by Jianne Carlo
“No need for us to hook up. Ten to one they’re all dead. I don’t see Pedro taking any prisoners, you?”
“Wrong. He won’t kill the nun until he has Jacinta. And after the cloister and Fredo and Lucia?”
“I go after Pedro. You take Jacinta to New York. The women will eat her up.”
“Yeah. They will. She’ll be in good hands. Between Destiny, Nalini, Jess, and Sinner’s mom, they’ll suck Jacinta into the fold big-time.” Satan shook his head. “Hard to believe. Less than eighteen months and all of you gone. Married.”
“I’m not married yet.” Demon didn’t voice the question eating away at his gut. Would Jacinta say yes if he proposed? He just didn’t fucking know.
Satan waved a hand. “Matter of time. We’re going to need a passport and ID for Jacinta. I’ll get started on that.”
Demon was still lost in the vision of Jacinta surrounded by his team members’ wives and Sinner’s mom. He shook his head. Satan was dead-on; the women would welcome Jacinta big-time. Especially Jess, his best friend’s wife.
The drone of a distant plane grew louder.
Both men glanced at the sky.
“That would be Xavier arriving. Want to go and meet him while I settle things with Jacinta?”
“Sure. I’ll get him situated, but then I have to head out to get Fredo and Lucia.” Satan stretched and then stood. “Later.”
Demon found Jacinta wrapped in a large white towel, beads of moisture still clinging to the cusp of one shoulder. He couldn’t resist lapping up the water. Their eyes met in the bathroom’s mirror. She wasn’t wearing the contacts, and he didn’t want to start an argument by giving her the pair he had asked Xavier to obtain the night before. He knew how much she hated wearing the colored lenses, but Satan’s comment about her eyes giving away her identity rang in his head.
“I didn’t see any packages in the bedroom. Didn’t you go to the gift shop?”
“That’s because there aren’t any. And I did, but it’s siesta time. The gift shop isn’t open until just before supper. The resort has a small chapel and a priest comes to say mass once a week. There’s a service at six tonight. I should like to attend. Will you come too?”
“Can’t, kitten. I’ve a few things to do. You go ahead, though. I’ll come get you for dinner.” Crapola was she going to be pissed at him. “I stopped at the front desk and asked them to scrounge up some food for us. It should be here any moment. There’s money on the dresser for the tip. I’ll shower and then join you for a quick bite.”
Demon fully intended to slip a sedative into her food. It was near five thirty. He needed to be in the air pronto. She’d miss mass, and he’d do what he had to.
He slipped the packet of pills Satan’d given him into the pocket of a bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door. After a hurried shower, wearing the same bathrobe, he cleaned the fog off the mirror and checked his stubble. Not too bad, but he’d have to shave before waking Jacinta later tonight.
“The food’s here.”
Demon opened the door, and she flashed him a brilliant smile.
“What is this?”
She held up a peachy drink wearing an umbrella. A decorative swizzle stick sporting several slices of fruit topped by two huge maraschino cherries finished off the punch.
He didn’t bother to belt the robe and walked to her wearing a grin and sporting a huge boner. “Fruit punch.”
Her face fell.
“What? Why the upside-down smile?”
“I thought it might be rum punch. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
“We can have one later, before dinner.” He opened the armoire and picked out a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. He’d wait until she’d fallen asleep to put on his boots and weapon up. He palmed the envelope from the pocket.
She eyed his ass when he shed the bathrobe. “I bought the condoms from the pharmacy. They’re in the drawer by the bed.”
“Are you propositioning me, kitten? Come here.” Demon crooked his finger and dropped the packet onto the table.
“Oh, no. If I am to be ready for mass, I must first eat and then pray.”
He shook his head. “What’s the sense in doing that? Isn’t mass the same as praying?”
“No. Do you believe in God, Demon?”
“Think you got tied up with the antichrist? I believe there’s a higher authority. Is it Jesus Christ or Buddha or Vishnu? I don’t know.”
