Fierce Pride Read online

  “I’ll handle this, Maggie, after he shows us where Victoria’s father works. Does he have his own apartment over the garage?” Santos asked.

  “Yes. It’s the white house with the huge aqua glass windows, a few houses down the beach. His name is Luis Rubio.”

  “We should call Nuñez,” Libby said.

  “The way he called me?” Santos countered. “I’ll call him, but only because I’d rather he got shot than one of us.”

  “Shot? Is there a real danger of it?” Maggie asked.

  Libby walked up to Manuel. “How many gunshots would it have taken before you finally told us what you knew? Rigoberto might have been arrested before the accident that killed him. Has that occurred to you?”

  Manuel nodded. “It has. I’m sorry, I was wrong.”

  Mrs. Lopez came to the door. “Detective Nuñez is here.”

  “Please show him in,” Santos replied. “Let him speak before we tell him what we know.”

  The detective appeared startled to find the den so crowded. “Mr. Aragon, perhaps we could speak in private.”

  “Manuel, please go back to your apartment. Everyone else stays.”

  Nuñez moved aside to allow the chauffeur to exit. “I’ve come with the grim news Rigoberto Avila died yesterday afternoon without regaining consciousness. He had no visitors, other than you and Ms. Gunderson. We can tie him to the drawings you received, but nothing more. If he started the fire or shot at you, there’s no evidence of it. We’re still trying to locate his sister.”

  “Thank you for coming with the news,” Santos responded. “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

  Nuñez looked down his nose at his notes. “I have other cases involving other victims.”

  “Of course, but we might be in more danger than we were, and you put our lives at risk. That shouldn’t have happened.” He nodded to Cazares. “Fortunately, I have other resources. We’ve found Victoria’s father is a chauffeur at the white monstrosity with the aqua windows just down the beach. She may be staying with him. He could be the one who shot at me.”

  The detective’s mouth drooped into a disgusted sneer. “How did you learn this?”

  “We have a gift for detective work,” Libby volunteered. She smiled at Santos, and he nodded. “The man’s name is Luis Rubio.”

  “I’ll call my men. We’ll warn your neighbors to stay indoors. Please do not leave your home until I say you may.”

  Maggie waited until the front door had closed behind him. “I won’t leave today without hearing a detailed report on what’s been happening here. If there were fires and gunshots, why didn’t you call us to come home? Do Mom and Dad know anything about this?”

  Libby had an answer ready. “Just like your slashed wrists, there’s no reason to alarm Mom and Dad over this. We didn’t tell you, because we wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon.” She moved toward the door. “Let’s see if Tomas has any of his delicious breakfast rolls and have coffee. I’ll tell you the whole story, or as much as we know thus far.” Maggie followed Libby from the room.

  Santos urged Cazares to take a seat. “You’re parked in front. Would you mind waiting for the police and reporting what you see?”

  “I would have done it on my own,” he responded. “If you decide to let your chauffeur go, I’ll help you find an honest man to replace him.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know. Do you want something from the kitchen?”

  “I travel with a cooler filled with my wife’s sandwiches and water, so I’ll be fine. I doubt it will take long for the police to search the house and make arrests, although I heard nothing about physical evidence against the girl and her father.”

  “That’s true. Maybe Rigoberto Avila left a detailed diary that will implicate Victoria.”

  “He was an artist. His thoughts would be in his drawings.”

  Santos reluctantly agreed and let him go. He appreciated Cazares’s help but dreaded having to hire anyone new. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d known Manuel his whole life, but if keeping his father’s secrets meant more to the man than protecting his son, then the chauffeur’s loyalty was badly misplaced. He was sick of living in his father’s shadow, but this was the first time it had nearly cost him his life.

  While Libby narrated an amazing tale, Maggie picked her slice of the delectable pastry into tiny crumbs and her coffee grew cold. “This is really too much to take in at one sitting. I should have taken notes. With the level of hatred involved, the odds are probably good the baby is Miguel’s. What’s Santos going to do?”

