Running Wild (23 page)

As soon as they were settled, he wrapped her in his arms. “You okay?”

She nodded, although she wasn’t sure she truly was. “We dodged a bullet having them thrown out in the wild,” she admitted. “But I’m furious over the way they were treated.” She hesitated, then admitted, “At the same time—and I know this is juvenile and petty beyond belief—I’m struggling with my same old anger at
them
. And feeling guilty about putting you in danger. God.” She rubbed at her temples. “My thoughts keep twisting in so many different directions my head feels like it’s about to explode.”

“Hey, don’t waste your guilt on me,” he said and dug his strong fingers and thumbs into the knots in her neck and shoulders, an action that probably did more to alleviate her headache than the two pain relievers she’d taken before crawling into their makeshift bed. “I’ve had fun.”

“Oh, God, really? I thought it was only me! I kind of enjoyed the adrenaline rush of it all. I’ve been feeling guilty about that, too.”

“You’d make a good Catholic girl with all that guilt,” he said with a grin.

“You better hope my mother didn’t hear you say that,” she muttered. But she realized, as Finn drifted off, that he’d made her feel less blameworthy.

She still didn’t sleep for beans. She was cold everywhere Finn’s body heat didn’t reach, and it was far less comfortable lying with only their dirty laundry between them and the ground than she’d grown accustomed to in his snug little tent.

The physical discomforts, however, she could deal with. It was her folks’ unexpected appearance that had her brain spinning with what-ifs, an anger she knew she had to grow up and get beyond, and relief and regrets that intertwined in one long, no-resolution loop after another.

She stumbled out of her nest at dawn and, to the accompaniment of birds and monkeys screeching overhead, trotted knock-kneed a short way down the path until she selected an out-of-the-way, hopefully critter-free tree to do her business behind. Black beetles the size of her palm lumbered along the forest floor as she squatted, and she engaged a bright green frog with red eyes and a blue-and-white striped stomach in a stare-down.

When she got back to camp, she was a bit disappointed to find everyone else already up. She wouldn’t have minded a few more minutes’ solitude to get her Zen on.

Nancy and Brian looked stronger this morning and after discussing strategy over breakfast they broke camp and started back in the direction she and Finn had come from yesterday. Her parents were still recovering from their stint in the rain forest without proper gear and nutrition, however, so despite earlier appearances the going was a good deal slower. Mags spent part of it wondering how far the train she and Finn had come in on went on its return trip. She hadn’t paid attention to its originating city when they were looking into tickets to take them toward the Amazon.

With luck, perhaps it would take them a good part of the way toward Santa Rosa.

Four days later
Around 10:00 p.m.

M
AGS
WAS
FLATTENED
by exhaustion by the time Finn parked the car that they’d rented in La Plata near the front of their capital-city hotel. She knew it, in turn, was near the American embassy where they had an appointment with the ambassador late the following morning. At the moment, however, she didn’t really care.

All she wanted when she climbed from the automobile was to go up to her room and sleep for a week. Since her reunion with her parents she hadn’t managed more than a catnap here or there. So if she’d been rather uncommunicative during their trip back to Santa Rosa—well, it was better to say too little than too much. That was the only way she knew to avoid torching the few tenuous bridges she still shared with Brian and Nancy. Her temper was far too close to the surface, lurking like a troll beneath one of those bridges just waiting for someone to take a single unwary misstep.

On autopilot, she followed her folks and Finn into the hotel. It was much larger and worlds grander than any other place they’d stayed on this journey. Her eyes kept drifting closed as they waited in a short line to check in. Giving in to the urge, she leaned against Finn and let her eyelids fall shut the instant she felt his arm slide around her.

They were next in line when she heard Nancy say in her you-will-obey voice, “I bit my tongue and said nothing when you shared a room with my daughter in that small-town inn on our way up here—even when I failed to see why she couldn’t share a room with me, and you with Brian. But now that we’re in a big-city hotel with ample vacancies, I assume you will get Magdalene her own room, yes?”

