Julian said, “I want you to be careful around Beaujean. If he told you about me, he might want something in return, and I don’t like that—”
“I don’t think he would try to use me.”
“But you don’t know for sure.”
“Maybe he knows Uma authenticated the fake art for Bond and wanted to get someone on my team to run a new art scam,” Mena said.
“Another reason for you to keep your guard up until I can clear my name.”
“He’s not the one we need to worry about. Uma is. The cops have my cell phone records, but the calls they say I made to her I didn’t make. They think I called her shortly after our plane crashed, but that isn’t true.”
“I saw those records.”
“How?” Mena leaned back, then a look of realization crossed her face. “I forgot. You’re not just a badass ex-Navy SEAL. You’re an intelligence expert able to hack into any computer in the world.”
“I’m not that good,” Julian said, tapping Mena on the nose. “The dates and times of those calls were manipulated. A few of them were when you were still in the hospital recovering from the gunshot wound to your arm.”
“I find it hard to believe that Prissy is working with Uma to frame me. After she found out about Uma’s role in Bond’s art scam, she was livid. She hated Uma. Why would she work with her now?”
“Uma wasn’t arrested for her part in Bond’s scam. Maybe Dumay has evidence on her and blackmailed her.”
“You could be on to something. Omar and I saw proof of Uma’s involvement when we inventoried the pieces, but Priscilla didn’t want to inform the cops. She didn’t want any more bad press for the gallery.”
“Maybe she wanted a way to control Uma in the future,” Julian said.
“To make it look like you and I paid the guards to leave her alone after the trial,” Mena said, shaking her head.
“And if Uma’s involved in trying to frame you, she could also know more about how Dumay set me up. I need to find her and see exactly what she knows about Dumay’s plans.”
“Julian, we have to be careful. We need a rock-solid plan to find Uma and get her to help us prove that Dumay set you up.”
“We don’t need a plan,” Julian said, forcing Mena to look at him. He needed her to understand the situation was serious. “I need a plan. You are going to go back to the penthouse and keep living life normally. I don’t want you doing anything to help me.”
“If the cops catch you, then you’ll never get out of prison. You’ll be charged with the escape on top of attacking Priscilla. The best thing is for you to stay here in the basement and let me be your eyes and ears on the outside. I promise it could work,” Mena said.
“No, it won’t. The cops are watching your every move. They don’t know where I am, and I know how to keep it that way. The best way you can help me is to pretend to be the worried girlfriend. You can’t give the cops any reason to believe that you know where I am.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I know you don’t, but it’s the way it has to be.”
“You don’t know how long it’s going to take to find Uma. Julian, we could be apart for months while you try to prove your innocence. I can’t be without you for that long—”
“You’re so much stronger than what you realize. You survived being kidnapped in Kenya. You survived me being in prison. You’ll survive this. When I’m out there searching for the truth, the one thing that will drive me is knowing that I’m doing all of this so I can come home to you. The beautiful love of my life,” Julian said. He leaned over and kissed Mena softly on the lips. The tension dissipated from her body as he deepened the kiss. God, he was going to miss those lips.
Mena pulled away and stared into his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. What’s your next move? Do you really think you’ll be able to find Uma before the cops?”
Julian gave her a wink. “I already have.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Julian looked up at the thick copse of trees obscuring light from piercing through the gloomy darkness of the jungle. His combat boots sank into the muddy road leading to the faded yellow house, stained and cracked from what he guessed was years of lack of care. The horses in the stable across the wide road huffed and wailed at the intruder in the Tango Lowlands on the island of St. Felipe. A small community cut off from the rest of the island nestled in a gorge between the mountains and a stunning black sand beach that merged with the Caribbean Sea. There was no electricity, internet or phone lines or even addresses. It was a haven for people who didn’t want any connection to the outside world. The perfect place for Uma Fischer to hide.
After making love to Mena one more time, Julian had given her one of the burner phones and a gun for protection. Mena insisted she would be fine and that he should leave before she changed her mind. She’d almost changed his. How easy would it have been to sneak away with Mena and disappear? Too damn easy. The trouble with Dumay would be behind them. They could start fresh in a different part of the world. His parents would never be surprised if he disappeared, but Mena was a different story. She had family and friends she talked to daily. People she’d miss and would regret leaving behind. He could never ask her to walk away from her life for him. He wanted only the best for her. Convincing her to live a life in the shadows, never being able to see her mom or Omar or Regina wasn’t any kind of life she’d want to live. Not even for him.
With one last kiss, Julian had trekked through the underground tunnel connecting the basement of the Genesis Gallery to the opposite side of Dumay Park. He’d emerged near a beaten path wide enough for trucks to enter, yet remain hidden from any cars driving on the major roads. The entrance was how Dumay had smuggled the surrogates and the medical equipment onto the grounds of the gallery.
Hiking his way toward The Bluffs, Julian arrived at the exclusive neighborhood of the island’s richest families several hours later. Stealing a small catamaran from the dock of one of the private mansions had been easy. He sailed around St. Basil to St. Felipe. Dropping anchor a couple hundred yards away, he’d swum to the black sand beach that marked the seaside entrance to the Tango Lowlands.
