The laden skies had been swelling all day, threatening a downpour and somehow holding it in. Afonso took a breath, not finding any relief in the dense, heavy air charged with electricity.
The installation of the lightning rod and weather vane had been postponed for a clear day, and, with the impending storm, he’d sent the Silvas to their home in Sete Fontes a day earlier.
Catarina had mentioned someone was coming to photograph the furniture in the ground floor rooms, but Afonso hoped they’d reschedule for another day.
Before sunset, Afonso took the ATV and drove the perimeter of the property, checking for obstructions in the irrigation ditches. With a hoe in hand, he cleared the drainage, preparing for the rain that was sure to come.
His phone rang, and he stopped to remove his gloves. Seeing Catarina’s number, he smiled. “I should be home in twenty minutes,” he said to her.
When she didn’t reply, Afonso frowned. “Catarina?”
“Hi, Afonso. It’s Anabela.”
His stomach dropped. “What are you doing with Catarina’s phone?”
“I wanted to make sure you answered.”
A sour taste filled his mouth as he tried to think. “Is she okay? Let me talk to her.”
“Catarina is fine. You and I have things to discuss. Meet me at the house.”
He ground his teeth. “I’m coming.”
“Afonso,” she added. “No heroics. Do not call Matias or the authorities or anyone else. I have a gun and I’m prepared to use it, if it comes to that.”
Afonso disconnected the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. He threw the hoe on the ground then hopped on the ATV, revving up to the maximum speed.
Anger roiled inside him, heartbeat pounding inside his chest, his heart squeezing with a feeling so intense it stung. The fear for Catarina’s safety—it brought a metallic taste in his mouth. How could he have been so distracted? He’d let his guard down, lulled by the false safety of Anabela’s silence. She hadn’t left; she’d merely been biding her time, planning her return when it was convenient for her.
He parked in the rear courtyard and jumped off the ATV, running to the kitchen door. A bearded man stood by the door, and Afonso stopped.
Afonso frowned. “Who are you?”
The guy smirked. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” He put his palm out. “Your phone.”
Afonso handed him the phone then made his way through the house with the guy on his heels.
In the entry hall, Catarina sat on a straight-backed chair in front of the dining room doors, her shoulders back and her posture rigid, a hand cradling her belly. Anabela stood nearby, halfway between the console and Catarina, a small handgun in her hand.
His heart jerked at the sight of the metal barrel. Anabela’s behavior had escalated. She’d never used a gun on the Princess Catarina.
When Afonso took a step in Catarina’s direction, Anabela held a hand up. “Not so fast.”
Afonso stopped but turned to Catarina. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, and her lips pulled into a tight smile.
His fists balled at his side. “I’m here, Anabela.” He kept his voice measured, trying to hide the tension coursing through him. “How did you get in the house?”
“What else do you want to know, Afonso? How I have Catarina’s phone?” She raised her other hand and turned the screen to him.
“How did you do it?” He played her game, unwilling to take any risks until he knew what Anabela wanted. His first priority was to get Catarina away as soon as possible.
“I was the one who delivered the furniture back in July. Three months ago today, actually. Befriending Catarina was easy after that. But I started following you when you got out of prison.” She shook her head slowly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. That was not a smart move, Afonso. You shouldn’t have ratted me out. It didn’t do you any good, did it?”
Afonso half listened to Anabela’s rants, focused on Catarina instead. She didn’t look comfortable. She had a hand near her back, the other low on her belly. Was she in pain? Was it stress related or something else? Her doctor had said everything was going well at Catarina’s thirty-six week appointment last Friday, and he clung to that hope. He had to get her to safety.
Afonso drew the keys to the Ford truck out of his pocket. “How about we go for a drive? You, me, and your henchman here.” He tipped his chin in the man’s direction. “We can leave Catarina behind. She’s not involved in this.”
Catarina frowned at his suggestion, and his heart twisted.
Anabela chuckled. “That’s my younger brother, Nico. He’s so much better than a henchman. More loyal too.”
Afonso could see the resemblance now. The same eyes. The same wide forehead. The cold, calculated stare.
