Say Your Goodbyes

by Linda Ladd

  On the other side of the mansion, it was extremely dark under the overhanging jacaranda trees, just as Desoto had described. Novak kept up, alert. Seemed too damn easy so far. That made him nervous and upped his cautiousness. They moved quietly through the darkness, keeping plenty of space between them, and Novak had to admire Desoto’s stealth. He really did move like a shadow. Novak could hardly spot him. He was even better than Novak and his buddies in Special Forces. The Mayan was deadly, too. Novak had seen his work, up close and personal, something he wouldn’t forget.

  When they reached a space under a long line of kitchen windows, Desoto pointed up to the balcony above their heads. It looked about sixteen feet up, but there were thick vines covering the side of the house and all kinds of water spouts and trellises. A burglar’s welcome mat. Novak took hold of a tangled mass of the vines and jerked hard on it. It held, enough to support his weight. Desoto was already halfway to the wrought-iron balcony. They both still had on night vision goggles, and the scene around them was a glowing green landscape. If anybody else moved, the two men would see them first. Novak stood there a moment, incredulous that he was with the guy he had tied up and threatened only hours ago. Somehow that made him nervous all over again.

  Shaking off his misgivings, Novak climbed up quickly, following the Mayan past the second-story balcony and on up to the third floor. He stepped over the rail and hunkered down beside the Mayan, keeping himself tight against the wall of the house. Their luck ended there.

  The door beside them suddenly opened and a guard walked outside. He didn’t see them. He stopped at the railing and lit a cigarette, looking down into the darkness below. His pant leg had almost touched Novak’s shoulder. Novak didn’t give him time to sense their presence. He came up fast and got him around the throat. It took under ten seconds and the guy went limp as a rag. Novak lowered him to the balcony floor, and Desoto immediately thrust his obsidian knife into his neck. The blood spurted out, and Novak stepped back to avoid it.

  “You gonna kill everybody we see?”

  “Only the bad ones. He is Marisol’s man. I know him. I have seen what he does to people. She uses innocent looks and beauty to convince gullible men to support her. Her father’s people are much more loyal to him.”

  Novak shrugged, no soft spot in his heart for drug lords’ murdering minions. That included the Mayan. Probably the world would be better off if they crept about and methodically killed everybody residing in the place, like the Mayan had done to the pirates. The dead guy seemed incompetent to Novak. Wasn’t observant, that was for damn sure. It had been very easy to infiltrate the heavily guarded stronghold. Too easy, maybe. Again, thoughts of a double cross entered his mind.

  Desoto headed off down the porch to their right. Novak followed him, keeping his back to the wall, his gun pointed down toward the garden below. The Mayan was walking upright and unafraid, apparently quite sure of himself. Probably had done the same thing a hundred different times on a hundred different balconies. Probably thought nobody could see him anymore, that he really was the Invisible Man. Novak was too cautious to be overconfident, and he still had no idea where they were headed. Desoto could be leading him into a death trap, but somehow Novak doubted it. He had seen Carmelita’s condition. He had seen the love of a father for his daughter, the way he’d held her, the way he’d whispered that he was there and she was safe.

  They moved down alongside what Novak assumed to be a row of bedroom windows and French doors. At the back corner, they stopped, with the swimming pool directly behind them and far below. The Mayan’s face swam with reflections off the water. Novak picked out two guards below them, one at the top of the steps that led down to the pool, the other one at the far end of the pool, out by the grassy fields. They were both leaning against iron gates, probably half asleep. None of them would expect anybody to storm the place. Not if the intruders wanted to keep their heads intact.

  “Her room is halfway down the back balcony,” Desoto whispered to him. “Stay low. We can surprise her while she’s sleeping. She’s quick with her knife, so take care.”

  Novak was beginning to get a bad feeling. His gut was telling him that something was amiss and things were going to go south—and fast. “Wait a second, something’s not right,” he whispered, grabbing the back of the Mayan’s shirt.

  “Stay here then,” the Mayan whispered, jerking out of his grasp. “I will go inside and kill her. Then I will come back with her heart still beating inside my hand to prove to you that she is dead.”

