Dangerous Choice KO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  "No, they didn't." Diego met her gaze, then looked back at Wyatt. "Could you get the license plate?"

  "No. We'll check with the police, who are also investigating the accident." Wyatt paused as a red-haired woman entered the room. "Do you have the hospital, Caitlyn?"

  "The woman in the accident was taken to St. Anne's," Caitlyn said. "But she was admitted under the name Laura Harper, which was the name listed on the passport she had in her possession."

  "Laura Harper?" Tara asked in bewilderment. "Maybe it's not Bethany. But it looked like Bethany. I recognized the jacket she had on. Who is Laura Harper?"

  "Maybe a fake name, fake passport," Diego told her. "Is this woman still alive?"

  "Yes," Caitlyn replied. "She sustained a head injury, a broken wrist, and several cracked ribs. She was in a coma for three days, with swelling in the brain, but she appears to be out of danger now and is considered stable. She's in room 436."

  "Let's go," she told Diego.

  Diego nodded, as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.

  "I'll send a security guard to the hospital," Wyatt said. "If the hit-and-run wasn't an accident, Bethany could be in more danger. Text me when you get to the hospital and let me know her condition."

  "Will do," Diego replied, as they left the room.

  They hurried out of the building and into the car. As Diego fiddled with the GPS, she said, "I know where St. Anne's is. It's about ten minutes from here. Get back on the 405 going south."

  "All right." He gave her a reassuring look. "You'll see her soon."

  "It doesn't sound like she's in very good condition."

  "She's alive, Tara. That's the most important thing."

  "I know, but she might have brain damage. She might not be the same person. Hell, she might be this Laura Harper, whoever she is."

  "One step at a time," he reminded her.

  Eighteen

  Tara tried to take Diego's advice and not let her thoughts run away from her, but it was difficult, especially with the video of Bethany getting struck by a car played over and over again in her head. "I can't believe Bethany escaped Colombia and Pablo to get taken down by a red-light runner. Do you think she was terribly unlucky or was that driver connected to the cartel?"

  "Hard to say. Since apparently no one has gone after her at the hospital, I'm leaning toward bad luck. If they had run her down, they would have followed up the way we did. They would have figured out what hospital the ambulance took her to, and they would have gone after her again."

  "Not if she still has something they need. Maybe they need her to be well enough to tell them where it is. Maybe they're waiting for her to get better."

  "Fair point." He flashed her an approving look. "You're getting good at this."

  "I wish I wasn't having so much practice."

  His smile faded. "I know. I'm sorry you had to see your friend get hurt. That was brutal."

  "It was, but I had to see it."

  "You don't shy away from what's difficult, Tara. I like that about you."

  "I have to admit, it's kind of a new attitude for me. I used to shy away from difficult things all the time, but I guess I've realized that some things in life are too important not to fight for, like my friends and my family."

  "And yourself," he said. "That's the most important person."

  "Yes, you're right. If this whole terrible situation has taught me anything it's that I have to be a participant in my life. I can't sit back and wait or watch." She drew in a breath and let it out. "Anyway, I hope it's not all for nothing. Bethany has to recover from this. She just has to."

  "We'll do everything we can for her."

  "If the Salazars weren't responsible for the accident, they still might be able to find Bethany the same way we did. I bet they have connections in the police department, maybe even the FBI. There are more than a few people working with Flynn. Are we sure they're all trustworthy?"

  "I've learned you can never be sure about that," he said, for the first time sounding a little more cynical than he normally was. "But Flynn handpicked his people, and they operate off book all the time. They're set up to be agile, to move without a lot of red tape. According to Wyatt, Flynn runs a good team. Right now, I'm putting my trust in them. And for the moment, I'm thinking we might actually be one step ahead of the Salazars."

  She wanted to cling to that thought. "I really hope so."

  A few moments later, Diego turned into the parking garage at St. Anne's. As they got out of the car and walked toward the elevator, the sun slipped over the horizon and shadows filled the chilly early evening air. It was almost six o'clock, and the twilight felt a little foreboding, but she tried to shake off the bad feeling, concentrating on the most important fact that Bethany was alive.