  He appeared at the door, took his place at the table and reached for a cherry-topped pastry. “Now that you’re here, Maggie, why don’t we take a vote? Manuel deserves to be fired, but anyone else I hire might be equally disloyal for his own gain. Should I keep Manuel, who I know can’t be trusted, or hire a stranger who’ll betray me at his first opportunity?”

  “Are those your only choices?” Libby asked.

  “Do you see any others?” he responded, his glance dark.

  “Let me talk to him,” Maggie offered. “Miguel’s death hit everyone very hard. Maybe Manuel is still dealing with his grief and didn’t realize the dangers inherent in keeping silent.”

  “That shot on the balcony should have jarred him into reality,” Libby argued. She reached for a second pastry and took a bite.

  “That’s one vote to fire him,” Santos said. “I know the staff here and at the ranch still think of me as a kid, but I’m a grown man and deserve their loyalty and respect.”

  “You certainly do.” Libby touched his hand and had to use her napkin to remove a smear of cherry jelly. “I’m sorry. I still say fire him, and that ought to wake up everyone else who doesn’t see you as their boss.”

  “What is it you really want to do, Santos?” Maggie asked, her voice gently soothing.

  “I don’t know. I’ll decide after Nuñez catches Victoria, if he can. I hate to sit here and not know what’s happening.”

  “We’d have a good view of the beach from your balcony,” Libby reminded him. “Maggie and I can help you upstairs, and you won’t need to rely on Manuel.”

  Santos called Tomas in. “Will you please fill a couple of Thermoses with coffee? We want to take them upstairs.”

  “We’ll be staying in the house as ordered,” Maggie offered. She glanced at her watch. “How long do you suppose this will take?”

  “With Nuñez running it?” Santos scoffed. “All day. There’s a pair of binoculars in the bottom desk drawer. Will you bring them, Libby?”

  “Our own stakeout.” Libby wiped her fingers on her napkin and went to get them.

  Maggie waited to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard but still whispered, “How are you and Libby getting along?”

  Santos leaned back in his chair. “She’s all that’s kept me sane, and I don’t want to think about her going home.”

  “She does need to finish school and get her degree.”

  “I know, and we can’t insist Patricia and Fox stay in school while I pull Libby out. I shouldn’t do it anyway. She’d regret it later and blame me.”

  Libby returned with the binoculars. “We should put someone out front. Where’s Cazares?”

  “He’s already conducting a surveillance from his car,” Santos replied. “We’ve got it covered.”

  They had to use the main staircase, but with Maggie’s and Libby’s help, Santos made it up the stairs. “Remind me to call the insurance agent in the morning. They’re taking too damn long to pay for a replacement elevator.”

  “I’ll put it on my list,” Libby promised, and she hurried ahead to his room. It was a warm sunny day with a crystal-clear sky, and when she leaned over the balcony, she had an angled view of the beach side of the aqua-windowed house.

  “Don’t fall over the damn balcony,” Santos ordered. “That would be all we need.”

  “I won’t. Why don’t you stretch out on the bed, and I’ll call you when there’s something to see,�
� Libby replied.

  He ignored her advice and remained on the balcony. He opened a Thermos, found it contained coffee with cream and sugar and replaced the lid. He poured himself a cup from the other one but took only a sip. “Is there something the matter with the coffee?”

  Maggie took a taste. “No, this is very good. We’re all too anxious to eat or drink.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Libby suggested. She concentrated on the beach. “I wish I’d charted who’s out there every day. Everything always looks so normal, but maybe it isn’t.”

  “I think there’s a deck of cards in my room,” Maggie said. “I’ll go and get them.”

  “Top drawer of my dresser,” Santos offered. “Play solitaire. I couldn’t focus on a game.”

  Maggie fetched the cards and began laying them on the small table between their chairs. “I used to know a solitaire game where you kept four cards in your hand. Do you remember it, Libby?”

  “Check the Internet.” She aimed the binoculars down the beach. “There’s someone with a dog I don’t recall seeing.”

