Chapter One

“That’s it? You won’t do anything?” Minnie demanded.

Nick pushed a hand through his hair. “You have to understand, Minnie. We have nearly no army and no weapons. Vistaria has been held by the Insurrectos for three months. They’ve dug themselves into strongholds now. Even to go looking for Duardo would involve a massive operation to infiltrate Vistaria. I can’t authorize something like that. It’s not that I won’t. I cannot justify the risk and the expense, not for a single man. I’m sorrier about it than you can possibly imagine.” He smiled ruefully, “I truly wish I could give you a different answer.”

It was the understanding in his smile that did it. Nick’s smile and the model-perfect Miss Carmen, who wore designer jeans with a rip that revealed the bottom of her perfectly formed right ass cheek. She stood running her hands over the pecs and biceps of the college jock she’d dragged into the house. Minnie knew she did it to piss off Nick, yet it irritated her, too.

That, and the fact that Carmen had casually ripped out the sleeves of the Diane von Furstenberg shirt, which would have cost Minnie a month’s salary, and loosely tied it around her waist, unfastened, so that every breath and movement she made threatened to spill out her breasts.

It occurred to Minnie that it would be easy to hate Carmen Escobedo y Caballero. Yeah, she lost her father when the Insurrectos bulldozed their way across Vistaria overnight, only the whole time she undulated against the jock, Carmen wore a smug little smile as she watched Nicolás Escobedo tell Minnie to go to hell.

After weeks of nothing but a dull ache where her heart used to be, Minnie felt something.

Pure rage.

“You all think he’s dead, don’t you?” She curled her lip into a sneer. “None of you believe me.”

Calli rose from the lounger on the far side of the balcony. She and Nick and Minnie’s father, Josh, had been stealing a few moments of peace away from the chaotic, busy rooms of the big house perched on the cliffs on the north side of Acapulco. They’d been watching the sunset when Minnie found them.

Now Calli held her hands out, pleading, her face white. “Minnie, please, it’s not like that. We all miss Duardo.”

“Bullshit! How could you say you miss him and do nothing about getting him back?” The scream seemed to tear at her vocal cords. Tears sprang in her eyes. Tears of pain. Screw self-pity. She was done with pity. Enough was enough. These people were the key to getting Duardo back and she wasn’t moving until they did.

Nick touched Calli’s forearm, warning her. She lowered her hands and looked at Minnie, the same understanding patience on her face that Nick wore.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Minnie shouted. Her throat was raw. The shout made it hurt all over again. The tears came harder. Then she realized they weren’t tears of pain after all.

“Fuck!” She hated crying in front of people. Especially Carmen the Wonderful. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. They—all of them—would be horribly patient and understanding no matter what she said and in the end nothing would be done.

She whirled and hurried as fast as she could through the rambling, overcrowded house.

The big house on the road to Tecpan de Galeana was nearly a hundred years old and had always belonged to the Escobedoes. Three hundred acres of wild, private land surrounded the house. They included a private beach that featured a long jetty on a perfectly semi-circular bay. The empty acres guarded the house from adventurous tourists who actually made the trek to Tecpan and its beautiful silver factories.

For the last thirty years, the house had been provided as a stately residence to Vistaria’s Consul, who served Vistaria’s interests in Acapulco and the Guerrero State.

Since the Insurrectos had ripped through Vistaria, though, the three hundred acres had become Vistaria’s terra cognita. To this house came every refugee who found a way across the one hundred miles of open water between Vistaria and Mexico. They sought shelter and food.

The weaker refugees were kept in the house itself. There were others who advised Nick and his generals. Then there were dozens of people who voluntarily helped keep the house running smoothly and provided dozens of hungry mouths with hot food each day.

Privacy in such tight quarters was a luxury. Minnie had discovered a closet in the attic that was too small for sleeping quarters. She’d tipped an old galvanized steel bucket upside down and used it as a perch for those moments when she absolutely had to get away from people or go crazy.

She dodged and wove through the public rooms and up the rambling staircase, then the creaking attic stair. All the way she fought to hold the tears in, feeling them ripping at her throat and struggling to explode from her.

She reached the closet, shut the door and buried her head in her hands.

Shivers racked her, yet no more tears came. The effort to reach privacy had pushed them away. Instead she wrapped her arms around her knees and trembled, though it was not cold beneath the creaking, dusty rafters.