  Diego took her hand as they stepped into the elevator, giving her fingers a warm squeeze. "It's going to work out," he told her.

  "I hope so."

  When they entered the hospital, they bypassed the information desk and headed up to the fourth floor. Monday evening visiting hours weren't over until eight, so there were a lot of people walking the halls. That made her feel better, as if Bethany was less alone, even though that wasn't true at all. Bethany had been alone in this hospital for over a week. But even before that, Bethany had been alone since her mother died.

  While she and her parents had tried to fill the void, she knew that Bethany still felt that gut ache of loneliness, of not really having anyone who was family, who was blood. It was why she loved being social, why she was always up for a party, why she always fell quickly into relationships; she was looking for that connection, that feeling of belonging, being a part of something.

  She wondered if that was what had drawn her and Michael together. Michael had been both rejected and abandoned through divorce and death. He had to feel that deep core of loneliness, too.

  She wondered what Michael had told Bethany about his life. Had he hidden his criminal ties from her? Did she think he was just a hotshot wine bar owner, a young, handsome, rich guy?

  But the fact that she'd known Pablo, that she'd been to Cascada belied that possibility. Bethany had to know that Michael was in bed with the Salazars and their criminal organization.

  Had she tried to walk away from him? Had she tried to set him up? Had she done something incredibly foolish, like steal money or drugs from the family?

  But Bethany wasn't a drug addict. And she wasn't a thief. Whatever she'd stolen had to be something else.

  If she hadn't suffered a head injury, Tara had no doubt she could get Bethany to open up, but if there was some brain damage, it might be impossible.

  Diego paused outside of the door to Bethany's room. "Are you ready?"

  She nodded, mentally preparing herself for what might be coming. Then she opened the door and stepped into the room. Diego followed behind her.

  Bethany looked small and fragile in the bed. Her brown hair was pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head. There was a bandage across her forehead, visible bruising on her face, and a cast on her wrist, but her eyes were open, and the TV was on, and somehow that made it all feel more normal.

  "Bethany?" she said, as she moved toward the bed.

  Bethany blinked a few times as she gazed in her direction. "Is that my name? They said my name was Laura—Laura Harper."

  She frowned at Bethany's words. "Your name is Bethany, and I'm Tara." She gave her friend a warm, reassuring smile. "I've been looking all over for you. I've been so worried."

  "Who's he?" Bethany asked, giving Diego a wary look.

  "This is my friend, Diego. You've never met him before, but he's been helping me search for you. Do you know what happened?"

  "I—I don't remember anything really. They tell me I have amnesia."

  "You do?" Caitlyn had left that out of her medical briefing.

  "Look at me," she said as Bethany's gaze shifted toward the television.

  Bethany slowly turned her head.

  "You're
practically my sister," she told her. "You grew up next door to me. You spent a lot of time at my house, with me and my parents, Kathy and Bill Powell. I had a trundle bed. You used to sleep on the bottom mattress. We'd talk all night."

  "Sorry," Bethany said.

  "It's okay. You were hit by a car. It's understandable. You were running away from someone when you got hurt. It's possible you don't want to remember what happened, because you're afraid."

  "I want to remember; I just can't. You should go."

  "I'm not leaving. I am going to wait here until you know me."

  Diego nudged her shoulder and murmured, "I think you're scaring her."

  Bethany did look a little worried by her promise to never leave. "I'm not trying to scare you. I love you. I want to help you. I can tell you things about yourself. I can jog your memory." As she finished the statement, she realized what was playing on the television. It was a rerun of the sitcom Sex and the City, a show that had been Bethany's favorite. Had her subconscious recognized that when she'd flipped the channels? "You used to love this show," she said, tipping her head toward the screen.

  "I don't even know what it is." Bethany picked up the remote and flipped the channel, directing her gaze toward the TV.

