by Eva Charles
72
Daniela
On the church steps, ringed by armed guards, with death looming, we say our vows.
Father Aguiar asks the first of the three questions that characterize Catholic marriages. “Daniela and Antonio, have you come here to enter into marriage freely, and without coercion?”
Antonio scowls at him before he says, “I have.”
The priest’s eyes are on me as he waits. My chest constricts as Antonio gazes at me with an abundance of patience, but says nothing. He’s more confident of my answer than I am.
“I have,” I submit softly, knowing I’ll have to make my peace with God later.
“Do you promise to love and honor each other, vowing fidelity, for as long as you both shall live?” the priest asks.
“I do,” we say at the same time. And as long as we’re married, I will honor this promise. But I have no opinion, only a prayer, as to whether Antonio will be faithful to me.
“Are you prepared to welcome children into this marriage?”
“I am,” Antonio says in a clear, unwavering voice.
“I am,” I also promise. If it’s safe for them. That’s up to you, God.
Father Aguiar gestures for us to face each other. Antonio reaches for my hands as the priest asks us each to give our final consent before God.
“Antonio, do you take Daniela for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, until death do you part?”
Antonio reaches over and gently brushes a lock of disheveled hair off my forehead. “I do,” he says unequivocally. His sincerity makes my heart clench. While I might not be loved, I’m wanted.
Father Aguiar turns to me. “Daniela, do you take Antonio for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and obey until death do you part?”
I gaze into Antonio’s eyes, searching for the boy I fell in love with as a girl. The one who visited me in my dreams, lavishing me with sweet kisses—and later passionate ones. Each kiss sealed with a declaration of love. While I don’t see that boy now, I pretend. Because it’s the only way I can find the courage to promise my life to this man.
“I do.”
Almost before the words are out, Lucas presses the rings into our hands. The priest is still blessing the marriage when Antonio grabs my wrist and yanks me into the vestibule and out the side door to a waiting car. Cristiano is in the passenger seat.
“This is a well-protected vehicle,” he assures me. “You’ll be safe.
“Take her directly to my apartment at the lodge. Other than you,” he orders Cristiano, “no one in or out of the apartment. I don’t give a damn who it is.”
I reach for his arm and grasp tight. “Please be careful.” Even as I say the words, I know he’s not going to be careful. Antonio is out for vengeance, and men with that kind of hatred in their hearts are never careful. “Please don’t take any chances with your life.”
His brow furrows as he traces my jaw with his fingertip. “You’re a beautiful bride,” he murmurs. “Don’t give my men a hard time. They’re here to protect you,” he adds as he pulls away and shuts the car door. He taps the rear of the car, and we speed away.
When I turn around, Antonio’s on his way inside the church. There will be more death today. I’m sure of it.
By the time I turn to face the front, the privacy screen is raised before I’ve had the chance to ask a single question.
I look down at my tattered dress, covered in dust and soot. Somehow it seems apropos that I got married in a dirty dress.
For the remainder of the ride, I think about the four women who were with me in the room. Four lives lost because they were there to serve me.
I hold my hands near my mouth to catch the vomit as I retch.
73
Antonio
Daniela, my mother, and Cristiano—mere feet away from a deadly explosion. Whoever is responsible will be pleading for death before I’m finished with them.
Lucas is headed in my direction. He should be back at the villa, studying feeds and overseeing the lab analysis and the forensics as they come in. That’s what he does best, and he is the best. Cristiano should be running this operation on the ground, but I need him with Daniela.
“How the fuck could this have happened?” I bark when Lucas approaches. “We’ve had people on the church since the wedding announcement went out. We swept the entire place yesterday, twice, and again this morning.”
“We found what appears to be a small timer in what was left of the bridal bouquet,” he says, the venom reverberating in every word. “At least we think it was the bouquet, but we won’t know until we’ve done the forensics. It’s probably not the entire story, but it’s definitely a piece.”
“Have someone pick up the florist, the delivery driver, the cleaning staff, and anyone else who might have even glanced at that bouquet. Put them in separate interrogation rooms in the caves. I want you back at the villa, running those forensics.”
“We’re still collecting evidence here.”
“I’ll run the operation here. I don’t know a fucking thing about running forensics.”
“Cristiano can come back after he makes sure Daniela is tucked in. The lodge is impenetrable.”
“No. I don’t want that. If the bouquet was rigged, or if a bomb was detonated in the bride’s parlor, it was meant to kill her. It wasn’t a fucking warning,” I growl, the lust for revenge growing with each passing second.
“Maybe,” Lucas says carefully. “The explosion did a fair amount of damage, but all in all, it was contained. Bombs are notoriously finicky, even in the hands of an expert. Until we learn more, we won’t know if the damage was intentional or something gone awry. The one thing for sure is that whoever is behind it was willing to take a risk that it would kill her—and hundreds of other people too.”
