New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (24 page)

Ivy stood doing her night facial routine when Steve’s
phone rang.
 
They shared
a delicious
night of champagne, love-making and
raiding the refrigerator for leftovers, reminding her of the first night they
made love at her old house up in Portland, when Steve made turkey
sandwiches that
they ate cuddled in bed.
 
While being together no longer new to them,
their lovemaking remained sweet and
exceptionally
sensual
.
 
Now mellowed out, Ivy
resented
the possibility of any unpleasantness.

Steve walked in and said, “Mathew.
 
On their way home.
 
He ran into one of the cops from that
incident with the gunmen who shot up your old house.
 
The guy may be willing to moonlight for
us.
 
He’s going to ask a couple of his
buddies to help out too.”

He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her, resting
his chin on her shoulder so they studied each other in the mirror while Ivy put
on a light layer of night moisturizer.
 
She nestled back into Steve, conscious of how well they fitted
together.
 
At six feet, she always seemed
too tall.
 
With Steve standing a big five
inches above her, her body took on a more feminine aspect.
 

“Now if we can just hear back from Mueller,” Steve said.

“What did you ask him for?” Ivy asked.

“Authority over the case.
 
After last year’s heart-stopping experience in Santa Fe, even the Chief indicated
I should not go back out in the field.”

“What's he waiting for?”

“Agreement from the new head of the FBI.
 
Guess by now I should call
him
the Chief.”

Steve’s phone buzzed again.
 
He walked out to take the call by the fire while Ivy went to the kitchen
to get a glass of cold water for each of them.
 
The headlights of a car showed someone approaching the house.
 
Once she confirmed the vehicle as Callie’s
Subaru, Ivy walked back to the bedroom, placed the glasses on their night
tables and went to sit by Steve.

“Understand.
 
I still
report through Mule?” Steve said, then he listened and smiled.
 
“Yeah, that’s my nickname for Mueller.
 
He can be as obstinate as I am making the
wordplay
work. Not to take away from him, his
leadership demonstrated an exceptional balance between creativity and
solidity.
 
Appreciate the call.”

He turned to Ivy and said.
 
“The new Chief.
 
Thought he should
talk to me.
 
I will still work for
Mule.
 
He agrees we should get aggressive
and is arranging clearance for whatever I need.
 
He asked me to resolve this case because he wants me to develop some
training for him next year.”

Ivy raised her eyebrows at the last comment.
 
At least training development would not
involve any thugs shooting at them.
 
Whereas once she found Steve’s handling an FBI case frightening, now she
accepted his vocation and even wanted to participate in the pursuit.
 
They were floundering around the edges of
this
case
against the last of the
Fuentes,
and they wanted resolution.

“Partners?” he said, catching up her hand.

“Always.”

Mathew walked in, flushed and smiling despite his ungainly
pace.
 

“Splendid evening,” he said without preamble.
 
“Thanks Steve for convincing Callie to go for
spiritual
counseling
.
 
While I nixed the idea at first, the workshop
made
a significant
difference.
 
She sorted through her past and is ready to
start dating me in earnest!”

“
Of course
she is,”
Ivy said.
 
“Anyone can see the compelling
allure between you two.”

“When I come back from San Francisco, would you two be
willing to go someplace for a date night?”

“You and Callie take priority!” Steve said. “Tell us when.”

The next morning Cruze met up with Julio in Barcelona to
explore living there.
 
The drive of three
hours from his mountain retreat would allow them to visit each other without
stressing their friendship.
 
For this
visit
he brought his boat up the coast and now
they dawdled on the deck in the warm Mediterranean sunshine over a late
breakfast.
 

“I went out to Portland to do an assessment,” Julio
said.
 
“Think one of the former agents
spotted me in the airport.
 
He followed
me into the gate area where I slipped away.”

“In the
way
only you
can do,” Cruze said, pausing to bite into one of the freshly made
churros
Julio had picked up.
 
“Too bad he saw you.
 
If he tried to follow you, they know who you
are.
 
I wonder how.”

“The big agent and his wife flew out to the Madrid
house.
 
The feds crawled all over the
property again too.”

“What do you think they went after?” Cruze asked.

“Evidence they missed the last time is my guess.
 
Info leading to you.”

“Or to you.
 
Eduardo
kept old photographs from our mother.
 
We
went through them sometimes.
 
Included
photos of you as Annetta, of course.
 
I
remember pics of you as Julio too, back in your early twenties.”

“I am more mature now,” Julio said.
 
“Harder to recognize.”

“The FBI uses aging software which means at least our U.S.
passports are blown.
 
What others do you
have?”

“Colombia, Mexico, Cuba and Spain.
 
You?”

“Those, plus Venezuela, Argentina and Chile.
 
That gives us enough unless they can tap into
international resources,” Cruze said.

“I wondered about cosmetic procedures and new identities,”
Julio said.
 
“Get silicone implants and
give up the Julio image.”

“Pretty radical.
 
I
can’t picture you with a curvaceous figure.”

“Not sure I can either and my disguise options would be more
limited if we need to make any quick departures.
 
Is your mind made up?
 
Will you seek revenge for your brothers’ deaths?”

“I am not a leader,” Cruze replied after a few moments of
thought.
 
“By disposition and preference,
I am a follower.”

“And I am not of a confrontational nature,” Julio said.
 
