Emma should have realized Reina wouldn’t let the topic go. She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Even if she could tell her friend everything, she wouldn’t even know where to start. “I can’t.” She tried to soften her voice as she fibbed. “It’s business. And I really can’t discuss it.”
“Business I can understand. I thought it might be Raul Santos.”
Emma carefully reached for her teacup and took a sip. “Why would you think that?”
“Why? Gee, I don’t know, Emma. Maybe because the last time we talked I told you to stay away from him and you haven’t. And you’ve been avoiding me, too.”
“That’s not true! I’ve been swamped with this problem at work and—”
Reina stopped her explanation with a wave of her hand. “But you had time to go out with him last night.”
At Emma’s startled expression, Reina nodded smugly. “I have friends besides you, and they hang out at places like Michelangelo’s.” She leaned closer. “Are you crazy? What are you doing with that man, ¿chica? William Kelman told me he’s bad news.”
Just hearing Kelman’s name made Emma flinch. She tried to cover up. “And I told you I saw them fight. I hardly think Kelman’s a reliable source on this one, Reina.”
“Well, I think this is something you better verify,” her friend shot back. “And fast, before you get in over your head.”
Emma tensed and held her breath. “What do you mean?”
“Raul Santos just got out of prison, Emma. He was there for five years. For selling drugs.”
CHAPTER TEN
RAUL HANDED the Indian woman two bolivianos and told her to keep the change. It was twice what the iced drink cost, and her eyes widened at his generosity. She did what he said, though, and hurried down the street, quickly pushing her cart ahead of her as if worried he might change his mind. He hardly paid her any attention as she rattled around a nearby corner. He was focused on the restaurant across the street. Emma and her friend had gone in there a few minutes earlier.
He’d left Emma’s house—and her arms—early that morning. The wind had died during the night, and a heavy fog had moved in to replace it. As they’d stood on her porch, the mist had clung like diamonds to her hair.
He’d looked down into her heavy-lidded eyes and had one thought: What kind of son of a bitch was he? When she found out who he was and everything he’d done, she’d remember the way they’d made love—and she’d hate his guts. It wouldn’t be important to her that for just a few hours she’d given him back his life, that for just a little while, she’d made him feel like the man he used to be. Someone a woman like her could love, someone who’d dreamed of a family of his own and a life shared with others.
She’d know nothing of that.
She’d know only betrayal.
He cursed softly and shook his head. It’d been done. There was nothing he could take back, and in truth, he had only one regret—that it was over. If he closed his eyes right now, he was sure he could still feel the satin of her skin against his hands and the scent of her body as it’d heated in his arms. Cursing again, he tightened his jaw and forced such thoughts to the back of his mind. He’d just seen something more important than what had happened last night. He needed to concentrate on it, instead.
A man had bumped into Emma right in the middle of the street. In and of itself, that was nothing. Everyone walked everywhere in Santa Cruz, and the sidewalks were often crowded. But this man was not a simple stranger.
For a reason he couldn’t explain, Raul had left Emma’s house and gone straight to Kelman’s. The man who’d later stumbled into Emma had pulled out of the Las Palmas mansion driveway an hour after Raul had parked nearby. He’d driven directly to the bank and waited in the shade without moving until the minute Emma had left her office.
At that point, he’d gone into action. Following her closely, he’d moved in tighter and tighter until that moment in the boulevard. Raul wasn’t sure what the game was, but he knew one thing—running into Emma had not been an accident. The guy had planned it from the very beginning.
And that meant Kelman had planned it from the very beginning.
Leaning against a nearby fence, Raul thought about Kelman’s background. He knew all the old tricks, and he’d invented a few new ones, too.
Kelman had chosen Bolivia for the same reason everyone else who wanted to do something illegal did: it was an easy place to accomplish such tasks. Raul had found him without trouble. Denise had told him she thought Kelman would return here, and Wendy had confirmed his arrival.
Which brought Raul back to where he was. Kelman had obviously hired this man to follow Emma. To follow her, then bump into her in the middle of a crowded street. She’d been surprised and had grabbed her purse, turning at the same time to see who had shoved her. She’d almost caught sight of Raul, but he’d ducked behind a group of schoolgirls. She hadn’t seen him, or if she had, it’d been such a quick glimpse she hadn’t believed it was really him.
Swearing once more with frustration, Raul closed his eyes for a moment and let the scene replay itself. Emma walking. The man behind her. The bump. She turns and grabs her purse, her expression confused. He played it one more time, examining every detail.
A second later, his eyes flicked open and he understood.
“IN PRISON?” Emma’s stomach dropped. She felt the jolt as it hit the floor beneath where she was sitting. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. He was charged with possession of cocaine and he had a gun.” Picking up a California roll with a delicate pair of chopsticks, Reina arched one eyebrow. “Do you think I’d make up something like that? Kelman told me.”
Emma turned the information over in her mind. Sure, it was coming from Kelman, but hadn’t Leon Davis suggested the very same thing? He hadn’t found a criminal record, though, she argued with herself. She might be fooling herself, but she had to believe he was exactly who he said he was. It was the only way she could protect herself, even if it didn’t make sense.
