<< Go Back

Courage in the Shadows

By Robin Patchen

Order Now!

THE ARTIFACT NEEDS TO BE GOLD, NOT STONE. AND HE DOESN’T OFFER TO BRING MANY MORE. THERE AREN’T GOING TO BE MANY DELIVERIES, AND EACH ONE WILL BRING OBJECTS OF GREAT VALUE.



When the stranger stepped into the room, a chill slithered down her spine.
Fear tingled in her fingertips, which brushed her holstered handgun. Summer Lake pushed off the wall to stand closer to the children she’d been hired to protect, though nobody else seemed bothered by the newcomer’s presence.
His deeply tanned skin and dark brown curly hair made her wonder if he was related to their client. He was about five-ten—a little shorter than herself—and trim, though the biceps that stretched the fabric of his sweater were anything but skinny. The slight bulge at his hip could was probably a gun. Not a lot of people carried weapons in Massachusetts, even fewer legally. Was he in law enforcement?
Or a criminal?
The man barely gave her a glance as he set a laptop bag on the floor inside the door hospital room’s door, draping a wool jacket over it. He headed toward the woman on the bed. “Maritza.” He bent down and hugged her for a long time. They spoke in quiet tones, loudly enough for Summer to hear, but not slowly enough for her to translate.
Maritza Hidalgo patted his bearded cheek like one might a child. Based on the affectionate look on her face—and the lack of concern on that of her husband seated at her side—this was a relative. Summer quickly compared their features and ages—they both looked to be in their forties, though Maritza’s skin was pale and pasty and more wrinkled, probably thanks to the tumor or the treatment she’d already undergone. Summer guessed Maritza and this newcomer were brother and sister.
After they spoke for a few minutes, he turned to the others in the room, offering handshakes and hugs. Finally, he approached the kids, Summer’s charges for the time being. She looked at Señor Hidalgo for permission, but the man’s attention was on his wife.
Apparently, nobody was worried about this new guy getting close to the children. The fact that his proximity sent adrenaline to her veins was utterly irrelevant. She worked to keep her face blank, to keep her jaw from clenching, her hand from hovering over her handgun.
He crouched down before them and held out his arms.
“Uncle Vasco.” The girl hugged him tightly, her voice breaking on his name. At nine, she understood enough of what was going on to be afraid for her mother.
The boy was only seven and didn't seem to grasp his mother’s prognosis, the reason why they and so many of their family members had flown up from Mexico, and why his big sister seemed so sad. But he followed her lead and hugged his uncle.
Their mother was about to have a very risky surgery to remove a tumor from her brain. Her chances of survival were favorable, but less favorable were the chances that she would come out of the brain surgery the same as she’d gone in. Apparently, the doctors had warned that there might be permanent brain damage.
A risk indeed, but it was either that or the tumor would kill her. They’d mitigated as many risks as they could, which was why this high profile family from Mexico was at Boston's Mass General Hospital.
After the man spoke to the kids for a few minutes, he stood, barely sparing a glance for Summer. Not surprising, considering her job was to manage security behind the scenes, to blend in unless danger presented itself. According to the briefing Summer had received when she’d been assigned to this job, Señora Hidalgo was the governor of a Mexican state and had made herself an enemy of the local cartels. Unlike her predecessor, who’d profited nicely from the drugs and human trafficking, she fought to stop them. The cartels, predictably, did not like that.
Summer’s job was to make sure Hidalgo and her family were safe while they were in Boston. This was an easy assignment compared to some she’d had recently. She could go home to her apartment in the evenings and live a relatively normal life. And it was good for the company she partly owned. High-profile people talked to other high-profile people. If Summer and her teammates did their jobs well, this job could lead to more like it. Good for Summer, her partners Jon and Bartlett, and the growing number of bodyguards they employed. It was exactly the kind of work they needed to keep their business afloat.
With Summer’s mother deceased and her sisters living their own lives, her coworkers were the closest thing to a family she had.
The man—Vasco, as his niece had called him—settled into the perimeter surrounding Hidalgo’s hospital bed and joined the conversation with the other family members as if he'd been there all along. He asked the questions all the other visitors had asked, Señora Hidalgo giving the same optimistic answers. They spoke Spanish, but Summer had heard the words enough to get the gist of what they were saying.