“Minnie?”

It was Calli’s voice. She sounded concerned. A small tap sounded on the warped door. “Are you in there?”

Minnie took a deep breath and pushed the door open a few inches. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Calli’s golden hair, even in the dim light, glowed. She glowed. Well, she was in love. Of course, she would glow. Yet her eyes were wide and full of the same endless patience.

“Just don’t give me any bullshit about how you know how I feel,” Minnie said.

“I’m trying to be a friend, to watch out for you.” Calli spread her hands. “Your mom isn’t here and under the circumstances...”

Minnie stared at her and waited her out.

Calli let her hands drop again. “What is it I’m not getting?”

“I’ll put up with all their political bullshit,” Minnie told her. “I won’t take it from you.”

Calli took a deep breath and let it out as a tired sigh. “Ah, dammit.” She slid down the outside of the closet wall until her knees were up against her chest, as Minnie’s were. Calli’s knees were higher from the floor than Minnie’s, despite the bucket.

Calli pressed her lips together, studying Minnie. “I have no idea what you’re going through,” she said frankly. “I’ve never lost anyone close. Although I can imagine, I think.”

“Pretend you’ve lost Nick,” Minnie shot back.

Calli flinched. “I don’t have to pretend. I live with the possibility every day.”

Minnie felt a touch of surprise. “He’s still going out on the boats to pick up refugees? Shouldn’t he be here, running things?”

Calli threaded her fingers together. “He knows his own boat better than anyone else and he knows the waters around Vistaria.” Her tone was calm. Monotone.

“You’ve said that way too often, lately.”

Calli’s gaze dropped. “Nick knows what he’s doing.”

Minnie strove for a gentle tone. “I sure hope so, honey.”

“You changed the subject on me. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Because you don’t get it and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Calli nodded. “All right, then. Explain it to me.”

“Okay. Nick’s dead. Think about that.”

Calli bit her lip. “Okay.”

“Now...you find out he’s alive. Near death but still alive.”

“Minnie, we’ve—”

“You want to understand, then just go with me,” Minnie snapped. “He’s alive, but it’s a close thing.”

She swallowed. “Okay.” Her voice was soft.

“You can’t get to him. You can’t reach him or communicate with him and what’s more, you’re not entirely sure where he is. Just that he’s alive and out of your reach.”

Calli nodded.

Minnie leaned forward. “You come to me and ask me for help and I don’t believe you.”

Calli held up her hand. “That’s the issue right there. Nick isn’t being deliberately cruel.”

“Bullshit. He has the resources. He could slip a small team over there to sniff around. He’s already done it twice himself.”

Calli’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

Minnie mentally winced. Oh shit. Talk about foot-in-mouth disease.

Calli wiped at her lips delicately, almost as though she was playing for time. “Nick has been on...missions? Into Vistaria? Into enemy territory?”

Minnie licked her lips. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t think they wanted to worry you with it.”

“How long?” Calli murmured, her gaze turning inward and far, far away.

“How long what?”

“How long ago? When did he go?”

“I’m not sure. I just happened to overhear it. I think a long time ago. Right at the beginning, when we first made it here. Not lately. I don’t think anyone has risked going lately. The Insurrectos have things locked down too tight now.”

Calli’s gaze returned from wherever her mind had been. She pushed her hands through her hair slowly, as if she was stretching. Her hands trembled. “I think I understand now some of your frustration. The pat on your head—for your own good.”

The twist to her tone Minnie interpreted easily. “Don’t go ripping Nick to shreds, Calli. He needs you. Besides, I’ve done enough ripping for the day.”

Calli took a calming breath and rested the back of her head against the wall. Then she opened her eyes. “Mama Roseta was making coffee when I pushed through the kitchen. Come and have a cup.”

“Spiced?”

“American.”

“Thank god for that.”

* * * * *

Mama Roseta was a three-hundred-pound, five-foot-nothing rolling ball of soothing gentleness. Without discussion, she had taken over the kitchen and despite near silence, kept a dozen volunteers organized and productive.

With her usual uncanny instinct, she had two cups of normal coffee already poured when Minnie and Calli walked into the kitchen, stepping over and around children on the floor and workers at the long tables and benches. Mama Roseta pushed the cups toward them as they approached her, gave one of her smiles that made her small eyes twinkle, before moving off down the kitchen like a square rigger at full sail.

