Caught Up (Indigo Vibe) (6 page)

“First off, I didn’t even know David was my biological father until you told me this afternoon. I came here to spend time with my real father, Ernesto Bolívar. Secondly, we received another request for an estimate. I thought I’d check it out while I’m down here.” Glad she’d been able to tell the truth, she crossed her arms over her chest. “And let’s be honest. I can’t hide anywhere. I’m Ernesto Bolívar’s little girl,” she added for sympathy points.

He smoothed his mustache down a few times. “You win. But, you’re not to visit David Martín. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about him. I even have a few pictures at the house.”

“Thank you.” She changed the subject before he made her promise to obey him. “Do you want to sleep here tonight? I’ll take the couch.”

“Anna’s waiting up for me.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Do not disobey me on this, Rosa. He’s a dangerous man from a dangerous world. I don’t want you drawn in. Now that I think about it, I’m getting you security.”

Her eyes shot wide open. “No way! You know I don’t do the security thing. I don’t want bodyguards following me all over the place like puppy dogs.”

“These aren’t bullies from the school yard, Rosa. You need around-the-clock protection. I’ll make arrangements first thing in the morning.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “No disrespect, Daddy, but I refuse to be spied on.”

“They aren’t there to spy, but to protect you. I don’t care what you say; you’re getting protection.”

“If I even
think
someone is following me, I’ll call the cops on them. That includes your security service.”

He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh. “I can’t leave you unprotected.”

“Let’s be realistic here. Their protection couldn’t stop a sniper or a bomb. I don’t need to draw more attention to myself. I haven’t had security since I went to college, and I never want it again. I’m not giving up my freedom. I’m sorry, but end of discussion.”

* * *

After Ernesto’s visit, she hadn’t slept well, and her nerves were shot. Guilt for going behind Ernesto’s back nipped at her heels, but she had to do this. Grumbling, Rosa sorted through the few outfits she’d brought to Miami with her. She tapped her rabbit-slippered foot on the floor as she stared at the bright and bold contents of the closet. She made due with a black pantsuit and a firebrick red shell.

Her day would be full. She had to visit the work site she’d told Ernesto about, then catch the helicopter that she’d chartered to the prison’s city. She padded across the carpeted floor of the suite to her journal and ink pen. Lately, her journal had become her sole confidante.

Be careful what you pray for. I wanted Daddy to recognize me as a grown-up. I longed to prove myself.
She steadied her trembling hand.
Now, here I stand, wanting Daddy to hold my hand while I meet my biological father. I want him to protect me as he always has. I want him to be my anchor.

I feel like I’m working through some sort of rite of passage.
She prayed silently
. I can make it through this test. We’ll all make it.

CHAPTER FIVE

The ride from the helipad to the prison wasn’t long enough. Rosa wanted more time to prepare emotionally. She paid the taxi driver, and then walked toward the crowd. Supporters and anti-death penalty factions yelled across an ocean of police at each other. She saw a few reporters swimming about like sharks, and others who she couldn’t identify.

Her pace slowed. She wasn’t as sure of herself as she had been when she’d stood up to Ernesto. The closest to a prison that she’d come was seeing reruns of the HBO jailhouse series
Oz
.

She bumped into a woman holding a toddler. “I’m sorry.” She smiled at the little, curly haired girl. “You have a beautiful daughter.”

“Thank you,” said the young woman. “We’re here to see Daddy. Aren’t we, Julie?” The little girl nodded, but she didn’t look happy.

Rosa could identify with the child. She was also there to see her “Daddy,” and she wasn’t too happy about it either. A chill went down her spine as her gaze traveled from the double fence, to the barbed wire, to the guard towers. Her blood had earned his place on the wrong side of the double fence. Her blood had given her away. Her blood. She worked her way through the crowd, reminding herself that love is thicker than blood. She was nothing like Harriet or David. She was Rosa Bolívar.

She looked into the green eyes of the burly guard who stood on the inside of the entrance gate. During her approach, she’d watched him. He seemed patient and respectful of everyone. “Excuse me, sir,” she said through the fence, keeping her voice steady and calm. “I’d like to see David Martín.”

He cocked his head to the side. “David Martín?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry, ma’am, but that won’t be possible. He doesn’t have anyone on his guest list.”

“This is very important. How do I go about being put on his list?” If she didn’t see David today, she knew she’d lose her courage.

“Excuse my French, but the warden would need a hell of a reason to approve a visitor.”

“May I speak to the warden then?”

“Don’t waste your time.”

Other spectators listened while pretending they weren’t. Rosa ignored everyone, except the guard. She was on a mission and wouldn’t be turned away.

“Would you please call the warden for me? I’d at least like to try.”

“Fine. But, don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

He walked further back onto the lush green grounds toward a tall brick wall that surrounded the prison and made a call.

“They won’t give you permission,” said a fifty-something-year-old, white male over her shoulder. “I’ve been trying for two weeks.”

“They have to,” she whispered to herself. “They just have to.”

