by Linda Bond
When the cashier recognized Rebecca, she knew she had to get straight to her TV station and take control of the information that was about to explode onto the public stage.
Rebecca knew from experience that the first words and pictures to hit the internet would be the ones to go viral. She wanted to make sure she was the one putting those words and images out. She didn’t want the announcement of her return posted first on some cashier’s Instagram. That’s why, despite her still-bloody, dirty clothes and her scratched-up legs, she and Dallas had come straight to the TV station. And called their news director in, immediately.
It was a little after 9:00 p.m. They had just enough time before the eleven o’clock news to put a story together that would explain how she and Dallas ended up in Cuba, and how they managed to get away. After that, they’d archive all the raw video, just in case the Tampa police requested to see it. Truth was, Rebecca had no idea how the legal ramifications of their trip to Cuba would play out. Dallas had been on his game the whole time, documenting everything. And she bet that video would save them from any legal charges. Just like Antonio had said when she first met him. Video does not lie.
Dallas was searching through video he’d uploaded onto his Mac laptop. “Let’s start with video of Ignado’s shooting and our escape. ‘Cause that video is the shiz, like a freaking James Bond action spectacular, if I do say so myself.”
His unique humor had grounded her through their years working together and most certainly in these last days. “Hey, Dallas,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
The big guy shuffled a bit before giving a slight nod. A moment later, he turned his full attention to the video screen.
The sound was up fully, and hearing her own scream gave Rebecca chills. “I can’t believe how giddy you are about what has happened.”
Dallas shrugged, his back to her while he started editing their video. “Man, just glad to be back in the good ole US of A. That Big Mac made me a happy man. That shower on La Libertad helped, too.”
They’d both showered, but had no new clothes available to put on. Least of her concerns right now. “Dallas, stop the video right there.” She stared at her own image standing on the deck of the La Libertad, arms straight in front of her, Antonio’s gun in her hands. Dallas had been shooting from behind, so it was obvious she was pointing the gun at Ignado. “We need to make it clear Ignado is the man who kidnapped us in Tampa and that, although he’s now dead, I didn’t shoot him.” She leaned over and tapped the computer screen. “You’ve got me on camera pointing a gun at him, then he falls overboard.”
“Hey, hand me some more fries, will ya?”
“Dallas.” Was he serious? He’d already polished off his own bag.
“I got ya.” He turned and reached behind him, plopping a handful of her fries into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed.
She tapped her foot.
“Damn, Mickey D’s can make some fries. You never see your gun go off, so relax, Jesse James. Any good cop will know from the video you didn’t shoot Ignado, someone else did.”
Jose Carlos. And he was probably already on La Libertad heading back to Cuba to search for Antonio.
“You think Ignado dying will clear Antonio of kidnapping charges?” Ignado was the one captured on video kidnapping her and Dallas from the Tampa courthouse. They’d seen that video replayed on the news while in Miami. “And we’ve got him falling overboard with a bullet in him. Maybe Antonio…”
Dallas abruptly stopped editing and swung around in his chair. “You sleeping with that cat?”
Rebecca held her breath. “Is that what you think?”
He turned back around. “I think you’re hot for the guy.”
Hot doesn’t even begin to describe the range of feelings I have for him. “If I am, does that make me crazy? He’s not really a bad person. You know that. He risked his life for his sister and her son, he is loyal to his friends, he is…”
“You don’t have to sell him to me. I’m a fan, too.”
She let her shoulders drop. “Can we keep that between us for now?”
“What? That I’m a fan?” Dallas chuckled and then made another quick edit. “Look mama, what you do behind closed doors, or behind the white sheet over the door, is your business.”
Oh my God. He knew. Had she and Antonio been loud or something? “Okay, after you finish that edit, let’s see what video we can use to set up the real story. People will want to know why we were kidnapped. We can show…”
“Why were you kidnapped?” Stan Delamonte, the station’s news director, pushed into the edit bay, all six four of him.
She jumped up.
Stan pulled her into an awkward boss-employee hug, pushing back quickly and glancing down at her bloodied clothes. “You okay? Do we need to get you to a hospital?”
“No, no.” She took a step back, running a hand over her hair. She hadn’t even considered what a mess she must look like. “We took a shower on the boat, but didn’t have clothes to change into.”
“You have blood all over you.” Stan’s gaze raked over her.
“It’s not mine, Stan.” Well, some of it was. From the scratches all over her skin made by the brush in the woods. She glanced down. Yep, she looked like the victim of a horror movie. They didn’t have Band-Aids and Neosporin readily available in Cuba.
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.” She blocked his exit. “I’m fine. So is Dallas. We have to keep editing this video. But I’m glad you’re here to see and approve it.”
“Yep, all good here, mate.” Dallas fast-forwarded the video back to the place where Ignado had been shot and had fallen overboard.
“That’s the man who kidnapped you?” Stan’s mouth dropped open when he saw the part with Rebecca holding a gun. His gaze slowly turned to her. “So, why were you two kidnapped? And where did you get a gun?”
Oh boy. It was going to be a long-ass night. “A man on a mission wanted our help documenting a rescue.”