  “You needn’t supply a running commentary,” Santos stressed.

  “Fine.” Libby knew he had to be deeply disappointed in Manuel. She didn’t blame him for being short with her and kept quiet.

  Santos sat up to take Cazares’s call. “The police are here, complete with what you’d call a SWAT van.”

  “Do you suppose they’ll speak to the owner of the home, ask him to summon the chauffeur and force him to call Victoria?” Libby asked.

  “His thinking is beyond me,” Santos grumbled.

  Maggie swept up the cards and returned the deck to the dresser. “A SWAT team can’t run through the house if Victoria’s son is there. Nuñez would know better than that, wouldn’t he?”

  “No one will shoot a baby,” Santos insisted. He checked his watch. ”Is time standing still for the whole planet, or only us?”

  “Just us.” A moment later, Libby stepped out of her sandals and dropped the binoculars in his lap. “Victoria’s on the beach!”

  “Wait!” Santos cried, but she was gone. He pulled himself up and leaned against the balcony with Maggie. “Victoria’s headed for the water. What’s she intend to do, swim for Mallorca?”

  “Or drown,” Maggie countered. “Libby will catch her.”

  Libby was wearing her short white skirt and a top that were as good as her running clothes, but she couldn’t overtake Victoria before the dark-haired girl ran into the surf. “Victoria!” she yelled, but Victoria was in deep enough water to swim and didn’t listen.

  Libby was a fine swimmer with a powerful kick and sure stroke, and when she caught up to Victoria, she dove beneath the water, grabbed her around the waist from the back and pushed her up out of the water like the shark in Jaws. Victoria flailed her arms, but Libby had a firm hold on her, and she couldn’t touch her. “Calm down, or I’ll knock you out,” Libby shouted. She shifted her hold on Victoria and swam toward the shore. When they were almost there, one of the SWAT officers waded in to meet her and grabbed hold of Victoria.

  Libby walked to the shore and shook off like a dog. “Did you really think you could make a break for it in the water? How far did you think you could swim? Where’s your baby?”

  Victoria screamed and struggled to break free of the officer’s hold. “None of you care about him,” she sobbed through her tears.

  “Of course we care,” Libby stressed, but the SWAT team spilled out over the beach and took Victoria away before Libby got through to her. She looked up at the balcony, but Santos and Maggie were already on the patio. Maggie ran toward her, while Santos gave her a glare that ought to be reserved for bulls.

  “I’ve never seen you swim so fast!” Maggie called to her. “You should have tried out for the Olympic team!”

  “Too late now. Santos looks really steamed. Maybe I ought to get back in the water.”

  “You scared him, Libby. He may have played other women, but he’s serious about you.”

  “Until the end of August,” Libby reminded her. “Hey, Santos, I knew I could catch Victoria. I wasn’t in any danger.”

  When she reached him, he grabbed her and hugged her so tight she was in danger of suffocating. She patted his back to beg for a little distance. “I’m wet, that’s all. There are advantages to being tall, and I can swim faster than a little girl like Victoria any day.”

  He stepped back but kept hold of her shoulders. “What if she’d had a knife?”

  “That’s why I picked her up from behind, so if she’d had one, she couldn’t have used it.” She smiled, but his furious expression didn’t lift. “I wouldn’t ever jump into a bullring, if that’s your worry.”

  “It isn’t, but you should have let the SWAT team handle her.”

  She glanced down the beach, where a couple of the men still stood. “They wear bulletproof vests and have weapons dangling all over them. By the time one of them stripped off his helmet and clothes, she would have been gone or drowned. I kept her from getting away. I’ve worked as a lifeguard and wasn’t in any danger. Now why don’t we go up to the white house and see what Nuñez knows?”

  “Change your clothes first.”

  Libby glanced down and found her lacy underwear showed clearly through her wet skirt and top. “I see your point. Give me a minute. I’ll see if I packed my burka.”

  Santos let her go, but he shook his head. “Do you give Rafael as much trouble?”

