I'll Remember You (Hell Yeah!) (7 page)

“I am glad to see you walking around and looking healthy.” He came up and clapped Austin on the shoulder. “How about some brandy?”

“Sounds good to me.” He sat down where the gentleman indicated. Although he hated to ask, he didn’t see any way around it. “I know I’m supposed to know who you are, but could you remind me?”

A kind smile creased the man’s face. “I am Tomas Santiago Delgado, Martina and Alessandra’s father.” Tomas extended his hand in greeting.

Austin took it. “I’m so sorry.” He started to rise.

“Sit. Sit.” He handed Austin a snifter of brandy. “You were injured. I do not expect you to remember me.”

A fire was lit in the fireplace, although the air conditioner was running if he wasn’t mistaken. “I don’t remember much, unfortunately.” Taking a swallow, he decided to find out what he could. “Can you tell me exactly where I am?”

Tomas shook his head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you. Sorrier than you can imagine.” A look of guilt crossed his features. Austin didn’t understand it.

“Hey, I’m alive. And from what little I’ve heard about what happened to me, I’m one lucky bastard.”

“True.” Tomas stared into the fire. “But to answer your question,” he gestured broadly, “this is the Los Banos Ranch in Sonora, Mexico. My family has lived here for ten generations. I can trace my bloodline back to the conquistadors.” He raised a frail fist in the air. “And that is my passion.” He pointed to a painting on the wall.

Austin rose to look at what the old man was pointing to. He was still weak, but he needed to move around. “A Criollo-Corriente. Very nice.”

“Ah, you do remember.” Tomas seemed pleased. “You are a cattleman, like me.”

“Really?” Austin was interested. This didn’t surprise him, not like the information he was now in Mexico. America was his country of birth, of that he was certain.

“Padre, what are you telling Austin?”

Martina breezed into the room, closely followed by two men. The first time he’d seen the bodyguards stationed outside his bedroom door, he had been afraid he was a prisoner. But then he realized they accompanied Martina wherever she went. Why, he didn’t know. Of course he realized this part of the world had its dangers, and a woman traveling alone always could use protection. But this seemed a little extreme. “Your father,” he put a little emphasis on the word, “has been telling me things.”

“Really?” Concern colored her face. “What kind of things?” She looked pointedly at her father, censure clearly in her voice.

“Is there something he shouldn’t tell me?” Austin wondered at her attitude.

A smile came upon her aristocratic face. “No, of course not.” Martina poured herself a drink.

“We were discussing cattle.” Tomas volunteered. “I was telling Austin how much we had in common.”

Her shoulders seemed to stiffen, but when she turned, she gave them both an indulgent look. “My two men. Of course, you have cattle in common.” Martina came to sit next to Austin on the couch.

“Refresh my memory.” He couldn’t help but enquire. “Tell me about my past.”

Tomas fidgeted, much to Austin’s surprise. But his daughter was as cool and calm as a rock. “What would you like to know?” she asked.

“Where am I from?” He gestured broadly with his hands. “Do I have a home? Do I have any family? Am I broke?” Those all seemed like legitimate questions to him.

With a small half-smile, Martina began to speak. “You are from northern Wyoming.” She took a sip of the brandy and locked eyes with his, as if she was gauging his reaction to her revelations. “You sold your ranch after it fell on hard times. Los Banos is your home now. You have no family, but me.” She flashed a huge ring in his face. “And you are by no means broke. Your fortune is in good hands. In our bank.”

They had a bank? And why hadn’t he noticed that ring before. Why had he given up his home to move in with this woman? Even though he didn’t know himself well, this sure as hell didn’t sound like something he would do.

“Would you like the see the ranch?” Tomas offered. But he seemed to look at Martina for permission. This action further confused him. What father looked to his daughter for permission for something so simple?

“Yes, I would.” For no other reason than he needed to get out of the house. But ranches and cattle seemed to intrigue him. Austin wanted to investigate the matter further.

“Do you feel up to a walk or perhaps a ride?”

“I’m not sure if Austin feels like—”

He held up his hand. “I do and I want to get out. I’m going stir-crazy in here.” Without waiting for permission of any kind, Austin Wade rose from the couch and retreated upstairs.