Anabela sighed and stood. “Okay, I’m getting bored with the small talk.” She walked over to Catarina and rested her forearm on the back of the chair. Catarina leaned away to the other side.
Afonso clenched his jaw.
“Your girlfriend here has been lying to you,” Anabela went on. “Her name is Dulce Vega, and she was married to Juan-Carlos de Aragón y Vega.”
Catarina looked away.
Anabela laughed. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you that. People have been wondering what happened to Juan-Carlos’ wife after he died. Imagine what they’ll say when they find out she’s been hiding in the backwoods of Castelo Branco. And she’s pregnant too.”
“This has nothing to do with Catarina. Tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it.” Afonso kept his voice calm, even as the anger rose inside him.
Anabela moved to the side next to Catarina and rested a hand on her shoulder. Catarina flinched.
“I have video and photos of Catarina in Castelo Branco going to the doctor and shopping at baby stores, having dinner with you.” Anabela raised an eyebrow. “How much do you think I can get for those? There are magazines that will pay top euro for exclusive content on Dulce Vega. I can do even better. Did you know the media is camped down in Castelo Branco for the next two days? Some sort of official visit with the prime minister. Election year.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”
“No,” Afonso said firmly. “You need to leave Catarina out of this. It’s me you want, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Afonso, no,” Catarina interrupted him, her eyes wide.
“Just leave her out of this,” he repeated to Anabela. “Whatever you want.” He kept his gaze firm on her, trying to make her believe he was serious about his offer.
Anabela sneered. “I knew you’d step up. This is how it’ll be—you have connections I don’t, so I’m sending you to Porto with my brother. When you get there, you’ll call Matias and ask him to get you aboard the Princess Catarina. Use whatever excuse you want; I don’t care. I already checked, and the ship is not leaving on a trip until Sunday. I have a… parcel I need you to deliver to the lounge.”
His stomach churned at Anabela’s demands. “What sort of parcel?”
“One that will attract a lot of attention.” Anabela smiled, self-satisfaction showing in her expression.
She was insane. Anabela had clearly turned crazy since last year. She was threatening Catarina practically at gunpoint, and now wanted him to deliver a bomb to the ship. He wouldn’t do it, but he wouldn’t let her know that. He just had to get Anabela away from Catarina. He’d deal with the rest when he got to Porto.
He took a breath and let it out quickly. “I’ll do it.”
“No!” Catarina rose in her seat, and Anabela pushed her back down.
“I’ll go to Porto and do it, but you need to come with me.”
“I’ll come when I know you’ve delivered it. Until then, I’m staying here with Catarina. As an incentive for you to get the job done.” She sneered. “Otherwise, I’ll take her for a little drive, and who knows what might happen? The back roads in the interior of the country are not kept very well, are they?”
Afonso’s shoulders dropped. He didn’t have a choice. The only way to keep Catarina safe for now was to agree to Anabela’s demands. Maybe if he tricked her into thinking he’d planted the bomb, she’d leave Catarina behind. Somehow, he’d have to neutralize Anabela’s brother and call the authorities.
“I know you can get the job done,” Anabela said. “Too bad you grew a conscience, or I could have finished this business months ago.” She flicked her hand impatiently. “No matter. It’ll be more symbolic this way. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of our father’s death. He worked for António Valadares.” His expression turned hard. “And he died in the same accident that killed Vanessa Clark’s mother. But they don’t know that. None of them know that. They’ll be thinking of Ana Catarina Valadares and what a sweet daughter she was, what a great mother and person.” She spat the last word. “But not a thought spared to Manuel Avintes.” She walked over to the console. “Tomorrow everyone will know who he was.”
“Avintes?” The question slipped his mouth.
“I used my mother’s maiden name so the company couldn’t trace me back to my father.”
She’d always been good with details, as he’d come to learn when he worked with her last year. Afonso swallowed. Of all the stupid mistakes in his life, falling for Anabela’s charm had been the worst.
Anabela straightened her posture and held up the gun with confidence. “Let’s go.” She tapped Catarina’s shoulder, and Catarina stood from the chair. “To the kitchen.”
At the sight of the gun so close to Catarina, Afonso’s body tensed. A bead of sweat ran down his back. He took a step in Catarina’s direction, but Anabela’s brother grabbed him by the arm.
