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“Ian wanted to, but I told him no. Mariposa has survived more than one hundred years without people being tied to an electronic leash, and it can survive another hundred years.” He shifted in the bed, clearly in pain. “And don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. I know the moment I’m dead Ian will put in the equipment, but I prefer to keep my illusions.”
“It would help Marcus and Ian conduct business.”
“Marcus has never asked,” the old man said defensively.
“And if he had? Would you have agreed?” I don’t know why I asked. It made no difference to me if Granda preferred Marcus to Ian—I was going to be long gone. It wasn’t as if I had any faith in his ability to judge people—he’d adored Bella and found me dispensable. It only made sense that he’d undervalue Ian.
And why the hell was I feeling protective about that asshole, especially after last night? He’d kissed me as if I were the breath of life, and then shoved me away like I was poison. I wanted to get away from the lies, the deception, the threats. But most of all I wanted to get away from Ian, who threatened everything, not simply my dumbass masquerade but my emotions, for lack of a better, more precise word. I needed Mariposa behind me.
And then I looked down at the querulous old man whom I’d loved with all my heart, whom I still loved, and I knew I couldn’t leave him to die alone. It took only one hard look to see that he was barely clinging to life, despite his bravado. It wasn’t going to be long.
I was doing a terrible thing by lying to everyone, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. The least I could do was endure a few more days of discomfort to give this tired old man a peaceful death.
“I don’t really need a cell signal,” I said, taking the seat beside his bed and taking one frail hand in mine. “I’m here for as long as you need me.”
Granda sniffed dismissively. “Do what you want,” he said. But his thin hand tightened on mine.
The nurse kicked me out an hour later, and I wandered downstairs to find something for lunch. Seline and Maldonado were nowhere to be seen, and I was half afraid I would run into the cousins, or even worse, Ian. I had every intention of ignoring him. I was still furious with him about last night, about the way he’d kissed me, held me, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he made me feel.
I was still shaken by my nasty encounter last night, though I tried to tell myself it was nothing. Just some drunk, thinking he was being funny—no one could seriously want to harm me. Threats were one thing, but my idea of reality didn’t include cold-blooded murder. I climbed onto one of the stools in the kitchen and ate my salad, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. At least I’d made a final peace with my deception—no more running away. All I had to do was keep Ian at a distance and I’d be fine.
I’d tell Ian and Marcus the truth after Granda died. After all, I neither wanted nor expected anything from the old man, and the two of them would be glad enough to see me gone at that point. I had no idea when Bella would decide to show up, but that would no longer be my problem. They might despise me, but in the end, their opinion didn’t matter.
I lifted my head suddenly. I had the strangest feeling that someone was watching me, and I looked around the vast, deserted kitchen. I must have let that man bother me more than I thought. I needed some exercise, some bright Spanish sun to burn away the unpleasantly slimy memory.
Rinsing my plate off in the sink, I started to slide it into the dishwasher when a movement caught my attention, and I stared out the window into the flat, black eyes of a perfect stranger.
A moment later, he had vanished, but this time I’d paid attention. He’d been a big man, with heavy shoulders, a heavy brow, and there’d been something almost eerie about the way he’d been watching me. I didn’t think he was the man from last night—that one had been shorter, thinner, with a deceptively handsome face.
I had to talk to Bella, and I couldn’t let lack of a cell signal stop me anymore. Pinnacle Point wasn’t that far, and I would be perfectly safe. I couldn’t allow myself to get spooked, but after my encounter in the taberna last night I was feeling jittery. I reminded myself that there was no reason why anyone would want to hurt me. Bella was far more likely to have enemies, and I had to find out exactly what kind of mess she’d gotten me into. She needed to know what was going on here, she needed to get her ass back. I wasn’t the one who was wanted here, I was the cuckoo in the nest. If Granda had his beloved Bella by his side, there’d no longer be a need for an interloper like me.
