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Maria was already issuing orders. “Get him upstairs. First bedroom on the right,” she said. “Hugo, as soon as you get him settled, you come back downstairs and boil me some water. Quickly now!”
Everyone left her rushing up the stairs. She stood there with the toddlers and burst into tears. The little girl’s lip thrust out, and she frowned, then she reached up and patted Jack’s face as if to say it would all be okay.
Seconds later, Hugo came back down the stairs. “It’s so good to meet you, Jack. Aunt Rosa has told us so much about you.” Without preamble, he grabbed Sofia and cuddled her to him. “We can set them down in here. Mom needs water.”
He entered a small living room. Everything was shabby but neat and tidy, clean as a whistle. He set Sofia down into a playpen, then took Rafael from her. “Nap time,” he said. The two toddlers lay down and he gave Sofia a brightly colored stuffed rooster, Rafael already clutching a fuzzy blue blanket with trucks all over it. She recognized both cuddlies. Rosa had given them to Maria as a shower present.
She felt tears sting her eyes again as she followed Hugo into the kitchen. He was still talking. “Aunt Rosa’s been keeping on your government’s case about finding you.” He reached for a kettle, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. The kitchen smelled so good, like spices and chiles. “You must be thirsty.” He moved to the fridge, and she glimpsed the meager supply of food as he grabbed three bottles of water. “Here you go,” he handed her one then looked out the window. “Do you think you were followed?”
She just stood there, and when he turned to look at her, his face softened. “I’m sorry. My mom says I’m a magpie.” He took the bottle and set it down on the counter. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her hard against him. Her throat tightened and all she could think about was how right her dad was. Kindness cost nothing.
He let her go, staring into her eyes from his attractive teenaged face. “Better?”
She sniffed and nodded.
He reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, handing it back to her. “Drink,” he urged as the kettle started to whistle.
“Hugo!” Maria called.
“Coming!” he called back. Grabbing the kettle and the two bottles of water, he took off for the stairs. Realizing how thirsty she’d been, Jack followed him, swigging the water in great gulps once the cool liquid had touched her lips.
When she reached the top of the stairs, he turned right, and she followed him into the master bedroom. Easy was on the bed, stripped to the waist. “Pour the water into the basin,” she said. Give him sips of water while I clean this up. Hugo tossed a bottle of water at Juan.
Juan stood in the corner, unable to keep his eyes off Maria. She was a pretty little thing with big chocolate eyes and a wealth of black hair. Hugo went around the other side of the bed and knelt on it. He gently lifted Easy's head and helped him to drink. Easy’s hand came up and grabbed the bottle as he tried to get more, but Hugo held on to it, keeping it steady.
Maria gave him an affectionate look, then started to clean the wound. “It is good that it’s gone through. No bullet, but this is beyond what I can help him with. He’s lost a lot of blood.” She looked at her son. “Jack, take over the water.” At Maria’s touch, Easy’s head twisted on the pillow.”
Juan dug into the pack and came out with a syringe. “Morphine.”
Maria looked at it, and Jack realized it was a military-issue spring-loaded autoinjector. She nodded curtly, giving Juan a quick once over. He jammed the syringe into Easy’s thigh, and his face evened out in seconds.
Jack took Hugo’s place, slipping her hand behind Easy's head, all that long silky hair threading through her fingers. His hand came up and wrapped around her wrist. “Are you okay, Jack?” His eyes were glazing over as the narcotic took effect.
“Yes, I’m not the one who got shot,” she whispered.
Maria eyed her, then switched her attention back to her son. “Go get Dr. Castillo. Speak only to him and him alone. Bring him. Tell him anything except that we have a prison guard, a former American captive of El Helicoide, and a wounded American commando in my bed.”
He nodded and raced out of the room.
“How is it?” she asked.
Maria looked over at Juan. “He’s lost so much blood. If he goes into shock… He really should be in a hospital.” Juan opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. “I know it’s not possible. I’m stating the obvious because I feel helpless.”
The door slammed open, then slammed shut. A deep male voice called out, “Maria!”
“Up here,” she called back.
An older man rushed into the room and stopped dead. It was apparently not what he expected. Maria stood, her hands covered in blood, explaining quickly and efficiently. “Please, Rico, help him.”
He looked at Juan. “What is your blood type?”
“O positive.”
“Excellent. And you, young woman?”
“A positive.”
He looked down at Easy. “Yours?”