“Cristo and Eduardo would avenge us.”

“Yes they
would,
but
I’m tired of the danger.
 
I never wanted
that life.”

Julio took a small sip of the café au
lait he
brought with him.
 
When he spoke, he measured out his words
carefully.
 

“I think of you as the peacemaker and as your brothers’
supporter.
 
You always covered Cristo’s
back.
 
You did juvie time and never
squealed on him.
 
Cruze, I think you paid
any obligations while they were alive.
 
The future is for you.”

Cruze mulled over her comment and let himself dare to think
of a peaceable outcome.
 
Barcelona suited
Julio with its glitzy financial center, historic buildings, sandy beaches and
elegant shops.
 
He shut his eyes,
picturing his sanctuary in Botaya, a new sailboat docked here, talks and dining
with Julio and the joy of sailing this sparkling sea.

 
“I will find plastic
surgeons to work on our faces and our fingerprints.
 
We should also plunk in colored contact
lenses and restyle our hair,” Julio said.

“Are you sure we need to do this?
 
Seeing you again as Annetta will be
better.
 
I never asked, how did you
manage
to date
?” Cruze asked, knowing he
was venturing into the never discussed topic of Julio’s sexuality.

“Simple, I didn’t.
 
I
appeared at
parties.
 
I flirted.
 
Never did I let anyone physically close to me.”

“Never?” asked Cruze with a tone of incredulity.

“How could I?
 
I may
appear as a metrosexual man, but underneath I remain a woman.”

“You never have sex?” Cruze asked.

“Not since the awful night when I was sixteen.
 
I am strange that way,” Julio said.

“Don’t you have any, uh, urges?”

“Cruze, my sick father ruined me.
 
He left me as a woman afraid of men, so much
so I became one in all appearances.
 
I
schedule around the obvious logistical issues like using the
restroom
.
 
Many restaurants now have unisex bathrooms.”

 
“No gender change
operation?”

“Underneath this silken Armani suit, I am still
flat-chested, boyish Annetta.”
 

Cruze poured more coffee, added sugar and cream and stirred
in a slow motion using the time to think before he asked, “What will you do all
day here?”

Julio nibbled on a piece of croissant, smiling a little at
its buttery goodness.
 
“Shop, sunbathe,
go to the spa.
 
What occupies your time
at your cabin?”

“I work on fused glass projects to improve my craft.
 
Once I am good enough, I want to define a
style and develop a line for sale, donating the proceeds to the nearby
monastery.”

“If we are talking about illusory dreams,” Julio said, “I
want to study animation programming as well as hone my writing skills.
 
Over time, my goal is to produce an animated
cartoon series of action heroes.
 
My life
has given me lots of material to morph into fiction,
particularly on the
so-called bad guys.
 
Perhaps one day, I will draft my memoirs to
be published after I die.”

“We will transform into the people we dream about . . .”
Cruze let his voice trail off and stared at the beguiling blue of the lapping
waters.
 
“Did Cristo and Eduardo harbor secret
aspirations?”

“I think they lived what they dreamt.
 
Fuentes Enterprises encapsulated who they
wanted to be and who they became, sweeping you along with them.
 
We are not like them, Cruze.
 
They functioned as the businessmen and the
hard-nosed aggressors.
 
You and I claim
more artistic sides.”

“Once you settle in here, I hope you will
come to Bataya
sometimes to my little home and
give input on my glasswork.”

“It is remote?” Julio asked, his voice tightening as he
spoke.

“The only sounds are birds, the
deep
knells from the bell tower calling the monks to vespers, the
tinkling bells on the goats and
sometimes
if the wind is right, the church peals from Botaya,” Cruze said.
 
“The house is off the grid.
 
Solar panels and batteries supply the
electricity and propane gas tanks power the stove and the kilns.
 
Heat is from a wood
fireplace,
and fans do the cooling.
 
Water is from a well.
 
After years
of the flashy life Cristo favored and the constant moving about, I am content
with the simpler life of a poorer man.”

“In contrast, I will be pleased in a penthouse condo with a
view of the sea, a luxury
bath
and a full
terrace.
 
Somewhere high up and quiet
where I can find inspiration to create.”

“These are but
beautiful
daydreams.
 
How do we increase the odds for
our safety?”

“I am devising a strategy, Cruze.
 
The approach is dangerous and runs the risk
of exposing us to the FBI and to the worst of the remaining drug lords in the
United States,
Colombia
and Mexico.
 
Or we might buy our liberty.
 
Understand if the plan goes awry, we will be
committing suicide.”

“As long as we do not land in prison,” Cruze said.
 
“Death does not scare me.
 
The prospect of imprisonment for the rest of
my life frightens me to the core.
 
I am
like Eduardo in that way.”

“We both are,” Julio said.

He contemplated Julio as he sat across from him, his
brilliant blue eyes enhanced by the proximity of the blue waters.
 
Whatever Julio was planning would not be
flawed.
 
His cousin stayed safe for the
last twenty-five years through careful scrutiny of his options and detailed
planning.
 

On and off during their adulthood, Julio came and went in
their lives, always available when they needed him
for
business tasks and for family times, including during illnesses
and bereavements.
 
Now he warmed to the
vision of spending the remainder of his life, whether days or years, in regular
communication with Annetta, the real self of Julio, bringing their youthful
bonds into the rest of their lives.