“Is that the man on a mission?” Stan pointed to the computer screen. “The dead man whom someone shot?” Stan was rubbing his chin, his brows pinched together. “Not you, I hope.”
“See, Dallas.” She slapped his shoulder. “People are going to assume it was me. I didn’t shoot him, Stan.” But I would have.
“Good to know. So, where is this man on a mission now?” Stan folded both arms across his chest.
“In a jail cell in Cuba,” she said.
“We think,” Dallas added. “If I know Antonio, he’s escaped or something.”
Stan plopped down in a seat in the corner of the edit bay. He ran his hands through the little hair on his head. “Okay. I need some caffeine. This is going to be an all-nighter. What about this rescue? Who was he rescuing and why?”
Just like her news director to cut the bullshit small talk and get right to the point. “His sister—from an abusive relationship with one of Castro’s government watchdogs.”
“Castro’s watchdogs.” Stan sighed and leaned forward, studying the video as Dallas edited. “This story is also political, then? You know this is going to stir up a shitstorm of controversy at a time when the United States is trying to appease Cuba and smooth over relations.”
So? What was with Stan tonight? “You love controversy. Look what Samantha Steele’s story on those adventure-vacation murders did. Made national news. You’ve always told me to report the truth. People aren’t seeing the whole truth of what’s currently going on in Cuba.”
“I’m listening.” Stan leaned back in his chair, bringing both arms up, hands resting behind his head.
She smiled. She had him hooked. Just like she’d hook her audience. “We’ve captured the story of two different families and how difficult it was for both to leave the island. One didn’t make it—the others did. All were willing to risk their lives to leave Cuba. Even today. Despite all the changes. That’s the story I want to tell.”
“And you think you can pull that together to a
ir in less than an hour and a half?”
“I think I can at least put together one story.”
“We have enough for a ding-dong documentary,” Dallas chimed in. “Mr. Emmy say my name, say my name.”
“Well, I’m glad to see your sense of humor made it back from Cuba, Dallas.” Stan put a hand on Dallas’s shoulder. “But tonight’s story is you, Rebecca, whether you like it or not.”
“Stan.” I do not want any more attention on me. I have to help Antonio.
He lifted his other hand—like a bossy crossing guard. “You are the story. You have no idea how much media attention your kidnapping has generated. I’ve already called Good Morning USA, and they want to interview you live on the morning show. So tonight we stick to this. How you were kidnapped, using video of your kidnapping outside the courthouse. Then we answer why. You can explain about this man on a mission. You have video of him?”
“Yes.” Antonio won’t be happy that I’m using it, but watching him fall to his knees in front of his grandmother will win the public over. They will see him as a wounded and compassionate soul, and anyone with relatives in Cuba will instantly connect with him and his cause.
“Great. And you have video of how you escaped.”
Dallas snorted. “Oh, do we. This shit will get millions of clicks on YouTube.” Dallas turned the audio up, and Stan watched the yacht tear out of the dock in Cuba. You could hear gunfire popping even over the yacht’s motors.
“You were shooting video on deck that whole time?” she asked. She’d been so freaked out in that moment, she hadn’t noticed where Dallas was.
“Damn straight.”
“Dallas Jones, you are crazy.”
Stan was shaking his head. “You are crazier than George.”
George was Samantha Steele’s photographer. Whether Dallas was crazier than George was definitely debatable.
“Rebecca.” Stan cleared his throat. “Are you going to wear those clothes on the air tonight?”
Really? After what she’d just been through, what she was wearing seemed so insignificant. “Yes. I think it tells the story better than any words can.”
“Police are going to want to talk to you.” Stan was looking at her like he wanted to gauge her reaction.
“Fine. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the victim here.” But was she?
“Where is this family you rescued?”
“I didn’t rescue them. Antonio did.” She wanted to make this all about Antonio. If she were to use her resources and influence to get him out of Cuba, she’d have to paint him a hero. Which he was. Once you looked past his “unusual” practices. “They’re in Miami.” She glanced over at Stan, who was still watching her with a boss’s focused attention. “We did it the right way, Stan. We didn’t break any laws. They’re going to have to go through the proper channels to stay here. But I am going to help them. I’ve got friends at immigration here in Tampa.”
Stan shook his head. “You sound pretty in control for someone who was just kidnapped.”
Shit. Okay, play the victim. Just for a little while longer. “I’m just so thankful to be back home.” Which was true. “Stan—there’s another story I have to tell.” She didn’t even let Stan respond. She just dived in. “It’s the story of a man who risked his life to save his family and how the Cuban government is now holding him. His name is Antonio Vega, and he’s been wrongly imprisoned. I have to help him. We have to help him. He’s a hero.”
Stan rocked back in the chair, hands still behind his head, watching her. “He is, huh?”
She swallowed. Why was it getting hot in here?
“What part did Antonio Vega have in your kidnapping? He’s the one who wanted you to document the mission, right?”
“He didn’t force me into that van. Nor did he force me into Cuba. He gave me a choice.” She purposely left out the whole “at gunpoint” thing, and the deal concerning her father. As far as she was concerned Arturo Menendez was dead to her. Again.