“No,” Finn said and stepped up when the clerk signaled. Hearing her mother sputter, Mags cracked a heavy-lidded eye open just enough to see where he was navigating them.

And smiled to herself.

Moments later Finn gave her folks their room card and ushered all of them onto an elevator across the lobby. Outside the doors to their across-the-hall rooms moments later, he said to her parents, “Get a good night’s sleep and meet us in the lobby at eight. We’ll get breakfast, then buy some clothes to wear to the embassy appointment.”

“We don’t need fancy clothing to be credible!” Nancy protested.

“We need to be taken seriously so we can shut that grow farm down, and looking like a bunch of refugees won’t aid in that. We’re getting some decent clothing. Deal with it.” He opened the door to their room. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s get you to bed.”

“’Kay.” Mags yawned and fought to pry her eyes open once again. “Good night, Nancy,” she murmured. “Night, Daddy.” She staggered into the room ahead of Finn, barely making it through the door before her grip on her tote went lax and her big purse tumbled to the floor. Stumbling around it, she navigated past a desk and a chair toward the most luxurious-looking bed she’d seen in ages.

The last thing she remembered was falling face-first on top of it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I
N
A
NEARBY
café the following morning, over
café con leche
, eggs and sweet croissant-type pastries called
medialunas
, Finn spent most of breakfast trying to strategize with Mags and her folks about their upcoming meeting. It was like herding cats.

It took no time at all for him to realize that, of the four of them, he was the only one with real business sense. Mags had that artist’s mind-set that made her so good at spontaneous disguises and role-playing. But when it came to the type of protocol they’d likely be smart to follow at their upcoming meeting, she kept losing focus, most of her attention spent on sneaking peeks at her mother while pretending she was above that sort of thing. Brian’s attention span was equally brief and Nancy kept wanting to sidetrack everyone with the social injustices she felt should be included in the discussion with the ambassador.

“No,” he finally said flatly, the third time she tried to take them in that direction. “Today is about telling how you were kidnapped and held, how Mags twice escaped an attempted kidnapping, and how she and I were repeatedly threatened by armed men. It’s about pointing the authorities to the grow farm—and nothing else.” He leveled her with a stern look.

Then blinked.
Holy shit. You channeling Ma now?
That was kind of embarrassing.

Still, if it was what it took to make the Delucas see they might only have a finite number of minutes to state their case and they damn well better make the most of them if they wanted to see Munoz put out of business, so be it. They had a good map, made by all of them first thing this morning. The senior Delucas had given them detailed directions, he’d figured them to scale and Mags had drawn it. The more facts they had at their fingertips to help the authorities see ways in which they could facilitate
their
end of the operation, the better.

But that meant staying on track and relating their experiences briefly and concisely, not wandering off on unrelated tangents.

He would give them props for the way all three were briskly respectful of each other. Hell, if anything they were too respectful, working overtime to ignore their checkered family relationship. As if there really weren’t a two-ton elephant in the room.

Until, in the midst of another rehearsal he’d forced upon them, Mags’s mom leaned into the table. She pinned an uncompromising gaze on her daughter, who sat across from her, desultorily pushing food around her plate with her fork, and suddenly turned things very personal, indeed. “Why did you call me Nancy when you said good-night last night but called your father Daddy?”

Finally!
Finn felt like pumping a fist in the air. He’d been watching the Delucas’ interaction with Magdalene ever since they’d stumbled into camp five days ago. Brian was pretty much an open book. The man was good-natured, easygoing and slightly vague, and it was plain to see he was perfectly happy letting his wife rule the roost. Unlike Nancy, however, he had no problem demonstrating his love for Magdalene. Given the slightest opportunity, he touched and hugged her. And he kissed her every chance he got. On her forehead, or her cheek or her temples. Or on—Finn’s personal favorite—the little dent in her chin.

Nancy did none of those things. But even as Finn winced to watch her shoot herself in the foot time and again by letting all that stiff-necked pride get in her way—not hard to see from whom Mags inherited hers—he recognized the longing with which she looked at her daughter whenever Mags’s attention was elsewhere. He saw the covert touches that skimmed Magdalene’s hair or brushed against a fold of her clothing.

