Destiny's Captive (6 page)

It took her a moment to find herself again, and when she opened her eyes, he kissed her and whispered playfully, “Was that you screaming, Mrs. Rudd?”

She managed to pull body and mind together enough to punch him in the arm, but the glory of the orgasm continued to echo.

Grinning he carried her to the bed.

For the rest of the night, Alanza was treated to more lovemaking than she ever could have imagined. She thought she knew the coupling parts, but found she didn't know that with the right man, her body would hunger for the joining, ripen with the sealing, soar on the sultry rising rhythm and orgasm again and again.

Finally, when they'd had enough of each other, he left her lying in the middle of the bed and returned carrying a package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with gold ribbon and a matching golden bow. She sat up. “What is this?”

“You lost the bet.”

She promptly rolled her eyes in response. “So I have to wear what's inside?”

He nodded.

She opened it to find three very sultry nightgowns all of varying design. She smiled. “They won't keep me very warm.”

“You won't have them on that long.”

Exploding with laughter, she fell back against the bed, looked up into the eyes of the man she loved, and couldn't wait to see what the rest of their life together would bring. “I love you, Max.”

He leaned over and kissed her brow. “I love you, too, Lanz.”

U
pon his return to Havana, Noah went straight to the office of Admiral Rojas, hoping to hear good news.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Yates. I have nothing new to relay. There've been no sightings or reports of your ship docking at any of our ports. One of our brigs sank a ship of similar size while you were away—a rebel vessel we believe, but there wasn't much of it left to identify.”

“Was the crew apprehended?”

“Only one man was found. The police are interrogating him but so far he's sticking to his story about being just a simple fisherman.”

“May I speak with him?”

The admiral shook his head. “No, Mr. Yates. If he offers anything concerning your ship, we'll let you know.”

Frustrated but grateful for the admiral's time, he had one more question. “Who might I call upon to maybe get information on this woman?”

“I'm not sure what you mean?”

“Who runs the underbelly in Havana?”

The admiral stilled.

“I am willing to pay whatever the price may be.”

The admiral surveyed him for a moment longer before offering a name. “Victorio Gordonez.” He wrote something on a small piece of paper from his desk. “He lives here. But do not tell him I sent you.”

Noah placed the paper in his coat. “Understood. You have my thanks.”

“Happy hunting, Mr. Yates.”

Inclining his head, Noah departed.

Noah would rather have had access to the man the police had in custody, but with that option unavailable, he hoped the name given him by the admiral would be helpful. First, he needed to speak to someone who possibly knew Gordonez to determine the best way to approach him. It was doubtful he could simply show up on the man's doorstep and ask for a meeting, so he had his hired coach take him to the home of Bernita Mendoza. Her father, Paulo, was a low-level diplomat. There was no guarantee Mendoza knew him but Noah had to pursue every avenue if his quest to find the pirate woman was to be a success.

The servant at the door ushered him into Mendoza's study. At Noah's entrance the short man stood with a puzzled look on his mustached face. “Noah? I thought you'd gone back to California.”

“I did, but I've returned and am in need of some advice.”

“Of course.” He dismissed the servant with a nod, and gestured Noah to one of the chairs. “Sit. Sit. How might I be helpful?”

Noah told him the tale and at the end, Mendoza's eyes went wide. “This gang abducted you outside my home? My God, what is this world coming to? Is that where you got that eye?”

For a moment Noah was confused, then he shook his head. “No, this was from a tussle with my brothers.”

“Oh, okay. I was concerned that the ruffians harmed you.”

“Just my ego. I'm trying to find the woman who headed up the gang and get my boat back.”

“You've been to the police?”

“Yes, and Admiral Rojas at the navy offices has been very forthcoming, but there's been no movement in the case.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. How might I help?”

“Do you know a man named Victorio Gordonez?”

Mendoza went still and like the admiral studied Noah for a long moment before replying, “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I was told he knows the illicit side of Havana. I'm hoping he might be helpful in identifying this woman, but I need someone to broker a meeting between us.”

“I've met him on social occasions, but he's a very dangerous man.”

“Too dangerous for you to introduce me to him?”

“No. He has an image to maintain, so his dealings with those of us in Havana society are kept as pristine as possible. He pretends to be a lamb and we pretend as well.”

“I see.”

“Let me send a note around to his home to see if and when he might be available.”

So the note was sent and while they waited, they chatted about his mother's recent wedding and in an effort to be nice, Noah asked after Mendoza's daughter Bernita.

“She is well. I had high hopes that the two of you would enjoy each other.”

“She's a nice girl, but I'd not make a good husband to her or anyone else for that matter. I'm married to the sea.”

Mendoza appeared resigned and nodded understandingly.

The servant returned a short while later. Gordonez was at home and would see Noah at his earliest convenience. “Finally some good news,” Noah gushed. “I'd like to see him straightaway, so my apologies for leaving so hastily.”

“None needed. I hope he can give you the information you seek.”

“I do as well. Thank you, Mr. Mendoza.”

“Good luck.”

W
hen Noah arrived, a house servant led him around to the gated patio, where a portly man in a white shirt sat at a table covered with dishes of food. “Senor Gordonez?”

“You must be Yates?”

“I am.”

“You're American.”

“Yes.”

“Have a seat. Would you like something to eat?”

“No, thank you. My apologies for disturbing your meal.”

“Cuban food not to your liking?”

Noah observed him, especially noting the white powder on his face. “I enjoy the food. I'm Spanish on my mother's side. I was raised well enough not to interrupt a person's meal though. I can return at another time, if you prefer.”

He waved a fat hand dismissively. “Just testing you to see if you were prejudiced against the food here because many of you Americans are. Please, have a seat.”

Noah complied.