There was no reason to believe Vasco was a risk. Obviously, everybody in this room trusted him.
Summer’s partner was standing by the door, shoulders back, gaze straight ahead. Grant didn’t seem alarmed by the newcomer. She and Grant had worked together for years, and he rarely seemed alarmed by anything. On the job, he was serious and focused, the consummate professional.
Very different from who he was off the clock.
Summer couldn’t relax back into the routine, not with the way her heart still pounded.
She chanced a longer look at the newcomer’s face. The chill that had been on her skin moments before slid down her spine. It wasn't that she recognized him. He didn't look familiar, but then, she hadn't seen their faces. The man who had haunted her dreams for seven years had only a voice—a deep voice giving commands while men scrambled to do his bidding. And a strong grip on her arm, pulling her out of the room in the darkness caused by the hood over her head.
She allowed herself to go back in time, to remember the things she had tried so hard to forget. The newcomer’s voice… That voice.
It was him. Summer was almost certain. As certain as she could be under the circumstances.
She quickly looked away, her gaze snagging on Grant’s. He must have seen something in her expression because his eyes narrowed, crinkling the skin at their edges. She shook her head. The last thing, the very last thing, she needed was for Vasco to recognize her.
He stood not ten feet from her, chatting as if all were well, while she fought conflicting urges.
Take him out.
Or run.
She was ashamed of that second thought, but she couldn’t deny it. Deep down in places she didn’t like to acknowledge, fear pulsed with each heartbeat, the instinct to stay alive, to stay free. To never, ever allow herself to be taken again.
She fought the impulse to hide her face so he wouldn’t recognize her. She kept her chin up, her attention focused as it had been since she’d arrived that morning. She wouldn’t give herself away.
Her life depended on it.
The next hour was pure torture.
Finally, it was time for their shift change. The fresh guards’ arrival interrupted the awkward stand-around-and-pretend-all-is-well conversation going on in the room. Before Summer could approach Señor Hidalgo for any final instructions, Grant stepped in. Not his job, as the junior agent on duty.
He’d love that, being called junior.
But he’d sensed something was wrong. He didn’t look Summer’s way or even acknowledge her as he spoke to the family, introducing their replacements.
Summer took the opportunity to head for the door, passing just inches from Vasco and managing to keep her gaze forward. To not meet his eyes. Hopefully, to not arouse his suspicion.
She walked down the hospital’s sterile hallway at a normal pace, refusing her feet’s desire to hurry. She stepped into the restroom and stared at herself in the mirror.
"Get a grip, Lake."
Had she gone completely insane, or did her body remember something her mind had tried so hard to forget?
Surely, Vasco wasn’t who she thought he was. What would be the chances that she’d run into the man in Boston who was responsible for her kidnapping in Mexico?
She’d investigate Vasco whatshisname, figure out if he could possibly be the mastermind behind the most traumatic event of her life.
If he was, she’d make him pay.
When she felt calm enough, she made her way to the private room the hospital had provided for the family, where she’d left her personal items, figuring she’d run into Grant. He must’ve still been updating their replacements, even though, aside from the arrival of Vasco, it’d been a very routine day.
She’d just put on her jacket and left the room when she caught sight of Vasco stepping into the elevator on the far side of the nurse’s station, coat on, phone pressed to his ear, laptop bag in his other hand. A gray-haired couple shifted to make room for him.
This was probably a bad idea.
No probably about it.
But as soon as the elevator doors closed, Summer bolted for the stairwell and scrambled down six flights to the lobby, yanking her jacket’s hood over her blond hair. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was all she had.
When she reached the ground floor, she stepped out and looked around the huge, light-drenched lobby. A few people milled about. No sign of Vasco, but the gray-haired man and woman who’d shared Vasco’s elevator were making their way toward the door.
If Vasco had come by car, he’d likely have parked underground. She hurried back into the stairwell and down, where she pushed open the heavy door at the highest level of the garage.
And there he was, about fifty yards ahead of her.
She eased the door shut, moved to an adjacent row to keep cars and concrete barriers between them, and walked the same direction, quietly hurrying to get close. He was still on the phone, but the few words she was able to pick up weren’t spoken in English.
