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He was already talking to an empty room—but Joaquim Ramirez would be back. Enrique had baited his trap well.
What man could resist the lure of discovering his true identity and his place in the world?
Less than three hours later, the two men were in a black SUV Jake had rented, approaching the closed iron gates of a building that looked like a medieval fortress.
“I am pleased you changed your mind,” Estes said politely.
Jake grunted as he brought the SUV to a stop and beeped the horn. Changed his mind? That was a nice way of putting it. What else could he do? Rage had driven him from the advogado’s office. Common sense had brought him back.
A hand from the grave had him by the cojones, although that probably wasn’t the right word in Portuguese.
Portuguese. Was that the only language the girl spoke? He hadn’t thought to ask. He hadn’t even asked Estes her name.
“Your ward’s name,” Estes said, as if he’d read Jake’s mind, “is Catarina. Catarina Elena Teresa Mendes.”
“Does she speak English?”
“I don’t know.”
That could be a problem, but he could always hire a translator. Jake tapped the horn again.
“And she understands what’s going to happen? She accepts it? Because an American girl would laugh in your face if you told her she was going to be a stranger’s ward for the two months it takes him to find her a husband.”
“The girl has been raised as a Brazilian, not as an American.”
“I know. I only meant—Well, never mind. She’s accepted this, right?”
“I told you, she is precisely what one would expect her to be.”
Jake nodded. He didn’t like the trap he was in but at least Catarina Mendes wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t know much about girls her age…
Well, yeah. He did. Samantha had just turned twenty-two. That was what the sapphire bracelet had been all about. But that was different. Sam was a woman of the world. For all intents and purposes, Catarina was still a child.
An old man tottered up to the gates, opened the lock and stepped aside. Jake gunned the engine, raised a plume of dust as he shot up the driveway, then stood on the brakes before a set of stone steps that led to a massive iron-bound door.
“This kid’s lived in this place for eight years?”
“It’s an excellent school,” Estes said defensively.
At their knock, a wizened nun opened a small door set into the larger one and rattled off something to the attorney.
“The sister says Mother Elisabete is expecting us.”
They made their way down a long, stone-walled corridor that glistened with damp. The air was cool even on this hot day. The lighting was poor and Jake almost missed the door that suddenly appeared before them. They were ushered into a room filled with heavy mahogany furniture. Dark draperies covered the windows.
The room’s focal point was a massive desk. Behind it sat a thin-lipped woman in a black wimple and habit.
“Mother Elisabete,” Estes said, “this is Joaquim Ramirez.”
“Senhor Ramirez. A pleasure.”
Jake doubted it. Mother Elisabete looked as if a smile would crack her face.
“Catarina,” she said sharply. “Where are your manners? Stand and greet our visitors.”
Jake hadn’t even realized there was anyone else in the room until the nun barked the command. Now he saw a figure rise from a chair in the corner.
Yes, indeed.
