Red Hot Christmas (38 page)

      “What is going on here?” Carla lifted her chin. “Who is she?”

      “She’s helping me investigate something. I hope that’s okay,” Alejandro jumped in. “Carla, I know we didn’t end on the best terms. But, I need you to be honest with me.” He hesitated, as if he minced his words. He clenched his jaw, and inhaled. Sydney was about to speak when he continued, in a steady voice, “Did you contact a writer named Frank Lewis?”

      “Who?”
 

       “A man who was writing my biography. He’s dead.”

      “Ugh. How would have I known?” she asked, while giving Sydney a once-over.
 

      Sydney shuffled a bit, unsure of what to do. Carla’s brown eyes studied her, a mocking smile formed on her thin lips. Oh God. She knew they were sleeping together.
 

      An uncharacteristic wave of red spread across her face and neck. The other woman was in a mental clinic, but shit, she wasn’t an idiot. The other woman? Sydney blinked.
What the hell is happening to me?
 

      “Since you’ve checked in, have you been here the entire time?” Alejandro asked.
 

      She shook her head and walked past them. “I’m here voluntarily, Alejandro. I can come and go as I please. It’s just easier being away for a while. I needed a break. The media attention wasn’t good for my mental health.”

      “A media attention you sought and encouraged,” he said in a low voice, as if he was thinking out loud.
 

      “Listen, the only reason I let you come see me today was because I want to apologize for having caused you a lot of grief,” she said, twisting her hands together. “But if you think you can come here and rattle on about a guy I never met, I’ll have security escort you out,” she said, her voice wavering.
 

      Tension crackled in the room. Sydney stepped back until her butt pressed against the wall. Folding her arms, she tried to focus on the fancy pattern of the tiled floor. A lump floated up her throat and she realized she would burst if she didn’t peer at them. Just once.
 

“I’m sorry,” Alejandro said in a coarse voice. He gave Carla an apologetic smile, and Sydney wondered why he was sorry. For Carla’s illness? For visiting her and barely asking her how she was? The questions ate at her, and she motioned to leave the room.
 

Alejandro opened his arms, and Carla erased the last inch of a gap between them and hugged him.
 

      Sydney shuddered. Didn’t matter why he was sorry. As his arms went about his former fiancée, she closed her eyes and sighed into the broadness of his shoulders.
 

      Sydney compressed a sigh of her own. Forgiveness wasn’t a big part of her life—never had been. She didn’t dwell on the past, which didn’t mean she forgot it or forgave the creepy man who landed her in jail to protect his own interests. Her foster families hadn’t helped, as they had been more concerned about getting a tax break than making their home livable and her experience less painful.
 

      Now…watching him forgive Carla, perhaps even himself, tugged at Sydney’s heart. She opened her mouth to excuse herself and leave the room, but words got trapped in her throat. She dared another glance their way, although she wasn’t strong enough to seek his reaction to the embrace.
 

      She contemplated how calm and content Carla seemed in his arms, and Sydney was stung again by an incredible amount of hope. Hope, that she too, could forgive the past and move on. Hope, that until now, she never thought was possible.
 

***

Alejandro planted a small kiss on Carla’s head, and gently let go of her.
 

He stole a glance out the large window. Tall trees with red flowers canopied over the patio, where patients sunbathed on cushioned wooden chairs and read books. The uniformed nurses hovered, a sad reminder that the freedom that nature offered was but a dream. The light sensation dissipated as he turned around to face Carla. “Thanks for letting us visit.”
 

Carla offered him a small smile, and he studied her expression—as her cheeks softened, she looked years younger, and there was no anger in her brown eyes. Her stay here had to be working for her, and a sense of joy poured over him. Even if it was temporary.
 

His time with his father had been less than any son deserved. His friendship with Amparo had been cut short. Even his happy moments with the woman in front of him had been yanked from him.
 

He darted his gaze to Sydney, who stood against the wall. She held onto a standing bookshelf as if she would fly away otherwise. He noticed her skin was paler than usual, so pale in fact he was able to spot the pulse on her neck. After a couple blinks, she gave him a sweet smile that was different from the smartass grins he enjoyed so much.
 

The way her lips quirked at the corner of her mouth, almost coyly, like she discovered a secret she wasn’t willing to share, set his heart on a wild race. Against his better judgment, he held the stare, for a fleeting moment, unafraid.
 

      “The man who died. Was he your father?” Carla asked Sydney, who blinked and let go of the shelf she was clinging to.
 

      “I didn’t know him well. I’m a paramedic and took him to the hospital.”
 

      “Then why are you here?”

      Sydney cleared her throat. “It’s a long story.”

      Carla gave a spirited laugh and threw her hands in the air. “Time, my friends, is all I have.”
 

      Sydney shrugged and faced Alejandro. He rubbed his temples.
 

 
“He told Sydney I’m at a risk of sorts. Her coworker heard it too, and shortly after she was dead,” he heard himself saying. Screw sugar coating. His mother had used the protection spiel to shield him from the truth about his biological father. He couldn’t do the same to others around him.
 

“I know I was unfair in the past and told lies about you. But you have to believe me, I’m not involved in this. Two months ago, when I had a nervous breakdown and decided to get help, I realized hurting you had been my way of not processing my emotions,” she said, her voice soft, like she was in real peace with the truth. For once.
 

“I believe you,” he said honestly. “But we should get going.”
 

“Of course.” She stalked toward Sydney, and whispered something in her ear. Sydney drew back and peered at Carla.
 

