Duardo nodded.
“You’re on this Facebook thing, too?” Josh asked.
“That’s how Cristián and I talk,” Duardo replied. “Direct email is too easily traced.” He smiled. “I am a thirteen-year-old girl in Montana, nicknamed Amazonia13. She wants to be a professional wrestler when she grows up.”
Josh gave a low laugh that made his belly jiggle. “That must make for some interesting conversations.”
Duardo shrugged. “It allows me to speak to my family and assure myself they are safe and well. I would wear a tutu and pretend to be a ballerina for such a privilege. I am aware that few others in this house can reach out and speak to their families as I can and my gratitude will not fade.”
Josh lifted his brow. “Of course. I apologize.”
Duardo nodded stiffly and turned to Nick. “We will continue to monitor as well as we can if Mexico approaches Serrano to open diplomatic channels. There will be signs we can pick up. Did they close the door permanently to us?”
“No,” Nick admitted. “Of course, they wouldn’t burn their bridges either way. They’re waiting to see how things shape up. We need a major coup, something to show Mexico we’re stronger than the Insurrectos and will win back Vistaria.”
“We cannot win back Vistaria without Mexico’s support,” Flores pointed out. “There is so few of us now.”
Calli strung her fingers together. “Actually the plan was bigger than that. We win over Mexico and that gets us the United States. The United States won’t commit to us without Mexico jumping first, despite the American companies working silver mines and other business interests on the island.”
“That’s a quandary, isn’t it?” Josh asked. “You need Mexico to win Vistaria. Mexico wants you to win Vistaria before it’ll commit.”
Nick shook his head. “Mexico will commit to us before then,” he assured Josh. “We just need to demonstrate we have the cojones needed to win. Losing Blanco was a blow. Failing to root out the one responsible they consider a sign of weakness. They want to see a strong leader emerge now. Plus they want to see action. Results.” He sat up straighter. “We’ve been drifting for too long. They’ve noticed it. This is the kick up the backside we deserve. We five will have to go short on sleep for a while in order to get the results we need to win Mexico back to our side.”
He laid his hand on the table in front of Calli. “Calli, I’ve never made it official. Now I will. You’ve just become my Chief of Staff. General Flores, do you want me to translate that for you?” He turned his head to look at the general. It was critical the man accept Calli’s formal position and the authority it gave her, because she would now be his superior.
The general took a breath. Then another. “No, thank you, Señor Escobedo. I understand perfectly.” He nodded his head at Calli.
Josh leaned forward again. “Excuse me, Nick. ‘Your’ Chief of Staff?”
Nick nodded. “Mexico wants a leader. We’ll give them one. Until we’re in a position to hold a full, democratic and proper election, and until the army has itself sorted out with a complete compliment of generals to offer up for that election, I’m stepping in as President pro tem. As everyone has been insisting I do this, I’m assuming there will be no protests now?” He looked around the room.
Duardo was smiling. Flores actually looked relieved.
Josh blew out his cheeks. “About bloody time, son.”
Chapter Two
Minnie glanced at her watch again. Only ten minutes late. She picked up her pen and tried to get back to the paperwork in front of her, only the vine leaves overhead rustled softly in the late afternoon breeze. It was so refreshingly cool under the trellis and away from people that she kept being disturbed by the lack of distractions. No one was calling her name or asking impossible-to-answer questions that usually involved going to Calli for answers.
How had she ended up with this job, anyway? In the last few weeks, since Duardo had come back—
She paused, as she always did, to savor that morsel of truth. Duardo. Here in the big house. Alive and with her every night. Her heart beat a little harder. If she had told herself two months ago that this was in her future, she would have had a hard time believing it. Even five weeks ago, she would have laughed in anyone’s face.
She glanced over at the patch of dirt where the patio under the formal trellis work ended. Six weeks ago, it was there she had crumpled to the ground and vomited after fighting Carmen Escobedo to a bloody standstill, because Carmen had told Minnie it was her fault Duardo had died.
