by Nina Bruhns
“Your daughter is charming, Señor Perez,” Marisela said.
Charming and resourceful. For a kid, she had a sharp mind and good instincts. Marisela could only hope she’d be able to see beyond her childhood loneliness to judge her mother fairly. And accurately.
Jessica snuggled next to her father and from across the seat in the limousine, Marisela caught the look of uncertainty in the young girl’s eyes, along with the clear, sharp reflection of determination. And trust. The young girl had put her future in the hands of a stranger, her, all because she wanted desperately to meet the mother who likely had an ulterior motive for wanting her home.
So far, Max had come up empty in his investigation of Elise Barton-Ryce’s finances. And yet, something in his tone yesterday clued Marisela that he’d at least discovered some vague and unverifiable indication that maybe something wasn’t quite right. Knowing that, Marisela decided she wasn’t letting Jessica out of her sight for one minute. When Elise pleaded her case to her long-lost daughter, Marisela was going to be right there, watching the kid’s back—and more importantly, her fragile, teenaged heart.
The drive to the church was noneventful, with Frankie staring sullenly out the window, having made Rogelio’s displeasure at being dragged to church abundantly clear. Perez hung on every word his daughter chatted into his ear—and that was no small feat since the girl didn’t stop talking. Marisela watched the driver and from time to time, checked out the traffic around them. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place. Two cruise ships had come into port, so the streets of San Juan teemed with tourists. The convent and school were on an outer edge of the city on the way to the fort in the area known as Old San Juan. Little by little, the buildings grew smaller, the streets more narrow, the atmosphere decidedly more old world.
The cross on the top of the church thrust into the sky in simple wooden glory. Bricks washed white by the sun and wind curved and stacked into a building completely unremarkable except for kaleidoscopic stained glass windows. As the limousine pulled to a stop just outside the brittle concrete steps, Marisela immediately spotted the first of Perez’s bodyguards.
God, she hoped Titan didn’t fail them now—and that included not offing any of Perez’s men. Jessica would never forgive Marisela if someone in her father’s employ took a bullet because she couldn’t resist the chance to meet her mother.
The bodyguard stepped forward to open the back door. Marisela had already started to scoot toward the exit when a loud pop sent her diving toward Jessica. Perez already had his daughter covered. Out the back window, Marisela saw the bodyguard stagger toward the church, gun drawn. He was hurt, but still standing.
“¡Déjame! ¡Déjame!” Perez shouted to the driver, who slammed his foot onto the gas. Tires screeched as they tore down the street, but a second explosion directly underneath the car jolted them all into the air. Jessica screamed, rolling herself into a tight ball. Her father tried to curve his body over her at the same time that he removed his gun from his jacket and yelled orders to the driver.
Only a few moments elapsed before Marisela realized that the driver couldn’t comply. The explosion had locked up the steering and judging by their increasing speed as they hurtled down the hill, the brakes were gone, too. Frankie flung himself through the narrow opening into the front seat, but he could do nothing to stop the inevitable. They were going to crash.
Marisela grabbed Jessica and Javier and flung them to the floor seconds before the impact threw her into the opposite seat. Her shoulder smashed hard into the side panel, but not with enough force to knock her gun from her hand.
“Stay down!”
Frankie had flung open the passenger side door and Marisela did the same from the back.
“What’s happening?” she shouted, aiming at the empty street behind them while Frankie covered the front. They’d crashed into the side of an abandoned store. The front end of the car tilted up onto a curb and broken glass sparkled around them in the stark white morning sun.
“Ambush!” Frankie shouted.
Their driver emerged from his side of the car with a wicked looking XM8 lightweight assault rifle clutched in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, but a shot through his skull instantly silenced him. His body shuddered, then crumbled to the ground.
Marisela ducked back inside the car.
“Stay down. Your driver’s dead.”
Jessica’s eyes were wide with terror.
