by Nia Arthurs
Even when I’d been away on my last job, I’d called and spoken to her every night. Now, my cell phone remained silent and my chest echoed with emptiness.
Impatience chewed my nerves. I grew antsy with every day that passed. I wanted to see her.
Needed to.
Which was why I’d acted against my better senses and sailed to San Pedro.
It was a risky move. I couldn’t protect Reid here as well as I could on our fortress of an island. But my heart wasn’t really giving me a choice.
“Staring at your phone won’t make it ring,” a voice said. Rasheed leaned over the counter and slapped a bottle of water in front of me. “You okay, Boss?”
I accepted the bottle. “I’m waiting for a call.”
“Angel?”
My head whipped up. “Have you spoken to her?”
“No.” Rasheed chuckled, plump lips tilting up. “It’s funny seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Lovesick.”
I frowned. “You feeling brave, Rasheed?”
“No, sir.” He smirked and mumbled, “No wonder you packed up and moved to San Pedro. It’s faster to get to Belize City from here.”
“Enough.”
He kept on teasing as if he had no sense. “I remember the first time Angel walked in.” He leaned his elbows on the counter. “She raked me through the coals when she found out Reid had been living here.”
“You told her we keep him upstairs and away from the smoke when we stay?”
“She didn’t let me get a word in.”
“Sounds like her,” I said fondly.
Rasheed grinned and headed to the back rooms. “I like her.”
“She’s mine.”
“I’m aware, Boss.” Rasheed spun back to me, a finger pointed up. “By the way, I wanted to ask you something about the footage I saw.”
I stiffened, my nerves on high alert. “The one from the island?”
“The one from the store.”
“The store? Did we have a break-in?”
“No, that’s not it.” Rasheed fished into his pocket for his phone and clicked on a video. “When you asked me to look over the island’s security tapes, it got me curious.”
“About what?”
“The day Reid got out of his crib. It still bothers me that it happened on my watch.”
“You said he climbed out.”
“That’s what I thought.” His eyes sober, he pointed to a shadow on the screen. “But look.”
The shadow moved deftly in the video, its steps practiced as if it knew where every camera was angled and intentionally avoided them.
An expert.
Someone like me.
A moment later, the video filled with static.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“The footage was erased.” He swiped to another video and pointed. “This is the camera feed for the bar. As you can see, Reid is outside now.”
The muscles in my jaw tensed. “He didn’t climb out. He was taken.”
“I tried to look for more clues, but I couldn’t find anything.” Rasheed swept his finger to another video. “This is the camera feed of the back entrance. They were too many people on the street and the delivery guys were moving up and down. It’s hard to tell who it was.”
He was right. The back entrance camera pointed to a trafficked path. Tourists in straw hats strolled by, making way for golf carts. It would be impossible to pick out…
I stiffened, my eyes grazing across a familiar face.
“Boss?”
Panic mounting, I scrambled out of my chair. “Rasheed, take Reid to the island. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me.”
“Boss? What’s going on?” Shocked brown eyes followed me as I grabbed my wallet. “Did you see something?”
I ran through the door, his calls of ‘Boss! Boss!’ rolling down my back.
I had to get to Angel.
Time was ticking.
I might already be too late.
32
Angel
“Doctor, I wanted to thank you for everything. Your,” I bent two fingers, “‘American donation’ idea was amazing, inspired.”
“I’m just grateful Mr. Tate is getting the care he needs. If you’d waited a day longer it would have been too late.”
“That thought keeps me up at night.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “He’ll be fine. I made a call to my old friend who works in that department. Your dad will have the best care.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“No problem.” He glanced around the busy hallway. “Did you come back to the hospital just to speak to me?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to stay long. I know you’re busy.”
He offered his hand. “Angel, I’ll keep you updated.”
“Appreciate it, Doctor.”
He trotted away like a man on a mission while I pulled out my phone.
I’d gotten a text from Mom.
MOM: Love you. We’ll be back soon.
Under the text, she’d attached a picture of my dad in the medical aircraft. He held his fist in a strong thumbs-up.
I pressed the phone to my chest and breathed in relief. My worries about Dad were gone, banished. After all the tears, the pain and the uncertainty, my father would receive chemo.
No matter what my personal feelings, I owed Deacon for that.
He’d saved my family.
“Angel?”
My head whipped up. I saw a scrawny man in a T-shirt and khakis shuffling toward me.
At first, I couldn’t place him, but the moment our eyes met the memories snapped through my brain, all at once. An upended bicycle. A grieving husband. Deacon’s punch to the neck and a body flopping into sand.
“Peter!” I gasped.
“I thought it was you!” He laughed and closed the distance between us. Unlike the last time I’d seen him, his rashes had cleared up and his skin looked smooth and alabaster white. Blue eyes brightened and his pink lips curled up. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine. Great. What about you?” I touched his wrist and leaned closer, my heart pounding in concern. “How’s your wife?”