She blew out a long breath. “Thank you. For being honest. I believe. And it is important to me that you believe something.”
Damn, he loved her. Fuck, he’d even consider going back to church on a regular basis. Wouldn’t Mrs. Chapman go ape shit over that one? Sinner’s mom had a way of browbeating him with one stern look. The woman made Demon nervous. Three minutes in her presence and his palms dampened.
He shot Jacinta a quick glance. Maybe Mrs. Chapman could be an ally. He wanted them married ASAP, and she had ridden the other Hades squad members into church and the ceremony with astounding, blinding speed. A vision of Jacinta in a church filled his head. His throat got scratchy and tight, and blast it if his palms weren’t sweaty. Demon dressed in a blur and found that Jacinta had arranged their sandwiches on a cute little table by the window.
“Is there any ketchup?” Demon asked her the question as a distraction.
“I’ll check.” She placed her napkin on the table and walked over to the room service cart.
Demon retrieved the sleeping pill and dropped it into her punch.
“Yes. And mustard. Would you like both?”
“Thanks.” Demon stirred the fruit punch, scooted over to his side of the table, and slumped into the chair. “I’m meeting with Satan after we eat. We’ll probably be working late. I’ll get an extra key from the front desk, so I won’t disturb you if you take a nap.”
“They have a small library. It’s near the gift shop. I think I’ll see if I can find a book to read after mass. I’m not sleepy at all.” She set the miniature ketchup and mustard bottles on the table, sat, and took a sip of the punch.
“Like it?” Demon chomped on a french fry.
“Very much. I shall have to ask how it’s made. I love the umbrella. I had a doll when I was little. This would’ve been perfect for her.” She fingered the brim of the paper decoration.
He’d never considered that a cloister would be decidedly lacking in toys. “What other toys did you have?”
“Don’t look like that, Demon mina.” She covered his hand with hers. “I had my imagination. And my training. And books. Many, many books.”
“Was Sister Helen in charge of your education?”
She laughed. “They all educated me. Sister Concilli taught me Latin and Gaelic. She’s from Ireland.”
That explained that intriguing lilt in her voice.
“Sister Claudette taught me German. I learned embroidery and weaving from Sister Theresa.”
“Weaving? As in a loom and yarn?”
“Yes. It’s very comforting, the weaving, once you get the rhythm.” She took a dainty bite of her chicken salad sandwich. “I thought to make that my trade. Weaving.”
“What did you weave?”
Demon noticed her lids drooping.
She shook her head and blinked. “Many blankets, which the priest distributed throughout the village.”
Jacinta leaned back in the chair and couldn’t quite stifle a yawn. “We never had big lunches. Mother Superior said it made you too sluggish and sleepy. I see what she meant now.”
“Finish up your punch, and then I’ll put the cart outside.” He checked his watch. “I have a few minutes before I have to meet with Satan. Come cuddle with me.”
She drained the last drop from the glass, popped the cherry into her mouth, and started to rise, but he reached over and scooped her into his lap before her feet touched the wooden floor. “Tell me about the cloister. One building or more?”
“Three. The main building. The chapel. And the chicken coop.”
She proved surprisingly cooperative, and before Jacinta fell asleep, Demon had a good idea of what to expect and how to approach the cloister. He left her tucked under the covers not fifteen minutes later.
Demon met with Satan to go over a few last-minute details before climbing into the single-engine water plane. The two men he’d picked to accompany him on the journey had already boarded.
Xavier fired the engines the second Demon buckled up.
The journey lasted less than thirty minutes, and thanks to the detailed maps and aerial photographs of the area Satan had downloaded, they landed right at the bottom of the mountain that housed the cloister.
Demon ordered Xavier to remain with the plane and told him to take off if they weren’t back in three hours. Xavier balked, but Demon insisted and the pilot reluctantly agreed.
Demon and the two warriors headed up the steep hill leading to the cloister. It was an easy hike and took less time than expected. Demon ordered the men to split up as soon as a cross on top of a concrete building came into view.