  “Just kill her and stop with the Shakespearean dialogue.”

  Desoto was already moving toward Marisol’s bedroom, keeping so low that he was practically on his belly. Novak stayed put, pretty sure Desoto was going to run into trouble before he stole Marisol’s heart. He watched the man move, like a shadow on a wall, small and agile and deadly. Like an angel of death, floating in close to snatch someone’s soul. Then the Mayan stopped, right outside the girl’s door. He looked back at Novak and then pushed it open and eased inside. A few moments later, the lights flared on, and a shot rang out.

  Well, shit, thought Novak. He pulled off his night vision goggles, dropped down, and headed forward in a low crouch. When he reached the door, he saw Desoto lying on the floor. Two guards were standing over him. Marisol had her back to Novak and was yelling curses down at the Mayan.

  “You think I didn’t know you would come after me?” she screamed, giving Desoto a kick in his side. He grunted and curled up into a fetal position. Novak could see blood seeping through his pants, wet and shiny, midpoint on his thigh. Marisol’s arm was in a sling. Jenn must have gotten her before she went down.

  Novak swiftly stepped up behind the girl, grabbed her by the throat, and put his rifle up under her chin. She struggled, so Novak clubbed her once across her nose with the barrel, and she stopped fighting. The two guards had swiveled around and beaded their weapons on him.

  “You move a muscle and she’s dead,” Novak said, very low.

  They didn’t want her to die, it seemed. They looked at each other and then looked back at Novak.

  “Go ahead. Put your weapons on the ground,” he told them, listening for guards running up the iron steps. Not yet. The two men obeyed, and then he glanced down at Desoto. “Can you get up? Grab those guns and let’s go.”

  The Mayan pushed up, groaning as he got to his feet, using the bedpost for support. Then he grabbed his gun and disabled the guards, one, two, down you go, with a rifle butt smash to the head. The two guys were out for the count. “Kill her, Novak. Do it now, while you can. Or I will.”

  “She’s a hostage that can get us out of here. Just get the guns and come on.”

  Novak dragged the girl backward out of the bedroom, his biceps flexed hard against her throat. He hoped to God that Desoto got his act together. Below them, several guards had gathered and were yelling an alarm. He ducked down, took Marisol down with him, and then headed back toward the kitchen side of the house. She acted dazed now, but he wasn’t going to loosen his grip. She stumbled along with him. They could hear men shouting and the thud of running feet as they clamored up to the balcony. Just as they made the corner, a couple of guys appeared at the other end of the balcony. Novak headed toward the vine-covered lattice, but it was way too late. Men were waiting below on the ground and others were at the far end and also on the balcony behind them now. They were trapped.

  Thrusting open a door right behind him, Novak backed inside, holding the woozy girl in front as a shield. The Mayan followed and slammed it and set the lock. Before they could barricade it, a light flared on inside the room. Novak swung around with the girl. Arturo Ruiz sat up in a huge four-poster bed. He held a very big and nasty looking .357 Magnum in his hand. He pointed it at Novak’s head, very calm and collected, as if people attacked his compound, shot up his house, gun-whipped his daughter, and invaded his bedchamber every night of the week.

  “Release my daughter, or I will shoot you.”

  “I
think not,” Novak said, keeping the gun barrel pressed hard up under the woman’s chin. She was his one and only bargaining chip, and they were in some serious trouble. “Call off your men, or she dies. I will shoot her, Ruiz. And she deserves it.”

  “Do so and I will kill you.”

  “Might just be worth it, after what she’s done to us.”

  Ruiz frowned, taken aback, Novak hoped. The big man hesitated, and long enough for Novak to know they had a chance. Several armed men burst through the interior door and held them at gunpoint. Novak kept his back to the wall and held the girl tight. Everybody just stood there, in a frozen-armed standoff.

  “Stand down,” Ruiz said to his men. Then he looked at his daughter. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “They hurt me, Papi. I’m so scared.”

  Marisol’s nose was bleeding a bit. She sounded scared and whined like a frightened child, like she’d probably heard Carmelita cry when she tortured her.

