I'll Remember You (Hell Yeah!) Page 6

  “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.”

  “His problems are his problems.”

  Esteban ignored her and kept on ta
lking. “FARC has demanded he pay a ‘tax’ to protect them from abuse by intermediaries and drug traffickers.”

  “The Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias are mercenaries. We can’t be responsible if they strong-arm the Columbians. Here in Mexico, we fight our own battles.”

  Keeping calm, making his point, Esteban leaned back in his chair. “Bribery is part and parcel of our business. You are not as aware of this as I am, but we pay off everyone. One of the reasons the government tolerates us is that we pay a higher rate in bribes than we would in taxes. We own the police force, we pay fees to every branch of the military to turn a blind eye. It’s a fact of life for us. Many of the, so-called, hits you put out on our enemies are carried out either by our men dressed in police uniforms or actual cops providing paid assistance. It’s so prevalent that when the government scores a big arrest which makes the papers, the police and military officials pose for the camera in ski masks to protect their identity. In our society, the cops dress like bandits and the bandits dress like cops.”

  Martina was bored. “We could find another source. Alvara is not the only game in town.”

  “We know him. We trust him.” Esteban paused. “He has a family.”

  Martina sat up straighter. “There is no room for sentimentality.”

  “I want to do this. We are talking a twenty percent increase.” He jotted down some numbers. “You will make up the difference in other ways.” A frown came over his face. “I am aware of your little side-line business, Martina.”

  She knew exactly what he meant. Extortion, kidnapping and human trafficking were the next steps for most operations. “Those girls were rescued off the street. They’ll be well taken care of, with protection, food and a safe place to sleep.”

  “While you sell their bodies to the highest bidder.”

  Was the look in his eye a warning? She locked gazes with him. “All right, Tío. Give him his twenty-percent.” She rose from her chair. “You can bring him in. I want to talk to him first.” Martina intended to demand faster delivery and the highest quality in exchange for the money.

  “One more thing.” Esteban sighed, shaking his head. Martina realized whatever he was about to say was the real reason for the meeting. She waited. He cleared his throat and spoke. “The war with the Toro Cartel is costing many lives, both ours and theirs. Four hundred people were killed in the last two weeks, thirty-four were slain yesterday.”

  She knew this. The six charred bodies found along the roadside near Ascension was her doing. “So, what’s your point?”

  Setting his mouth in a thin flat line, Esteban persisted in his argument. “We need to find a solution, stop the bloodshed. There has been an offer.”

  “What kind of offer?” Where was this coming from? She did not like to be last to receive information.

  “Javier Rios wishes to join our two families in alianza de sangre.”

  Alliance of blood? He was speaking of a dynastic marriage, a marriage to make peace. Fury flashed over her. “You wish me to marry Joaquin Rios? To sacrifice myself for the sake of sparing unrest?” She was the Diosa. He was second-in-command. The audacity of his request almost caused Martina to attack her uncle with claws unsheathed. It was out of the question. She would not lower herself to marry that sniveling weakling to procure any kind of peace with the enemy. Her priority was Aron McCoy. Already she was planning their marriage and no one, no one would get in her way. “Never!” She threw the word at her uncle like a grenade.

  “Not you, Diosa.” The words were quiet amid her turmoil.

  “What?” She whirled around to stare at her uncle.

  “Alessandra.”

  ***

  Los Banos Ranch

  “Hello, my name is Alessandra.”

  “My pleasure.” Austin tipped his hat to the pretty señorita. “They tell me my name is Austin Wade.” Talk about night and day. Where Martina was aristocratic, elegant and self-assured, her little sister was easy-going, sweet and soft-spoken. They were both beautiful, but Alessandra was warm and made him smile.

  “Oh, we’ve met.” She led her horse out of the stall. No elaboration.

  Tomas led two other mounts to the rear of the barn. “Here you go, Austin. Let’s check out my herd.” The horses were magnificent. He could tell they were pure bred Arabians, sleek and eager to be given free rein. They wanted to run. Just being near the animals made him feel good. Placing one booted foot in the stirrup, he lifted himself into the saddle. Yes, this was familiar. He knew horses. The clothes he wore didn’t feel exactly right. Everything was stiff and new. He wondered where his old clothes were. Austin had a sense that he preferred broke-in boots, well-worn jeans and cotton T-shirts. Soon, he and Miss Martina were going to have to have a long talk. He could smell manure in this situation.