Shit.
The silence was deafening.
Demon studied the area for a good seven minutes. Not a single hint of occupation. The two wooden doors of the chapel stood open. He spied a small black-and-white marble altar, a pair of brass candlesticks, and a wooden podium.
No smoke and no evidence of fire, but also not even the faint aroma of chicken shit, and that scent couldn’t be missed. He signaled for the man on his left to go to the building that housed the chicken coop.
Demon ordered the other man to survey the perimeter, and then turned to go to the main building. The door stood open and slightly askew. Checking to make sure the GLOCK’s safety was off, he entered the eerie, pin-drop quiet structure.
He went stock-still. The lack of noise of any kind had the hair on his nape bristling. The two other men joined him as he reached the second floor. Using quick hand signals, they informed him that the other buildings were empty. Demon had no hope of finding this one any different.
Nothing. Not a single living soul. And even more puzzling, save for the doors in front of the chapel, nothing out of place. No signs of a struggle. No signs of anyone leaving in a hurry. Just nothing.
Demon made his way to the chapel. Dumped on the altar was a brass benediction incense burner. He opened the thurible, pinched some of the powdery substance, and sniffed: frankincense. The strong, pungent aroma meant the container had been filled recently.
Not more than two hours later, they arrived back at the resort. Demon thanked Xavier for his help and insisted on giving the pilot more than enough US currency to pay for the fuel they’d used. The two men who’d accompanied Demon on the mission joined the other mercenaries patrolling the resort.
Satan hadn’t returned, but he had radioed in an all clear.
They were seven men short, and Demon’s sniper-in-the-vicinity alarms rang at full throttle. He sprinted through the deserted lobby, scanning the entire room, not registering a single blasted resort employee.
Crap.
Chapter Twelve
Jacinta blinked, but her eyelids refused to lift. Her limbs felt like fishing leads had been attached to them. She needed to go to the bathroom desperately but had twisted the sheets, and her arms had become so tangled she couldn’t work them loose. Her stomach cramped.
Guilt washed over her. She’d fallen asleep and then woken up to an unhappy stomach. Though she’d tried to stem the bile rising from her riotous belly, she had eventually thrown up their late lunch and hadn’t been able to rinse the bitter taste left from her mouth. Such a waste of that delicious food and punch. Her tongue lay heavy and thick in her mouth.
She rolled off the bed, dragging the covers with her, and fumbled her way to the bathroom, losing the comforter along the way, relieved herself, splashed water on her face, and trudged back to the main room. The drapes were open and a bedside lamp illuminated the hotel bedroom. It was dark outside.
The digital clock on the bedside table registered 9:30. She’d slept through mass and dinner. Her knees buckled when she bumped into the bed frame, and she slumped onto the mattress.
Where was Demon?
The door clicked open, and she turned to find Demon, gun in hand, sprinting into the room. He screeched to a halt when their eyes met. “Jacinta. You’re okay.”
She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“What’re you doing up?” He stalked to the bed, sat, and hauled her close.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason.” He loosened his embrace.
“You smell like incense. Where have you been?” The fuzziness slowing her thoughts fell away all at once when the muscle under his eye twitched and he looked away. Right away she knew, and her lips thinned. “You went to the cloister. Is Sister Helen okay?”
“I don’t get it. No one reads me like you do.” His shaggy brows spiked into an upside-down V. “How in heck did you know?”
She grabbed his T-shirt. “How dare you do this? Go without me? Where is she?”
“It was empty. The cloister. Totally empty.”
“Empty? No.” She shook her head. “It could not be empty.”
“Hang on. Why are you awake? I left you sleeping like a baby.”
She knew the instant she saw his face. “You drugged me. Again. That’s it. I will never have another meal with you.”
“Simmer down. It was for your own good.”
“No. No. You do not get away with that sorry excuse. I am warning you—if you do this to me again, that is the end. No more trust between us. And you will give me all your pills.” She held out her hand.
