Wringing her hands together, Nina paced the floor. Her waist-length black hair swayed from side to side, shimmering like a rich sable pelt in the muted light. She looked like a magazine ad for a Caribbean holiday in her hot-pink suit and enormous straw hat with a matching pink flower adorning the rim.
Rorie thought Nina looked older and plumper than she remembered—more overripe than voluptuous in her skintight clothes and heavy coating of makeup.
"We are leaving La Vega within the hour," Nina said. "García has gone to double-check the limousine. I must get you in to see Julio before el capitán returns." Halting abruptly, Nina rushed forward. She reached out and grasped Rorie's hands. "Señorita Dean, you must get little Francisco out of San Miguel before he is captured by that animal, Emilio Santos. He will kill our sweet child, just as he murdered the boy's madre y padre." Nina spoke rapidly, mixing her Spanish and English.
"Where is King Julio?" Hawk asked.
Nina glanced toward a door to her left, one that Hawk assumed connected her bedroom to the dictator's. "Come. We must do this quickly," Nina said. "Before García comes back. He will try to persuade Julio to tell you nothing. García hates all americanos. He would rather see Prince Francisco dead than taken to the United States."
Nina opened the connecting door and walked into the other room. Hawk and Rorie followed, holding back, waiting in the doorway.
King Julio smiled softly when he saw Nina. "You are ready, my dear? You have packed only what you will need?"
She nodded an affirmative reply to his question. When he held open his arms, she ran into them, hugging him as she cooed soothing words in his ear.
Rorie couldn't believe how much Julio Francisco had aged in three years—far more than either of her parents. His once-steel-gray hair had lightened to a striking white. The lines in his face had deepened. Fat pouches bulged beneath his dark, sunken eyes. And he had lost weight. At least twenty pounds or more.
"Julio, mi querido." She kissed him on the cheek, leaving an oval smudge of pink lipstick. "Señorita Dean … Peter's sister… She has come to take little Francisco back to the United States."
"What? How do you know this?" the dictator demanded. When Nina glanced toward the open doorway, King Julio followed her line of vision and gasped loudly. "How did you get into the palace?"
"I gave them safe passage," Nina told him as she motioned for Rorie and Hawk to enter. When the king glared angrily at her, she explained, "I did it for Francisco. I know you love the child more than your own life and that you worry about his safety here in San Miguel now … now that the time has come when you may not be able to protect him."
"Your Majesty, please tell me where Frank—Francisco—is." Rorie moved slowly toward the king, her fingers braided together in front of her in a prayerful gesture. "If we—" she looked meaningfully at Hawk "—know where Francisco is, we can go get him and take him out of San Miguel before … before…"
"Before Lazaro takes over the country," Hawk finished for her.
"Who is this man?" King Julio asked.
"This is Señor Hawk," Nina said. "He is a friend of Señorita Dean's. He has come with her to find Francisco."
The king eyed Hawk suspiciously. "You do not look like the sort of man with whom Peter Dean's sister would associate."
"I'm not," Hawk admitted. "I'm a professional bodyguard. She hired me to get her into San Miguel and get her and the boy out safely."
King Julio turned to Rorie, his dark eyes scrutinizing her. "If I allow you to take my grandson to the United States for safekeeping, you must promise me that if … when I put down this rebellion and all is safe once again in San Miguel, you will return the boy to me."
"Return him to you? No, I can't make such a promise." Rorie looked nervously, pleadingly from Nina to Hawk.
"You cannot have the boy unless you give me your word that you will return him to San Miguel. He is a prince. The heir to the throne. I will not have him live as a commoner in the United States." The king crossed his arms over his chest in a defiant manner, as if saying, "Take my offer or leave it."
"I—I…" How could she lie to him? Rorie wondered. She had been taught since infancy that lying was a sin. But if she didn't give King Julio her word, he wouldn't tell her where Frankie was. "Please, think of Francisco. If you lose this war—and you know there's a good chance you will—he might be killed. He could die because you are so stubborn that you would—"
"I'll give you my word," Hawk said. "If you win this war and make the country a safe place for Prince Francisco, I'll personally bring him back to San Miguel. Directly to you."
