The Collection (12 page)

Chapter 28

America helps the world. We should leave them in peace to live as they choose. We aren't the world police.

—Comment from the
Global Reporter
message board

A small dune buggy led them through town. When they reached the house on the top of the hill it wasn't the mansion Mia had expected. She thought her father's farmhouse was larger. They got out of the buggy, but Dalmy led Mia past the front door. They went to a side entrance Dalmy unlocked. It led right to a staircase. Riley hadn't predicted this part.

Mia climbed in front of Dalmy and at the top was a thin hallway. Four doors lined each side, and there was one at the end. Dalmy leaned over Mia and unlocked one of the doors. She opened it up to show a bathroom. Mia walked in first. Dalmy went to a cabinet and pulled out some towels.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” she said. “I'll find you something more suitable to wear. Soap and shampoo are in the shower. Ricky will be in the hall; if you need anything, just yell.”

“Thank you,” Mia said.

“Feel better,” Dalmy said.

Dalmy walked out through the bathroom door and Mia swore she heard the lock click shut. Mia walked over to the tub and turned on the shower. Next she searched the drawers, hoping to find a razor blade or any other type of weapon. Most of the drawers were empty. There was some makeup, a blow dryer, and cream hair remover. The closest thing to a weapon that she found was a toothbrush. Nothing was strong enough to hold Dalmy hostage with.

Mia let out a sigh of frustration. The steam from the shower filled the bathroom and Mia readied herself to bathe. If there was any silver lining it was the chance to get clean.

She took her time, making sure to assess every detail of her situation. Mia felt like she was living another person's life. The thought of impersonating a helpless girl in order to break two people out of a military base was absurd. Mia kept reminding herself she was more than capable and to keep calm. She shut off the water and dried herself off. When she stepped out of the shower there was a garment bag laid across the sink with a note.

I think you'll look perfect in this. If you're not too tired my father and I would love for you to join us for dinner. Be ready in an hour.

It was more of a command than a request. Mia was fine with that. She didn't want to waste more time pretending to sleep. If both of them were present it would be easier for Mia to make her move.

The short hair cut down Mia's blow-drying time. Once she was done with that she went through the drawers looking for makeup. She applied some light eyeliner and mascara. Mia put on some lip gloss and paused, staring at her reflection. Even with the short hair this act reminded her of her former self. The vain girl who looked in the mirror for hours. That girl was dead. Still, as she hung the garment bag on the shower rod and pulled the zipper down her breath almost caught in her throat. It was stunning. A short red dress that cinched at the waist with a flowing skirt. A layer of thin red chiffon would wrap around her neck, leaving her back exposed. A pair of red strappy heels were stuck in the corner. Mia slipped on the dress and loved the way the nice fabric felt against her skin. It was meant for a taller girl, but outside of that it was a perfect fit. Mia did a little spin and the skirt flared out. It was wonderful. Her concentration was broken by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Mia said.

The door creaked open and Dalmy stood in the doorway. She was wearing a baby-blue dress that matched Mia's in fineness.

“Red is a good color on you,” she said. “Ricky, come here. Doesn't Jeanette look beautiful?”

His head appeared on the other side of Dalmy's shoulder. He nodded and moved back. It was a split second, but Mia managed to notice Ricky's hand graze Dalmy's waist. This sign of affection was met with no objection from Dalmy. Ricky was more than a bodyguard. Mia filed that knowledge away.

“Are you ready?” Dalmy asked. “I hope you're not too tired.”

“I'm fine,” Mia said. “The last few days have left me so jittery I think I'll have a hard time sleeping anyway.”

“I'm sure you'll sleep like a newborn tonight,” Dalmy said.

She held out her hand and Mia grabbed ahold of it. The two walked down the steps. Dalmy dropped Mia's hand to unlock the door again. It only opened with a key from either side.

“I'm locked in?” Mia asked.

“Old house,” Dalmy said. “We never had the locks updated. This part was where the servants lived.”

The locks didn't look old. Mia stayed quiet as they rounded the outside. The ocean waves crashed along the coast next to them. Mia walked toward the edge and looked over. There was a road that no doubt led straight into the complex housing Andrew and Carter.