Anabela took Catarina’s elbow. “Walk on ahead, Afonso.”
Afonso did as she said. Once in the kitchen, Anabela led Catarina to a chair at the table. “Where are the keys to the vehicles?”
Her brother pulled Afonso to the opposite side, away from Catarina.
“Which vehicles?” Afonso asked.
“All of them. The Audi, the Ford truck, even the four-wheeler.”
Afonso drew the key chain out of his pocket and removed the keys. “That’s for the truck and the ATV. I don’t have the Audi’s on me.”
“Where is it?” Anabela asked in a sharp tone.
Afonso set the keys down on the tabletop. “In the library. First drawer on the right side of the desk.”
Anabela jerked her chin, and her brother sprinted in that direction. She pulled up a chair and sat down, the gun pointing loosely in Catarina’s direction.
His fingers twitched, and he flexed his hands. There was nothing Afonso could do. He wouldn’t risk Catarina’s life.
When Anabela’s brother returned, he handed the Audi’s key to his sister. Anabela gave him the key to the truck. “Go get it out of the garage.” She slipped the other two keys in her pocket.
While her brother was gone, Anabela tucked the gun in the small of her back, then pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen.
Afonso turned his attention to Catarina again. Her expression was tight, and she still kept a hand on her side, the other hand rubbing slow circles on her stomach. She looked up at him, and her eyes softened.
This was his fault. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t become involved with Anabela, none of this would have happened. But he had, and he couldn’t change the past. He’d already paid for that mistake, and he was still paying for it. Coming to Sunset Manor was another mistake, and now Catarina was suffering for it.
“You two stop making googly eyes at each other,” Anabela said, her glance hard and her voice dripping with irritation. “It’s sickening.”
The truck came to a stop just outside the back steps, and her brother jumped out. He entered the kitchen, a sheen of sweat rimming his forehead. How long had he been at his sister’s bidding? Would Afonso get a chance to talk him out of delivering the bomb?
Anabela stood and gave him the gun. “You’re going to need it.” She turned to Afonso. “Don’t get any bright ideas. Nico knows how to use it.”
Her brother tipped his head in Catarina’s direction. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked his sister.
Anabela chuckled. “Of course. What is she going to do? She’s nine months pregnant.” She touched his upper arm. “Just give me a call when you get to Porto.”
Nico nodded then turned to Afonso and waved the gun at him. He threw the key at Afonso. “You heard Anabela. Don’t get any ideas.”
Afonso caught the key and hesitated. His eyes found Catarina’s. So many things he wanted to say. Why hadn’t he told her how much she meant to him?
She nodded at him, her gaze resolute.
When Anabela’s brother jabbed him again, Afonso turned and exited the kitchen.
He could only hope he’d have a chance to tell Catarina how he truly felt.
* * *
As Afonso left toward the truck, Catarina rose from the chair and stopped at the glass door. She held up a hand and splayed it on the cool surface, resting her forehead next to it. Worry filled her chest.
Huge, black clouds hovered above them, and the sky rent with long-overdue rain. Afonso turned on the windshield wipers and blinked the lights twice in her direction.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Anabela barked.
“I just want to see him leave.” Catarina’s voice strangled at the last word, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Anabela laughed. “Go ahead. Watch him leave. It’ll probably be the last time.” She pulled out her phone and leaned back, head down toward the screen. “If he survives the blast or the showdown with the cops, he’ll be put away for life. I can guarantee you that,” she spat.
Catarina shuddered. She kept her eyes on the back of the truck as it disappeared around the house. Her breath fogged the glass, and she traced a shape on it.
It wasn’t fair. How could this be happening to Afonso again? This psychopath woman was forcing him into crime in order to achieve her crazy plans of vengeance. Catarina had to stop this somehow. She wouldn’t let Afonso go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. He didn’t deserve it. He was too good a person, too good a man. He had done so much for her, always supporting her in everything, being the friend Catarina had desperately needed.
Avó Teresa was right—four months was more than enough time to fall in love, and Catarina loved Afonso with all her heart. Irrevocably. Why had she been waiting to tell him? She loved him too much, and she wouldn’t let Anabela ruin his life again.
