RW sat in an unmarked car, outside the house where he hoped to save the woman he loved.
The man who had been chasing Angel all these years was inside. RW felt alive and filled up with white-hot...redemption. He would keep Cuchillo away from Angel once and for all.
The plan he’d begun with Angel’s help was working. Matt and Jeff were finally happy with women who loved them. With Nicolas in Plunder Cove, Chloe was going to be happy, too. His children had each other; the people of Pueblicito had the resort.
Saving Angel by ending Cuchillo would be RW’s last great act.
“Is the wire working?” RW asked, pressing it to his chest to make sure it was still there.
The detective who’d helped RW get to this point checked the system. “Yeah, don’t touch it. We’re good to go.”
RW opened the car door and stepped out. Quietly he walked across the street and toward the house. But as a car approached, RW stepped behind a tall juniper bush.
The car door opened and a woman stepped out. She stood for a long moment, staring at the gate and waiting for...what? She looked around nervously, as if sensing that she was being watched. And when her face turned toward the juniper bush, RW’s heart nearly fell out of his chest. Even though it was dark as he peeked through the bushes, he was sure. He’d recognize her beautiful face anywhere.
Angel.
He was so stunned that he didn’t move. He didn’t yell. His brain was exploding with questions, the foremost being—what in the hell was she doing here?
Squaring her shoulders, she quickly walked toward the gate. She was going in.
No, damn it, no.
RW rushed out of the bushes, toward Angel. He had to stop her before Cuchillo saw her. He’d throw his body over hers, promise Cuchillo the world, anything to protect her. Before he could get to her, the door opened.
Angel went inside. Willingly.
RW moved close to an open window. He needed to plan carefully. He couldn’t see, only hear. His heart was pounding in his ears.
“I never thought I’d see you again, Ladronita,” a man’s voice said. “Missed me? Search her.”
“She’s clean, Cuchillo,” a woman said.
“Smart girl. Why are you here?” Cuchillo asked.
“To ask you to stop chasing after me. No more threats. Don’t kill anyone else because of me.”
“Kill anyone? You’ve been watching too much television, mujer. We are a good group of people. You know that.”
She laughed. It wasn’t the joyful sound RW enjoyed hearing. This was a sound of disgust. “I am not wearing a wire, Cuchillo. There have never been lies between us. Why start now?”
“No lies, then. You know what I am going to say.”
More silence. RW could imagine the dipping of her head in acknowledgment. She did know. She’d told RW what Cuchillo would say and do if he ever caught up with her. That dire promise had been why RW had plotted and planned to get to this point.
“I plucked you off the street and brought you into the family, into my home. You became an extremely skilled thief, Ladronita, truly brilliant. And yet I never would’ve believed you could steal from me. You robbed me of the only things I care about. Family. Legacy. You don’t steal those things, mujer. Give them back.”
“I can’t do that, Cuchillo,” she said.
There was silence in the room. RW held his breath as he thought of the family Cuchillo referenced—Matt’s wife, Julia. Angel’s daughter. The one she’d fled with and hid to protect. Angel had sacrificed so much for Julia, for RW.
He would do the same for her, even if it meant fighting his way in to give her a chance to escape.
“You stole from me!” Cuchillo roared. “My own flesh and blood. My only child. Bring me my little girl.”
“She is a grown woman who makes her own decisions,” Angel said in a voice that was surprisingly calm. RW admired her courage so damned much. “I could ask her if she wants to meet you. At a public place of our choosing, hers and mine. You will stop looking for us after that.”
“Interesting proposition. I will agree to let her go, if she chooses.” Cuchillo went on, “But you, Ladronita? You are another cosita linda. You must pay for your crimes against me. Against our family.”
RW searched the bushes for a rock or heavy stick. Quietly he crept along the building.
“I never talked. You know that,” Angel said.
Cuchillo growled, “You did talk because old-man Harper knows. His private eye talked, mujer. People always do.”
There on the ground, RW found what he was looking for. Not a rock, but a hammer. RW picked it up.
“Please, Cuchillo, let it go. RW doesn’t know much, I swear,” she said.
I know enough.
“Get ready, Cuchillo,” RW whispered, readying the hammer.
“To pay off your crimes, you go back to your rich old man and give me something of his—equal value plus ten years’ of interest—and I will let you go.”
“Steal from RW?” Angel’s voice cracked. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“Fine. Then you pay, here and now. And I’ll find my baby girl without you.”
“No!” her voice exploded through the room. “Don’t try to contact her, Cuchillo. Leave her alone.”
“I will do what I want. She is my flesh and blood,” he barked.
When Angel cried out in pain, RW saw red and moved toward the door.
“Okay. I’ll do it,” Angel whimpered.
Wait. RW stopped. She’s going to do what?
“I’ll... I’ll steal from RW. Just let me talk to my daughter first. Give her a chance to make up her own mind and meet you on her own terms. It’ll be better for her...and for you.”
“Fine. We have a deal. Do not break it, mujer.”
RW lowered the hammer and backed away into the shadows. Why had she gone back to Cuchillo? Why didn’t she trust that RW could protect her?
Angel, his beautiful Angel, the woman he was willing to risk his life for was finally coming home.
To rob him.