She really should have paid more attention in high school Spanish. Her short stint in Mexico hadn’t exactly heightened her love for the language.
What was she doing, following her client’s family member? Had she lost her mind? But she couldn’t shake his familiarity.
Vasco gave no indication he knew she was there. And anyway, with her black jacket and the hood over her head, would he recognize her as his niece and nephew’s bodyguard?
She could hear her cousin’s voice in her head. “Gorgeous women don’t blend in. Always assume that you’ll be remembered.”
Jon wasn’t wrong. At just shy of six feet with naturally blond hair and gray eyes, she stood out from the crowd.
She hated that about herself.
But Vasco didn’t seem the type to be nervous about his own personal protection. He seemed like a man who could defend himself, and there’d been that telltale bulge at his hip.
Of course, those things could also indicate a heightened sense of his personal protection. She needed to proceed carefully.
He finished his call and made his way toward the farthest corner of the garage. There, he leaned against a post, tapping on his phone.
Summer stopped behind an SUV and watched him through the vehicle’s windows.
If he was waiting for a ride, why not do that outside in the hospital’s pickup area?
Maybe he was waiting for someone who’d driven with him? Maybe that someone had the keys? She glanced at the nearby vehicles. A red Prius. A blue minivan. A silver Honda. Any of those could be his, especially considering he probably drove a rental. All things considered, it was likely he wasn’t a local.
But if one of the cars was his, why not lean on that instead of the post?
At the far end of the garage, a heavy door slammed. The sound of footsteps echoed, getting closer.
Summer crouched between the SUV and the concrete barrier, glimpsing a man’s back and he passed. He wore trousers and a long wool coat. Probably a hospital visitor or employee, headed toward his car.
But no.
He went straight to Vasco. "You have it?" His voice was clear, slightly high for a man’s.
She stood to look through the SUV’s windows.
Vasco pulled something from his bag and held it toward the newcomer.
The man took the object, carefully unwrapped it from the bubble-wrap cushioning, and held it up. It was some kind of sculpture. Gold, or gilded, anyway. It seemed to have the likeness of a man, though not a great likeness.
It seemed very, very old.
“Hmm, yes. Maya. I’d guess maybe five to eight hundred AD.” The newcomer had a local accent with a JFK-esque Brahmin flair.
“That's just a taste," Vasco said. “The lot is yours for the use of your property. With each delivery, you’ll get another piece." He handed his phone to the stranger, who shoved the bubble wrap under his armpit, took the phone, and scrolled through photographs. After a minute, he handed the phone back. “The first delivery?"
“Sometime next week. I’ll be in touch with the details.”
The man stepped back. “I don't want to know the details. I don’t need to know anything. It’s a vacation home, so we won’t be there. Just give me a window, and I’ll ensure the house is empty."
"Yes, yes, that seems best."
Yes, yes… The way Vasco said those words, as if he uttered them just like that all the time.
So simple. So familiar.
“Yes, yes. You will all be released, as soon as we get our money.”
“Yes, yes. You keep the girls under control, and nobody will get hurt.”
Summer forced the memories aside. There’d be plenty of time to relive the nightmares later.
Vasco continued. “Better for us to be alone for these operations. We wouldn’t want to disturb your family.”
The man lifted the tiny sculpture. “I’ll appraise this. If it’s authentic, then we have a deal. And you will leave an item of equal or greater value, or multiple items, if necessary, with each delivery."
"You tell me where you want the items left, and they will be there. We can put them in Amazon boxes for you, if you like, eh?”
The man laughed as he re-wrapped the sculpture in the bubble wrap. After the men shook hands, he turned on his heel and headed back the way he’d come.
Summer ducked again, wanting to get a look at his face but not willing to risk being seen.
When the door at the far end of the garage opened and slammed, Summer peeked around the SUV to see Vasco, who was on his phone again, walking away. His voice was too low for her to hear.
She stayed crouched behind the van while his footsteps faded. A car engine started and drove off.
Only then did she breathe easier.
She hadn’t been wrong. She was convinced that her client’s relative had been involved in her kidnapping years before. And would be involved in some other nefarious dealings, and soon.
If Summer played this right, she could finally bring to justice the man who’d destroyed her sister’s life.

Order Now!

<< Go Back