“Well, if it’s true, what does it matter?” She spoke almost defiantly to Reina but avoided her eyes. “People who’ve been in prison have to have bank accounts, too, you know. What would you have me do? Tell the man to take his business elsewhere? You know I can’t do that. I need every account I can get.”
Reina stilled. Her sushi, caught in the chopsticks, hovered over the tiny bowl of fiery wasabi on the table between them. “If he’s doing something illegal and you get involved with him, Chris could find out. It could mean your job, Emma.” Her dark eyes filled with concern. “What would you do if…”
Emma froze. She’d been on automatic pilot last night, her body taking control, her mind too confused for any thoughts like this to intrude. Her mouth went dry.
“Don’t say it,” Emma answered sharply. “No one’s going to lose her job, okay? Especially not me. It’s too important.”
Reina nodded unhappily. She was one of the few people in Bolivia who knew Emma’s story. “I just want you to be careful,” she said. “That’s all.”
Emma squeezed Reina’s fingers. “I will be, so don’t worry about me.”
They finished eating with Emma turning the conversation in another direction. It was all she could do. Reina’s news was too much to handle right now. Emma had to think about it on her own time, when things were quieter. One thought did intrude, though. If Raul had been in prison—and for drugs, at that—she wondered what he’d thought of her confession the night before.
“Are you still going with me on Saturday?” Emma asked as she reached for another roll.
“You bet. I’m putting together a box of clothing and some other household things, as well. The sisters still need them, don’t they?”
“They always need things.” Once a month Emma visited an orphanage in Samaipata. It was one of the first places she’d visited after she’d arrived in Bolivia. At the time, she hadn’t understood her need to see the rows of bunk beds and small shoes all lined up
in a row. She’d known only that the bank supported the nearby orphanage, and when Chris had asked her to take over the responsibility for getting their check to the sisters every month, she’d eagerly handled the task in person.
Now she knew why she did it. It was a penance. A way of dealing with what she’d had—and what she’d lost. Until she had the resources to recover her loss, she would be a mother who had no children. What she could do was visit the children who had no parents.
“They’re having their festival, you know.” Emma dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “A parade downtown and everything.”
They worked out the details of the day trip, then paid their bill and left. The sidewalks were just as crowded as they had been before, and the two women found themselves fighting to get back. Finally they reached the bank.
Emma gave Reina a quick kiss. “So I’ll see you on Saturday, right? Don’t be too late. I’d like to get there before dark for a change.”
Laughing, Reina nodded, then all at once, a shadow fell across the two of them. Emma looked up and saw Raul, poised at the bank’s side door. He smiled and her heartbeat quickened in a way she couldn’t ignore.
“Either you’re going a long way or she’s always late.” His eyes took in Reina’s face as he held out his hand. “Hello. I’m Raul Santos,” he said. “I’m a friend of Emma’s.”
Reina’s face held surprise for a moment, then she spoke. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Allowing him to hold her hand a second longer than he needed, she turned on the South American charm. It practically oozed from her pores. “I’m always late,” she said, her accent growing heavy. “It’s too hot to be in a hurry.”
“I agree completely.” His gaze turned to Emma, and there was a secret message in his eyes. It told her he was remembering the time they’d spent together and planning on more. Her pulse thumped wildly. “So where are you going that you can’t be late?”
“To Samaipata. There’s an orphanage there that the bank helps support. We’re going on Saturday.”
“An orphanage? And you visit it often?”
“It’s part of my job.”
He met her eyes, and once again, he seemed to read in their depths what no one else could. “They’re very lucky, then.”
The passion from the night before apparently still lingered between them. She prayed Reina couldn’t tell as she answered with a neutral voice, “Our funds go a long way to help the sisters run the home.”
“I understand.”
And he did. She could feel his compassion and sympathy reaching across the narrow space that separated them. It felt warm and good. Far too good.
“Perhaps I could join you.” With a sideways glance, he brought Reina back into the conversation. “If you wouldn’t mind, that is. And I’d make a donation.”
Emma hesitated a second too long; Reina answered for them both. “It would be sizable, your contribution?”
He smiled at her. “With my banker involved? It would have to be, or I have a feeling I’d never be allowed to forget it.” Reaching into the pocket of his suit, he immediately removed his checkbook and a gold fountain pen. When he ripped the check off and handed it to Emma, she saw it was more than generous. There was no way she could refuse it—and no way she could turn him down. Reina would go crazy.
He replaced the pen and leather wallet, then looked at Emma. “Why don’t I stop by your place and pick you both up on Saturday? Around nine?”
He’d trapped her. Again. She nodded her acquiescence and echoed his words faintly. “At nine.”
As he left them and headed off down the sidewalk, Emma turned to Reina. “I thought you didn’t want me around him.”
“I was wrong,” Reina answered darkly. She said nothing else. Emma looked up to follow her friend’s gaze. Raul was weaving in and out of the passing crowd. Only after he was gone from sight did Reina speak again.
“When there’s a snake like that in the garden, you best keep an eye on him.”