The officer shook his head as he returned. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Panic gripped her almost as tight as she gripped the fence. “But, I have to see him. It’s extremely important.” Afraid of losing her chance forever, her mind scrambled for bait to throw out they couldn’t resist.

He leaned against the fence. “I’m not trying to be smart, but everyone thinks their reason is important. The warden’s an extremely busy man.”

“Tell the warden I’m David Martín’s daughter,” she whispered to the guard.

His boisterous laugh turned many heads in their direction. “You won’t give up, will you? David Martín doesn’t have any children.”

She rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he tell she was trying to keep this on the down low? “But he does,” she continued, softly. “Please call the warden and tell him.”

He walked away mumbling, “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” He called the warden and told him about her claim.

“Hey, Rolland,” yelled the man standing behind her. “Tell the warden, I’m his long lost son.” The gathering crowd joined in the laughter.

Rosa glared over her shoulder at the man, and everyone went silent. Slapping the snot out of him wasn’t an option. “I suggest you step off now,” she warned.

Taken aback, the man stared into her eyes, as if seeing her for the first time. His own eyes opened wide with recognition, then widened with fear. “Oh, my God. You
are
his daughter.” He stepped around her, shaking the fence. “Rolland, Rolland, she’s telling the truth. She’s telling the truth!” He pointed at her. “Look at those eyes.” Fear clearly etched on his face, he turned to her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Martín. I meant no disrespect.”

Many people had said that she’d be put behind bars for killing someone with her evil eye someday. She hadn’t meant to whip it out, but the eavesdropping jerk had worked her last nerve. She bowed her head slightly. “No problem. And my name is Bolívar, not Martín,” she said proudly. The man behind the bars helped to conceive her, but he wasn’t her father, and she wouldn’t accept his name.

* * *

“What are you drawing?” Samson asked in Spanish. David only had three days until his execution, but Samson wasn’t ready to give up on him. He’d given David a sketchpad, colored pencils and an art eraser, encouraging David to feel again, to see that he had someone to live for. He peeked at the picture. David had drawn the flower of a fully opened rose in deep reds and shaded the background in black. “You miss her a lot, don’t you?” The more Samson thought about it, the more he was convinced that Rosa was the key to David. The fear in David’s eyes when Samson had dropped her name had haunted Samson ever since.

“How’s your family?” David asked.

“I miss them.”

“Join the club.” He’d written “Rosa” in large gold script letters at the bottom of the image. “You tell the bastard you’re leaving the agency yet?”

Samson doubted David knew Alton’s real name. The two hated each other at first sight. “He was shocked I stayed this long. I need to write my letter of resignation.” He paused. “You and Rosa were high school sweethearts?”

“Don’t ask shit you already know. You can leave if you’re here to play that psycho-babble shit. I’m in no mood for it today.”

Samson could tell David was on the edge, ready to bare his soul, so he waited patiently. Over the year, David had become more than a case, he’d also become a friend. And soon, this friend would confide in him.

“I have so many regrets,” David mumbled. “Now that I know what’s important…” he trailed off. “Family’s more important than anything, Samson. Go see your people while you can. Enjoy them while you can.”

“You can still see your family.”

“Not the one person who matters most to me.” He looked down the corridor. “Here comes Giles. I wish he’d pick up his damn feet. All that shufflin’ and scrapin’ is working my damn nerve.”

“Everything is working your damn nerves,” Samson mocked. He kept his voice jovial, but he could kill Giles for ruining the moment. “I’ll be right back.”

“Tell that mutha’ to pick up his damn feet or don’t bring his ass down here.”

Giles led Samson a few feet away from the cell. “A woman claiming she’s David’s daughter is here,” he whispered, barely audible.

“
¿Qué?
” Samson momentarily looked over his shoulder at David who was drawing, seemingly in his own world. “There must be a mistake,” he said in English. “His only child was killed years ago, and that was a son.” Ernesta’s claims of a daughter rang loudly in Samson’s ears. All of the pieces were finally falling into place.

“The warden says she looks an awful lot like David. Her name is Rosa.” He closed his eyes. “Umm, Rosa, Rosa Bolmiva, Boltivar, Bolivar…”

Samson recognized the name.
Bolívar
. He swiped his powerful hands over his shaved head. “He has a daughter,” he mumbled to himself as he glanced over his shoulder at the small man sitting in the cell. The fear in David’s eyes upon hearing Rosa’s name confirmed Samson’s suspicions.
He has a daughter. That’s why he’s been acting so irrational lately.
A revelation hit him, releasing a nervous chuckle.
Ernesto-Ernesta. I’ll be damned.
He returned his attention to Officer Giles. “Has Agent Miles been contacted?”

“Yes, sir. He’ll be here shortly. The warden wanted to know what to do with the Rosa woman.”

“Set her up in an interview room.”

Samson returned to the cell and sat on the end of the bed. Everyone knew the name Bolívar. If he remembered correctly, Ernesto Bolívar did have a daughter.

“What did the hack want?” David asked in Spanish.

“You have a visitor.”

“Is the bastard here? Can’t I die in peace?”