In a way, Anabela treated Afonso in the same manner Juan-Carlos had treated Catarina. Anabela was using Afonso, disregarding his needs, his safety, and even his basic rights. Catarina recognized Anabela for who she was—a manipulative person who didn’t care about anyone else.
The first crack of lightening split over the courtyard, and Catarina flinched. The muscles in her belly tightened. She’d been having Braxton-Hicks contractions at irregular intervals throughout the day. Dr. Paula had told her not to worry about the false contractions, which could go on for weeks before she went into real labor. Maybe the stress had triggered them. She was tired, and her back hurt from the tension of sitting on the straight-backed chair in the entry hall.
Catarina returned to the nearest chair. An idea formed in her head. It was about time she took a stand to protect the man she loved.
“I need some painkillers,” she said to Anabela. “My back is killing me.” She stood and placed both hands over her kidneys, arching her back.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Anabela raised her eyes from her phone. “Sit back down and shut up.”
Catarina perched on the chair, her hands on either side of her rounded belly. The baby had been active earlier but had calmed down after that. Exactly the opposite of Catarina’s mood—she’d rested after lunch, saving her energy for Joana’s arrival.
Only Joana hadn’t come. Anabela had.
Catarina had completely fallen for Anabela’s ruse. The thought filled her with a quiet anger, simmering low in her chest. Anabela was a masterful manipulator, a liar with no remorse and no scruples, using anyone in her path to accomplish what she wanted.
As her stomach tensed, Catarina leaned forward and moaned. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out little breaths until the pressure eased. Inhaling deeply, Catarina opened her eyes.
Anabela glared at her for a moment, then went back to her phone.
Catarina turned to Anabela. “So all the problems Afonso had around the property—you were behind all those.”
Anabela smirked. “Not very much of a challenge. The fence is accessible in a lot of spots along the property.”
“You cut the rope on the swing too,” Catarina said.
“No, my brother did. And he only sliced it. He didn’t completely cut it through.” Anabela shrugged.
Catarina pursed her lips. “Do you have fun watching people get hurt?”
“It was a test to see if Matias came. And he did.”
That fall off the swing could have been so much worse. Catarina turned away, her face hot with a simmering anger. Anabela was despicable, and she deserved to be put away for a long time. As soon as possible.
A few minutes later, another wave of tension seized the muscles in Catarina’s lower belly. She shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable, puffing out shallow breaths as a coping mechanism. She stood when it subsided.
“I told you to sit down,” Anabela said, frowning.
“I’m not comfortable, and I really need to use the bathroom.”
Anabela scowled. “You better not get any big ideas.”
“Like you pointed out, I’m nine months pregnant. The only idea I have is to get some relief.”
Anabela grabbed Catarina by the arm, and they walked to the service bathroom off the kitchen. Anabela inspected the interior, then waited outside the door until Catarina was done. On the way back to the kitchen, Catarina stopped and hung on to the wall, posture low and hunched forward, eyes scrunched until the wave of pressure passed.
When they arrived in the kitchen, Anabela propelled Catarina to the chair. Outside the French door, the storm held strong, wind and rain churning in a show of force. Hopefully it would abate soon. Thinking of Afonso driving in these conditions worried Catarina. But maybe the storm would delay Afonso’s arrival in Porto, raising his chances of foiling Anabela’s plan.
As soon as she sat down, Catarina cradled her belly. “I need to go to the hospital,” she said through clenched teeth.
Anabela’s expression hardened. “Whatever for?”
“I’ve been having regular contractions every five minutes.” Catarina’s mouth tightened in a flat line.
Anabela narrowed her eyes at Catarina. “Isn’t that just great,” she said in a monotone voice as she stood. “It’s not my problem. I’m not taking you to the hospital.”
Catarina’s eyes widened. “Why not? The baby is coming whether I want it or not. Are you ready to help me deliver?”
Anabela made a face, visibly recoiling in disgust at the scenario. She frowned and paused for a minute, then pulled out her phone. “It’s been an hour and a half since Nico left. They’re well on their way to Porto, which means I can get going as well.” She placed a hand on the handle to the sliding door. “I don’t care what you do. It was Afonso I needed.”