  “Coming with us, querida?”

  His daughter smiled at the endearment. “No, Padre.” She drained a bottle of water and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I…” She looked around her. “I just wanted to take a walk.”

  Hmmm, Austin thought. A walk. Right. That girl was doing more than walking. He’d bet his left nut she was meeting somebody. Oh, well. It was none of his affair.

  Riding high in an exquisite Mexican saddle covered in fine silver, Austin wondered at his life. For all extents and purposes, he appeared to be a kept man. And that wasn’t his style. He didn’t have to have a memory to know that much about himself. Austin Wade was used to earning his keep, paying his own way and staying busy. From what he could gather, his fiancé expected him to earn his keep by becoming Mr. Martina Delgado and he had news for her, that shit wasn’t gonna fly.

  “Tell me about your daughter.” Austin surveyed his surroundings. The land really was beautiful. The Sierra Madre mountains rose high in the distance.

  Tomas chuckled as he led them away from the barn and out into the open pasture. “She’s a gentle flower.”

  Austin snorted. Obviously he wasn’t talking about Martina. “The other one.”

  This time Tomas laughed. “Ah, my iron maiden, doncella de hierro, she was such a headstrong little girl. And a much more headstrong woman.”

  “Tell me about our relationship.” Austin knew he was pushing the envelope, but he needed to know.

  “That I cannot do, mi amigo.”

  Tomas was choosing to stay out of the situation and Austin couldn’t really blame him, so he changed the subject. “How many acres do you have?”

  A look of relief passed over the old man’s face. “There are twenty-four thousand acres, although if the rough terrain were flattened out, the amount of land would increase three fold.” Austin could hear the pride in his voice.

  They rode across the grazing pastures and he admired the cattle, a breed descended from the original Spanish animals brought to the Americas in the fifteenth century. “They’re closely related to the Longhorn, you know. I raise Longhorns.” As soon as he spoke the words, he reined the horse in. He bred Longhorn cattle. He had remembered something! Tomas met his gaze and he gave him a small, mysterious smile.

  Ssssss Ssssss

  Austin’s horse reared. He clasped his knees, holding on to the reins, striving to stay in the saddle. The stallion bucked backward and then danced sideways.

  “Rattlesnake!” Tomas yelled.

  Austin looked down in time to see the large snake strike out at the legs of the horse.

  Pop! Pop!

  Tomas had pulled out a pistol and shot the snake. “I detest those things!”

  Austin calmed his horse and looked at the dead serpent. “Yea, so does…” Another name danced on his lips, but he couldn’t quite find it in his memory.

  “What did you say?” Tomas asked. “You’re remembering, aren’t you?”

  Austin didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t see her face, and he didn’t know her name, but there was definitely a woman in his life—somewhere. And it wasn’t Martina Delgado.

  Over the next few days, Austin struggled with his identity. He was striving t
o make sense of the world he was a part of and the past he had lost. Giving up wasn’t an option. He was still game to figure out the answers. Over and over again he had questioned Martina about their past, how they met, about the day he was injured. Her answers didn’t change, but he could tell she was becoming frustrated with him. He didn’t care. Shadows tangled and twisted together in his brain. Sometimes he felt like he was watching an old film in his head and the images were running through his mind on fast-forward, they raced too fast for him to see them clearly.

  And the dreams.

  Deep in the night, he would dream of her. A clear image of her eluded him. But he could feel her in his arms and she was heaven to hold. When he would awaken, his arms were so empty and he longed for her with every fiber of his being.

  Martina had come to his bed twice more, and twice he had turned her away. The last time they had argued. She demanded to share his bed, saying she wore his ring. He wanted to ask her to remove it, but something told him to play it slow. Until he had answers, he needed to keep things status quo. But he was running out of excuses. First he’d told her he was weak and now the excuse he was using was that he wanted to remember her, he needed to remember loving her. This request just seemed to make her more furious.

  Now here he was, seated at the table. While eating with Martina, her father and her sister, he could almost see and hear another family. He had brothers, a large family of brothers, one that laughed and shared and roughhoused good-naturedly. Somewhere there were people who missed him, who cared for him. He could feel it.