“She’s good. She’s here, actually.”
“You’re kidding?” I glanced around as if I had laser vision and could see through the thick walls.
“She heard about what happened that day—how you saved the little baby and how you lent me money to catch a boat and meet her at the hospital.”
“It was nothing.”
“It meant everything to us.” His eyes teared up. “You have no idea what it means that she’s here and breathing. She’s my world.”
“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll start crying.”
He chuckled and swiped beneath his eyes. “She wanted to meet you, but we didn’t have any way to get in contact.”
“I’m so sorry. You gave me your card that day, but I’ve been busy and I forgot to call.”
“It’s fine. I’m just glad to see you again.”
“If your wife is up to it, I could meet her now.”
“Would you?” His eyebrows rose and he sucked in a hopeful breath. “She’d love that. The doctors have kept her at the hospital for observation and it’s been driving her mad.”
“I need to use the bathroom first, but I’ll meet you there.”
“Of course.”
He gave me directions and then we separated.
I strolled down the hall, a smile on my face.
How ironic.
Deacon and I met by chance that day in San Pedro and I ended up becoming his son’s caretaker. Peter and I met that same afternoon, and we ended up running into each other again too.
Our lives, nothing but tangled threads, were interwoven and I got the sense that there was a hand gently guiding us together.
My heart soaring, I slipped into the female bathroom. It was well-lit with three empty stalls. I took a quick glance at my face in the mir
ror and fixed my hair.
In the clear reflection, I saw the bathroom door open.
I thought nothing of it… until I saw who’d entered.
Miguel.
Something was wrong.
My stomach tightened into knots when he slammed the door shut. The lock slid into place with a click. Miguel spun, eyes wild and a tan finger to his lips.
I shuffled back, fear gripping my heart. “M-Miguel?”
His eyebrows slanted and he signed something that I barely understood. Torn between confusion and fright, I forgot everything I’d learned from the sign-language videos.
“Wait, slow down,” I shrieked. “I don’t understand.”
He huffed.
I huffed right back. “What are you doing in the ladies room?”
He started signing again. It was akin to a native English speaker listening to rapid-fire Spanish. My brain translated bits and pieces, but it didn’t make any sense.
I scowled. “Huh?”
Miguel threw his hands high in frustration.
My eyes slid to the door and back. Should I run for it? I knew Miguel. We hadn’t spoken much, obviously, but he was working for Deacon and seemed trustworthy. He wouldn’t hurt me.
Or would he?
Did normal people run into the ladies bathroom and lock themselves in?
Was I being attacked right now?
Suddenly, Miguel turned and lifted his fingers. He was signing again, but this time, instead of quick gestures, he just formed a letter.
“I know that one,” I said in a voice that was a tad too excited.
He smiled a little, his bushy moustache flopping.
“Alright.” I watched him closely and spelled it out loud. “D-A-N-G-E-R.”
He nodded.
“Danger?” I stared in confusion. “I’m in danger? Me?” I poked a finger in my chest. “From what?”
Someone knocked on the door.
My heart jolted as I imagined a woman or little girl outside dying to relieve her bladder.
I stepped forward.
Miguel slid in front of me.
“I’m opening the door,” I hissed.
Brown eyes darkened. He shook his head.
“Miguel, this is a public bathroom. You can’t just—”
He dove toward me and slapped his hand over my mouth.
Panic kicked in.
I bucked and flailed, struggling to get him off me.
What the heck?
“Angel?”
Peter’s voice.
Miguel pointed to the door, his eyes intent.
I shook his hand off and whispered, “That’s Peter. He’s a friend.”
The doorknob rattled.
“Angel, who are you talking to?”
Miguel’s head whipped around. He seemed to be searching for something. His gaze caught on the window and he darted over, jumping high as if he intended to open it.
“We’re on the third floor. That’s not gonna work.” I had no idea why I was offering suggestions when none of this made any sense.
Miguel raked a hand through his hair.
“Angel!” The door rattled.
Peter was trying to ram it open.
That wasn’t normal either, right? Why were so many men desperate to use the ladies’ bathroom today? The male one was right across the hall.
My phone rang.
I glanced at the screen.
Deacon.
Miguel snatched the phone from me, pressed the ‘answer’ button and shoved the cell in my face.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“Angel,” Deacon’s voice was rough and urgent, “you need to get out of there.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Angel, it’s—”
Before he could finish, the bathroom door exploded, spitting Peter into the room. I screamed.
My phone fell to the ground with a sickening crack.
“There you are,” Peter said eerily.
“Were you looking for me?” I edged away from both men. “There’s no need. I’m almost finished in here.”
Peter offered a hand. “Let’s go now. My wife is waiting.”
Miguel shoved me back and leaped at Peter. The two men started throwing punches, but it was clear that Peter was the better fighter.