“It's dangerous over here,” Dalmy said.

“The ocean,” Mia said. “It's so pretty as the sun sets.”

“I thought you'd have a problem,” Dalmy said. “Since you drove your car over the cliff and all.”

Mia nodded and followed Dalmy back toward the house. Inside she was screaming at her screwup. Dalmy was no amateur.

They entered the front door and Dalmy led Mia into the first room. It was decorated in beautiful colors. Mia didn't pay much attention to the décor though; she needed to stay alert in case any possible weapon presented itself.

“Have a seat,” Dalmy said. “My father will join us in a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Mia said. “For your kindness.”

“I have some bad news,” Dalmy said. “We may have to deport you after all.”

“What? Why?” Mia said. She tried hard to show some tears.

“You're married,” Dalmy said. “If you weren't spoken for it wouldn't be a problem, but if we're caught housing an American bride we could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Please,” Mia said. “There must be something you can do.”

“There's one thing,” Dalmy said. “But I doubt you'd be interested.”

“Anything,” Mia said. “I'll do anything.”

Mia wasn't expecting the job offer so soon.

“If we were to hide you, it would cost us a lot of money and we'd be risking our lives,” Dalmy said. “How could you pay us back?”

“I can cook and clean,” Mia said.

“What about . . . entertain?” Dalmy asked.

“I'm not a good singer,” Mia said.

“You have other skills,” Dalmy said. “I'm sure the men in our town will appreciate them.”

This was happening too fast. Dalmy suspected something. Mia closed her eyes to think for a moment.

“Maybe someone can give me some lessons,” Mia said. “I can hone my voice.”

“What about your body?” Dalmy asked.

“I don't understand,” Mia said. “I can dance.”

“Maybe the men would pay just to spend an hour in your company,” Dalmy said. “Would that be all right with you?”

“Anything not to return to America,” Mia said, quickly adding, “I can talk for hours.”

“I think they'll pay quite a bit for a chance to
speak
with an American,” Dalmy said. “You're the only one in the town.”

An eager smile crossed Dalmy's face and her eyes glanced up and down Mia's figure.

“I can stay, then?” Mia asked.

Dalmy closed her lips but her smile remained. She wore a look of pure satisfaction.

“Yes,” Dalmy said. “I think we can work something out.”

A tall man walked into the room, breaking up the conversation. Dalmy stood to greet him and Mia did the same. He wore white knit pants and a blue shirt to match Dalmy.

“Jeanette, this is my father, Joseph Ruiz,” Dalmy said.

“Please sit, ladies,” he said.

Mia sat back down on the couch.

“Jeanette has agreed to join our team,” Dalmy said.

“Welcome aboard,” Joseph said. “No business talk tonight. This is a friendly visit. Dalmy told me your story. You have my deepest sympathies. I despise the way your country treats women.”

“Thank you for taking me in,” Mia said.

The two people she needed to free Carter and Andrew were right in front of her, and there wasn't a guard in sight. Mia wished badly that she had a weapon. Nobody was speaking. Mia didn't want them studying her movements.

“I didn't know the outside world was so different,” Mia said. “There's no Registry here?”

“No,” Joseph said. “If Dalmy ever finds someone who is her equal, it will be her choice to settle down. Of course, I still want some approval.”

“Our countries are so close; why are they so different?” Mia asked.

“We have religion, morals that your country doesn't have,” Dalmy said.

“What's religion?” Mia asked.

Dalmy coughed and Joseph smiled indulgently. Mia's question was legitimate; she'd never heard the term.

“It's not time for a theology lesson,” Dalmy said. “But that's why unmarried women aren't deported. If you had come down here before your ceremony there'd be no risk.”

“Let's go to the dining room,” Joseph said.

Mia was eager to move on. Eating meant silverware, which meant a knife, or at least something sharp to eat with. Dalmy whispered something in Joseph's ear and he chuckled. Dalmy led the way down the hall with Mia sandwiched in the middle.

They made their way into the dining room and took seats around the table. Mia was shocked that there was no cutlery next to the plates.

“It smells good,” Mia said. “What are we having?”

Someone entered the room carrying a tray. He was wearing a chef's uniform and stopped right behind Mia. He leaned over her and set three crispy rolls onto her plate.