There was no room at the tables for sitting, so they took their coffees back to the narrow, small balcony overlooking the Pacific, which had been declared off limits to everyone except Nick’s immediate family and friends. Minnie’s escape had scattered everyone and they had the balcony to themselves. Night was falling. Nothing was left of the sun but a sliver of orange-red brilliance dropping into the sea.

Calli stirred her coffee carefully. “Have you considered the possibility that Duardo really is dead, Minnie? Have you thought it through?”

“Of course I have.” Irritation touched her. Minnie pushed it away. “God, I’m not stupid. Do you think this is me refusing to face the truth or something?”

Calli blushed and returned to stirring her coffee. “Well, not just a refusal to face the truth, but...” She looked Minnie square in the eyes. “There’s guilt there too.”

Something inside Minnie jumped.

“I’m sorry,” Calli said softly. “I know how your mind works.”

“You think I’m on a crusade to find Duardo so I won’t have to feel guilty?”

“Something like that.”

“Wrong.”

Calli nodded. “Okay.”

Only, the fury was there again. Huge. Towering. Minnie gripped the edge of the table, felt the solidness of the ancient wood against the trembling in her hand. The need to hit something! It was all she could think of.

She gripped until the pulsing need ebbed. Then she let go. “Here’s the thing,” she said and was relieved when her voice came out evenly. She didn’t want to hurt Calli. Not Calli, for her cousin had gone through hell for her, had saved her life...and Duardo’s. Calli had defied an entire country in order to haul Minnie’s ass out of the ashes. She had twisted the arm of the second most powerful man in that country in order to do it. Minnie would scream at Nick but never at Calli.

“Duardo could be dead,” Minnie agreed. “I’ve thought of it.” Her hand cramped and she massaged it back to life. “I thought of it and I discounted it...because it’s just not something I think I have the strength to stand knowing. I will not accept that he’s dead.”

Calli pursed her lips together, holding in her comment. She was good at that and getting better from all the time she spent these days mixing with Nick’s generals and leaders. Minnie had never properly learned how to hold her tongue. She plowed on. “The other side of this lovely little coin life tossed me is, Duardo isn’t dead and I’m sitting here beating my chest and tearing out my hair. Sitting on my ass doing nothing.”

“This entire dilemma is based on a momentary impression that you only recall in hindsight,” Calli said softly.

“He was warm,” Minnie shot back. “He was warm when I let him go, when they lifted him down from the helicopter. Not just warm, but hot against my skin.”

“You didn’t notice it at the time.”

“We were all a bit busy saving our own necks, remember?” Minnie pointed out sweetly.

Calli nodded, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “I guess that’s something else I’ll never know either—what it was like for you on the ground. I’m still amazed that Duardo found you and got you to the campground in such a short time. What did he do, carry you?”

“Almost.” Minnie couldn’t help smiling as she remembered the moment that Duardo had appeared, like a superhero in a comic book, out of nowhere, unlooked for but arriving just when he was needed most.

She had been forced to abandon her father’s car on the road to Pascuallita. There were too many refugees fleeing south to the city for her to move farther north against the tide. Although she didn’t want to lose the protection the car provided, she thought she would make better time on foot.

Within minutes, as she struggled to push her way through the stream of humanity to the side of the road, she knew she was wrong. There were just too many people and she was too short and too light to barrel her way through them. She stepped off the road into the thick growth on the side and peered into the dappled shadows under the canopy. It looked as if it might be easier to move in there. She could walk a few yards away from the road and keep parallel with it so the road would guide her to Pascuallita.

She forced her way past the growth hemming the road and it did seem lighter and easier to move along. Feeling slightly happier, she turned to the north and worked her way around the trees in her way, glancing over her right shoulder every now and then to spot the road and the long stream of people, cars and other modes of transport all heading south.

Her spirits lifted. It would take much, much longer to reach Pascuallita now, but at least she knew she would make it. When she got there, she would check on Duardo’s family to make sure they had survived the initial outbreak of violence when the Insurrectos had made their move. There was a chance Duardo would be there. He would not casually abandon his family. He had too long been their protector.

If he was not there, then from Pascuallita she remembered the way to the base. On foot, she could sneak up on it and scout around to see if she could find news of Duardo.

She paused for a rest after an hour of steady progress and mopped her brow. The air was thick and musty under the tree tops. It was only then she realized she couldn’t hear the murmur of people and the muted throb of motors. She spun to face the road, her heart hammering.