He subdued Miguel in three moves, ending his assault with an elbow-drive to the neck that reminded me of what Deacon had done to him in San Pedro.
Miguel crumpled to the ground.
“Miguel!” I shrieked, rushing to his side. My head shot up and I seared Peter with an accusatory glare. “Who the heck are you?”
Peter advanced. Gone was the scared and insecure stride. Now, he moved with a vicious swagger. I scooted back, crawling in the opposite direction to get away from him.
His lips peeled away from his teeth, revealing a dark, unsettling smile. It was like staring into the face of a completely different person.
“You’re too trusting, Angel.” He taunted.
“D-don’t come near me.”
“It’s a shame I couldn’t get to know you better.”
“Help!” I looked past him to the open bathroom door. “Somebody, hel—”
Peter swooped in. I saw his fist colliding with my face and a moment later, everything went black.
33
Angel
Light pricked the back of my eyelids. Heavy boulders pinned my lashes down. I started to open my eyes, but something told me that the darkness was safer than the light.
My head ached.
In the distance, I heard voices, but I wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined.
“She’s rousing,” a female said.
“Give her a minute,” a man answered. His voice sounded familiar.
“Why did you knock her out? I wanted her conscious.”
“I only intended to stun her. She smacked her head on the bathroom floor.”
“Did you get rid of the deaf one?”
Miguel?
“Yes.”
Horror iced my veins. What had they done to Miguel? What would they do to me?
“She’s still not waking.” Under her breath, the unknown woman mumbled, “Deacon picked a weakling.”
Did they know Deacon?
What did he have to do with this?
“She’s pretty,” the man replied. “Nice rack. He could have done worse.”
“A woman is more than her tits, Peter.”
I gritted my teeth as hatred washed over me. How dare that jerk make comments about my body?
“How much longer?” Peter asked.
Fear struck my chest.
How much longer until what?
“He should be on his way now. Which is why I need this one to wake up. Hey.” The feminine voice was closer now. “Enough sleeping.”
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. It was a solid plan that worked for all of three seconds before someone slapped my cheek. Pain splintered every nerve in my face and I gasped, my eyes popping open.
“There she is.”
I glanced up, struggling to see through the tears.
A woman stood staring at me, an upward curve to her thin lips. She had dark hair and dark eyes. A tailored pantsuit clung to her figure.
She didn’t look like a gangster. Elegance dripped from the tiny earrings in her ears and the rings on her fingers. If I passed her on the street, I’d assumed she worked somewhere in the fashion industry.
Not here.
In the darkness and the gloom with an underling who was too good at fighting with his fists.
“Who are you?” I muttered.
“Your worst nightmare.” She laughed and stepped back. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
I tried to move and realized my hands were tied. Instead of good ole’ rope, they’d gone the zip tie route and the wires cut into my skin painfully.
Panic mounting, I tried to observe the dark room. Apart from the fact that it was big and had horrible lighting, I couldn�
�t see much or recognize where they’d taken me.
“Kidnapping is illegal. You could both get arrested for this,” I croaked.
“How cute.” Peter chuckled. “I told you she’s cute.”
I glared at Peter. “How could you betray me like this? I trusted you. I believed in you.” Anger shook my voice. “Do you even have a sick wife?”
He just stared at me.
I’d take that as a no.
“Look,” I swiped my tongue over my cracked lips, “I don’t have any money and I don’t have any connections. Whatever you need, you can’t get it from me.”
The woman folded slender arms over her chest. Her nails were neatly manicured. French tips. “That’s too bad. I guess we should just kill you then.”
Peter smirked, as if he’d enjoy that.
Horror formed a lump in my throat. My stomach roiled. If I didn’t get a handle on my nerves, I’d throw up all over that pretty outfit of hers. “T-that’s not what I meant. If we could just talk this through, I’m sure we can work something out.”
The woman bent over my chair and brought her face close to mine. “How brave.” She slid a fingernail over my cheek. “You know nothing, Angel.”
“What are you talking about? What don’t I know?”
“Who I am. Who Deacon really is.”
“He’s the owner of Belizean Cigar in San Pedro.”
“He’s so much more than that.” Her heels clicked against the tiles as she walked in front of me.
“By any chance,” I gulped, “are you Rhia?”
Her eyes flickered.
I knew I’d hit the truth. “You are.”
“Deacon mentioned me?” She seemed mildly surprised.
“Not really.”
“Sounds like him. He’s never one to show his hand.”
“That day in the hotel room,” I paused, “did you two…?” I couldn’t even finish. What a stupid question. I’d been kidnapped and my life was at stake. Why did it matter if she and Deacon had hooked up on his business trip?
Peter barked out a laugh. “She wishes.”
Rhia slanted him a look and he quieted immediately. She turned to me. “Deacon and I are… old friends. He was an operative in our organization, the best in the field.”
“An operative?”
“A mercenary.”