Secrets and Lies (Crimson Romance) (22 page)

Shit, not Juliana! Not the woman Charlie loved.

Juliana strained at Gutierrez’s hold around her neck. She’d been so stupid to openly peer into the warehouse because she was worried about Charlie. Now Gutierrez would hurt both of them, because of her. She’d just regained the love and light of her life, and Gutierrez intended to take that away.

No! This time she’d defy fate. She wanted more time with Charlie. She struggled against Gutierrez.

Felipe and her cousins aimed their guns at Gutierrez, at her. Their faces looked strained.

Charlie aimed at Gutierrez’s forehead. “Let her go.”

“A bunch of amateurs cannot defeat me. I’ll kill her.” He jammed the gun painfully into the side of her head.

She needed Charlie to know how she felt, before it was too late. “I love you, Charlie.”

Charlie’s eyes gleamed. He advanced on them, still aiming at Gutierrez. “You harm her, and you’re dead. I have no compunction about killing you.”

“You are weak. All of you. And I am strong. I hold a power base you cannot even dream of.”

“I hold the Hunahpu with hundreds of years of power,” Charlie said. “A power that belongs to me now.”

“No!” Gutierrez snarled. “It is mine.” His gun swung toward Charlie.

No
! She wouldn’t let him hurt Charlie. Juliana threw all her weight against Gutierrez’s arm. The gun discharged, the boom deafening in her ear. She tore herself out of Gutierrez’s grip, her momentum turning her 360 degrees. There were a dozen return shots from her cousins, the noise thunderous in the warehouse.

Charlie clutched his chest and fell backward.

“Charlie!” Juliana screamed.
God, no!
She lurched toward him.

Felipe and her cousins ran toward her through the haze of gun smoke, but she had eyes only for one man. She fell to her knees by Charlie. There was a small round hole in his T-shirt.

“Charlie, please don’t die! I love you. Please!” She tore at his shirt. Her cousins knelt around Charlie, their faces creased with worry. She heard Felipe moving behind her, by Gutierrez.

There was no blood. Her desperate fingers searched around the sculpture’s edges. Where had the bullet entered?

“The sculpture stopped the bullet,” Alfonso said, sounding awed. His hand snaked past Juliana’s to touch the sculpture, now clearly cracked.

Metal reflected the light. Juliana’s shaking hands touched the hot bit where it lodged in the sculpture. Her seeking hands found unbroken skin underneath. “Thank God.”

Charlie groaned. “What hit me, the forklift?” He rubbed his chest and slowly sat up. “This damn thing.”

“That
damn thing
saved your life.” Her voice quavered.

The cousins laughed nervously.

“It stopped the bullet,” Alfonso said.

Juliana and her cousins pulled Charlie to his feet. He staggered to Gutierrez’s body. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Felipe confirmed with savage satisfaction, rising from the body.

“Bastard,” Ricarda spat. The hand she gripped to her chest had a strip of colored cloth torn from the bottom of her shirt wrapped around it.

“Who killed him?” Charlie asked.

“Does it matter?” Felipe asked. “He’s dead.”

“I don’t want any of you to get in trouble.”

“And you want it to be you,” Juliana guessed.

Charlie nodded, his face expressionless. “Yeah.”

“The Hunahpu killed him. That and his greed for it. Give me the sculpture.” Felipe held out his hands.

Charlie ripped the two chunks from the tape and handed them over.

Felipe held them overhead and hurled them to the cement floor where they smashed into pieces. His smile was viciously satisfied. “No one else will have to die for this thing. We’d better move. Someone had to have reported gunfire by now.”

Charlie stared at the debris and nodded. “
Gracias
, Felipe. Let’s go home.”

Alfonso hissed from near the ruined door, “Police! Many of them.”

“Not again,” Charlie muttered.

Juliana fought panic, but Felipe ordered in a harsh voice, “Out the back. Quickly, and be quiet about it.”

He led the way to the back door, around a body, and out into air not tainted by gun smoke. They darted into the grass where the forklift had been parked, and found a graveyard of old Volkswagen cars. The cousins spread out, running as fast as they could around the carcasses. Juliana held on tight to Charlie’s hand.

They couldn’t be arrested. Mexican authorities didn’t like Americans, and in Mexico you were guilty until proven innocent. She, Charlie, and her cousins might be held for months or years until they could prove their innocence . . . or pay a hefty ransom. If the cops didn’t sell them to the drug lords first. She ran faster.