Warm hands slid over Minnie’s shoulders, bringing her wander down memory lane to an abrupt halt. She rolled her head back so she could look up at Duardo. “You’re so damn sneaky!”
“You were miles away.” He brushed his lips across her brow. “I could have been a passing army in hobnail boots and you would not have noticed.” He rested his hip on the table next to her notebooks and looked down at her. She felt the same tiny thrill she did every time she saw him. He was wearing one of the new dark green uniforms. On his long legs, the double red stripe seemed to run forever. The four stripes on his jacket sleeve looked solid and thick after the two she was used to seeing. “Where were you?” he asked her. “You looked as though you could cry with little encouragement.”
She smiled. “Crappy memories. You don’t want the details.” She reached for the notebooks and started closing them up. Duardo caught her wrist, halting her. He tugged her to her feet, then pushed the bench she had been sitting on away with his boot and pulled her between his knees. “Minnie,” he said.
“Ah, shit,” she said, with a sigh. “Do you have to know absolutely everything?”
“Of course.”
She screwed up her face. “A girl doesn’t get to keep any secrets?”
“Not when it comes to us, she doesn’t.” His expression was impassive. “Minnie, mi amor, you have seen such darkness inside me. Why does this bother you?”
She had to think about it for a moment. “I don’t like you seeing me when I’m not perfect.”
He smiled. “I’ve seen you when you’re not perfect. Many times.”
“Not this way.”
He drew her closer, his arms around her. He rested her head against his shoulder. She was enveloped in his scent, which was strongly masculine and so uniquely Duardo’s that her heart skipped a beat. He was hot against her body.
“Now I cannot see your face. You cannot see mine. Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice reverberating against her chest.
She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. It helped to hide her face even more. She told him of the horrible fight in the kitchen, with the daughter of the former President of Vistaria, who had accused Minnie of killing the man she loved. “That was the day I figured out I was on my own,” Minnie said, her lips brushing Duardo’s neck. “No one in the house thought you were alive. No one was going to help me, not when I’d just beaten up the daughter of their President.”
“You really beat her up?” Duardo asked. His hands came up to hold her hips, his thumbs smoothing over the cotton of her skirt. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the fabric.
“She had a black eye, a bloody nose and a split lip. She split my lip, too, so it wasn’t a complete walkover.”
“Carmen is nearly twelve inches taller than you. Even as thin as a she is, she’d outweigh you with all that height.”
Minnie stepped back from Duardo and pushed at his shoulder. “Typical guy. I pour out my heart and all you can focus on is the fight statistics. Yeah, I won the round. So what?”
Duardo was smiling, his eyes dancing. “You think this makes you look bad?”
“Most people take exception to someone beating up the daughter of their beloved President. Yeah.”
“I’ve been told by others what Carmen said to you that made you pick the fight,” Duardo said, his smile fading. “You won more than a few fans that day. Did you not realize this?”
She could feel her jaw descendi
ng and caught it up. “No,” she said flatly. “I try not to think of that time much at all. I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. Mostly, what I feel when I think of that time is shame.”
“Because you were so obsessed with finding me,” Duardo said softly. His gaze was direct, not letting her avoid the truth.
She nodded, appalled to feel the hot prick of tears in her eyes. “I went a little crazy,” she whispered, trying to blink away the tears. Instead they fell, scalding her cheeks.
Duardo wiped them away with his thumb. Then he drew her back into his arms and kissed her. His mouth was hot and hard on hers. Hungry. His hands framed her face, the long fingers fanning out to caress her cheeks, the sides of her throat. His tongue pressed inside her mouth, pushing against hers and stroking her lips.
Minnie clutched at his jacket, her body responding as it always did, with almost instant hot fiery need that flared at his first touch. She pressed herself up against him, a moan escaping her. She was eager for more. From the beginning, Duardo had made her feel more like a woman than any other man she had ever met. From the first time they had met he had exuded a knowing confidence that had shattered her own ideas about how to control and manipulate men and left her at the mercy of the blazing feelings he stirred in her.