“Any word on the women inside the room?”
“Paula is the only one accounted for. She was in the bathroom when it happened.”
“We lost one guard. Anyone else?”
“So far Pinto is the only confirmed casualty. Although I don’t have high hopes for the women in the room.”
I don’t, either, but it’s hard to hear. “Daniela said that some nun went into the room shortly before the explosion.”
“Sister Maria Gloria. I just tried to talk to her. She’s completely distraught. I’m going to talk to her again when she’s coherent. She’s been the caretaker of the room and has served every bride who’s been married in the church for the last fifty years.”
My phone rings. The Porto police captain. No surprise. His men were sent away when they arrived on the scene. “I need to take this.”
“Santa Ana’s is an important piece of our history, not to mention a church.” The captain doesn’t even say hello before he begins the lecture. “You have some balls sending my people away. The culprits need to be brought to justice.”
Stupid fuck.
“The culprits will be brought to justice. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. The explosion occurred mere feet away from where my mother and my bride were standing. Justice will be done—and swiftly. Count on it. This is mine. Keep your people the hell away.”
I hang up, and seconds later the phone rings. The mayor’s chief of staff. Fuck him. If the mayor has something so damn important to say, he can contact me himself.
After I block the chief of staff, I call Cristiano.
“Everything battened down there?” I ask as soon as he picks up.
“Yeah. I can come—”
“No. Have you talked to Lucas?”
“A couple of times.”
“Contact the rectory and tell Senhor Padre we’ll make a large donation to rebuild the damaged areas of the church, but first get Pinto’s wife on the phone for me—and make sure there’s
a deposit in her bank account before the sun goes down. He was a good man, always loyal. His family should want for nothing.”
“On it.”
“Is my mother airborne?”
“Not yet.”
“Let me know as soon as it happens.”
“Not to get too far ahead of ourselves, but are you going to want to do anything for the families of the women in the bridal parlor?”
“Not until we’re absolutely sure that they weren’t culpable in any way. What do you know about Paula?”
“What do you mean?”
“She was in the bride’s parlor when Daniela left, but she was in the bathroom when the explosion happened.”
“She was checked out pretty thoroughly before we brought her into the house, but I’ll take another look.”
“Do that. Sooner rather than later. What about the nun?”
“An unwitting accomplice, if anything. Because my mother sings at the church, I’ve known her my whole life.”
I grunt out of frustration, because he’s probably right, which puts us no closer to a culprit. We’re going to question everyone associated with the florist, but they were heavily vetted too.
“I understand you’re running the operation on the ground.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“Since you asked, yeah, I do. If you don’t want me to run it, let Alvarez do it. The main part of the church has been cleared, but the area where it occurred is still smoking, and we can’t know for sure if everything’s been detonated. You shouldn’t be back there.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I hang up, because if I wanted to be nagged, I’d call my mother.
After quickly checking my messages, I go to the scene of the explosion. The air is still thick with smoke, and someone hands me a mask. “Watch yourselves,” I caution. “We don’t know if anything else is going to blow.”
No one in the bridal parlor survived. I don’t need a forensics report to tell me that.
Were they after her, or did they go after her to get to me? That’s the question.
It takes someone special to set a bomb in an iconic church like Santa Ana’s. I’m not a religious man, and even I wouldn’t stoop so low.
Someone was desperate to stop the wedding.
Tomas would love to see me embarrassed—or even better, dead. But I don’t believe he has the wherewithal to orchestrate something like this himself. Or the balls to blow up Santa Ana’s. Besides, he was sitting in the pews when it happened. He’s too much of a coward to risk his life, even to get to me.
This was done by someone who doesn’t care about what the old church means to the people of Porto. Or someone determined to prevent us from going through with the wedding. I keep coming back to that.
“Hey,” Lucas says. “I’m going back to the villa to get started on the forensics, but you shouldn’t be back here.”
I glare at him. “Don’t you think it’s convenient that she wasn’t here when it happened?”
“Who is she?”
“Daniela.”
He raises a brow, and I recognize the look—he thinks I’m nuts.
“I’d never underestimate her, but no, I don’t think she would have set a bomb in Santa Ana’s, and killed innocent people. Besides, she had no opportunity.”
He’s right, of course. But I don’t trust my judgment when it comes to her.
“Did Cristiano tell you that, when he went into the chapel after the explosion, Daniela had thrown herself over your mother to protect her from the falling debris?”
No. He didn’t mention it. I shouldn’t be surprised. She has a good heart and a clean soul. It seems she’s always protecting someone other than herself. It’s your fucking job to protect her, especially now that she’s your wife. So far, I’m doing a helluva job.
“I’ll catch up to you at the villa in a little while. Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“I want the sonofabitch who did this. Don’t stop turning over rocks until he’s ours.”