  “More, but he loves me,” Maggie replied. “You’re not celebrities to us, just attractive men. That’s probably what makes us so different from the Spanish women who worship the ground you walk on. I hope you’ll learn to enjoy it soon.”

  He sank into a patio chair. “I want this whole mess with Victoria over now. Then I’ll deal with Libby.”

  Maggie rested her hand on his shoulder. “Deal is an unfortunate choice of words.”

  He put his head in his hands and growled.

  Libby showered to rinse the salt water from her hair and dressed in jeans and a black top. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wound it into a bun. She layered on mascara and added a light touch of lip gloss. When she walked onto the patio, Santos looked more shocked than pleased.

  “Too extreme?”

  “No, you look fine. Cazares will come in a few minutes to tell us whatever news there is. At least there was no gunfire. That has to be a good sign.”

  Libby stepped out on the sand, but the SWAT men were nowhere to be seen. “Do we have the all-clear to leave the house?”

  “Not from Nuñez,” Santos answered. “You weren’t concerned about him when you dashed after Victoria.”

  Libby came back onto the patio, remained standing and folded her arms over her chest. “The SWAT men needed help, but you’re right, Nuñez might not see it that way.” Santos’s murderous frown didn’t lighten, and she gave up.

  Cazares came around the side of the house and took a chair on the patio only after Libby took a chair. “The house is owned by Beatriz and Fermin Ramirez. Do you know them?”

  “If we’ve ever met, I’ve forgotten them,” Santos replied.

  “When the SWAT team arrived, Beatriz waited on the front porch, and when I approached, she mistook me for a neighbor. She was furiously angry not to have had a warning before the police appeared at her door, and she answered my questions without regarding me as too curious. Luis Rubio has worked for them more than ten years. The Ramirez family has two daughters, both married now, but Victoria played with them while they were all growing up. Beatriz considers Victoria’s son, Miguel Angel, another grandchild. Her husband is away for the day, and Luis Rubio is driving him, so the drama continues.”

  “Damn,” Libby cried. “This could go on forever, couldn’t it?”

  “I hope not beyond this afternoon,” Cazares replied. “Victoria was arrested, and Beatriz is looking after the little boy. The police have hidden their van down the street and are waiting inside the house for Luis and Fermin to return.
I’ll go back to my car and wait.” He rose, pushed his chair back into the table and left.

  “I doubt we’ll hear anything from Nuñez until tomorrow,” Santos complained.

  Tomas stepped out on the patio. “Lunch?”

  “Yes,” Libby replied, but Santos and Maggie shook their heads. “Both of you could stand to gain a few pounds.” They didn’t seem to care, and she got up to continue pacing the edge of the patio.

  “I ought to call Rafael,” Maggie murmured.

  “And tell him what?” Santos asked. “That you’re staying here to watch a SWAT raid on a neighbor’s home?”

  “That would do.” She got up and took several steps away to make a more private call.

  Tomas had made Libby the best bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich she’d ever eaten. She took the second half apart to see how it was made. “He must have some special secret sauce. Do you think he’d share it?”

  “How can you even taste your food?” Santos wondered aloud.

  “I’m hungry. I’ll take my lunch inside and eat in the dining room and not annoy you any further.”

  He reached out to stop her before she stood. “No, eat as many sandwiches as you please.” He picked up a potato chip from her plate and popped it in his mouth. “Grandfather Augustin advised living in the center of your life. Hell, I can’t even find the damn center.”

  “I think we’re sitting in the middle of it,” Libby countered. “I hope we get to see little Miguel Angel. It will take a while for DNA testing, but if Victoria ends up in prison, you might have to raise him.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Santos replied. “Most of the women who lived with my father had kids, so I’ve raised more than my share. No sane person would give a baby to a matador to raise. That’s my only hope.”

  “He’d be your half brother,” Libby pointed out between bites.

  He glared at her. “I’m done with my father’s messes. Done. Finished.”

  “I understand.” She did understand, but she hated to see a baby get caught up in his mother’s vendetta. “No decisions have to be made today.”