Gordonez looked to the servant standing like a sentinel near the table. “Get Mr. Yates some wine. Surely you won't turn that down.”

“I'll have a small portion. Thank you.” A partially filled goblet was placed beside him and Noah inclined his head in thanks.

“So, how are you acquainted with Paulo Mendoza?”

“Our families are distantly related.”

“Ah. Did he wave that beautiful daughter of his beneath your nose like a fragrant piece of meat?”

Noah didn't answer.

“Never mind. If he did, you know she's as empty-headed as an eggshell without its egg.” He then speared Noah with his little pig eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I'm in need of information. I was told you might be of help. I'm looking for a woman.”

“I'm not a pimp, Mr. Yates.”

Noah figured he undoubtedly was but kept the speculation unspoken. “This is a woman who wears a black cloak and commands a gang that's responsible for the theft of my ship.”

Gordonez didn't glance up from the chicken and rice he was consuming. “Why come to me?” he asked around the food in his mouth.

“I'm told you may have access to knowledge the police don't.”

“By whom?”

“A nameless individual.”

“Respectful and discreet. You were raised well. Why do you think I would help you find this mysterious woman?”

“Because I'm willing to pay whatever price you quote for her name.”

Gordonez stopped eating, sat back, and picked up his wine. As he took a few sips he assessed Noah silently above the glass before setting it down again. “You've piqued my interest, Mr. Yates, so tell me about this woman and her gang.”

When Noah was done, Gordonez once again took him under review. Noah sensed he was trying to determine just how much to ask for. “I believe I know who she is. In fact, I'm quite positive.”

“And your price?”

“A thousand. American.”

Steep but attainable.

“You didn't blink, Mr. Yates. Maybe I should have asked for more.”

“You've set your price. How would you like to proceed?”

“Once I've confirmed the funds are in my bank, I'll send you her name.”

“Are you certain about her identity?”

“I am. I've known her family for many years. What are your plans for her?”

“I'll keep that to myself if you don't mind.”

“Were I you, I'd turn her over to the authorities first thing. And since her family owes me, I will tell you where she lives for no additional cost.”

Noah nodded in gratitude but wondered what the man's history with the family might be. Were they criminal rivals? He seemed eager to offer up the woman's head, and that gave Noah pause, but in the scheme of things, whatever lay between them didn't matter, because the pirate woman owed him now as well. “You've been of immense help, Senor Gordonez. I'll let you get back to your meal.”

Gordonez gave him a nod and the servant escorted Noah back to his carriage.

Two days later, Noah answered a knock on the door of his hotel room. When he opened it a man handed him a folded piece of paper. “From Senor Gordonez.”

Noah tipped the messenger and closed the door. When he unfolded the note he read: Pilar Banderas. Santiago.

Pleased, Noah hurried to pack.

A hired boat took him to the Santiago docks that afternoon.

As soon he left the boat he began asking after her but couldn't find anyone who would admit to knowing the family. A man at one of the small shipyards who gave his name as Calvo looked Noah up and down in response to his request for information.

“Why do you wish to find this Banderas woman?”

“I gave her some property that I wish to retrieve.”

“I don't know the name.” And he walked away.

Noah knew he was lying but with no means to force him or the others he'd approached to provide the answers he needed, he tersely walked over to a man seated on a coach for hire. “Take me to the city.”

That evening as he stood on the verandah looking out at the sun descending like a ball of fire into the bay, he wondered where and when this quest would end. Santiago was the island's second largest city and she could be anywhere—in the city—in the mountains. He had no way of knowing if Gordonez had given him her true name or if he'd simply been fleeced. A knock on his door interrupted his reverie. He opened it to find a man he'd questioned earlier down at the dock.

“You still looking for the Banderas family?” The man asked nervously, looking back and forth.

“Yes.”

“You willing to pay?”

Noah paused. “I am.”

“Can I come in? I don't want anyone to see us.”

Noah stepped back and the man entered.

“You know Pilar Banderas?”

He nodded. “She lives on a farm outside the city. No one said anything down at the docks because she's tied to the rebels, just like everyone else here.”

Noah understood now. “How much do you want for your assistance?”

The sum he quoted was a pittance in the scheme of things, but to a man as poor as he undoubtedly was it was large. “I'll pay you when we reach the farm.”

“Sure. We should go at first light. Before everyone gets up. I don't want our business known.”

Noah agreed.

He came for Noah at dawn. They journeyed on his listing wagon pulled by an old horse out of the city and into the mountainous region that surrounded it. “Cimarrons lived out here in the old days,” the man informed him by way of conversation. Noah knew the word referred to fugitive slaves. “They and their descendants have been in these mountains for hundreds of years. This is the area where General Maceo recruited many of the Mambis.”

They drove for a short while longer and the man, who'd never volunteered his name, steered the old horse onto a property set back a ways from the road. The weathered home was in serious disrepair, as was its accompanying barn. It was eerily silent. “Doesn't look like anyone's here,” his guide remarked.

Noah agreed, but got down anyway and stepped up onto the porch. Mindful of the many missing slats, he made his way to the door and knocked. No one answered. He repeated the action a few more times with the same results. He left the porch and walked around to the back. There were a few broken-down animal pens but they held no occupants. He spotted a well-tended garden set a few yards away, but there were no signs of life on the property anywhere. Sighing with frustration, he returned to the wagon. “Does she have relatives?”

“Yes, but I don't know where they live.”

“How do you know her?”

“I grew up here.”

Noah passed him the money he was owed. “Take me back to the city.”

Back in his hotel room, Noah wanted to punch something. Instead he packed. He'd leave for Florida in the morning. He wanted to meet with his old friend Miguel Ventura about his brothers' interest in investing in the tobacco company and once that was done, he'd figure out what to do next about the missing Pilar Banderas.