At least there was no sign of Ian anywhere around when I stepped out into the courtyard, and I took a deep breath of the fragrant air, the olive trees, the sun and dirt and the faint whiff of the sea in the background. It smelled like Mariposa—the hot sun baking into the dirt, the flowery scents of roses and bougainvillea playing with my heart. I didn’t belong here, but I didn’t know if I could bear to let it go.
I was feeling sorry for myself, a habit of my mother’s that I’d always particularly disliked. Stiffening my back, I started up the narrow, rutted tractor path, past the neat rows for olive trees with the gnarled branches and silvery leaves, moving steadily upward toward Pinnacle Point.
It had always been a place of refuge when things were bad—when my mother had come to take me away for good, I’d run away and hidden up there, hidden until Ian had found me and talked me into coming back down. He’d been kind then. In fact, he’d been kind on numerous occasions as I was growing up, times I’d forgotten in the ensuing years. Maybe I’d misjudged him in the past, but right now, I’d had enough of his cynical comments and hot and cold behavior.
I was moving farther and farther away from the workers, toward the high rock outcropping that had held so many picnics. Pausing to catch my breath, I looked back over the hillside, and my eyes once again fell on the man who’d been outside the kitchen window.
I stumbled, then righted myself. I was being ridiculous—there was another man off to the left of him, a smaller man, walking parallel to my path. I stared at him, but a moment later he turned away, disappearing down the hillside, leaving only the big man behind.
I hesitated for a moment. A man had threatened my life last night, and now a stranger seemed to be following me. I ought to turn back home and stay there.
But the man wasn’t looking at me, thank God. In fact, as far as anyone could tell, he was simply out there to check the olive trees. I wouldn’t be here for the harvest, and that was another sorrow. The workers would lay out mesh blankets beneath the trees to gather the fallen fruit, and they’d already started on the lower levels, where the harvest would come due sooner, and everyone would be working and happy. The man was probably just scouting out where they would lay the nets.
And I was being foolish, letting my imagination get the better of me. If I turned back now, I’d run right into him, and while I’d convinced myself he wasn’t dangerous, I wasn’t eager for a close encounter. Besides, I needed to talk to Bella.
I finally reached the base of Pinnacle Point, the narrow path plunging into the pines that grew at the high levels above Mariposa, out of sight and sound of the workers. I hadn’t thought to wear my new sneakers, but the flat sandals provided good enough traction as I scrambled up a path better made for mountain goats. It wasn’t as easy as I remembered, but when I came out at the top, I could see all around me, the olive groves in the distance, stretching toward the sea, the beautiful jewel of Mariposa seated in the center.
I sat down cross-legged on the rock and pulled out the cell phone. Sure enough, five bars, and I quickly thumbed through the numbers Bella had programmed in. I immediately pushed my old number, listening to it ring. And ring. And ring.
My automated voice mail prompt didn’t come on, just a phone ringing into silence, and for not the first time in my life, I cursed Bella before I hung up. Did she even have my old phone anymore? Somehow, I doubted it—I couldn’t see Bella making do with anything but the best. She probably dumped my faithful phone with all the numbers and photos for a shiny new one, damn her. I stared at the one she’d given me in frustration. That was one problem with cell phones—you couldn’t slam them down in frustration. Well, you could, but I couldn’t see smashing my only form of outside communication on the hard rock beneath me.
I’d tossed and turned last night, more upset about Ian than seemingly minor inconveniences like death threats, and the warm sun beating overhead, the smells that were so familiar and so dear, even the lazy humming of the bees were enough to lure me into a dreamy state. I stretched out, not minding the hard rock beneath my back, and looked up into the bright blue sky, the birds wheeling and calling overhead, and I thought back to when I was fifteen years old and I wanted a beautiful boy to come and find me and kiss me.
He never had, of course. And I didn’t want him now, I wanted his stupid brother, and I was every kind of idiot. But I wasn’t going to think about that. I was going to close my eyes and just absorb the sounds and the scents and the feeling, just let go. At least for a little while.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