Alejandro placed his hand on the small of Sydney’s back, guiding her out. When he reached the French doors, he glanced back and found Carla sitting on a rocking chair, with a leather bound book in her hands. She nodded at him, slowly, like the simple movement of her head meant she granted him approval.
 

A small smile formed on his lips and he mouthed,
“hasta luego,”
his heart both heavy and light.
 

“What did she whisper in your ear?” he asked Sydney as he opened the door of the car for her.

Sydney glanced at him, before she slid into the car. “She asked me to be kind to you. Obviously she doesn’t know me at all,” she added with a spirited chuckle, and put on her seat belt.
 

Why on Earth would Carla say something of that nature? Was she under the impression he needed someone to take care of him? Waving it off, he turned on the car.
 

He had other things to worry about. Ever since they had left the clinic, nagging doubts clouded his mind like a winter storm. Carla told him the truth, he just knew it. While their atonement lifted one weight from his chest, a much heavier one pressed. Stronger. Harder. Was his uncle responsible for those deaths? Had he really been that naïve in thinking Evandro wouldn’t do anything for his career?

He rubbed his temple with one hand, as the other clenched the steering wheel.
 

Sydney rested her elbow on the windowsill, her eyes remote. “I’m glad you talked to her.” She shifted in her seat, her fingers toying with the seat belt. “She didn’t have anything to do with it.”

      “I know.”
 

      “Alejandro…did you ever consider your mother may be involved?”
 

      He stepped on the gas pedal and straightened his posture in the sports car. Through the rearview mirror, he saw a cloud of dust behind him, and not far from it, the car with two of the country’s top security firm men. “She wasn’t in Chicago. Are you telling me she hired a hit man to wipe him out?”
 

       Sure, his mother had disappointed him, and it would take him a long time to forgive her for lying. But, a coldhearted murderer?
 

      “I don’t know. That’s a possibility. I know you’re skeptical, but until a day ago you didn’t know she slept with your uncle and lied to you about your father. I can’t help but think…what else could she be hiding?” Her jaw clenched. “They never found the security footage that day. We assumed someone had hacked into the building security system, but she could have paid the doorman or found a way to get rid of the video.”

      A part of him wanted to laugh at her suspicion. Was it warranted, though? A strange tremor weakened his limbs, and he slowed the pressure of his foot on the pedal. “Why would she do that?”
 

      “Because maybe the guy who broke into her house was the same guy she hired to kill Frank Lewis.”
 

      A bottle of acid spilled into his stomach, the sour sensation floating up his throat. He could taste the bile, and worse of all, the growing doubt that stabbed at him. “The doorman, Luiz, is an honorable man. He may have a blue-collar job, but he isn’t desperate for money.”
 

      “Maybe she found another way. Maybe the guy hacked the building’s security system.”

      His fingers clasped the steering wheel. “You realize you’re trying to make me believe my mother hired someone to kill my biographer. Why?”

      She sent him an apologetic smile, and he felt like he was six years old again, being told he couldn’t play in his school’s soccer tournament because he’d woken up with a fever. “You are too involved to see. Your mother sacrificed the love of her life to pose as a doting wife and mother. Do you think if she was blackmailed she would just go along with it?”

      “My mother had money to pay them.”

      She drew her fingers through her unruly red hair. “Yes but with your uncle’s re-election campaign in full swing, could they afford that scandal?”

Chapter 11

      “What did he say?” she asked, after Alejandro spoke with Juan, the head of building security, in fast Spanish.
 

      Alejandro paced in the cramped room, in the middle of countless screens with views from the building’s common areas and from the streets.
 

      The tall burly man fidgeted with his belt and nodded.
 

      “He can find recordings leading up to a week from that day. There are dozens of cameras in the building and on the perimeter. It may take a while for us to go over them,” Alejandro translated.

      She threw her hands in the air. What other option did they have? “I guess that’s fine.”
 

      Juan walked them through the system the first few times, explaining where to get the next recording and how to store them back in place. Then with a yawn, he said he was going to do his rounds and come back.
 

      “Anything?” Alejandro asked her as they occupied chairs next to each other, surrounded by black and white screens.

      She shook her head. “My eyes are about to cross.” Within the past hour, she had fast-forwarded, rewound and paused with clinical precision. Besides a sea of faces, bodies walking through the lobby and in and out of the building, nothing. No sign of the big bad intruder.
 

      “Here.” He handed her an extra piece of pizza.
 

      She tried to balance the thin pizza on her hand, as copious amount of mozzarella cheese fought its way down her palm. Never had she gorged on such a basic, delicious flavor. That surprised her, considering she was a New Yorker who lived in Chicago. She spoke pizza better than many. “What’s in this thing?”
 

He swallowed the piece in his mouth and cleaned his lips with a paper napkin. “They use some spaghetti-like sauce here, and high quality mozzarella.”
 

“It seems too simple to be this good,” she said before taking another bite.
 

“That’s the idea I guess.” He winked at her, and a tremor went through her. Was he just talking about pizza? Truly, that had to be the case. Nothing about the two of them was simple—he wanted no strings, when she had just gained a fearless sense of hope. Not for a relationship with him, of course. Hope…there had to be more for her in life. Besides, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Alejandro wouldn’t stand by his mother or uncle if either of them were to blame.
 

She placed the remains of the tempting piece on a plastic plate next to the screen. “Now I know why cops gain so much weight.”