  "You know what," Diego interrupted, "I'm going to step outside and see if I can talk to a doctor about Bethany's condition."

  "Okay." She wondered if he really wanted to speak to a doctor or if he thought Bethany might react better if they were alone. When the door closed behind Diego, she turned back to Bethany and tried to infuse a cheerful note into her voice. "Let's see. What would you want to remember? Your favorite ice cream is mint chip. You love dogs, not cats. You had a golden retriever named Daisy when you were young. You used to sleep with her. And you and I—we were always best friends, from the first day we met. I had a playhouse in my backyard, and we'd make up all kinds of imaginary games. One day it would be a restaurant and another day a store. Even though you were a few years younger, I adored you. I felt like your big sister."

  "Stop," Bethany said, her gaze filling with emotion, as she locked eyes with her. "I know you, Tara."

  "What?" she asked in surprise. "You do? You just remembered?"

  Bethany gave her a guilty look. "No. I've known who I am since I woke up, but they found the passport that I had in my pocket and everyone was calling me Laura, and I didn't want to correct them. I'm in trouble, and I figured if no one knew who I was, maybe no one could find me."

  "If that's the case, why did you pretend that you didn't recognize me?" she asked in confusion.

  "Because I didn't know the guy you were with, and he looks kind of familiar to someone I do know."

  "Michael Winters?"

  Bethany's eyes widened in surprise. "You know Michael? How is that possible?"

  "So much has happened, Bethany. And, yes, I know Michael. I met him earlier today. He claims he doesn't know where you are. He didn't even know you were in LA."

  "I was going to call him, but I didn't get a chance. But I don't understand. How did you meet him? Why were you looking for me?"

  "Because you disappeared. You stopped answering my calls and my texts. I called Allende Tours. They said you were on vacation, but it didn't make sense that you'd completely drop out of sight. After a week, I went to Colombia, to Medellin. I asked the police to look for you."

  Bethany's eyes widened. "Are you serious? You went to Colombia by yourself?"

  "I did. I told you I was worried about you. The police weren't very helpful, but they did find an image of you getting on a bus headed to Cascada, so I went there, too."

  "Did you talk to people about me?"

  "Everyone I could find."

  "Oh, Tara. That wasn't a good idea."

  "Yeah, I found that out. I got caught in a shooting at the church. The priest there was killed, and later several more attempts were made on my life. Luckily, Diego was there for most of them. We got tangled up together at the church, and we stayed together after that, because people kept shooting at us everywhere we went. And my room was searched, too. It seemed like whoever was after us thought I had something."

  "God," Bethany breathed. "You're lucky you're still alive."

  "Believe me, I know that. What kind of trouble are you in, Bethany? What did you do? Pablo said you stole something from him."

  "You talked to Pablo, too?"

  "Yes. Tell me what's going on." She decided to leave out the part about Diego being an FBI agent for now. She didn't want Bethany to decide not to tell her the truth because of that.

  "If—if I tell you, it will put you in more danger, Tara. I didn't call you because I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want to lead anyone to you. I can't believe you got involved in this. I never imagined you would get on a plane and go to Colombia to look for me. Not in a million years would I have thought that would happen."

  "Well, when the life of someone I love is at stake, I can do anything. I've learned that the past few weeks. And it's too late to protect me now. I'm in this. Both Michael and Pablo know that Diego and I are looking for you."

  "Why is Diego helping you? Who is he?"

  "He started out just being a nice guy, someone who got me out of the shooting at the church, who helped me get out of Cascada. But since then we've become really close. And we're connected in some very strange ways." She paused. "Michael is Diego's half brother. Diego went to Cascada looking for Michael and his mother."

  Bethany's eyebrows shot up once more in both amazement and confusion. "His half brother? But I don't understand. Is Diego a Salazar? You said his name was something else."

  "It's Rivera. He's not a Salazar and neither is Michael. Michael and Diego share the same mother. She later married into the Salazar family."