***

As soon as he was out of earshot, Martina wheeled around to Tomas. Her face was a mask of fury. “How dare you interfere?”

The older gentleman rose to his full height. “This is my home. He was my friend. And whatever power you may wield, and however corrupt you are, you will not tell your father how to run his life nor how to hold his tongue. I am no imbecile and this whole mess is a travesty. How can you steal a man away from his family?”

Martina walked to the hall and looked up the staircase, then she quietly shut the door. When she came back into the room, she got right in her father’s face. “He does not remember his family.”

“But you know who they are, you could tell him. Set the man free before he becomes embroiled in this nightmare you call a life,” he spat out the words, clearly not afraid of the young woman. “Don’t you realize I know what you’re doing?” He shook his fist at her. “Why you even have the servants monitoring the cable channels. Everything we watch is pre-recorded, edited to make sure no mention of Aron McCoy comes across on our television. Your secretary screens every newspaper and magazine which comes into the house to make sure he does not see the uproar his absence has caused or the search for him that continues until this day. How long do you expect to get away with this? His memory will return.” Anger made his face blood red. “And I’ll be glad when it does!” 

“This topic is not up for discussion,” Martina spoke through clenched teeth.

Tomas’s face crumpled, but he did not cry out. “What happened to you, Martina? How have you become such a monster? How many deaths have you been responsible for? How much blood is on your hands?”

“Enough!” She slammed down her glass on the table and stalked toward the door. “Just remember this, old man,” she said the words with disdain. “If you spoil this for me…you will regret it.”

Her eyes were serpent like, and Tomas Delgado did not doubt her threat for a moment.

***

Tebow Ranch

The dream had knocked Libby off kilter. It had seemed so real. She’d actually felt him in her arms. She had tasted his kiss. Reaching down between her breasts, she picked up a gold chain. On the end of the chain was a gold band. Aron’s wedding ring. Bowie Travis had brought it to her. One of the divers had found it, a miracle in itself. One small ring on a seabed, like a piece of gold tossed from a sinking ship. Yea, she knew she might be grasping at straws. But Libby needed something, anything, to hold on to. “Come back to me, Aron,” she whispered. Reverently, she kissed the ring, as if it were a magic talisman.

Harley, Beau’s wife, had held the ring in her hand. She was said to have some psychic powers. Beau had told Libby those powers had kept Harley alive many times when she diffused bombs, letting her know which wire to cut or which switch to flip.

Harley had clutched Aron’s ring and let her mind touch whatever power revealed hidden secrets, and she’d told Libby Aron was not dead. She had felt the continuation of his life force. And Libby believed her. She, too, felt Aron was still on this earth, somewhere. And he still loved her. That was her hope and her prayer. Libby was holding on to that dream with both hands.

Life at Tebow was continuing. Nathan was taking Aron’s absence as hard as she was, but the family had rallied around them. Jessie was in the last trimester of her pregnancy and Jacob continued to work on their house. But he and his wife refused to move out of Tebow main house right now. They were afraid Libby would need them. And she appreciated that fact. She did need them. She needed the whole family.

Cady and Joseph stayed close to home. Joseph was competing again, but Cady was like his lodestar, she drew him home far more frequently than before. Isaac and Avery were together now and peace seemed to have descended on the family. Even Noah was getting a long better with everyone. Sighing, she stood and walked to the window, gazing out over McCoy country.

Aron’s home. Aron’s legacy.

She molded her tummy, feeling the slight kick of little feet. “We have to hold on. We have to believe. Daddy will come home, I just know he will.”         

Chapter Four

La Dura Headquarters – Cananea, Sonora, Mexico

Martina stormed out of the house, checking her watch. She was late. “Car!” she snapped and one of her bodyguards summoned the driver. In moments, the dark Sedan drove up. The windows were so tinted they were black. She missed her sports cars, but these days an armored vehicle was the only thing that made sense. There had been two attempts on her life already, and she knew there would be more. Living to a ripe old age was doubtful, that was why Martina was determined to live well while she could. 