"No, Hawk, you don't have the right to make such a promise!" Rorie glowered at Hawk.
"She is correct, isn't she, señor?" The king said. "Once I allow you to take the prince out of San Miguel, he will belong to Señorita Dean. My foolish daughter and her husband assigned the boy's guardianship to her in their wills."
"You and I know, don't we, Your Majesty, that wills are simply words written on paper. And to men like you and me, legal documents are worthless, if we choose for them to be."
King Julio looked at Hawk in a different way, his keen dark eyes inspecting the brash young man. "So, you want me to believe that you could take the boy against Señorita Dean's wishes and return him to me?"
"If I can get the boy safely out of San Miguel, then why should you doubt that I could just as easily bring him back at any time?" Hawk gave Rorie a threatening glare, warning her to keep her mouth shut.
Suddenly Rorie understood what Hawk was doing. He was giving King Julio what he wanted, without the necessity of her having to lie. She stood silent and still, holding her breath, praying that Hawk's tactic would work.
"Please, Julio," Nina pleaded. "Think of the boy. He is such a sweet, innocent little thing. If Santos were to get his hands on Francisco—"
The king crumpled before them—an old, weak man, already defeated, even if he didn't realize it, yet. He nodded solemnly.
"I sent Francisco to the Reverend Mother at the Blessed Virgin Mission."
"Who else knows where the boy is?" Hawk asked.
"Only Captain García. He took Francisco himself." A powerful boom rocked the palace, rattling the windowpanes and shaking the floors. Nina cried out. Rorie gasped. Gunfire echoed in the distance.
The outer doors of the king's bedroom suite swung open and a big, barrel-chested man in a military uniform dashed toward King Julio.
"Your Majesty, we must leave immediately," Captain García said. "Colonel Yago has been forced to withdraw. As we speak, Lazaro's army is pushing through and has already taken the eastern section of the city."
"Come, mi querido." Nina laced her arm through the king's. "We must do as Captain García says and leave immediately."
Captain García suddenly noticed the other two people in the room. When García reached for his revolver, Hawk drew his pistol and aimed it directly at the captain's head.
So this was the man who had ripped Frankie Dean from his aunt's arms, the man whose vicious blow had knocked Rorie into the wall.
"Give me a reason to kill you, García," Hawk said. "Nothing would please me more."
When Rorie gasped, she gained García's attention. "Señorita Dean? But how—"
"She is here to take Francisco back to the United States, until it is safe for him once again in San Miguel," King Julio said.
"Your Majesty, it would be a mistake to give your grandson to this woman," García said. "You know how her brother turned your own daughter against you."
Hawk grinned wickedly as he took several steps toward Captain García. "You're too late. We know where the boy is."
García glared at the king, his eyes filled with disgust. Then he sneered at Nina. "You are responsible for this, you stupid whore."
"Captain García, you forget yourself." King Julio reprimanded his subject by both words and look.
Four soldiers appeared at the open doorway of the king's private chambers. One man marched forward, t
hen halted abruptly when he saw that Hawk held a gun aimed directly at the captain.
"Gentleman, escort King Julio and Señorita Hernández to the limousine," Hawk said, not taking his eyes off García for even a split second. "Your captain will follow in a few minutes, after we settle some unfinished business."
The mortar fire beyond the palace walls intensified, thundering closer and closer, like a nearby storm threatening imminent destruction. Another bomb exploded somewhere to the east, sending the surrounding earth into spasms.
"We are ready to leave," King Julio said. "García will join us later." He motioned for the soldiers to make way, then with Nina at his side, he marched out of his suite and into the hallway. The four guards followed their king.
"Just who are you and what business do you have with me?" García asked Hawk. "We have never met before, have we?"
"Toss your sword and your revolver on the floor," Hawk said. When García hesitated, Hawk steadied his XM4 with both hands, squinted his left eye ever so slightly and drew a bead.