EMMA SPENT the remainder of the week agonizing over the coming weekend. She couldn’t decide if she should confront Raul with Reina’s news or simply ignore it. She’d called Leon Davis to get him to check his records again, but he wasn’t there. The bank’s secretary had told Emma he’d gone to Nepal for two weeks. Some kind of adventure vacation.
When Saturday dawned, Emma woke up more restless and anxious than she’d been all week. A strong urge suddenly came over her to call Jake and Sarah; she had to hear her children’s voices even though it wasn’t Sunday. Maybe Todd would relent and let her speak to them.
She quickly found her purse and began to dig anxiously, looking for her long-distance calling card. Her fingers came up with a receipt from a bookstore, a tube of lipstick and a piece of dried-out candy before she finally found the card. She snatched up the receiver and dialed the familiar number, then listened to the clicks and rumbles and various other sounds that always accompanied an overseas call. After a few seconds of static, the phone began to ring. It was answered immediately. Expecting Jake, since Todd never picked up that fast, Emma felt a quick smile spread across her face. Until she realized she didn’t recognize the voice at the other end.
“Toussaint residence. May I help you?”
The voice held a Southern drawl. Not the soft, slurry Louisiana accent that belonged to Todd, but a more refined one, laced with steel. In a flash, Emma realized who the speaker had to be.
It was the perfect Miss Threadgill. Of the Charleston Threadgills.
For a single, idiotic second, Emma thought of hanging up. Of not saying a word and just slamming down the phone. But she couldn’t. She had more class than that.
“This is Emma Toussaint,” she said coolly.
“I’d like to speak with my son, please.”
There was a slight pause—a hellish pause—then the woman answered. Her voice was so polite and perfect Emma wanted to throttle her immediately.
“I’m sorry, but Jake isn’t available at the moment.”
“And why is that?” Emma made her own tone even and calm.
“He’s occupied and can’t be disturbed.”
Emma gripped the edge of the windowsill. She was standing in her bedroom, but in her mind’s eye, she saw her son. “He’s seven years old. How ‘occupied’ can he possibly be?”
With the kind of aplomb that only comes from old money, the woman spoke again, ignoring Emma’s question. “I don’t believe it’s the proper day for you to be calling, is it?” The cultured tones dropped. “Are you…confused?”
A flush of heat rushed up her neck and suffused Emma with all the anger she’d been holding in check. “I’m perfectly aware of what day it is.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m going out of town tomorrow, and I thought it might be possible to speak with my children today, instead. They are still mine, you know.”
“You gave birth to them, yes.”
A vein in Emma’s temple began to throb. She could feel it. “What about Sarah?”
“She’s still asleep.”
“And Todd?”
“He’s not here.”
“Then put on Miss Pearl. I’ll talk to her.” A woman who’d ruled the Toussaints’ kitchen forever, Miss Pearl had looked at Emma with pity when Todd had thrown her out. Her pity had stung, but at least she hadn’t turned the other way. She’d tell Emma how the children were, if nothing else.
“Miss Pearl is no longer with the family. A chef from downtown has been hired.”
Emma felt a scream build inside her chest, then all at once, she realized how utterly helpless she was, how hopeless the situation had become. This woman with the cool, measured voice held all the cards. If she wanted to, she could crush Emma and never look back.
Sitting down carefully on the chair beside her bed, Emma took a deep breath. She expelled it softly and spoke as calmly as she could. “All I want is to say hello to my son, and then I’ll hang up and go away. That’s the only thing I need from you.” She waited a moment. “Please let me speak t
o him.”
She expected the woman to rebuff her coldly, anticipated her refusal. But it didn’t come. Only silence answered her plea. After a second that lasted forever, she finally spoke.
“All right,” she said. “Just a moment and I’ll get him.”
Pure white joy rushed through Emma at the victory, then Jake’s voice came on the line and she focused once more. She had no real idea what he was saying—it was a jumble of words and phrases about horses and school and a new computer game—but that didn’t matter. Only the sound of his voice did. The high-pitched giggles, the little-boy nonsense, the relentless chatter. She soaked it up like a sponge. When he stopped to take a breath, she asked him about his baby sister. “She’s fine,” he answered. “We went to the movies last week and she got to pick, but next week Daddy said I could pick and then…”
He continued for another five minutes, then ran out of steam.
She hung up and cried for fifteen.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN RAUL DROVE UP to Emma’s house, she was waiting for him outside. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and despite the makeup she’d used in an attempt to cover up the evidence, it was more than obvious she’d been crying.
He met her on the sidewalk and stepped inside her walled garden, pulling the gate shut behind him. “What’s wrong?”
She started to shake her head in a motion of denial, then stopped. “I just had a telephone run-in with my husband’s fiancée. She tried to keep me from talking to my son…and I let it get to me.”
Raul wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, a surge of rage running through him that someone had this kind of power over her. Emma’s body felt frail and she was trembling, but underneath the sadness, he could tell there was anger, too.
Her tears came fast and hard like a summer storm. “I’m so…sorry…”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
She continued crying, her head against his chest, until the sobs finally began to ebb. After a moment, she looked up at him and he saw that her irises had darkened into a deep forest green. She stared back, clearly pulled by an invisible force that neither of them could deny, no matter how much they might want to—or need to.
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