“It’s not Alton.” He rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his face into his palms. Samson wasn’t stalling for dramatic pause or mind games. He literally didn’t know how to proceed.

“I ain’t in no mood to play twenty-fuckin’ questions.”

He took the sketchpad from David, then flipped through page after page of roses. At a total loss, he closed the pad. David obviously loved his daughter and was trying to protect her, but from whom?

“She’s here, isn’t she?” David asked quietly.

“I need for you to trust me, David. To be honest with me.”

David looked straight into Samson’s eyes. “Have I ever lied to your ass? I don’t tell what I don’t want to.”

“Who is Rosa Bolívar to you?”

David shot up from the bed and paced from one end of the cell to the other. Though a small man, it only took him a few steps to reach each end. “She’s here, isn’t she?” He continued pacing. “Rosa’s my daughter. That punk ass Ernesto must have told her I’m her real father.”

“So, she didn’t know?”

“She was never to know. Ernesto shouldn’t have told her until after I was long dead. I don’t know what that dumb-ass was thinking. She has my fire. There was no way he could keep her away.”

“Give us Sierra, and I’ll ensure she goes into witness protection.” His team was linked to all of the government agencies, providing additional options.

“Do you understand who her adoptive father is? Ernesto Bolívar. Everyone who’s anyone in business, thus the drug world, knows about Ernesto and his daughter Rosa. She’s too popular to hide. I’ll protect her as I always have. I just need time to think.” He tangled his fingers into his short, curly hair.

“She’s here to see you for the first time?”

“You could say that. If you can get the DEA to stay away from her, the drug world will never know about her. We can have this little meeting, and no one will be the wiser.”

“There’s no way to keep your daughter a secret now. The only thing we can do is place her into protective custody. But, the agency won’t allow that unless you give us something.”

“No! I won’t take her freedom away.”

“What the hell do you want me to do, David?” Praying for patience, he smoothed down his goatee. “Explain how your telling me about the Sierra cartel will endanger Rosa.”

“Simple version. Drug lords have to love the drug world more than anything. But, I love Rosa more. If I tell you and my sentence is commuted, then Rosa will be murdered to punish me. If I tell you and you don’t commute my sentence, I go to my grave knowing that she’ll be murdered to punish me. I caused my son’s death. I won’t be the cause of my daughter’s death.”

“But they didn’t know she existed. You could have told us years ago.”

“Well hell, Samson, I’m an asshole. Why the hell would I cooperate?”

“Humph, you got me there.”

“You gonna let me see her or not?”

* * *

Samson peeked into the interview room through a bent slat on the mini-blinds. The small room was nothing special: cream walls, metal table, a few folding chairs, and a speckled linoleum floor. On the other hand, the woman sitting at the table thumbing through a magazine was very special.

He’d seen pictures of David’s mother and thought her a beautiful woman. This Rosa was an improvement of her grandmother’s perfection. David’s father was African-American and his mother Afro-Colombian. Rosa posed an exotic blend of cultures.

She toyed with one of the curls by her ear as she read a magazine. Amazed such an innocent move could arouse him, he shook his head. If he were to draw his hands through her hair and pull her close enough to kiss her full lips, her curls were just long enough to wrap themselves around his fingers. He smoothed down his goatee, needing to stop his train of thought: she was off limits, she could be involved in the drug trade, she lived in another city, she probably already had a man.

He’d grown to know David and thought he told the truth about Rosa, yet he still wanted to verify things for himself. He brushed the sleeves of his black tailor-made suit, straightened his tie, and entered the interview room.

Soft and innocent, yet deadly
, came to his mind as Rosa stood. She was definitely the type of woman to make a man do stupid things.

“Hello, Miss Bolívar. I’m DEA Agent Samson Quartermaine,” he said in his most official voice.

She nodded slightly as she took his outstretched hand. “The pleasure’s all mine, DEA Agent Samson Quartermaine.”

Their gazes held, seemingly freezing them in time. He wouldn’t mind remaining lost in her eyes forever. He forced himself to snap out of it and do his job. “Would you like some coffee or tea, Miss Bolívar?”

She returned to her seat. “No, thank you. Could you do me a favor and call me Rosa? Miss Bolívar sounds like an old maid.”

“You’re no old maid, for sure.” They both rolled their eyes. “Sorry about that, Rosa.” He sat across from her, switching his mind back to business.

“Will I be able to see David Martí
n?”

“Yes. I needed to speak with you first.”

“Go for it.”

“Are you any relation to Ernesto Bolivar?”

“He’s my father.”

He appeared calm, though he was anything but. Ernesto Bolívar, CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world, was now the No. 1 candidate as David’s partner. “What’s your biological mother’s name?”

“Harriet Bolívar.”

“Her maiden name.”

She
tsked
and crossed her arms over her chest. “I was told Wells. You may wish to double check that fact out for yourself.” She cut her eyes away.

Giving her time to compose herself, he wrote a few notes. The pain behind her words was loud and clear. She’d obviously been kept in the dark about her family’s dynamics. He could only imagine the surprises that she was in store for as the investigation continued. It reminded him of his own family troubles.