García divested himself of both weapons hurriedly, his thick, fat fingers working nervously to comply with Hawk's wishes. Hawk holstered his pistol.
"What are you doing?" Rorie's voice quivered.
Hawk ignored Rorie completely, focusing his attention on the surly captain. "I'm Señorita Dean's personal bodyguard. And the business I have with you concerns an event that occurred over three years ago. The night you kidnapped Francisco Dean."
"I did not kidnap the prince." García bristled, sticking out his chest and tilting his chin upward. "I acted on King Julio's orders to bring the boy to the safety of the palace."
"Did King Julio also order you to strike Señorita Dean?"
"She resisted my command. She refused to hand over Prince Francisco!" García smirked. His small, beady eyes glistened.
"Hawk, we don't have time for this," Rorie told him. "Let him go. We need to get out of La Vega while we can."
"Be patient. This won't take long." Hawk glanced at Rorie for just a fraction of a second. Long enough for García to make his move.
Hawk whirled around just as García lurched forward. Blocking the captain's hard right fist, Hawk landed a breath-robbing punch to his soft belly, then delivered a powerful blow to his jaw. García bounced backward, landing with a resounding thud on the floor. He moaned once, twice, and then passed out.
"You didn't kill him, did you?" Rorie grabbed Hawk's shirtsleeve.
"He's still alive." Hawk pulled away from Rorie, knelt over García and shook him soundly.
Coming to suddenly, García moaned, then glared up at Hawk.
"You'll think twice before you hit a lady again, won't you, Captain, now that you know how it feels?"
Hawk dragged Rorie in front of him and gave her a gentle shove toward the door. When they reached the hallway, García yelled out, cursing Hawk. García tried unsuccessfully to stand. He flopped down on the floor, landing on his back end.
"Pray you never see me again, señor," the captain shouted.
"No, García," Hawk shouted back. "You pray you never see me again. You're damn lucky I didn't kill you this time!"
Hawk ushered Rorie down the stairs, through the hallways on the lower level of the palace and out into the courtyard. The repetitive gunfire grew closer and closer. Shouts of fear and agony reverberated all around them. Another explosion rocketed through a building on the opposite side of the street.
Hawk removed his pistol from the holster, shoved Rorie behind him and peered around the gate. "Stay right with me. We're going to make a run for it, down the alley."
"Are we going back to the warehouse to meet Mr. Murdock?" Rorie asked.
"If my calculations are correct, Lazaro's army has already sealed off the harbor," Hawk told her.
"Does that mean—?"
"It means we're heading for Papa Joe's."
"What is Papa Joe's?"
"It used to be the hottest nightspot in town," Hawk said. "Now there's a seedy bar downstairs and a three-whore brothel upstairs."
"A brothel? You're taking me to a brothel?"
"Yes, I'm taking you to a brothel … if we're lucky enough to make it through the city alive."
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
The farther up the alley Hawk and Rorie fled, the more difficult it became to avoid other people—frightened, angry, armed citizens of La Vega, who were ready to shoot anyone on sight. But Hawk seemed to possess a sixth sense for danger and an innate ability to avoid confrontations. He led; she followed. Twice they took refuge. Once behind a huge garbage bin and once behind a wooden fence.
A wild-eyed, middle-aged man flew out of a building's back door and chased them for nearly a block, taking potshots at them. Hawk flung Rorie behind a tree in an open yard, took aim and hit their pursuer in the leg. The man crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain. Hawk grabbed Rorie's arm.
"Don't think about helping him," Hawk said. "He tried to kill us."
When Hawk tugged on her arm, she turned quickly and followed him. Adrenaline raced through her body like a swollen river rushing over deadly rapids.
Rebel soldiers flooded the main streets, confronting the ragtag remains of the king's army, whose mission was to slow General Lazaro's takeover of the capital long enough for King Julio and the majority of his forces to escape to Puerto Angelo. Heated battles pursued them everywhere throughout the city. No matter how far or fast Hawk and Rorie ran, they were never more than a stone's throw away from the fighting. Never more than a heartbeat away from danger and death.