Felipe signaled to the left and they exited the field onto a narrow street. He kept them moving at a fast walk until they approached a seedy-looking bar. He stopped them under the weak light and glanced around the group. Juliana did, too. She spotted a bloody arm, Lorenzo had a bleeding cheek, and Estebon was holding up another cousin, who had blood on his trousers. They looked like what they were: survivors of a war.

Felipe helped clean up the obvious blood and made sure the guns were tucked out of sight. Alfonso tied a bandana around his cousin’s bleeding arm. Ricarda ripped another strip from her shirt and tied it around her cousin’s leg, under his pants.

“Those of you who are injured, stay in the center. We’ll catch a taxi in a few blocks and then switch taxis at the market. We’ll be home soon.”

Charlie coached them. “We’re just a group of young people out for the evening.”

“But cousin Felipe is not young,” Alfonso objected.

Ricarda moved to Felipe’s side and slid her uninjured arm around him. “He is my
novio
.” Her tone dared Alfonso to say anything further.

Felipe curled his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Charlie slid his arm around Juliana, and she welcomed his warmth. They were alive, and he knew she loved him. Now they needed to get to safety.

When they exited the narrow street onto a wider one, a police car headed toward them. Felipe, Ricarda, Charlie, and Juliana moved to the front of the group and waited for the police car to crawl by. The cops were looking over everyone on the street. It stopped in front of their group and the cop shined a flashlight at them. Juliana feared her heart would beat out of her chest. She hoped he didn’t pay attention to her and Ricarda’s shirts and shoes. Mexican women wore pretty high-heeled shoes and feminine blouses that showed cleavage, while the two of them wore flats, and T-shirts suited to skulking.

“What are all of you doing?” the cop growled. He wore a fierce scowl.

“My
novio’s
cousins are visiting from Tecate,” Felipe answered. “They wanted to try a bar they’d heard about, but it’s not a very nice place.”

The cop looked down the narrow street behind them. “No it isn’t. Take your cousins to a better part of town. You’re old enough to know better.”

“Yes, sir.”

The car rolled forward down the street. Juliana breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go.” Felipe directed them through a warren of streets until they came out on the other side of the harbor. There they flagged down taxis and heard about the excitement on the docks.

Nearly three hours later, after the same discreet medic who had treated Charlie’s wounds treated the wounded cousins, they sat around Felipe’s dining room table and shared the story with Rosita. She clucked and fussed over them, bringing out food and tequila, and hugging them all.

All the while, Juliana wanted to be alone with Charlie so they could discuss her declaration of love and how he felt about it.

“I guess you’ll return home now that your task is done,” Alfonso said. “Will we be invited to the wedding?”

“Of course,” Rosita said. “What date have you chosen?”

Juliana hedged. “We just got engaged. We’ve been too preoccupied the past few days to plan anything. I don’t know how much we can afford.”

“Nonsense,” Rosita said. “Have the wedding in Mexico, and it will cost less.”

Juliana gave Charlie a helpless look.

“Rosita, they are Americans,” Felipe chided gently. “They may want to marry in their own country.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t know how big his family is, but it can’t be larger than ours.”

Charlie’s smile blazed. “I have a small family.”

“See.” Rosita waved a hand at Charlie. “Small.”

“If you decide to marry here, you could use the hotel I manage,” Felipe offered. “You’ve seen the missions. You could have the ceremony there. Our church is beautiful, too. And we could smooth everything with the priest.”

“I’m not Catholic,” Charlie said.

Everyone stared at him.

“Not Catholic,” Rosita repeated, as though he’d said he was from another planet. Then she lifted her chin. “You’ll convert, of course.”

Charlie sputtered a laugh. “Of course.”

Juliana gaped at him. Was he truly committing to this?

Charlie looked at her, and she felt herself falling into the heated warmth of his eyes. She wished the brown contacts gone. “I love Juliana. I’d do anything for her.”

“Are you sure?” The words were a wisp of sound, all she could squeeze out of her tight throat.

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.”

Juliana threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him out of his chair. “I love you, Charlie.” She’d be with him forever.

“I love you, too.”