Her helplessness when she was near him, the weakness that came over her when he looked at her, had frightened her at first. No man had ever made her feel that way before. Later, her need to have him touch her had become a drug that she must have, or go crazy with need. Duardo knew exactly how to touch her. The most delicate strokes, the more demanding caresses.
His hands slid down her throat, leaving lines of white fire behind. Minnie sighed into Duardo’s mouth as his mouth moved over the contour of her chin. His lips nibbled their way along her throat. Minnie slid her hands into Duardo’s hair, feeling the short strands tickle the sides of her fingers. She closed her eyes. She could not guide him, he would not let her. But he would ensure her pleasure was maximized, nevertheless.
“Buena tarde, colonel,” came the soft greeting.
Minnie opened her eyes as Duardo snapped upright, looking around.
The soldier was already moving on, his back to them, a rifle slung over his shoulder.
Duardo hung his head for a moment. “Grounds security,” he said with sigh. “My apologies, mi amor.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “You can make it up to me later.”
He studied her. “What did I do to deserve you, Minerva Benning?”
“Stupid question.” Her voice was thick with arousal. “You’re a brilliant soldier, you’re sexy, handsome and you keep saving my life. I’d be a selfish pig not to love you. You’re better off asking why I get to keep you. I’m not sure why you’re still in my life, but every morning I wake up and find you’re still in my bed, I figure it’s one more day I can add to my tally of the best days of my life.”
Duardo cupped her cheek. “You never seem to sound poetic, yet you say the most profound things, Minnie. They spear me in the gut.” He touched her lips with his own, softly. “And my heart,” he added.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think. Only why do you sound all fatalistic and gloomy, hmm?”
He lifted a brow. “I do not!”
She grinned. “Bullshit. I don’t sound poetic, while everything you say comes out sounding like Yeats—full of metaphors and similes. So why do you feel as if you don’t deserve me? What happened today?”
Duardo laughed, showing his white, even teeth. He picked her up and settled on the table properly, with her on his lap. “I should know better than to carry even a bad mood into the same room as you. You’re far too intuitive.”
She shook him, her hands on the lapels of the jacket. “So give.”
He hesitated. “Some of it I can’t tell you. You understand why, don’t you?”
“Security,” she said. “Sure. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get offended. Tell me what you can.”
He sat silent for long seconds—so many of them that Minnie thought he wasn’t going to answer. She pulled back to look into his eyes.
“I…this is difficult,” he confessed. “Like you, I cannot confess to a weakness easily.” He grimaced. “I would much rather be the man you are glad to find in your bed each morning.”
“Despite me having seen the Zalaya in you?” she reminded him.
His eyes closed. “Ella me hiere profundamente,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wound you at all.”
He shook his head and opened his eyes. “No, you spoke the truth.” He sighed. “It has been a long day. The hole Blanco left… I do not think it can be filled by Flores alone, yet there are no other generals. Nick has already seen this, I think, which is why he has declared himself President pro tem, until the army can sort itself out. I did not understand fully why he would do that, until I looked at it from his perspective today.” Duardo rested his head against Minnie’s. “The army, what army we have, is a mess. There’s little real leadership and now it appears Vistaria will actually need some sort of de facto, temporary navy of sorts, too. How we’re supposed to equip and supply a new military wing when we can barely keep an army supplied is a whole new nightmare that we have to address. And I think, Minnie, I really think that Flores does not see this. He does not anticipate it.” He closed his eyes again. “I have no idea how to deal with it,” he whispered. “Even as a colonel, I am essentially powerless. The chain of command must be followed, or we become a leaderless rabble.”
Minnie plucked at the rows of ribbons on his jacket. “You have to find a way,” she said softly.
He laughed hollowly. “I am not el leopardo rojo, Minnie. I cannot flout structure and regulations as Nick does.”