Marisela had to trust that Javier could take care of Jessica until she and Frankie worked out a plan. This attack couldn’t be a Titan operation. They wouldn’t kill so indiscriminately. Would they? When she emerged from the car, she realized she had no time to work out the possibilities. An SUV with a tinted windshield veered down the street toward them, sleek black weapons dangling out of the passenger side doors, clearly meant to invoke fear. Was this an assassination attempt? Were they trying to kill Perez? Jessica, too? Or was this just another elaborate scheme to kidnap the girl? And if so, who was calling the shots?
Marisela tapped on her earring. She heard nothing and tried again until the rapid fire of bullets shifted her attention from communication to survival. She spun around in time to catch Frankie diving across the front seat and retrieving the driver’s rifle. Their arsenal included two handguns—three if they counted Perez’s—and a rifle against two men with automatic weapons and an unknown sniper. No backup from Titan and as of yet, nothing from Perez’s men down the street at the church, either.
They had to get Jessica to safety. The limo wasn’t going to move. They needed the closest vehicle—the attacking SUV.
Marisela yelled for Frankie to get into the car with Jessica and Perez and shut the doors. She was better trained, better able to protect two people rather than one. Besides, the limo was bulletproof. If they wanted them, they’d have to come in and get them.
Impulsively, Marisela ducked under the car, which was tilted up on the front end enough to allow her room to completely conceal herself. The stench of burning circuits and blood seeped into her nostrils, but she didn’t dare breathe too loudly when the SUV slammed to a halt and the two men jumped out and proceeded to spray the car with bullets. They cursed, slammed the butts of their guns against the glass and fired into the door handles, then cursed more when they couldn’t break through. From her shelter behind the tires, she could see a second SUV—the same dark color and tinted windows—heading their way.
Shit. Reinforcements, but not from their side. She still heard no chatter in her earpiece, so she couldn’t count on Titan to know what was going on. She had to make a move. Now.
With a quick roll, she leaned out from under the car and shot the first assailant. Her bullet blew apart his chin and she rolled again to avoid a dousing of blood and brain. The second assailant flattened himself to the ground and peppered the asphalt with bullets.
Marisela jumped onto the hood of the car and slid across, landing on the guy’s back before he had a chance to stand. She aimed downward and pumped a bullet into his skull. She slammed her fist on the window and shouted for Frankie, Perez, and Jessica to get out while she ran to the SUV and commandeered the driver’s seat. They had to escape before the second wave of killers arrived.
Frankie came out first, covering their exit with a wave of gunfire from the automatic weapon. Perez pushed Jessica out next and Marisela leaned over to open the passenger side door. Jessica jumped in, her skin ashen gray.
“Who are they?” Jessica asked, nearly hysterical.
Marisela didn’t have time to answer. The second SUV had screeched to a halt just a few feet behind. Perez and Frankie were exchanging gunfire and without cover, were sitting ducks.
“Open the back door!” Marisela ordered.
Jessica swiveled around and did what she was told while Marisela threw the car into reverse. Frankie shoved Perez toward the car, but he refused to get in.
“Take my daughter to safety!”
He grabbed Frankie’s gun and shoved him toward the open
door. The people in the church had spilled out onto the sidewalk and Perez’s men were sprinting toward them. A Jeep spun around the corner a block away, sirens blaring.
“Papi!” Jessica yelled, reaching toward the open door. Frankie pushed her back into her seat and ordered her down. “Get out of here!”
Marisela complied. Perez, taking his last stand against his enemies, ducked back behind the limo for cover. His guards were gaining ground, so the second SUV didn’t stop, but spun into hot pursuit.
“They’re following.”
Frankie pulled a clip out of his pocket.
“Of course they are. They want Jessica.”
“Me? Why?”
Marisela swerved around a corner. God, she had no idea where she was going. This time, she wasn’t escaping an ex-boyfriend in the hometown she knew like the back of her hand. She was driving blind into an unknown city with narrow streets and gaggles of tourists.
“Frankie, call Max.”