  "I know that. Michael told me that after his mom died, his stepfather took him in, and then he went to live with his cousins." Bethany paused. "But Michael said something once about his brother, and then he immediately shut up. I didn't know who he was talking about. I didn't think he had an actual brother. When I started asking questions, he told me he wasn't going to talk about it."

  "It's a long story, but Diego's father found out that Michael was not his real son, and he kicked Michael and his mother out of the house, separating the two half brothers. Diego didn't know where his mom and brother went. He didn't even find out until a few days ago that his mom was dead. Then he became determined to find Michael. Actually, he knew Michael as Mateo. His mom changed his brother's name. We've spent the last several days looking for both you and Michael. And here we are. Now it's your turn. What the hell is going on? What did you take from Pablo Salazar?"

  "Pablo didn't tell you? Did he tell Michael?"

  "I don't know what Pablo told Michael, but it appeared to me that Michael was confused about why you were in LA, why you left LAX in Pablo's car."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Enough with your questions. I want answers," she said forcefully.

  Bethany blew out a breath. "Okay, I'll tell you everything."

  "Good," Diego said, as he walked into the room. "I see you've recovered your memory, Bethany. I thought it might come back when I left the room."

  "I'm talking to Tara," Bethany said, giving Diego a dark look.

  "You're talking to both of us now," he said. "We're here to help you. There's also a security guard outside your room, to make sure you're safe."

  Bethany appeared to have mixed feelings about that. "Does that mean everyone in the hospital knows my real name now?"

  "No. I told hospital security that you're a witness to something and we need to keep you safe," Diego replied.

  Bethany's gaze narrowed. "You talk like a cop."

  "I'm an FBI agent."

  Her jaw dropped. "Wow. I didn't expect you to say that. Why didn't you tell me, Tara?"

  "I was getting to it."

  Bethany looked back at Diego. "And you're Michael's brother? Does he know you're a federal agent?"

  "He doe
s not, and I'd like to keep it that way for now."

  "Bethany, talk," Tara interrupted. "No more stalling. We need the whole story. We've risked our lives for you, and we deserve the truth."

  Bethany slowly nodded. "Okay, I'll tell you. But I don't want to do it here. I don't want to stay here. I'm afraid they'll find me."

  "There's a guard at the door."

  "They can get to guards. They can get to everyone. The Salazars are really powerful. After I talked to Father Manuel, he ended up dead. I don't think that's a coincidence."

  "So, you did talk to Father Manuel," Tara said. "I thought he knew something. He was helpful at first, but then he backed off, and then he was dead. Why did you speak to him?"

  "I needed a ride out of Cascada. He set it up for me. I didn't know I was putting him in danger."

  "Why did you need a ride? Did you steal something in Cascada from the Salazars? What was it?"

  Bethany drew in a breath. "Okay. Here's what happened. I finished my tour, and I was at loose ends for a few weeks. Michael had gone back to the States, but he was going to be traveling on business for a while, so we couldn't see each other until he got back. I had time to kill, and I was partying in Medellin when I ran into Pablo and Vanessa, Michael's cousins. I'd met them a few times before when I was with Michael. Vanessa told me she was having a birthday party a few days later in Cascada, and she invited me. I'd wanted to go to the compound for a while, but Michael kept putting me off. I was curious to meet more of his family."

  "You'd never gone to the compound before?" Tara asked.

  "No. I took the bus up there, and Pablo picked me up and took me to the compound. It's kind of an amazing place. There is one huge house and two other really big ones. They have a lake where people can boat. They have two pools, a basketball court, a tennis court. It's like the best resort you've ever been to, only it's private."

  "Because it's paid for by drug money," Diego put in. "Did you know that?"

  "I had my suspicions," Bethany admitted. "I'd been in Colombia enough times to know that the Salazars ran a cartel. But Michael told me about his wine bars, and he'd gone to school at USC. He didn't have their last name. I thought maybe he was not part of it. And he was such an amazing person, I didn't want to look too hard. Being with him was different than being with anyone else. I felt like we were soulmates."