A small band of loyalists, rifles in hand and ammunition strapped across their chests, retreated from the street into the alley. Hawk jerked Rorie into a recessed doorway.
"What are you—" she protested.
He slammed the palm of his hand across her mouth. "Shh." Lowering his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Keep quiet."
She opened her mouth to mumble a complaint, then heard the booted footsteps of several running men and suddenly understood Hawk's actions. She reminded herself once again that she wasn't supposed to question his orders, and she assumed that that now included not questioning his actions, as well.
Hawk was so close that she smelled his perspiration and tasted the sweat on his palm. When her tongue touched his skin, his hand jerked.
The king's soldiers fled in the opposite direction. Hawk held Rorie in the doorway, his hand over her mouth, his body pressing hers against the wooden door behind her. As he waited, listening for the echoes of the deserting soldiers' retreat, he looked down into Rorie's face. He tightened his hold around her waist and lifted her up as he lowered his head and removed his hand from her mouth.
"Don't ever question anything I say or do," he whispered against her lips. "The slightest hesitation on your part could get us both killed."
Her heartbeat quickened. Warmth suffused her face. Leaning back, she pressed herself against the door, trying to put even a little space between their bodies. She nodded agreement, then said, "I understand. It won't happen again. But don't you ever put your hand over my mouth!"
Hawk took a step backward, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the recessed doorway. "We're only a few blocks from Papa Joe's. If there's anyone there except old Guido and his girls, you keep quiet and let me do all the talking. I expect the place to be empty, but you never know. Some of Lazaro's troops might have decided to stop by for a drink on their way into La Vega."
"How do you know we'll be safe at this brothel?" Rorie asked, as Hawk led her up the alley.
"Guido is another friend of Murdock's. He'll get word to him that we're there and—"
"I assume these are friends Mr. Murdock has bought and paid for, also. Just where does Mr. Murdock get all his money and exactly who is he working for, anyway?"
At that instant a bomb exploded in the street. A wooden-bed truck, filled with two dozen people, burst into flames. Bodies sailed through the dark smoke and hit the pavement, some
in pieces. Several survivors jumped from the truck, screaming in terror. One woman fell to the sidewalk and rolled over and over to extinguish the fire eating away at her clothes and flesh.
Rorie pulled away from Hawk, heading toward the main street. Her instinct was to rush to those injured people and help them in any way she could. She wasn't a nurse, but she knew basic first aid for burns.
Before she'd gotten three feet away from him, Hawk jerked her back to his side. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"To help those people!" She tugged on her arm, trying to free herself.
"Are you out of your mind? Of course you are! Otherwise, you wouldn't be in San Miguel in the first place. You'd be back in Chattanooga, letting me do this job alone."
"We can't just do nothing. Those people need our help." The harder she tried to escape from his tenacious hold, the tighter he held her.
"Look, lady, this city is filled with wounded, dying people. A team of doctors couldn't save most of them. Our main objective is to save ourselves."
"How can you be so cold-blooded? So heartless and unfeeling?"
Before Hawk could reply to her charges, a rebel patrol opened fire on the few survivors of the truck bombing. Rorie turned from the sight, burying her face in Hawk's chest. He held the back of her head, pressing her hat against her skull. She shuddered. Hawk momentarily closed his eyes, blocking out the scene of death, then he slipped his arm around Rorie's waist and hurried her away.
She stumbled several times before she picked up Hawk's pace. Numb from having witnessed slaughter firsthand, Rorie continued following Hawk, her movements as stiff as an automated mannequin's.
Hawk spotted the back entrance to Papa's Joe's—Murdock's home whenever he was in La Vega. When Hawk reached the door, he found it locked. Gently shoving Rorie up against the wall beside him, he cupped her face in his hands. He didn't like the way she looked; all he needed was for her to go off the deep end.
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