He rolled down the side window. “No time. Keep heading east. Once we get out of Old San Juan, there’s open highway. Try to lose them!”
Marisela already had the gas pedal flush against the floor. She used every trick she knew to widen the distance between them and their pursuers, but nothing worked until Frankie leaned out and fired several shots into the windshield of the car following behind. They returned fire, but only seconds after Marisela flew through an intersection, clutching the steering wheel until her knuckles ached, the sports utility vehicle hit a bump and went airborne. The vehicle behind them crashed into a light pole and burst into flames.
Frankie pulled himself back into the car and for several long minutes, they drove in stunned silence. When a traffic light turned red in front of her, Marisela drew the car to a slow stop. Only then did she hear Jessica whimpering. She reached over with a shaky hand and gently patted her thigh.
“You’re safe now.”
Jessica drew in a long, shivering breath. “What about my father?”
Marisela glanced over her shoulder at Frankie, who was sitting straight against the seat, his neck tilted back, his breaching labored as he recuperated from the gunplay.
“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a brave man. He gave us the cover we needed to escape.”
“Who would want to kidnap me besides my mother?”
The light turned green. Marisela gingerly pressed her foot to the pedal and expertly blended them into traffic. She still didn’t know where they were going, but at least they were no longer running for their lives.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But we’re going to find out.”
Dirty Little Secrets: Chapter Twenty-One
Ian mingled through the crowd, watching over his shoulder as Elise Barton-Ryce loitered by the baptismal font in the sanctuary just inside the church. Men had died trying to kidnap her daughter and she looked about as cool and unshaken as a stirred martini.
He tilted his wrist to his mouth. “Max, report.”
Seconds ticked by and the delay unnerved him. Nothing had gone as planned. A third party was working against him, and he had no clue who was behind the attacks on Perez. Had Marisela and Frank entered the church, Titan would have Jessica in their possession by now, tucked away on his private jet, heading for the mainland of the United States where Elise’s custody order would be enforced. How naive Marisela had been, thinking he’d let the child have a choice in this matter. The law had already decided which parent she belonged to—and besides, Ian wasn’t about to give up on this case so easily—not with so much of Elise Barton-Ryce’s cash on the line.
But while he didn’t intend to give Marisela her way, he hadn’t wanted her hurt. His chest tightened, thinking of how he’d spent the previous day, holding the hand of Pan’s wife, a woman facing her husband’s permanent disability. She’d had no idea how the man she loved had actually been hurt—or how the man showering her with platitudes in the hospital waiting room had been ultimately responsible for the injuries threatening her husband’s life. He’d lost one agent too many already. Would he have to lose more before bringing the operation to a close?
“Max, report.”
On the second try, the speaker in his ear crackled to life. “They got away.”
“Are you in pursuit?”
“Negative, but neither are the shooters in the SUV. Traffic has jammed to a stop. They’re somewhere up ahead.”
“Is Marisela wearing her locator?”
“If she is, it’s dead. I can’t get a lock on her or Frank.”
Ian tamped down a rumble from deep in his chest. “Find them,” he ordered.
“Working on it.”
In the meantime, Ian had to make sure that one player got out of this game permanently. He should have anticipated this development, but Marisela’s personal interest in Jessica Perez had to end. She’d jeopardized the mission. But he’d deal with her later.
He broke through the sloppy police line and strolled over to Javier Perez, who was fighting off the attention of a paramedic.
“Buenos días, Señor Perez. Yo soy Ian Blake, presidente de Titan International. Y tengo información muy importante con respecto a Jessica.”
* * *
“I want to speak to my father!”
Marisela couldn’t stand the tears. Her baby sister, Belinda, had always used waterworks to get her way. But dammit, there was a lot more at stake here than a new pair of jeans or the biggest piece of chocolate cake. Jessica had to shut up long enough for Marisela to think!
“Jessica, por favor, let me take us somewhere safe and I promise we’ll call your father. The sooner he picks you up, the sooner I can figure out what the hell went wrong. Frankie, any suggestions?”