It was nowhere in sight.

Oh my god. She clutched at her chest as her heart lurched, giving out a queer pang that made her feel like puking. Cold sweat prickled under her arms and down the back of her neck. “Oh shit,” she whispered. The loss of visual contact with the road was bad. Very bad. It was her only means of measuring direction.

She turned slowly on her heels, a full circle, peering through the trees. She hoped to see something. Movement of some kind. A spot of whiter, brighter light that marked the end of the canopy. Anything that would indicate people, civilization.

The forest was uniformly shadowed, green and still.

The only thing that marked one part of the forest from the other was the slope of the land. It lifted gently to Minnie’s left, which could give her a direction. Pascuallita was up in the mountains. The mountains ran like a thick spine down the center of the island of Vistaria. She could keep the slope to her left and that would mean she was moving north.

She took a few hesitant steps in that direction. She wished she had studied the maps of Vistaria when Calli had been poring over them. Calli wasn’t here. She had to use her own head. Would following the slope mean she was going north? Think, Minnie!

She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at her temples. If she followed the slope, she would be following the edge of a mountain...and mountains were round at the bottom! All the contour maps showed them as big irregular circles. She would end up heading farther inland, farther into the mountains where the fighting was going on.

Frustrated, she gave in to the childish impulse to stamp her foot. “I swear, if I get out of this I’m never going to do anything so foolish again!” she muttered. “What the hell was I thinking? Rescue Duardo? I can’t even save myself, for Christ’s sake!”

She looked around the forest again, hoping that in the last few minutes something might have changed, that she would spot a detail that would help her find her way out.

Nothing.

Then she froze. Something had made a noise. Far away, at the edge of her hearing. She closed her eyes again, this time to listen. She held her breath and wished her heart would stop thudding in her ears.

There. There. Far off. Definitely coming closer.

She spun to face the direction she thought she had come from. The sound had issued from over there. Something moving through the forest toward her? She kept still so she would not miss a single sound. Yes, someone was moving toward her. The sounds were unmistakable. “Hey! Hey! Over here!” Her shout fell flat and echoless. The thick vegetation muffled it.

As she sucked in a breath for another shout, the thought struck her. I’m in enemy territory...and I’m shouting in English. The air backed up in her windpipe, choking her with a hard, painful knot.

Who is coming toward me? Friend or foe?

She glanced around frantically. She couldn’t run. Running would get her more lost and would mark her trail with the sound of her stumbling progress through the forest. She had to hide somewhere until she knew who this was.

She spotted a fallen log, green with moss and vines, up against another trunk. At the crotch of the pair, there, she could duck out of sight. She hurried over to the fallen tree and climbed over the massive beam. It was bigger than she’d thought it to be, which was reassuring. She ducked behind it and hugged the still-standing trunk. The tree was solid against her shoulder and that helped too.

The sounds of progress were close and not nearly as loud as the sounds she had made. Whoever it was, they were sneaking up on her. Not good. She shrank back against the tree, her heart hammering, strained and aching. Any second now, they’d be at the spot where she had been when she’d first heard them. Somehow, she must look over the dead tree and see who it was. If they carried a gun, she would consider them the enemy. There were regular army soldiers who had swung over to the side of the Insurrectos when they had first declared war.

She had to look. There was no other way to learn who it was because now the person stalking her had come to a stop.

Dead silence.

She must look, but she couldn’t. Gutless! She swore under her breath but still didn’t move. She didn’t have the courage.

Heavy feet landed on the fallen tree, rocking it. She looked up, straight into the opaque eyes of a jaguar. The midnight black creature seemed huge to Minnie, even though they were smaller than a tiger. It rumbled under its breath as it studied her. It was like listening to a cat purr with her ear pushed up against the sub-woofer. Minnie could feel the rumble through her bones.

She jerked back and slammed into the tree behind her, which might well have saved her life, for as she pressed up against the tree, she remembered Robert Redford’s soft voice in Out of Africa, telling a petrified Meryl Streep as she faced down a lion, “Don’t run.”

The jaguar’s hindquarters bunched, as if he gathered himself to spring. Minnie gave a breathless little moan. In that moment she knew it was all over. This was where it was going to end.

She wasn’t ready, not nearly ready. She’d just learned what it was like to truly love a man and there was so much more to discover...