As he kissed her, Rosita said, “See, it will be a good Catholic wedding. I’ll call Dolores tomorrow and we’ll arrange everything.”

• • •

Distant pounding jerked Charlie awake the next morning. Through bleary eyes, he saw it was seven-fifteen. His heart raced. Who’d be at the door at this hour?

Juliana lifted her head from his arm. “Trouble?” That one word was laced with fear.

“It can’t be the police, can it?” But even as he asked the question, he slipped from the bed. He stepped into his jeans and grabbed the gun from the dresser.

“Don’t go out there armed!” Juliana threw on his T-shirt and tugged on her panties.

As they exited their bedroom, they met Felipe and Rosita in the hall.

“Don’t worry,” Felipe said. “We didn’t leave a trail. The police can’t trace us here.” But lines furrowed his forehead. He wore only his trousers . . . and his gun tucked into the back of them.

In the living room, the younger cousins turned wide, anxious, bleary eyes to them from their sleeping bags. Most of them were armed, Charlie noted.

The pounding came again. As Felipe walked to the door, most of the cousins stood up. Charlie stayed back a little ways, gripping Juliana’s hand. He’d fight if he had to, but he hoped it didn’t come to that.

Felipe opened the door.

Juliana’s father stood there, with Rick Ziffkin behind him. “Felipe, I’m sorry to arrive unannounced, but—”

“Papá!” Juliana cried, her face a mix of relief and horror.

“Uncle Alejandro!” Estebon cried.

“Felipe,” her father glowered at the group of them, including Charlie.

“Hello, Alejandro,” Felipe replied, smiling. “Come in.”

Captain Sanchez crossed the threshold. Rick followed, his eyes locking on Charlie’s.

“Charlie,” he said, then couldn’t seem to say more.

Charlie strode to his brother and was enveloped in a bear hug.

“We thought you were dead.” Pain laced Rick’s voice. He held Charlie at arm’s length. “Agent Fuentes called to tell me he feared the worst, what with Hessler murdered and your apartment a bloody mess. You took years off my life, and Mom and Dad’s, too. Despite what you may think, we love you. You should have called.” Rick wrapped Charlie in a tight bear hug.

Charlie blinked back tears. “Sorry. We needed secrecy.”

“I figured that out. Gutierrez’s death made international news last night. Fuentes called and woke me when the story broke. We figured you might have had something to do with it.”

“We did. All of us.” Charlie indicated everyone in the room. Then he squinted, thinking. “It’s only been a few hours. How did you get here so fast?”

“Captain Sanchez and I flew to Los Angeles to help look for the two of you. So we only had to drive down.”

“Who is he?” Alfonso asked in Spanish, pointing at Rick.

“This is my brother, Rick,” Charlie said.

“The small family,” Rosita crowed with delight. “Come into the dining room, and I’ll make breakfast.”

“But cousin,” Jose complained, “we’ve only been asleep a few hours.”

“Get your lazy self to the table,” she ordered. “Can’t you see Alejandro and Charlie’s brother want to hear the tale? They are tired and hungry. Where are your manners?” She chased everyone to the dining room.

Charlie managed to extricate Juliana from her father’s arms and sit beside her.

For the second time in four hours, they relayed the tale, only this time Charlie and Juliana started from the attack on them in his apartment. Poor Rick understood only a smattering of Spanish, so one of the bilingual cousins translated for him.

“So you see why we needed secrecy,” Charlie said. “We needed Montgomery’s men fixed on L.A.”

“They caught Montgomery’s man staking out your apartment,” Captain Sanchez told him. “The California police tied him to Montgomery, so Montgomery’s under investigation for murder for hire.”

“What about the man in my apartment?” Charlie asked.

“There was no other man,” Rick reported, frowning.

Charlie looked at Juliana.

Rick sighed. “I’ll call Fuentes and tell him to look for a body. Was the blood in your apartment his?” He catalogued the bandages on Charlie’s body and the huge dark bruise on his chest.

“Some of it.”

Rick stared at him a long time, his expression inscrutable. “You didn’t look surprised when I said Hessler had been murdered.”

“We knew,” Charlie replied. “We saw him.”

Rick glared. “And you didn’t report it.”

“We needed to run. We’d already been shot at once that night. We weren’t going to stand around and let somebody else use us for target practice.”

“I don’t know you at all anymore, do I?” his brother asked.