But Frankie didn’t reply. In fact, he hadn’t said a word in way too long. Marisela chanced a look in the backseat.
There was blood everywhere.
“Frankie!”
Marisela turned down a side street, pulling in to the nearest alley. She scrambled into the backseat. When Jessica finally turned to look at Frankie, she started to scream.
“Calm down!” Marisela ordered. She didn’t need bystanders rushing toward them when they still couldn’t distinguish friends from enemies. “Frankie, what happened? Frankie?”
He hadn’t lost consciousness, but even when she pulled his chin down so their eyes met, a cloud had settled over his irises. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and forehead. The beginnings of shock?
With a mix of gentleness and panic, she searched his body and found the wound. He’d been shot in the stomach, likely by a bullet that pierced through the car’s chassis during the chase. With a curse and a wince, she placed her hand over the wound and tried to stop the bleeding.
“Jessica, get me something for the blood!”
“What?”
“Anything! Look in the glove compartment.”
There was nothing. Tears flowed down Jessica’s face as she frantically searched the car. She found a cache of weapons and ammunition, but nothing to press into Frankie’s wound.
“Wait! Here!”
Jessica pulled a long lace mantilla she’d had folded in her pocket. The intricate fabric wasn’t much, but would have to do.
“We need a hospital. Do you know where it is?”
As Jessica shook her head, Frankie roused himself long enough to move his hand over Marisela’s and capture her watery gaze with his unsteady eyes. “No hospitals.”
“Why the hell not?”
Frankie shook his head, struggled to breathe through the pain. “Too many questions. If we stop the bleeding, I’ll be fine long enough for Blake to get us out.”
“I can’t stop the bleeding here!”
Frankie forced himself to smile and Marisela could have killed him for managing even that small sense of humor—if he wasn’t already well on his way to dying already. “Then get out of here, vidita.”
Out of pure personal need, Marisela stretched up on her knees and kissed Frankie squarely on the mouth. God help t
hem all, but she wasn’t about to let him die.
“Do you drive?” she asked Jessica.
The girl frantically shook her head.
“Then jump back here. You hold your hand against his wound, tight, while I find us somewhere to hole up.”
To her credit, the terrified girl didn’t hesitate. She switched places with Marisela, all the time reassuring Frankie that he’d be all right. If she could just contact her father, she was sure everything would turn out fine.
If only.
* * *
On a hunch, Marisela piloted the car to a rough edge of town. There, she traded the beaten and battered SUV and several of the guns Jessica had found under the seats for a scratched and dented cell phone and a room with a working bathroom. For the first fifteen minutes, Jessica and Marisela worked frantically, tearing sheets and bartering for antibiotic ointment and gauze to bandage Frankie’s wounds. They couldn’t stay here long, though. They’d bought quite a bit with their jewelry and trinkets, but they hadn’t bought anyone’s silence. And since they still didn’t know who the enemy was exactly, they had to turn to those people they could count on as friends.
Jessica had the cell phone and was dialing her father while Marisela made sure Frankie was as comfortable as possible. She’d covered him with several blankets to chase off the possibility of shock and the bleeding had abated considerably. They’d bought time, but not much.
Marisela listened to Jessica’s end of the conversation, translating the Spanish to English in her mind.
“I’m fine. No, I’m not hurt. But Frankie is. I mean, Rogelio. Yes, Papi, I know who they really are. No. No! No, you’ve got it all wrong. Who told you that? No. I don’t believe it. You can’t believe it. They saved my life. Twice now. They don’t want to hurt me.”
Marisela couldn’t keep her distance or pretend she hadn’t overheard every word Jessica spoke in this five-by-five closet of a room.
“What’s going on?”
Jessica held the cell phone to her chest, her eyes wide and glossy, her cheeks streaked with trails of tears. She wasn’t on the verge of crying again, but screaming with rage was a definite possibility.