He swallowed. “I’m not losing it,” he said softly.
Calli recognized his lie, too. “Face it, Nick. The US, for whatever reason—and it doesn’t matter what the reason is—they are reneging on their promise. Mexico has not, though. Aguirre is with you and that’s not a small thing. You must phone Aguirre and stare him in the eye and show him you have the confidence to do this.”
Nick pushed his hand through his hair. “We do have to do this by ourselves,” he said. “We’re committed now. If we leave the Rock, it will be a retreat. We can’t leave. We can only go forward.”
“Exactly,” Calli replied, relaxing a little, for his voice was stronger. “So you don’t have the USA with its numbers and tech and firepower. So what? It’s only Insurrectos standing between you and the palace and you know their strength and their weaknesses, too. You push to the capital an inch at a time if you have to. It might take a couple of weeks longer than if the USA swept in, but so what? It’s still a victory.”
Nick’s smile was small. “A sweeter victory, for the effort it takes, most likely.”
Calli was pleased to see the smile. “It will be a greater victory, because of it.”
Nick straightened and lifted both hands and scrubbed at his hair, tousling it wildly. He blew out a breath and settled back in the chair and considered her. His smile was relaxed and natural. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“You just did.” A warm glow built in her chest.
“I did?”
She nodded. “Not in so many words, but yes.”
Nick frowned, not understanding. He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry about…that. For a moment or two…”
“I know it was only a moment,” she assured him. “I know you, Nicolás. You wouldn’t let something knock you down for more than a moment.”
He touched the screen. “I’m glad you’re here, even if it is just a screen. There is no one else I can talk to. Not like this.”
Calli smiled. “That’s how you told me you love me.”
Nick’s brow lifted. Then it smoothed out. “You’re a smart lady, mi amor.”
“I am. I’m also a woman bearing gifts.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t only talk Aguirre into leaving his units with you.” Calli let herself smile. “He’s assigning a diplomat to the big house, Nick. He called her a go-between. When I pointed out that her status was actually that of a Mexican Ambassador to Vistaria, as the house has been recognized by the Mexican government as Vistarian soil, he agreed with me.”
Nick’s smile grew. Then he laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me when I bottomed out a moment ago?” he said, still smiling. “That is such good news!”
Calli nodded. “I wanted you to haul your own ass off the ground, first.”
“So I can do it myself next time?” he guessed.
“Something like that.”
Nick sighed. “Let there not be a next time. I love you, Callida Munro Escobedo. I’m glad you got yourself arrested the first night you stepped foot in my country. You have been a blessing upon me and mine since that day.”
“Consider it pay back for everything you have done for me,” she replied.
“You mean, how I dropped you into the middle of a civil war and got you plastered across newspapers, buck naked?”
“You gave my life meaning, Nick, after I had all but given up.”
His smile faded. “Then I will make sure it continues to do so.”
Calli heard the iron in his voice. Nick had recovered. El Leopardo was back.
He glanced at his watch again. “I’m late for the next briefing.”
“Go. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He nodded but didn’t reach to end the call. His gaze met hers.
Calli knew why he was hesitating. “No goodbyes, remember?”
“Only hello, yes.” He nodded. “I’ll text when I get a break.” He reached up and snapped off the camera with a quick motion.
The screen turned black, and the little broken connection icon blinked.
Back to work, Calli told herself. She picked up the phone and tapped the intercom button. “Chloe, how is the cleanup coming along? Has the guest room been cleared out and made up, yet? Oh, and my suit needs a brush-down…”
* * * * *
The skinny mattress Téra used as her bed was one of two dozen in the warm attic room. The women who slept here had rigged sheets and coats and other scraps of fabric between the mattresses for a bare minimum privacy. It made Téra’s tight quarters a dark corner of solitude.
Sometimes, the solitude was a good thing. Most times, it was not. This morning, though, it made no difference.
Téra blinked at the rays of bright sun blasting through the horizontal slats of the vent, high up by the peak of the roof. Dust motes danced in the light. She processed what the blast of light meant.
It was late. Much later than usual. The attic was silent. No one was shuffling between the mattresses. The only sound was a soft, slow breathing, behind her.
Startled, Téra rolled over to glance at the wall.
Rubén Rey sat with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out along the narrow strip of floor between Téra’s mattress and the adjoining wall. His head tilted back and his lips were parted. He was asleep. He still wore his glasses.
What was the time? How late was she? Had Calli been looking for her? Téra didn’t have a phone or a watch to tell her. She levered herself up on one elbow and leaned over Rubén’s lap to glance at his watch, on his left wrist. The face was turned toward the wall, though.
“A little after nine,” Rubén said, his voice soft with sleep.
Téra pulled back and sat up on the mattress, bringing the sheet with her. She put her back against the wall, not to sit as he was but because she liked to have something solid behind her.
Rubén yawned and rubbed his eyes under the glasses. “I fell asleep.”
“I noticed,” Téra said.
“I didn’t mean too. Not here, anyway.” He glanced around the room. “They must have tiptoed out.”