“You have to,” Minnie insisted. She tugged on his lapels to ensure she had his attention. When his gaze met hers again, she drew a breath for courage. “You have to,” she repeated. “Because I’m pregnant.”
There was a flash of pure delight in his eyes. His kiss took her breath away, then he lifted his lips away from hers and rained kisses all over her face. He held her to him, his arms hard around her. His heart was thundering against her chest. “I thought I was happy before,” he said in Spanish. “But this….” He did not finish the sentence. Instead he held her away from him and brushed her hair from her face. “Now there are no excuses left, Minnie. We must get married as soon as possible.”
She bit her lip. “No protests about this being a bad time to have a family? To rear children?”
He shook his head. “It’s an impossible time to have a child. Yet we are having one.” He laughed.
Minnie stared at him. “Your mood. It’s gone.”
Duardo nodded. “Yes, by God!” He kissed her.
“So are you going to tell me how we’re supposed to take care of a family in all this?”
“We’ll figure it out. That’s what you always say, right?”
Minnie beat her fist softly against his shoulder. “No, really.”
He caught her fist in his hand. “Yes, really,” he said, abruptly sobering. “I know what I have to do now.” He turned her hand over and kissed the palm. “I will take care of this—of you—by winning back Vistaria. That’s the only way this, all this, will be over.”
Minnie found herself smiling. “Just like that? You’ll win back a country for me?”
He took a deep breath. “Yes. For you, mi amor.”
It was like being shot full of champagne, or adrenaline. Minnie could feel the rush, the energy. She slid off his lap. “Okay then.” She straightened up his jacket. “You win back Vistaria and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“The rest?”
“Everything.” She picked up his hand. “You really want to marry me, Duardo?”
“The world may be going crazy around us, mi amor, but that one thing has not changed in my heart or my mind since the night we sat in the palace grounds and waited for Calli.”
Minnie felt her heart hiccu
p. “Since then?” she whispered.
Duardo grinned. “Since then.”
She tried to smile back, but failed. “All right, then,” she said, not as briskly as she would have liked. “You take care of stealing back an entire country and I’ll take care of the wedding and anything else that comes along. Does that seem reasonable to you?”
He considered. “Only if you’ve sure, Minnie. Even pregnant as you are, there are other options. You could go home to America. Your family would take care of you and you—”
“What are you saying?” she asked, breathless with cold shock.
“I’m giving you a graceful exit if you want one.” He picked up her hand. “I’m poor material as a husband—I can’t give you a roof over your head, or even a country to live in and the next few months are going to be…what’s that thing you say? Hell on wheels? It’s a bad bargain, Minnie. You’d be better off with your family, especially now.”
“You’re going to knock me up, then send me home?” she breathed.
“No, you misunderstand—”
“I understand fine,” she said and shook her head. “You and your damn Vistarian honor. Now we’re talking about weddings you’re going macho on me and worrying about the life you’ll give me.” She linked her hands around his neck. “Just marry me, Duardo. You’re all I’m asking for. You in my bed, your arms around me. If that’s all I get, I’ll still consider myself the luckiest woman alive.” She reached over and picked up the notebooks. “Besides, what other girl can say she gets to help run a country for a living?”
* * * * *
The Royal White Sands Hotel had once held a reputation for some of the finest dining in North America. Kings and queens had stayed there. Hemingway had a favorite corner suite and a favorite table in the bar. Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier had often slipped into the harbor below on a sloop and hurried up the wide, white stone steps in sunglasses and large hats and spent a long weekend tucked away in the honeymoon suite.
That was long before revolution had torn Vistaria apart. Before a twenty-foot-high, chain-link fence with barbed wire coils atop had been installed right around the White Sands, tearing up the beautiful grounds, the generous parking area and the old banyan trees that had stood there for over a hundred years. Forty-foot high, cast-iron poles had replaced the trees and the elegance. Now the grounds surrounding the White Sands were awash in floodlights all night and guards carrying submachine guns patrolled the fenced area day and night.
Hostage Crisis Page 3