And he thought it was about time she actually said something.

Mags’s chin shot up. “Maybe I call him Daddy because I know it was your idea to exile me when I was just a kid.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” her father protested, but Nancy reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. He fell silent.

He did not, however, look happy about it.

“She’s right, dear,” she admitted. “That was my idea.”

Brian scooted his chair a little closer to his wife’s and said, “But not for the reasons she believes. And at the time, I totally agreed.”

“What?” Mags looked as though he’d just kicked her kitten. “No.” Then her eyes hardened. “So tell me, for what other reason was I
supposed
to believe I’d been banished from my home?” she demanded. “You just wanted more time to improve the lives of other people’s kids.”

“Ah, Magdalene,
no
.” Nancy leaned even farther into the table and for once didn’t retreat behind the imperious silent disapproval she occasionally wielded to great effect. She reached for her daughter’s hand, but Mags slid hers from the table and onto her lap.

Nancy sighed but straightened her shoulders, which had momentarily slumped. “Our decision had nothing to do with having more time to work with other people’s children and everything to do with the way you suddenly developed overnight and the explosion of interest it brought from the local boys.”

“What?”
Finn watched as Mags finally quit pretending she was just too, too disinterested in her mother’s explanation and leaned into the table as well. “What are you talking about? What boys?”

“You know.” Her mom twirled a hand. “The boys you played with in the jungles and on the streets of every small township or larger city we lived in,” she said earnestly. “I have to stop and think to recall we were living in Onoato at the time. But, Magdalene, I will never forget the way those boys started looking at you.”

She thrust her fingers in her hair and held it off her forehead as she stared at Mags. “I admit we could have handled things so much better than we did, beginning with telling you our reasons for sending you to school in the States in the first place and continuing right through all the rebellious years that followed. But the truth is, I saw those boys beginning to...what do the American kids call it? Check you out? And I panicked. Lord above, Magdalene, I was terrified right down to my bones. We wanted so much more for you than marrying young and living too short a life having too many kids in too much poverty. We wanted you to have a good education and a chance at whatever your dream turned out to be.”

“So you screwed me up for life when a single conversation might have made things so much easier?”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I am genuinely, deeply sorry. We didn’t know how to connect with the new you when you came home on holidays, but we should have—
I
should have—tried harder. I know I did everything wrong.” Then she added fiercely, “But you are not screwed up. You turned out to be such a strong, capable woman.”

Mags opened her mouth and Finn held his breath, waiting for her to tell her folks about sleeping with half the lacrosse team before she turned fifteen. He was pretty sure it would kill them to learn what their lack of a simple explanation had cost.

His gut clenched when he looked at her. Jesus. Except for exhaustion-generated dark shadows beneath her eyes, she was pale as rice paper. He knew damn well she’d hardly slept since her parents’ return into her life. And despite the way she’d fallen into what had looked scarily close to a coma last night, he knew she was still sleep-deprived. One good night didn’t make up for the other four spent tossing and turning. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the sketchy sleep they’d gotten before that.

But with so many years of being furious with her parents, that made keeping her own counsel even iffier.

At the tail end of a moment’s hesitation, however, she merely said, “You’d be heartsick if you knew the many ways I’ve messed up.”

“Well, of course you made bad decisions,” her father said with beatific acceptance. “You were an angry kid. But that’s not your fault, kiddo—that’s your mom’s and my burden to carry for making you feel abandoned.” He met her unhappy gaze squarely and said with a firmness Finn hadn’t before heard from him, “We can’t undo the past, Magdalene. But we can take responsibility for it, and we’d sure like it if we could build a better relationship with you going forward. Do you think you could open your heart to that?”

Finn doubted anyone drew a breath while Mags pondered the question. Then she slowly nodded. “I guess I could try.”

Her parents audibly exhaled. Then Nancy actually laughed, and it transformed her, making her look years younger and worlds more approachable. He was helpless against smiling at her in return. Then he glanced at his watch.