“To the hacienda,” she directed, looking out the window at Los Banos. Her father insisted the ranch be kept ‘clean’. None of her business could be conducted on the property. She didn’t know why she put up with so much grief from her old man. He was senile and weak.

Martina sighed. She knew why. Because Alessandra loved him and she loved Alessandra. Family—they could easily become your downfall. Her uncle Esteban was trouble enough. He resented the fact that the power had passed through her mother, Iliana, rather than straight to him. But her grandfather, Rodrigo, had been able to gauge who could be trusted the most and Esteban had one fatal flaw—he was somewhat soft-hearted. He was brilliant, but with a conscience. So, they shared the power, divided the duties. To the world, she was the leader. But Esteban was the power behind the throne. Martina cut the deals. She made the tough decisions. She sentenced people to death. And Esteban used his magnificent brain to come up with new ideas for them to make more money, control more territory and sell more drugs.

It was Esteban who’d originated the idea of building their own submarines under the jungle canopies of the Amazon and using them to bring drugs in along the coast of California. He also thought of bypassing the fence in Southern California by catapulting bales of marijuana over the high-tech structure. He beat the authorities’ game with twenty-five hundred year old technology. In Wisconsin, he contracted growers to plant fields of marijuana on national forest land to supply the demand in Chicago. He dug tunnels under the border, some of them air-conditioned with trolley systems. He vacuumed-sealed some of his drugs in tin cans and slapped pepper labels on them, shipping directly to Mexican owned grocery stores. Hell, he’d even shipped some drugs by FedEx. There was no end to Esteban’s creativity or to Martina’s ambition.       

Today, they were negotiating a new deal with a Peruvian supplier. He was from the highlands, Alvara Vilca. If she had her way, the deal would be two thousand dollars for a kilo of cocaine. In Mexico, that same two thousand would translate to ten thousand. Across the border in the U.S. the kilo was worth thirty thousand. After it was broken up into grams for retail distribution, the value of that same two thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine was one hundred thousand dollars. Martina smiled. She knew how to make a profit. And he knew how to transport. They were a good team.

The drive to town took over an hour. To pass the time, she thought about Aron and what their future held. Her greatest fear was that his memory would come back. So to alleviate her concern, Martina had contacted the smartest chemist she knew, a woman by the name of Emily Gadwah. Mrs. Gadwah was not a criminal, but she did owe Martina some allegiance. When her son had needed money for high priced medicine, she had received it from the Delgados. But for that boon, she gave the Duro Cartel invaluable advice when they needed it. And this time, Martina needed a miracle. What she wanted might not even exist. But if it did, or if it could be manufactured, Emily would know.

Upon arriving at the gates of the estate, the driver paused while the electronic eye verified their identity. When the heavy doors parted, four armed guards stood on the other side. Their headquarters was a fortress. A small army of mercenaries protected their operations. Some didn’t realize it, but this was no fly-by-night operation. Their attention to detail and high-tech procedures would rival corporations such as Amazon or QVC, except they were dealing in methamphetamine, heroin and cocaine, instead of books, jewelry or electronics.

When the car came to a standstill in front of the palatial stone building, she was immediately met, her door opened and she was escorted through the entrance and into a richly paneled office where Esteban and Alvara were awaiting her arrival. They both stood as she entered.

Immediately, she could tell something was wrong. Alvara was sweating and the temperature in the room was in the sixties. Esteban looked nervous. “Sobrina.” He held out his hand. Calling her his ‘niece’, he kissed her on both cheeks. Looking down at Alvara, he spoke softly. “If you would wait outside for a moment, I will discuss this problem with Diosa.”

She nodded her head, giving her permission. The man wouldn’t meet her eye. What was going on? Esteban walked him to the door and stood there while he was escorted by one of the guards to another room where he would wait the outcome of their discussion. “Okay. What’s going on?” She sat down and put her hands together, forming a point with her forefingers.

Going back to his chair, Esteban pulled out a notepad and looked at something he’d written. “Alvara needs to go up on his price, twenty-five percent over what he quoted us.”

“No.”

He held up his hand. “Wait. There are extenuating circumstances.”