“Flautas,” Dalmy said.

“I just use my hands?” Mia asked.

Dalmy picked up one of hers and took a bite. She grinned before chewing the food. Mia picked up her food and did the same. Another strikeout for the night. The conversation continued with talk about the local weather and other cuisines. Mia tried her best to look interested, all the while scanning the room for some weapon. It was useless; her plan was failing.

They finished eating and the plates were cleared away. Joseph rose from his chair; Dalmy and Mia did the same.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Joseph said.

“You as well,” Mia said, bowing her head.

“I thought we'd head down to the town,” Dalmy said. “I could get you acquainted with your new home, and maybe, if you feel up to it, you could start what we talked about before.”

“Talking with men?” Mia asked.

“Privately,” Dalmy said.

“I'm sure you'll be a natural,” Joseph said.

Mia's heart jumped into her throat. This wasn't on the schedule. Riley assumed they'd give her at least one night before they sent her to work. Mia's tongue caught in her throat. She was freezing up, about to give herself away and ruin everything. Joseph and Dalmy waited for a reaction, but Mia gave none. The con was over and Mia was in trouble.

Chapter 29

A female brain is far less developed than its male counterpart. It is nature's way of reinforcing American ideals.

—
American Gazette

Andrew's fist flew forward and the dummy fell back. He didn't feel any pain in his hand and he hit again. Sweat was dripping into his eyes, but he ignored the burn. Andrew didn't see the cushioned dummy. He saw an enemy, an enemy responsible for taking Mia away from him. He channeled his rage and threw his fist at the target again, this time remembering to follow through. He fell forward and a whistle blew.

“You're still fighting like a street urchin,” the sergeant said.

Taking a couple breaths, Andrew felt a sting in his hand. He looked down to see a bit of blood on his knuckles.

“Watch Private Rowe,” the sergeant said.

Andrew walked over to Carter and the sergeant blew his whistle. The blond man attacked the dummy's head with the inside of his forearm, then he lifted his leg and kicked the lower section. Carter did have a more formal style, but there was a certain passion missing. Andrew didn't think his blows would cause any real damage.

“Private Rowe is anticipating defenses,” the sergeant said. “You are hitting aimlessly as if your opponent is already dead.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” Andrew said. He kept his chin up and spoke in a monotone voice, just like a real soldier.

“That's enough, Private Rowe,” the sergeant said. “Private Simpson, your turn.”

Andrew walked back over toward his dummy. He waited for the sergeant's whistle to blow. He stared at the dummy and watched as it transformed into an American, one decorated in the colors of his home. The whistle blew and Andrew began his attack, pretending the soldier was fighting back. An image of Mia flashed before his eyes and he kicked hard. He waited before attacking again and then visualized her face once more, this time attacking with his fist. He breathed heavily and waited again. He concentrated on her face and an image of her in his arms came to mind. He lifted his leg again and with a powerful kick knocked the dummy off its stand.

Pain flooded Andrew's head. The strange noises returned and he needed to crouch down. Mia in his arms? That never happened. The pain intensified.

“Private Rowe, get the doctor,” the sergeant said.

Andrew didn't know whether to fight through the pain to see the memory or block it out. Before he had the chance to decide the doctor was kneeling next to him, pricking his arm with another injection. The pain subsided.

“You still have some lasting effects from your trauma,” the doctor said.

“A loud noise,” Andrew said. “It hurts.”

“You'll be all right,” the doctor said.

He stood up and pulled Andrew to his feet. Carter stood next to the sergeant with no sign of concern on his face.

“How are you doing, Private Rowe?” the doctor asked. “Any similar pain?”

“No, sir,” Carter said.

“Well, you were only sick for three days,” the doctor said. “Private Simpson faced two weeks of the illness. Do you know what brought on the spell this time?”

Just like every time this happened, Andrew shook his head. The last thing he remembered was fighting the dummy. Everything else was on the cloudy side. He glanced over at his destroyed training doll and stopped the smile from appearing on his lips.

“Good work, Private,” the sergeant said. “Good work, both of you. Hit the showers and get some sleep.”

The doctor and sergeant left the training room. