Blaze a Trail (The Flanagan Sisters, #3)

by Claire Boston

  “Keep your voice down,” Bob growled.

  David glanced around. The room was silent and everyone was watching them.

  “The hell I will. Your ignorance of the situation might kill two women.” People began to murmur. “Teresa’s sister is being held by the gang. If they know she’s leaving, they’ll kill her. This isn’t about politics, this is about someone’s life.” His voice broke. God, he hoped Manuela and Johanna were safe.

  Bob glared at him.

  “You really don’t care, do you?” David shook his head.

  “What I care about is that Mexican has turned your head the wrong way round. You would embarrass me like this rather than let people see the truth?”

  David clenched his hands. “My head is just fine. That American citizen is the woman I love, the woman I want to marry.”

  Bob’s eyes widened.

  “What you did right now is unforgivable.” He strode out of the room, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed Zita’s number, but she didn’t answer.

  Panic clutched his heart. He’d messed this up. He had to find her. Had to explain.

  At the entrance, he stopped and swore. He didn’t have his car.

  Hailing a cab, he headed for his apartment.

  ***

  Walking through the front door of Casa Flanagan, Zita was greeted with her mother trying to calm a hysterical Teresa.

  Damn it. She should have thought about Teresa’s reaction.

  Carmen looked up. “Thank God you’re back. Fernando’s been shot.”

  Zita’s breath left her. “What?”

  “I called his number and his wife Maria answered. She said he was shot this afternoon, got caught in the crossfire of a gang attack and is in hospital. He’s in critical condition. He can’t help.”

  Teresa wailed.

  There was no one else they could call at such short notice. Fernando was their only contact. There was only one other option. “I’ll go.”

  “No.” Carmen grabbed her arm. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I caused this mess. I’ll fix it.” Zita’s heart raced as she strode into the kitchen and picked up the tablet from the bench. “I need a flight to San Salvador tonight.”

  “No, I won’t let you go,” Carmen said following her in.

  “Mama, you don’t have a choice.” She flicked through the options. “There’s one in just over two hours.” She’d be cutting it close, but she should be able to make it. She handed the tablet to her mother. “Book me on it.”

  Carmen shook her head.

  “Mama, please. I’m their only hope.”

  There were tears in Carmen’s eyes.

  “You know I’m right,” Zita said.

  Emotions ran across Carmen’s face — fear, defiance and finally resignation. “All right.”

  “Thank you.” Zita ran upstairs to grab her passport and change. She threw spare clothes in a backpack.

  “It’s booked,” Carmen said as Zita returned downstairs.

  “Thank you, Mama.” She hugged her. “I need you to call Maria and tell her I’m coming. I’ll need all the documentation from her.”

  “Please, baby, promise me you won’t do anything tonight,” her mother begged. “It’s dangerous enough during the day, but that kind of neighborhood is deadly at night.”

  “I promise.” She headed out the door.

  ***

  David stopped at his apartment only long enough to grab his car, before heading for Casa Flanagan. He kept calling Zita, but she wouldn’t pick up. He didn’t blame her. He’d ignored his concerns about Bob.

  On the freeway, he hit a traffic jam. He swore. He needed to get to Zita. Switching on the radio, he discovered it was a major crash and they were recommending people avoid the area. “Damn it.”

  By the time he arrived, two hours had passed since Zita had left the hotel. He raced up the front steps and pounded on the front door.

  Carmen opened it. “David.” She glared at him, blocking the entrance.

  “Carmen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Dad would do that, I promise you. Can I see Zita? I have to explain.”

  “No you can’t.” She burst into tears.

  His heart jumped. Concerned, he put his arm around her and moved them into the house. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s gone to El Salvador,” she sobbed.

  “What?” Shock speared him forward, directing Carmen into the living room and onto the sofa. “Why?”

  He listened to Carmen explain, the concern morphing into full-on dread. “You’re telling me she’s gone to get Manuela and Johanna out of the country, because the gang shot the person who was going to?”

  She nodded. “There is no time to find anyone else. Not when someone might watch your father’s broadcast and tip off the gang.”

  This was all his fault. He’d put the woman he loved in danger because his father was a jackass and he hadn’t recognized it. “What time is her flight?”

  “Soon. She’ll be boarding.”

  He swore. “I’ll go after her.”

  Carmen shook her head, tears pouring down her face. “You’ll be too late. There isn’t another flight until morning.”

  “I’ll take the company jet, then.” He prayed it was available. Carmen’s eyes widened as David got to his feet. “Where’s she staying?”

  “I don’t know. She said she’d call when she arrived.”

  His chest was so tight it was hard to breathe. “Then call me when she does, and tell her not to do anything until I get there.” He wrote down his cell number for her.

  Carmen clutched his hand. “Be careful. It’s dangerous over there.”

  He nodded and left. As he ran down the steps, he called the pilot.

  “We can be ready to go in three hours,” Captain Johnson said.

  Was it going to be fast enough? He hoped so. “I’ll be there.”

  He wasn’t letting Zita pay for his mistake.

  ***

  Zita arrived in San Salvador not long after midnight and quickly made it through customs. After calling Maria and getting her address, she caught a cab to their house. On her way, she called Carmen to let her know she’d arrived safely.

  “Gracias a Dios,” her mother said. “You mustn’t go anywhere until David arrives.”

  Her heart clenched. “David?”

  “He’s flying there to help you.”

  “No, Mama. He’s caused enough trouble.” She blocked the pain. “I don’t need him here. He doesn’t speak the language.” She couldn’t think of him. She had to keep her mind focused on Manuela and Johanna.

  “Please, niñita. You can help each other.”

  Zita wasn’t promising anything. “I’ve got to go. I’ve arrived.” She hung up and paid the cab driver.

  Maria opened the door and shepherded her inside. “Quickly, it is not safe to spend too much time outside at night.”

  Zita glanced behind her as she entered the house. The neighborhood was quiet. “Thank you for staying up. How is Fernando?”

  “He woke before I left the hospital. He is going to be all right.”

  Zita breathed out a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

  “Gang fight. Fernando was in the wrong place.” She handed Zita an envelope. “This is everything.”

  Zita opened it and checked the information: passports, visas, tickets in Johanna and Manuela’s names, plus a map of the area. “Thank you.”

  “Let me show you where you need to go.” Maria took the map and spread it out on her dining table. She pointed out the laundry where Johanna worked. “There’s a hostel and a market nearby. The gang knows tourists bring in needed money, so they keep violence to a minimum.”

  Zita’s skin was tight. She’d heard about how dangerous the areas were, and now she was going to see for herself.

  “Fernando talks about his grandmother, Francesca, when he visits Johanna. He set it up so if he couldn’t make it, someone else could go and use that as a code word
.”

  “All right.” She could remember that.

  Maria hesitated. “Zita, you can pass for a tourist, but if you don’t want to draw attention to yourself, you should dye your hair.”

  Of course. She didn’t look like a Salvadoran.

  “I have a color you can use.” She smiled. “I use it to hide the gray.”

  Maria didn’t look old enough to have to worry about gray hair, but Zita took the box she was offered.

  “We could do it now, and you can stay the night here,” Maria said. “You can start early in the morning when it is safer.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.” She wasn’t thrilled about the way Maria kept mentioning safety. Could she pull this off? Could she even get close enough to Manuela to speak to her, let alone rescue her?

  She hoped so.

  An hour later, with newly brown hair, Zita went to sleep in Maria’s guest bedroom.

  Zita’s alarm woke her when it was still dark. She reached for her phone while her brain struggled to remember where she was. She was so damn tired. Why had she set her alarm for the middle of the night? Then it hit her.

  She was in El Salvador.

  It was early morning, and would soon be light. She needed to be ready to go when it was.

  She dressed quickly. She needed a double-strength coffee to clear her head, and then she had to be at the laundry when Johanna started work so she could find out where they were keeping Manuela and somehow get them both away.

  The house was quiet as she tiptoed into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  Someone banged on the front door and the noise made her jump. Who the hell was outside at this time of the morning? Maria hurried out in her dressing gown, her face pale.

  “Zita, are you in there?”

  She swore. It sounded like David.

  “You know him?” Maria asked.

  Zita went to the front door, peeking through the peephole to check. It was definitely him. She opened the door. “What are you doing here?” Her heart hurt. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.

  He frowned. “Zita? You’ve dyed your hair.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Carmen told me where you were. I want to help.”

  Maria pulled him inside and shut the door behind him. Zita walked back to the kitchen without answering him.

  “Please, let me explain,” David said.

  Zita closed her eyes for a moment before turning to him. She couldn’t let herself be distracted. “I don’t have time for explanations.”

  He ignored her. “I’m so sorry this happened, Zita. I had no idea Bob had taken my file.”

  Was he telling the truth? “Why did you even have a file?” She couldn’t sit down. She paced the kitchen as Maria started making breakfast.

  “It’s what I always do when I work on something.”

  “And you showed it to your father?”

  “He asked me about the cases and I had to check some information. He saw it then.”

  “You told him confidential information?” She shook her head, her heart more bruised than it had ever been.

  “I trusted him. I wanted to show him he was wrong.”

  “And what did you think he was going to do with the information?”

  “I thought he’d change his mind.” David ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I made a huge mistake, I know it. After you left, I confronted him in front of the whole room.”

  Zita raised her eyebrows. “How did that go down?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t wait to find out. Mom called me when she’d calmed Dad down. She’s not going to tell Dad I’ve taken the company plane.”

  “What?” Her anger was fading and she clung on to it.

  “It was the quickest way I could get here. Carmen was beside herself when I arrived at Casa Flanagan. I had to come after you. It was my fault this happened, and I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  He reached for her and she stepped back, knowing she couldn’t let him touch her. She didn’t want to feel anything at the moment. She needed to be numb.

  “Stop. I need to focus on what I have to do.”

  “What we’re going to do,” he corrected her.

  No. It was too dangerous to involve him. She didn’t want him hurt. “You’ll stick out as a foreigner.”

  “If he stays with the car, it could work,” Maria said. “They do have some tourists in the area because of the hostel.”

  Zita swore. She didn’t want him there.

  “I can do that,” he said quickly. “I hired a car from the airport.”

  “It would help you to have a fast getaway,” Maria said. “Just in case.”

  The thought of David anywhere near the danger was terrifying. She still loved him.

  “Please, Zita. Let me make amends for what I did.”

  She heard the plea in his voice. She hated this, but she had to be sensible. “You’ll do exactly what I tell you without question?”

  He nodded as Maria dished up breakfast.

  She exhaled slowly. “All right. Let me show you the map.”

  As they ate, she pointed out the market and the laundry where Johanna worked.

  “Locals get their fresh food there, and there are stalls selling tourist things for the nearby hostel,” Maria said, pointing out the hostel.

  “We can park there and I’ll go through the market to the laundry,” said Zita.

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” David said.

  “You don’t have a choice. You’re too conspicuous. I’ll give you some money and you can browse near where we park the car to make sure it doesn’t get stolen.”

  They traced the route they would take, and the route to the airport. By the time they were done, they had finished breakfast and the sun was up.

  “It’s time to go,” Zita said. She turned to Maria. “Thank you for your help. Give Fernando my love and tell him I hope he heals quickly.”

  Maria nodded. “Be safe, niñita.”

  Zita grabbed her backpack and followed David outside. He’d hired a mid-range white sedan, so hopefully it wouldn’t stand out in the neighborhood they were heading to. She got in the passenger side with the map clutched in her hand.

  They were silent for the first two blocks, except for Zita giving directions.

  “Zita, after all of this is over, I hope you can forgive me.” His voice was quiet. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Please, David. Not now.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I can’t do this now.” Her voice broke at the last word and he glanced over at her. She turned her head, blinking back the tears. “I need to focus.”

  “All right.”

  They continued in silence until David pulled into the street where the markets were located. Zita checked the map to orientate herself and took a deep breath. “Keep your phone with you. I’m going to find out where they’re keeping Manuela, and we’ll go from there.”

  David looked unhappy, but agreed.

  The markets were noisy and bustling with people. The stalls were full of fresh produce as well as souvenirs for tourists. She left David by a stall selling jocote, and wandered through the aisles toward the laundry.

  She carried her backpack so she could leave her spare clothes to be washed if she needed an excuse. The amber stucco on the building made it stand out, and there was a sign in the single window proclaiming it to be a laundry. Outside, a young man was smoking. Zita ignored him as she walked into the shop. Johanna was behind the counter. Zita recognized her from the passport photo. Out the back, a man was sitting on a crate, flicking through his phone.

  “Can I help you?” Johanna asked.

  “My grandmother Francesca says you do the best laundry in town,” Zita said, hoping the code word would work.

  Johanna’s eyes widened and she glanced at the man behind her. She lowered her voice. “You are from Fernando?”

  Zita nodded.

  “Wha
t is wrong? Manuela’s birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “I’m Zita. There’s been a change of plan. We need to get you both out today. Where is she?”

  Someone walked into the shop, and Johanna gaped, her eyes wide in fear. The guy was in his late twenties, with tattoos all over his arms. Zita ducked her head, hiding her face.

  “Rodrigo,” Johanna said.

  “Manuela hasn’t been behaving herself. She was very mean to one of my girls, so today she’s going to stand with the lovelies.”

  “No,” Johanna wailed, a sound so heart wrenching. “She’s still a baby.”

  Zita had no idea who the lovelies were, but it clearly wasn’t a good thing.

  Rodrigo shrugged. “She should learn how to behave. She’ll miss her birthday party as well. So sorry.” He smirked and walked out as Johanna collapsed on the floor sobbing.

  Zita’s heart pounded, but she waited until he was gone before hurrying around the bench to comfort the woman.

  “Shut her up.” The guy who’d been sitting on the crate stood up and walked toward them. “You’ve got three minutes.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and went outside.

  “Johanna, calm down. You have to tell me what’s going on.” Zita shook her. “I can help.

  Johanna shook her head. “The lovelies are their prostitutes,” she sobbed. “He means to sell her today.”

  Zita’s breath left her. Feck. Manuela wasn’t even thirteen. “Where do they do that?”

  Johanna sniffed. “The red building. Two streets over.”

  “What time?”

  She shrugged. “All the time.”

  That didn’t help. “Is there someone else who knows more?”

  She shook her head. “No one who will talk.”

  “All right. Stop crying. I’ll think of something.” If there was only someone she could trust. Someone who could hire Manuela.

  She froze. David.

  But that would put him in danger. If any of the gang’s supporters had seen the footage . . . No, if they had, they’d be punishing Johanna right now.

  This was their best chance. “I’ve got an idea. I think we can get her out, but you need to be ready to leave at any time.” Zita helped her to her feet.