74
Daniela
I glance at the television screen. They’re talking about the explosion at Santa Ana’s. The report claims that old electrical wiring caused the blast. “Fortunately, no one died,” the newscaster claims.
It’s a lie, of course, because I saw a dead man on the ground, covered with a jacket. And there will likely be more.
Antonio texted earlier to tell me that Paula had been located. I haven’t heard another word from him, and it’s nearly midnight.
The waiting is killing me. I’ve taken a bath, eaten some crackers, and tried to read to take my mind off what happened today. Off how close I came to dying. Off the innocent women who still haven’t been accounted for—surely Antonio would have texted me if they had been found alive. Or Pinto, the man who stood outside the door to protect me.
What about Sister Maria Gloria? Did she make it out of the room?
I hope Antonio isn’t so thirsty for vengeance that he’s reckless with his own life—or the lives of others.
Who would do something like this? Tomas? I don’t think so. There would be other ways to kill me. Maybe it wasn’t meant to kill anyone. Maybe it was intended to intimidate me—or Antonio.
The questions pop into my mind, one after another. Nothing is engaging enough to get my mind off the horror.
I should call Isabel. She’s alone tonight, and I’m not sure if the explosion will make the Portuguese news in the US. She’ll be beside herself with worry that something happened to me.
I place the call, then pace the room as I wait for her to answer.
“Hello?” Isabel says, as though she’s not sure it’s me calling.
“Hello.”
“Daniela. Are you married?” she whispers.
“I am.” I don’t allow the emotion I’m feeling to control my voice, but it doesn’t matter. Isabel begins to cry.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “He’s not so bad. Not like his father.” I wait for her to blow her nose. “Is Valentina at her event?”
“Yes. But I don’t like it. When we got to the school, there were so many boys.”
Valentina was so excited about the dance-a-thon tonight. The kids are locked in the school gym for the entire night to raise money for homeless teens. Isabel hates the idea of girls and boys mixing for the night, but Valentina and I managed to wear her down. It’s a good thing too. She doesn’t need to sit around all night watching Isabel grieve.
“I can’t wait to see you,” she says. “Even for a few days.”
I have a feeling that Antonio won’t leave Porto until we know who was responsible for the explosion. I need to prepare Isabel without alarming her. “There’s a possibility that our trip might be delayed by a day or two. But I promise I’m still coming. I’ll know more in a few hours.” I hope.
“Is everything all right?” she asks, her tone suspicious. She doesn’t trust Antonio.
Isabel hasn’t heard about the explosion, and I’m not going to tell her. If she sees it on the news now, she’ll have already spoken to me, and she’ll know I’m not hurt—or dead.
“Everything’s fine. Antonio has some pressing matters to attend to before we can leave. But we’re coming.”
After we hang up, I lie on the couch with a book. Before I even finish reading a page, the elevator dings.
I toss my book aside and rush the elevator, praying that it’s Antonio and not someone bringing bad news.
75
Daniela
The doors open, and Antonio steps into the apartment. I draw a long, ragged breath.
He looks haggard, and worn, and I can almost see the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s bad. It has to be.
“Is there any news?”
“We’re making progress. But it’s slow.”
He’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. Somewhere along the way, he lost the dark bespoke suit—his wedding suit.
I’m relieved that he doesn’t seem injured.
We stand in the hall, perfectly still, gauging each other.
“How are you?” he murmurs.
“I’m doing better. But I wish there was news on the missing women.”
He steps closer to me and cradles my cheek.
I tip my face into his warm hand.
“I don’t expect the news to be good.”
I know this, but a tear trickles down my cheek anyway. “Any chance it was an accident?”
He swallows hard and shakes his head.
“Any clues as to what happened?”
“Someone almost killed you. My mother was nearby. Do you know how to humiliate a man? How to destroy him?”
I nod. “You take his women. His wife. His mother. His daughters. His sisters. You kidnap, rape, torture, kill them—any one of those atrocities will do.”
He studies me. My response surprises him. It’s a lesson I know deep, deep in my heart.
“No clues at all?” I ask before he prods me to tell him more.
“The bridal bouquet was rigged with a tiny plastic device that managed to get through our security. Someone from the florist left the door of the shop unlocked last night.”
There is hatred in his voice. I’m beginning to feel hatred well inside me too. That decision cost people their lives. I was lucky.
“Who did he leave the door unlocked for?”
“He didn’t know. He was contacted anonymously. A large sum of money was deposited in his account yesterday. My men picked him up at the airport in Lisbon.”
“I’m surprised whoever paid him didn’t kill him after it was done.”
“I suspect they hadn’t gotten to him yet. They were sloppy.”
“Do you think they’ll still try to contact him? Maybe you can—”
He shakes his head. “The devil is the only person contacting him now.”
Antonio killed him—or it was done on his order. I don’t feel any regret. None. It’s chilling. “He’s dead?”