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The lovely veterinarian was pushing the envelope, perhaps too far, but as I’d told her, she deserved to know the truth no matter how painful it might be.
“Fucking Christ. Animal. A fucking animal. You tell that man who is protecting you that if he has an opportunity to kill the bastard, I will pay him whatever sum of money he wants. It should have happened. Why the fuck didn’t it happen?” James spewed and nothing Jennifer did was able to get him to stop.
I took a deep breath, thinking about the conversation. Maybe James had made the contact with someone inside the Pentagon or even higher. I’d been spending time searching for connections with Jennifer and Castillo. Maybe I’d selected the wrong person.
“I will, Daddy. He’s a powerful soldier, a killing machine. If anyone can kill that bastard, he can.” Willow’s conviction irritated Jennifer.
“Don’t do anything rash. The important thing is your safety,” Jennifer said with zero emotion in her voice.
“I know. I’ll be fine.” A single tear rolled down Willow’s face. “I should go. Just know I want to come home.”
“I know, baby girl. You’ll be here soon. We promise,” James offered.
And Jennifer wanted to punch him in the face.
“I love you both,” Willow said, finally darting a look in my direction. I ended the call before anything else was said.
Then I allowed her a couple of minutes of silence. When she stood, she took a deep breath, furiously wiping the crocodile tears away. “My mother is lying.”
“I believe you’re right.”
When she turned to face me, there was an even stronger conviction on her face. “When this is over, I want you to do everything in your power to destroy her. If you don’t, I will. Then I never want to see her again.”
As she walked out of the room, I exhaled the heated, angry breath that had formed in my chest. What secrets had Jennifer kept from her husband and daughter? While the answer had yet to be found, it was obvious whatever it was threatened Jennifer’s perfect, posh life.
And she’d do anything in her power to keep that from happening.
* * *
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
—Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Willow
As I stared out at the ocean, I sensed a storm in the distance, likely arriving tomorrow. I’d always been keen to moments of barometric change, my skin tingling every time a major shift was coming, often days away. What I found even odder was that I had a strange sense of peace that I hadn’t experienced before. I’d always wanted to take a sabbatical, unplugging from the world and going somewhere just like this.
White sandy beaches.
A rolling surf surrounded by turquoise waters.
Mountains and streams, waterfalls and jungle life.
When Santiago had called this paradise, he hadn’t found the right words to describe the utter beauty and tranquility. However, a knot remained in the base of my stomach even though I’d managed to capture the moment of peace I’d always hoped to find.
It was strange to think I’d been forced to endure two-life threatening situations in order to locate what I’d been searching for my entire life. Sadly, it wasn’t real. I could blink and it would all be gone.
My mother. When I was a little girl, I’d looked up to my mama. She’d seemed like a princess to me. She was always in the prettiest clothes and heels, her laughter lighting up a room. I remembered attending a few cocktail parties she hosted, some with neighbors and friends, but most of which had to do with her business. She was always the same, the woman who walked in commanding attention and she’d gotten it.
I’d told myself that I wanted to be just like her, but slowly the glass slipper had been pulled away, the beautiful Cinderella turning into the evil stepmother. That’s when I’d retreated into my world, caring for stuffed animals first until I was old enough to volunteer at a shelter. I’d done anything to stay away from her and the house. My father hadn’t been strong enough or didn’t care enough to strip away her power.
But I’d seen something in his eyes I’d never witnessed before during the recent call, or maybe I hadn’t been paying attention. Anger. He was enraged that his wife had reacted the way she had. Maybe there was hope for my little family after all.
The thought brought a laugh into my throat. Too little, too late.
I stared at the weapon in my hand, hating the fact Santiago had been forced to teach me how to shoot it. Then he’d told me to hold the Glock, to feel the cold steel against my skin, to understand the weight of the gun so I’d be comfortable with having it in my hand. I wasn’t certain that would ever happen. No, I never wanted to be comfortable holding a killing weapon in my hands, even if it was absolutely necessary.
However, I trusted him implicitly, so I did what he asked. My reward for enduring what I’d called the arduous training over the last three days was an afternoon on the beach. Just the two of us. My bathing suit? A tank top and crimson lace panties. The brutal man had suggested I wear nothing, but I’d refused.