“Probably didn’t want to wake you,” Téra said. The other women, who all had tasks and responsibilities about the house, as she did, had grown used to Rubén’s presence, last thing at night. They weren’t used to seeing him here in the morning, though, because he always left right after Téra had fallen asleep.
The first night everyone had returned to the big house on the beach after the cyclone had swept across Mexico, Téra had settled on her lumpy mattress with a tight knot in her chest. The twelve hours the cyclone had battered them in the run-down deserted motel they had sheltered in had been, contrariwise, hours of peace. She had slept for the first time since…well, for a long time.
Even in the back of her mind she didn’t want to acknowledge she had slept because Rubén had been sitting beside her. He had not said he would guard her, yet his presence was enough for her to sleep without worry. Despite the gale-force, destructive wind, the torrential rain and hail and the creaking of the motel building over them, Téra had slept soundly.
Now she had returned to her lonely mattress. She knew the dream would return. She would wake in the middle of the night with her heart pounding and her throat tight, feeling as though some great calamity was about to land upon her with both feet. She would lie in the dark, her eyes wide, trying to see the first hint of disaster approaching her.
There was a flutter of sound from the women who slept closest to the top of the attic stairs. Téra pulled aside the old tablecloth that separated her mattress from her neighbor’s. A gauze curtain hung between her and the stairs. Despite the curtain, she recognized the shape of the visitor at the top of the stairs from his height and the quiet voice.
A softer female voice answered Rubén, while Téra’s heart leapt again, this time not with the panic that gripped her in the middle of the night.
She dropped the tablecloth as Rubén appeared at the foot of the mattress. His smile was small
, meant only to reassure. He lifted a hand. “I thought, if you would like, I will stay to visit for a while.”
Téra didn’t bother asking if he had any wicked intentions. There were over twenty women in the room and the lengths of cloths between the mattresses provided only the illusion of privacy.
Besides, he had said he would wait for her to come to him. He seemed to know, without her having to explain, about the fears and the uncertainties that wreathed her mind and made sleep impossible.
Téra looked at the narrow strip of scratched and dusty floorboards between her and the wall. “There is no room for a chair. There is no chair, either.”
Rubén shook his head. “I am not so old that the lack of a chair is a hindrance.” He eased around the mattress in front of hers and up alongside her bed, then lowered himself and arranged his legs, crossing them. He leaned against the wall.
Téra smoothed the sheet over her knees.
“Why don’t you lie down?” he suggested. “The wall is not the most comfortable of back rests and you don’t wear a jacket, like I do.”
Cautiously, she settled on the mattress and arranged the pillow under her head and looked at him.
“Close your eyes,” he suggested.
Her heart thudded. She knew what he was doing. He had come here to ensure she slept. At the motel, he had seen for himself how his presence allowed her to lower her guard.
Warmth crept along her limbs, relaxing them. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“Shall I tell you about my day?” he asked.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she whispered.
“Silence is nice,” he admitted.
“Mmm.” She sighed, relaxing even more. Her body settled heavily upon the mattress.
On the other side of the room, someone dropped something heavy. “Shit!” they breathed, as other women chuckled.
Téra jumped, startled, her eyes snapping open and her heart hurrying.
Rubén plucked her hand from the mattress and enfolded it in his. “It’s fine. I’m here.”
Téra blew out a shuddering breath and laid back down again. “I can’t close my eyes, now,” she whispered.
“Then don’t.” He leaned over and picked up the paperback sitting at the top of the short pile of books beside her pillow. He flipped it over to read the cover. “A Tale of Two Cities. And in English.”
“My English sucks,” Téra said. “There’s too many people who use English in this house. I don’t like people talking around me and not knowing what they’re saying.”
“Especially when they laugh, right?” Rubén said. He put the book on the floor and opened it with the one hand. He didn’t let go of hers with the other. “My English is bad, too. I read it better than I speak it.”
“Geek,” she teased.
His smile was easy. “I thought I was, only I spent time with Chloe today, going over what she needs to hack the satellites. She makes me feel like a two-year-old, when it comes to computers.” He cleared his throat. “’It was the best of times. It was the worst of times…’” he said, in English.
Téra kept her eyes on his face as he read, stumbling over words every now and again, or pausing to figure out pronunciations. She barely absorbed the story itself. Instead, she let his voice flow over her. She didn’t remember closing her eyes or drifting to sleep. She only realized both had happened when she woke at dawn as the other women stirred. She found the floor beside her empty and the book returned to the pile by her head.
She had slept the night through.
Rubén returned every night after that to stay long enough for her to drop into sleep. The second night, she didn’t wait for him to take her hand. She slid hers into his as soon as he settled by her.
On the third night, she kissed his hand and closed her eyes.
Every night since, he had arrived as she was settling to sleep, except last night, when he didn’t show.
Téra heard Rubén was helping with the supply ship, which was delayed by an accident. She had laid down and tried to relax, telling herself she was a grown woman who didn’t need a teddy bear to sleep. The habit of sleeping well was set, now. If she relaxed, she would sleep.
It didn’t help. Rubén was not there and his absence was a radiating coldness against her flank. She was tired, and drifted in and out of a restless doze, annoyed at her own neediness.