  Ruiz swiveled his attention to the Mayan. “Sebastian, I am shocked to see you doing this to me. What have I done to make you hurt me like this?”

  Novak took that as a good sign. Sebastian’s take? Not so good. He looked angry as hell. His leg was bleeding profusely, darkening his pants and staining his boot and the white carpet under his foot. “You must know the truth. Marisol, the daughter you love so much? She kidnapped my little Carmelita. She tortured her. Tortured Carmelita, your own sweet goddaughter. Marisol is evil, Arturo, but you know that, do you not? I will not let that vicious attack on the honor of my family go unavenged. I will gladly die in defense of my child.”

  Well, Novak wasn’t gonna die in the defense of anybody, not tonight. “I’ll kill your daughter if you make a move against either of us. I want safe passage out of here and then we’ll let her go, alive and well. If you attack me or the Mayan, I will kill her where she stands and not think twice about it.”

  Ruiz paid no attention to Novak, so Novak took a step backward toward the balcony door, holding Marisol tightly around the neck. The girl tried to pull away and he cut off her breath. After that, she stood still. Ruiz was more interested, it seemed, in Desoto’s motives.

  “Why, Sebastian? You are my son. I chose you myself. I took you in. Raised you as my own. Why are you turning on Marisol? I don’t understand.”

  “I think you do understand. I think you understand that your daughter is corrupt and evil. And I can prove it. You can call my home. Carmelita will tell you what happened to her. How your daughter starved her and beat her and slashed her with knives.”

  “Oh, come now, Sebastian. I believe your daughter was kidnapped, but that is hardly a novel thing around here. Why would Marisol want to hurt her? Carmelita is like a little sister to her. She could not harm her.”

  “I’ve got the sound of it, if you have the stomach to listen. Here on my phone. Listen to Marisol laugh as my daughter screams in agony. Listen to that and you will know I speak the truth.”

  Ruiz just seemed befuddled. He didn’t look so intimidating in his blue-and-white-striped pajamas, either.

  Novak took advantage of his confusion. “When my friend and I tried to help Marisol’s friend Luisa, your daughter repaid us by killing Luisa and leaving my friend for dead. She scalped Luisa. Does that give you an idea what your daughter is capable of?”

  Ruiz ignored him, still horrified that his adopted son had turned on him. “Why, Sebastian? Why would she do such a thing to your precious child? I provide her with everything. She has just come back to me, and she is happy here now. She wants to stay home. She swore she did.”

  Desoto hesitated, looked unsure now. “Because she was blackmailing me. She lured my daughter away from home, telling Marta that she wanted to take her into town for ice cream, and then she took her. Let me tell you why, Arturo. Because Marisol wanted me to kill you so she could take over your business. That’s the truth. I swear it on the Holy Virgin. Ask Juan. He was in on it, too. Go ahead, ask him.”

  Arturo looked at his bodyguard, and Juan froze where he stood, and then he tried to run. He was taken down to the floor, disarmed, and held there by the other guards. Ruiz got up out of bed, slipped on his blue house shoes, and then stared down at his former friend. “Is that true, Juan? Do you know of this plot against me? Tell me now, and perhaps I will spare you.”

  The man said nothing, but Marisol apparently saw the writing on the wall. She started crying. “Don’t believe them, Papi. It’s not true. None of it’s true. I love you. I would never want to hurt you.”

  “Cut his throat,” Ruiz told the guard holding Juan. All casual and nonchalant, like asking somebody to hand him the salt.

  Juan didn’t like the sound of that. He found his tongue real fast. “It’s all true, patrón. She was blackmailing the Mayan to kill you. She said she would kill Carmelita if he didn’t. I helped her kidnap the little girl, but I never laid a finger on that child. I’m sorry! Please, please, forgive me.”

  “Do it,” Arturo instructed the other guards, still calm. He watched as they slit the man’s throat. He gargled and choked, and Ruiz turned back to his daughter. He had a look in his eyes now that boded well for Novak and Sebastian. Not so much for Marisol.

  “Release Marisol. I will deal with her myself.”