And swore under his breath. “I hate to break this up,” he said, “but the clock is ticking down and we still need to find something to wear and get ready for our appointment.”

He decided to count it as a corner turned when Nancy didn’t argue.

* * *

J
OAQUIN
WAS
ON
the outskirts of Santa Rosa when his cell phone rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw the mercenary Palmer’s name and hovered his thumb over the red phone icon with its slashed-circle international No symbol. He’d failed in his mission and Munoz had ordered him back to the capital city. All the way back here he’d been fighting the urge to run in the other direction, fearful of what lay ahead for him.

Did he really want to further burden his day listening to the moron
yanqui
as well?

No. Yet he thumbed the green button all the same. “Palmer,” he said with admirable neutrality.

“Boss, Boss, I got me a bead on the woman and her American boy toy!”

“What?” He sat straighter in his seat, a rare joy suffusing him. He was saved? When Munoz had spent only the few seconds it took to bark at him over the phone to return to Santa Rosa
now
, he’d thought he was a dead man for sure for failing to complete the task he’d been assigned. But he had another chance! “Where?”

“I saw them entering the Hotel Almerante with shopping bags. Some older people who also had store bags went into the hotel in front of them but I couldn’t tell if they were together or just hitting the door at the same time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay to keep an eye on the joint—it’s sum-bitchin’ upscale, and first the doorman, then a
guardia
, rousted me. But I’m driving past as often as I dare, because that doorman’s got, like, fucking eagle eyes. With this bum leg, I won’t be much good to you for the takedown, but I can call up an associate if you’d like.”

“Do that. And, Palmer, excellent work. I will see that you’re paid a bonus if all goes well.” Disconnecting, he tossed the phone on the seat next to him.

And pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

* * *

“I
VERY
MUCH
dislike not being able to see for myself what, if anything, is being done,” Nancy said as they returned to the hotel after their appointment with the consulate. “And while I understand the reasoning behind not yet being able to go back to our apartment, protective custody for your father and me by those United States drug people seems extreme. I don’t understand why they’re even involved in El Tigre business in the first place.”

Mags was running on a real lean mix but she dug deep for patience. Because contrary to Finn’s warnings regarding the need to make their case quickly and concisely, they’d been met by not only a very accommodating ambassador, but also representatives of the US Drug Enforcement Administration eager to hear their stories. “Special Agent Morgan explained it to us,” she said to her mother. “The DEA works closely with countries who ask for their help. And because corruption in El Tigre’s police departments is fairly widespread, this country did precisely that. Your testimony may well put a good part of Munoz’s operations out of business—if not shut down them down entirely. So of course they want you someplace safe.”

“I’m so disappointed, though, that you’re going home when we’ve only now gotten you back.”

“I know, Mom,” she said gently, “but my bank account is running on fumes and I need to get my career back on track so I can pay my bills.”

Because she and Finn had no firsthand information from Munoz that he’d held her parents on his grow farm, the DEA had given them permission to go home. If Joaquin wasn’t brought down by the case against Munoz, they’d be brought back for a separate trial, but no one honestly expected that to happen. Seeing her mother’s disappointment now, however, she said, “I promise not to let so much time go by between visits—I’ll come down as often as I can afford. Plus you and Dad still get sabbaticals, right?”

Nancy nodded.

“Then you need to come up whenever you can and see what my life is like.”

She was still reeling from the knowledge that everything she’d believed about her parents’ reasons for sending her away had been wrong. The upside-down and inside-out kind of wrong. A wound she’d carried deep inside for what seemed like forever felt as if it might finally heal once and for all.

Yet she also felt guilty, because even accepting they’d tried to protect her, a bitter-edged resentment still lingered. They’d have better protected her by telling her their reasons, and should have done precisely that. She’d spent all these years guarding herself against further rejection because they’d kept silent over something that, had she known, would have spared her that—as well as saved her years of heartache. At the very least, knowing might have made her less stingy with her emotions over the years, perhaps even to a point where she’d have been open to the kind of genuine relationships other people shared.