Somewhere in the night, she had fallen into a sounder sleep and now she had woken to find Rubén sleeping beside her.
Had he sneaked into the attic during the night and that was why she had slept? Scientists said sleep did not shut down one’s hearing, that the brain processed what the sleeper heard. Had he whispered a reassurance which had allowed her to sleep?
Rubén shook his head. “I think everyone was quiet this morning to let you sleep. They told me, when I got here last night, that you were tossing and turning.” His gaze was steady.
Téra grimaced. “It’s stupid of me. I can’t relax if you’re not there. I told myself to get over it and sleep, then I got annoyed because I wasn’t sleeping, which made it worse.”
“Give it time, Téra,” Rubén said. “Eventually, you will be able to sleep alone.” He smiled, his clear gray eyes dancing. “Not that I mind that you can’t sleep without me.”
Téra’s heart gave a little jump and hurried on. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
She wanted him to kiss her as he had done at the motel. She wanted to experience the touch of his lips once more.
She recalled that he would not kiss her. He would not touch her. It was up to her.
Téra pushed herself from the wall and turned on the mattress so she was facing him. She kept the sheet up against her chest, her hand gripping it hard, her heart strumming. She pressed her mouth to his.
It was a terrible kiss—she was off balance and her pulse was shrieking in her ears, making it impossible to enjoy the kiss. Yet it would signal her need.
Her balance wavered and her lean became a tilt, then a topple.
Rubén caught her arms, holding her up. His gaze met hers.
“Maybe you should kiss me,” she said breathlessly. “I seem to have forgotten how to do it.”
“You did fine,” he murmured and kissed her.
It was delicious. She had not remembered it inaccurately.
His touch and his body sparked her need and ignited it. It was not like the crazed lust she had felt for Lucas De la Cruz. This was a deeper, wholesome yearning, tapping into good feelings.
She trusted Rubén and she liked him, which she had never been able to say about Lucas.
Rubén broke the kiss, breathing hard.
“Wow…” Téra whispered, her body throbbing.
“Yes, wow,” he agreed. His voice was hoarse.
She gripped his jacket. “More.”
Rubén hesitated. “Are you sure? Because I am not even close to being able to judge impartially right now. I want you too much.”
Her body leapt. So did her heart. She pulled on his jacket, drawing him over her and onto the mattress. “Reckless abandon will have to do,” she murmured as his weight settled over her.
Chapter Ten
“Why do we always seem to talk in the afternoon?” Olivia asked Daniel’s image on the screen. “I don’t remember planning any phone call yet we never chat at night or in the morning. I always end up watching you swelter in the hottest part of the day.”
Daniel’s smile was heated. “If I must be sweaty, I would rather be so in your company, my lovely wife.”
“My company and two phones,” she pointed out briskly.
“You like tools,” Daniel replied.
Olivia gave up and laughed. “I just thank heaven for the cloaking software, or we couldn’t do this at all. It looks as if there’s a solid wall behind you, Daniel. Not canvas. Are you somewhere civilized?”
“We’re in a village a day’s walk from the city,” Daniel said. “New assignment.”
“I presume you won’t talk a
bout the assignment?”
“I’m waiting for the assignment. Duardo said to get settled in the city, set up personas and wait for orders. I suspect he’s anticipating future needs. It’s what I would do.” His tone was approving.
“They’re getting ready to launch onto the main island,” Olivia said, a knot forming in her chest. “Nick will move without the States’ help.”
“How is your father?” Daniel asked.
It sounded like a subject change, yet Olivia could track the association that had promoted Daniel to ask. The lack of American commitment, to Nick’s meeting with the President, who had given the vocal agreement, to her father, who had helped set up the meeting…her father, who now laid in a hospital bed on the other side of the wall she was leaning against.
“There’s no change,” she told Daniel. “He hasn’t woken.” She swallowed. “I talk to him, anyway. Talking is supposed to help coma patients.”
She spoke about her life between the day she had stopped talking to him and her ex-husband, to the day she had seen her father again, only this month. Olivia knew she was trying to breach the gap with her descriptions of the countries she had been posted to and the work she had done there. It was her version of prayer. If she filled in the blanks for him then her father might choose to wake and speak to her.
Daniel shook his head. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Olivia. You didn’t set off the bomb.”
“They say it was a boiler blowing up.”
Daniel laughed. “It was a bomb,” he said. “No boiler, not even an industrial sized one, could destroy a concrete and steel wing. I saw the wreckage. It was a shaped charge, designed to weaken the structure of the building and drill through concrete.”
Olivia stared at him, her heart thudding for different reasons. “Bombs can be directed that way?”
“C4 was made for it,” Daniel replied. “Engineers believed they were creating a better demolition tool, and they were. Then the military and terrorists got hold of it.” He shrugged.
“The White House didn’t say anyone was trying to claim responsibility,” Olivia said, her mind working. “Although they wouldn’t, if they want the world to believe it was a boiler. Only, who will swallow such a lie, if someone like you can see through it so easily?”
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