  “You think I’m just going to believe that?” Novak kept inching slowly toward the outside door. He had a firm grip on Marisol, and he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

  “I give you my word. Let my daughter go. I will deal with her treachery. I give you my word. My word is law here.”

  Novak had noticed that. The unfortunate man on the floor was still gurgling blood. Novak glanced at Desoto. The Mayan was staring at Ruiz, giving him a long and searching gaze. Then Sebastian Desoto spoke up. “I beg your forgiveness, Arturo. But I refused to consider what she asked of me. I have always been loyal to you. Always, even after my retirement. I came here only to avenge my daughter’s suffering. Marisol is evil. You understand the seriousness of her crimes, do you not?” Desoto tossed him his phone. Ruiz caught it and looked down at it. “There is the evidence. Listen to it. Listen to your daughter torturing your goddaughter. Listen to Carmelita screaming and begging her to stop.”

  “I will listen to this tape, but I believe you. You have never lied to me. I will handle my daughter’s sins myself,” Ruiz said again. “You both may leave the compound now and no one will molest you. You have my word, Sebastian, and you know my word is true. Go.”

  Novak didn’t know his word was true, hell no, but Sebastian limped across the room to where Novak stood with the girl. She was shaking like a leaf, terrified of her father. “Let her go. He will not harm us.”

  “Sorry, but I’m just not that stupid.”

  “He is a man of his word.”

  “Honor among thieves, that it?”

  “That’s right.”

  Desoto walked past him and out onto the balcony. Ruiz shouted out for his men to back off and let them pass. Novak hesitated a long and anxious moment. The whole thing had been a disaster from beginning to end, and he didn’t like letting Marisol off the hook. Not after what she had done. She deserved to die, right here, right now, and her father would never kill her. On the other hand, Novak had no choice. So he backed his way out the door and found the outside coast clear. The Mayan was halfway down the curving concrete steps that led to the second floor, leaning heavily on the wall. Nobody was touching him. He was leaving smears of blood on the stones behind him. Nobody was following him. Novak sucked in a breath, pushed the girl back inside the room, and took the steps slowly, inching down them backward, his rifle aimed at the men watching from the third-floor balcony. Their weapons were down. They followed orders, and Novak was damn glad they did.

  Desoto seemed to accept the situation for what it was, more concerned now with getting the hell out of the place. Novak had too much innate caution to be so sure everything was going to work out in their favor. They made it to the second floor and then on down to the big concrete p
atio at ground level. They started down more steps to the pool. Novak still walked backward, weapon trained high above them, at the top of the steps where most of the guards were congregated. Nobody tried to stop them. It was as if they all had been frozen in time. But Novak was afraid it wasn’t quite over yet. He was waiting for the bomb to drop, maybe in the guise of an M16 barrage the minute they reached the open field.

  When they made it to poolside, Desoto sat down on a low wall and ripped off part of his shirt and fashioned a makeshift tourniquet on his thigh. The bullet had not hit the femoral artery or he’d be upstairs and dead on Ruiz’s bedroom floor. Novak watched the back of the house. He jerked his attention to the third-floor balcony when he heard Marisol screaming. Arturo Ruiz stood up there, holding his daughter sitting on top of the balcony wall, her feet hanging off the precipice. Desoto stood up, his wound forgotten, and they both watched as the big drug lord waited a few seconds and then he shoved his daughter off the wall. Novak and Desoto stared in shock, watching her fall, her long and drawn-out shriek of horror stopping abruptly when she hit the patio below. The sound of her body hitting the concrete was horrendous. Nobody moved. Not Novak. Not Desoto. Not the guards. It was surreal.

  “There is your vengeance, Sebastian!” Ruiz shouted angrily from high above them. His voice echoed down over the pool and out across the fields. “There is your family’s honor. And mine.”

  Then Arturo Ruiz turned and walked back into his bedroom. His guards scattered in all directions, afraid of the same fate, no doubt. Nobody went near Marisol’s body. Novak supported the Mayan with one arm and helped him move down past the pool into the grass. But Novak kept looking back, expecting gunshots to ring out at any moment.

  “He will not attack us. We are free to go now.”

  “He’s just letting us walk away?”