“I don’t understand how you woke up. By all rights you should’ve been out like a light.”
“I was—but my stomach argued with the food and it came back up.” She picked up the comforter from the floor. “What do you mean the cloister was empty?”
“Exactly what I said. How many chickens are normally in the coop?”
“Chickens?” She shook her head. “A dozen and three roosters. Why do you ask that?”
“There wasn’t a single fowl in the place. I know chickens. They stick close to the source of food.” Demon dragged his hands through his hair. “Something’s wrong. Satan’s not back.”
“Back from where?” Confusion fogged her thinking. “I do not understand. How did you get to the cloister and back so quickly? How could it be that there was no one there? Something bad has happened. Tell me what you found.”
“Xavier flew us there. The doors were open. The beds were made. Not one bed had been slept in. Nothing was out of place. Not a single thing.” He lurched to his feet, walked to the dresser, opened a drawer, and tossed the two knives that had been attached to his belt in.
“I don’t understand. This makes no sense. Mother Superior would never abandon the cloister.” Jacinta hopped off the bed.
“She did. And so did everyone else. Can you think of any way this could’ve happened?”
“No. I can’t.” She locked her hands behind her back and paced a tight circle. “They must have been forced to leave. But the chickens and the roosters? Why would anyone let them go?”
“Jacinta. Kitten. Stop. Sit. Take a deep breath. Let me ring for a pot of tea. You haven’t had anything to eat for the day. Not if you threw up that late lunch.”
“Is she dead?” She stood there wringing her hands, her mind more turbulent than the waterfall atop the mountain peak above the cloister.
He tugged her tight against him. “I don’t know. You haven’t heard from her in what—three weeks? And she wrote to you every other day before that. I didn’t take you with me tonight because I didn’t want you to have to face identifying her if she was dead. Be angry with me. Yell, scream. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’ve been through so freaking much.”
“Tell me what you found.” She collapsed onto the bed. “Everything.”
He related the whole scene.
“You smell of incense. W
ere you in the chapel?”
“Briefly. Incense?”
“Father Lawson. He is the regional priest. When he comes to visit, he performs a benediction of the chapel and the grounds. With incense. He always comes on a Friday and stays in the village until Sunday. Today is Friday.”
“Father Lawson? There couldn’t be two priests with that name. What does he look like? This is the priest who brought the mail?”
“No. The parish priest who lives in the village brings the weekly mail. Father Lawson is the regional priest. He was the one who took me to the school. I’ve always felt that he and Sister Helen knew each other as more than priest and nun. Not in a man-woman way. As if they’d grown up together. Why do you look like that?” She picked up the pillow and hugged the soft down.
His bronzed complexion had paled, his jaw was clenched, and the scar at the side of his mouth had stretched to a thin line. “Tell me what Father Lawson looked like.”
Shivers raced across her shoulders. “He’s older than Sister Helen. Short for a man. He has a limp and wears an eye patch. He is blind in one eye from a childhood injury.”
“Damn.” Demon slumped onto the mattress. “He played me. Like a master. He’s going after Pedro. And you and I are the bait.”
He didn’t react when she clambered onto his lap. Didn’t meet her gaze when she shook him hard. “Tell me what is going on. What do you know?”
Their glances met for a mere second before he averted his gaze. “Jose Genro called a press conference this morning. He said his son Emilio’s missing. That he was last seen in the company of one Jacinta Maria da Silva. Add that to the fact that the media got wind of our rescue of the wedding party, and your face has been plastered all over the world.”
“My face? With my real eyes? What has this to do with the cloister? With Sister Helen?” She fisted her hands and watched him, trying to get any meaning from his hooded eyes, his set mouth.
“Your uncle, Pedro Nunez, has offered a reward for you, alive and unharmed and delivered to him. It’s a significant sum. A more than significant sum.” He set his arm around her shoulder but didn’t look at her.