Seventy-Eight

Rise and shine, darlin’.

Sabrina’s eyes popped open, the sound of Wade’s voice fading behind the heartbeat that pounded against her eardrums. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, eyes instantly drawn to the large picture window. She’d tried to draw the curtains last night after Reyes left, but they wouldn’t budge. Must’ve been on some sort of automated system that allowed them to be open and closed by remote. Her gaze was pulled past them, to the stretch of grass beyond the glass. After Estefan shot Eduardo, he’d simply walked away, leaving the guard where he fell.

He was still there.

While she slept, someone had covered the body with a sheet. It was a soft, sunny yellow, tucked under his feet and cheek so as not to be carried away by the breeze floating in off the ocean. The sheet stuck to the back of his head, the blood and gore seeping through to darken the yellow fabric to the brownish orange color of dried mustard.

Game time, darlin’.

Someone knocked on the door and she turned just in time to see it open. It was Christina. She had a black eye, the swollen bruise creeping out toward her temple.

The girl smiled even though the facial movement must’ve caused her pain. “Good morning. I thought maybe you’d like to have breakfast with me.” Christina’s gaze drifted past her for a moment to rest on the fluttering sheet framed by the picture window she stood in front of. The girl’s invitation was casual enough, but her meaning was clear: Do you want to get out of here?

Sabrina smiled and nodded, calling on the manners her grandmother had instilled in her when she was no older than her hostess. “That sounds lovely, thank you,” she said, stepping into the hallway ahead of Christina, standing to the side so she could pull the door shut.

They walked down hallways and under arches, through lavishly furnished rooms that were probably never used, past formally uniformed maids who kept their eyes downcast and their hands busy.

One such maid stood on a beautifully tiled veranda next to a large round table laid heavy with fruit and pastries. More savory fare was also offered, and a man in a white jacket and pants was waiting to make omelets and waffles.

Leo Maddox sat at the table with a large stack of waffles covered in strawberry syrup and whipped cream. “Hi,” he chirped around a mouth full of food. He almost looked happy. Almost normal.

“Hi,” Sabrina said, sliding into the seat next to him. She looked around before letting out a low whistle. She draped her napkin across her lap while leaning into him with a conspiratorial whisper. “Holy cow. Is breakfast always like this?”

Leo’s gaze strayed to the breakfast chef. “Yeah, it’s my favorite part, so far.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Favorite part of what?”

Leo looked at her, a bite of red-soaked waffle hanging off his fork. “Getting kidnapped.”

The smile on her face wobbled, threatening to crumble, but she held onto it. “I bet. Strawberry waffles would be my favorite part too.”

Christina joined them, speaking softly in Spanish to the maid who stood watch over the table. The maid, who looked barely old enough to drive a car, nodded and went to talk to the chef. “Good morning, Leo,” Christina said, lifting the silver pot from the center of the table to pour a cup for her guest and then herself. It was coffee.

“Morning,” Leo said, smiling around another mouthful of waffle. His gaze lingered on the bruise on Christina’s face, but he didn’t ask what happened.

“Did you eat fruit first?” the girl said, lifting a sugar cube from the bowl beside the pot, plopping it into her cup.

“Pineapple and mango with blueberries,” he said, holding up his fingers to show her they were stained purple. “Can we go?”

Christina flicked a glance at Sabrina, hiding a barely suppressed smile behind her cup. “I’m not sure.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged a bit. “Pleeeease.”

“We’ll see,” Christina teased gently, and for a moment Sabrina could hear Michael in her words. Had Michael been playful with her like this when he’d been her protector? Had they eaten decadent breakfasts and played in the sun? She hoped so. She hoped that he’d been able to give this girl a small measure of happiness inside the bleak life she led.

The rest of breakfast was spent in similar fashion. The children spoke to each other, both shooting her looks every now and then. She ate despite the fact that her gut churned and roiled against the thought of food. Reyes was a sadistic bastard, but he was right; food was fuel, and she’d need it if she was going to get through whatever came next.

“Sabrina?”

She looked up from her nearly empty plate to find both of the children staring at her like they’d been talking to her for a while. “Yes?”

“Leo and I were going to take a walk. Would you like to come with us?” Christina said, laying her napkin beside her plate before she stood. Leo jumped up, the corners of his mouth caked with red syrup, and he swiped at them with sticky fingers. “But first, Leo is going to go with Magdalena to wash his hands and face.”

The maid took the boy by the hand and led him away. “Wait for me,” he called back to them as he disappeared into the house.

As soon as they were alone, Sabrina turned to look at the girl standing beside her. “I’m having a hard time with this, Christina.” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “What kind of game is your father playing? Why is he allowed to just run around? And me? I don’t get why I’m being allowed to just roam free.”

Christina laughed, but the soft sound had a sharp edge that pricked at the back of Sabrina’s neck. “Come with me,” she said, leading her down the tiled steps to the garden below. They walked a short way before they stopped, Christina taking her by the shoulders, turning her toward the house. “We’re allowed to roam, but we are hardly free,” she said, looking up. Sabrina followed her line of sight, her gaze landing on the roofline and the long barrel of a sniper rifle aimed in her general direction. “They’re everywhere, and they have orders to kill Leo if you stray within twenty feet of the retaining wall.”

Before Sabrina could answer, the boy came flying down the steps, face and hands freshly scrubbed, “I wanna go first,” he yelled, blowing past them, his short little legs carrying him down the cobblestone path.

Christina smiled after him, as if she hadn’t just told her that his death warrant was all but signed. “Come on, I’d like to show you something,” she said, snagging her sleeve to turn her to the path Leo had just rocketed down.

They walked for a while, passing by elaborate flowerbeds and under shade trees until they came to an enormous oak that had no business growing on an island off the coast of Colombia. There was a tire swing hanging from a low-slung branch, and for a moment she thought of her grandmother’s house. Not the one she had grown up in, but the house Lucy had shared with Michael—the one she’d died in.

“He built this for me when I was five,” Christina said, watching as Leo threaded himself through the hole in the tire and begin to swing back and forth. Sabrina didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. She knew.

“See, I knew what he did. I knew he killed people—a lot of
people—for my father.” Christina looked at her, her eyes glittering in the early morning sun. “I knew that people were afraid of him. The other guards whispered about him. The maids. They all told stories of the horrible things El Cartero did for money. How merciless and brutal he was.” She shook her head. “But I never knew El Cartero. I knew Michael. He taught me how to ride a bike and built me a tire swing,” she said. “He would push me on that swing and take me to the beach. I loved him, and even if he never said it, I know he loved me.”

Sabrina could hear a million questions trembling behind those words. She didn’t have answers for any of them except one. “He still does.”

“He’ll come for you, won’t he?” Christina said, sounding both hopeful and sad.

Sabrina shook her head. Looking at the swing, she was suddenly sure. “No; he’ll come for us. All of us.”