Catarina stood for a moment. “Can you at least give me the phone back?”
Anabela drew Catarina’s phone from her pocket. “You mean this phone?” She opened the door and hurled it at the patio, where it landed on the granite steps in a heap of little pieces.
Catarina squinted through the rain as Anabela ran to the garage and entered through the lifted door. In the next minute, Anabela sped away in Filipe’s Audi.
As soon as she was gone, Catarina straightened and walked to the cabinet drawer past the refrigerator. She grabbed a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the glass door.
She held her breath, hoping what she was about to do worked. Slowly, she formed an O with her lips and huffed on the glass. The truck’s license plate appeared for a moment, and she copied it onto the paper. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It wasn’t victory yet, but a start.
Walking as fast as she could, Catarina climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She’d been having contractions in the past hour, but not every five minutes. Just as Catarina had hoped, Anabela left when she believed Catarina to be in labor, unwilling to drive her or offer any assistance. Even the phone was gone.
Catarina looked around the bedroom. She spied the tablet under a pillow on top of the bed and retrieved it. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she tapped on the screen, and hope flared inside her chest. Maybe her half-cooked plan would work after all.
She navigated to the contacts folder and found the Silvas’ phone number, then called them. The Wi-Fi signal was strong, thanks to Filipe’s zeal, enabling her to use the phone application.
When Dona Madalena answered, Catarina rushed to talk. “Dona Madalena, I need someone to give me a ride to Castelo Branco, please.”
“What’s going on?” Worry touched the lady’s voice. “Is the baby coming? Is Senhor Afonso not there? Did something happen to him?”
“Can I explain on the way to Castelo Branco? I really need to get there as soon as possible.”
“Of course we’re coming. Hang in there, Menina Catarina.”
They arrived in twenty minutes. Fortunately, the storm had abated by then, and she urged the couple to hurry.
By the time Catarina arrived in Castelo Branco, she was already tired. The Silvas wanted to drop her off at the hospital, but she needed to put her plan in motion if she had any hope of stopping Afonso before he arrived in Porto.
The city was busy as they drove through downtown. When they passed the five-star hotel, the sidewalk was crowded with photographers, and the parking lot full. Hadn’t Anabela mentioned the media was in Castelo Branco for some political event? If the police didn’t move fast enough, maybe Catarina would contact the gossip magazines. The whereabouts of Dulce Vega was still a hot topic, and it would draw attention. Catarina was desperate to stop Afonso and Anabela. Even if she had to talk to the paparazzi—she would do anything.
When Catarina arrived at the police station, she used the public phone in the waiting room to call Filipe. Dona Madalena dragged a chair, and Catarina sat down.
He answered with a smile in his voice. “Catarina, how are you? That baby coming soon?”
“Filipe, Anabela Rialto was at the house.”
He sobered immediately. “How did that happen? Let me talk to Afonso.”
“Afonso isn’t here. She threatened me and made him drive to Porto to deliver something to the ship he used to work on.” He tried to say something, and she interrupted. “I think it might be a bomb. There’s no time. We need to send the police after their car and stop them. I’m at the police station in Castelo Branco. Didn’t you and Afonso and Matias talk to a detective here?”
“We did. Ask for Detective Arantes and mention my name and Matias’.” Filipe gave Catarina more instructions on what to say until he arrived. “I’ll call Matias and tell him what’s going on. Hey, are you okay? How did you get to Castelo Branco?”
Catarina let out a slow breath. “I called the Silvas, and they brought me here. Okay, I’ll ask for Detective Arantes and give him the license plate numbers to the Ford truck and the Audi.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Filipe promised.
Detective Arantes was on his day off, but at the mention of Sunset Manor and the Romanos, he arrived at the station within thirty minutes, willing to talk to Catarina.
By the time they were done, the weariness caught up with Catarina, and she allowed herself to relax in her seat. The false labor contractions hadn’t let up, the flat annoyance of before verging on a dull, intermittent pain. She’d done all she could to stop Afonso from reaching the ship, to stop Anabela and her insane plans.
It was now out of her hands.
All she could do was trust and wait.