The edit bay grew quiet, the only sound Dallas’s fingers beating keys in an effort to edit the video quickly.
And her pounding heart. But Rebecca assumed only she could hear that.
Finally Stan spoke. “People are going to think you’re suffering from Stockholm syndrome. You know what that is, right?” From the way he stared at her, she suspected he believed she truly did suffer from some misguided feelings for her captor.
Let the public think whatever they wanted, as long as they helped her win Antonio’s freedom. “I do.”
“Until you have a doctor check you out, it may be a good idea to let people think that. It will create public empathy for you and your traumatic experience and explain why you are gung ho to help your kidnapper.”
Stan couldn’t know what was going on. Could he? “Antonio didn’t kidnap me. I’m going to call Senator Nelson’s office first thing in the morning.”
“Rebecca,” Stan cautioned.
But she was already in her head planning. “The mayor is my friend. He knows people in Washington. We can embarrass the Cuban government into freeing him.”
“Rebecca.” Stan’s voice raised a couple of notches.
She blanched. And shut up.
“One story at a time.” Stan rocked forward, using his momentum to stand up. “Tonight we focus on you and Dallas, the fact that you are back and you are alive. If I were you I’d go home and clean up after the eleven p.m. newscast. And brace yourself. You’re about to get sucked into the media vortex that is now your life. You are famous now. Internationally.”
If he was trying to scare her, it wasn’t working. That’s exactly what she needed. An international audience. “Good. I’m about to throw a very big spotlight on a government that is holding an American citizen hostage.” Antonio was an American citizen, right? She didn’t even know. He had to be after all these years in America.
“Okay. Okay.” Stan stepped to the door, looking back at her. “I want to see a script in ten minutes. I have the final say. You both look…tired. Then after this, you go straight home. I’m sending over a doctor, just to make sure you’re okay.”
Love that you’ll wait till I get the video on the news first. “Thanks, Stan.”
“And the Tampa police are going to want to interview both of you about this kidnapping tomorrow. I’ve already called the chief. Homeland Security also wants to talk to you. It’s a mess. A real mess.”
“Got it.” Good. Let them question her and Dallas. They were on the same page. They’d synced their stories on the way up from Miami. They wouldn’t lie, but they weren’t going to throw Antonio under the bus, either. They could paint him as a hero. Get the public on his side. Help him.
“I’m watching you, Rebecca.”
“I’m fine.” I know what the hell I’m doing.
“I hope so.” He hesitated. “If this gets to be too much—you let me know.”
“I will.” But she couldn’t stop to reflect or rest now. Images of Antonio that first night in the Everglades flashed into her head. Her hot rebel dictating to her what would happen. Everyone will want to know who kidnapped the pretty TV news reporter and why.
He was right.
He’d always been right.
She had a new mission now.
And the power and platform on which to work from.
She was going to find and rescue Antonio Vega.
Chapter Fifteen
Two weeks had gone by since she’d returned from Cuba, but as soon as Rebecca stepped out of the limo onto the temporary red carpet outside the Bayshore mansion of Florida’s current governor, a series of flashes popped off.
Rebecca’s heart slammed against her ribs, and she froze, instantly regretting her decision to come with Dallas, Samantha Steele, and Sam’s fiancé, Zack Hunter, to this glitzy, high-profile charity event. But she’d promised Sam. Rebecca just had to smile and get through the night.
If she wasn’t the lead story on the 5 p.m. news, Rebecca was still making the top news block,
every damn day. Especially after her one-hour documentary on their controversial trip to Cuba aired three nights ago, to the highest news ratings her TV station had ever seen. The national morning news was still picking up clips, making Rebecca even more of a national celebrity.
Just as Antonio had predicted.
But Antonio, or the image of him, was becoming famous, too. Wonder if he’d counted on that?
Her stomach seized. Not one day had gone by without Antonio’s words ringing in her ears. She couldn’t get him out of her head no matter how hard she tried. She kept hearing his voice and looking for his face. But despite trying like hell and pulling every string she had, she still had no information on his whereabouts. Senator Nelson’s office told her the Cuban government was denying they had an Antonio Vega in custody. And Maria and Esmeralda told her they hadn’t heard from him, either. But then, they might not trust her to tell her if he had made contact. Antonio couldn’t have just vanished. And she refused to believe he was dead. If the CDR made an example of him, wouldn’t it face repercussions from the United States?
More flashbulbs. Rebecca stumbled and raised a hand to cover her face. Jesus. Didn’t the media ever rest? Last year she would have been on the other side of the red carpet, ordering Dallas to shoot whoever made the news of the day. Be it good or bad. No mercy. Tonight, her friends and colleagues were feasting on her.
Dallas slipped a friendly arm around her back. “Smile for the camera, girl. You used to eat this shit up. Now you look like you’re sucking on a lemon.”
“I know.” She’d been dying to attend this party before her trip to Cuba. Now Rebecca felt, well, guilty. She should be at home working the phones. Trying new sources to help find Antonio.