, and the two of them walked out of the Regal Sol saloon and over to the elevators. Once inside, the operator expertly worked the gate and engaged the lever to move them to their floor. The ride was smooth, the operator skilled as he perfectly aligned the elevator with the doorway.
In no time they were in Ronaldo’s room, and he hurried over to a small piecrust table and the Victor phonograph that sat on it. The phonograph had a large brass horn and a record was already sitting on the turntable. Ronaldo turned the crank slowly and gently until the mechanism stopped. He glanced over his shoulder at Martin and said, “Are you ready?”
He wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to embarrass himself, Ronaldo, or the Valencia family at the wedding. After his nod, Ronaldo placed the needle on the phonograph and immediately the sounds of Ronaldo singing to what Martin had come to learn was a very Latin beat filtered out of the large brass horn.
Josephine’s father walked to stand before him and held up one hand. “Come now, Martin. It is just a simple one-two-three.”
He wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his pants and grasped Ronaldo’s hand as the other man counted out the beat and instructed Martin on the steps to follow. More than once, he stepped on Ronaldo’s toes, but the other man didn’t complain. He kept up his patient count of the beat until Martin was easily following him.
Martin smiled. “I can do this,” he said eagerly.
“Yes, you can, my friend. Just one more thing to learn,” Ronaldo said, and suddenly Martin felt himself falling backward before Ronaldo held him suspended just inches from the floor.
“The dip, Martin. It is very important to learn the dip,” Ronaldo said with a grin.
With a quick jerk of his hand, he pulled Martin back up, and after a few tries, Martin was able to execute the all-important dip. Smiling, he said, “Am I ready now, Ronaldo?”
The other man grinned and tossed his arm over Martin’s shoulders. “You most certainly are, my friend.”
Friends, it looks like we now have even odds in this horse race with the start of this wonderful friendship! Look for Ronaldo to be rooting for Martin in the homestretch.
Chapter Fifteen
Repeating her C-A-L-M mantra to herself, Josephine stood behind the hotel’s front desk several weeks later, smarting after another direct run-in with Penelope, although this one had not been as bad as her earlier interactions. She told herself to try to understand. Reminded herself of the pain and anger she’d experienced when she had misunderstood the embrace between Nita and Martin.
And while she didn’t want anyone protecting her, as she had told Martin, it was time to speak to Rake about the situation. She hoped that he could give her some additional insights into Penelope and yes, maybe even step in and tell his wife to adopt a more civil manner toward her. Even if only in public.
She asked to be relieved from her shift slightly early, and the hotel manager kindly let her go. Her intent was to head to Rake’s suite to chat with him, but she noticed him suddenly rushing toward the kitchen and back office areas. She chased after him, but her slower waddling gait made it difficult to keep up. Women who were nearly seven months pregnant were not built for speed.
She pushed through the doors to the Employees Only area just in time to see Rake rush past the kitchen area and toward the office and storage areas. Nearly skipping to keep up, she was about to call out to him when he entered the manager’s office.
That’s odd, she thought. She had just talked to the manager upstairs; surely the man wasn’t in his office already.
She slowed her pace due to the ache in the small of her back and since she assumed Rake would immediately realize his mistake and head upstairs. To her surprise, long minutes passed, and by the time she neared the door, Rake had still not exited.
She knocked and called out his name. No answer.
Even more unusual, she thought. After another knock and a suitable delay for a response, she opened the door a crack and peered inside.
The office was empty.
Impossible. She’d clearly seen Rake enter the office.
She walked in, her hand splayed over her belly protectively, and looked around. The office was completely vacant.
Shaking her head, she examined the space carefully and was about to leave when an odd shadow along one wall caught her attention. She approached with caution, tension in every line of her body, and quickly realized it was no shadow, but rather a floor-to-ceiling ridge on one wall.
She ran her fingers along the ridge and realized that it gave a little when she pushed on it. Laying her palm along the edge, she started to shove when her angel appeared on her shoulder to shout out, “Danger, Josephine. Danger.”
Surprisingly, the devil that rarely urged caution joined in with, “You may not like what you find.”
She ignored both of them, and the gap opened wider. Easing her fingers into the gap, she yanked the hidden door open and found herself staring into a tunnel of some kind. She told herself it wasn’t possible. Rake had said that he would try to be an honorable man and one who would be there for her and their child. The taste of betrayal was strong and bitter.
“Warning, Josephine. Warning,” the angel cautioned, but she ignored her and stepped through the opening. She had to know whether or not Rake was up to his old tricks.
The ground beneath her was soft sand like that on the nearby riverbank. There were some dry leaves, like those from the poinciana trees lining the marina walk, that rustled underfoot as her skirts skimmed over them.
There was a bit more light up ahead, as if the tunnel opened to the outside. It occurred to her that the ground on this side of the hotel had been built up to create a sort of levee to keep back the river and create the marina. The tunnel likely led in that direction, but who would create such a secret entrance and for what reason?
Only a crimin
al, she thought. The baby kicked furiously beneath her hand.
It has to be a mistake. She tried to convince herself that Rake hadn’t lied to her, but off in the distance, she suddenly heard his voice issuing instructions. His rich timbre bounced off the walls, and the slight echo made it hard to understand what he was saying.
Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know. She couldn’t imagine that the man who was so devoted to his yet-unborn daughter that he had put his hotel in her name was a criminal, much as Martin had said.
She whirled to rush back to the office and her family who was waiting for her at home. The sight of something bright and colorful on the ground caught her eye. She stopped her headlong flight and bent awkwardly, picking up a long piece of red ribbon. Velvet, she realized as she ran her fingers across the soft, smooth surface. Then she heard Rake’s voice once more, and Josephine tucked the ribbon into her skirt pocket and continued her waddling dash out of the tunnel, the whole time telling herself that it wasn’t what she thought.
Rake was not Sin Sombra. A man who could be this kind and supportive and gentle and caring could not be a murderous crime boss.
He just couldn’t be.
Aye, Josephine. Did he choose that crib with the iron bars because it reminded him of where he belongs? Don’t let your daughter get too used to places like that; otherwise she might take after her robber baron father!
When the Valencia women set their minds on things, it was hard to get them to change their opinions. As it turned out, Ronaldo was just as hardheaded.
Josephine sat at the kitchen table, the ribbon like a giant stone in her pocket, weighing down what should be happy emotions at having her family—or most of it—sitting around her at the table. She had imagined a moment just like this dozens, if not hundreds, of times while she was growing up. Zara, Alberta, and the father she’d wished she’d had as a child.
Snow Falling Page 15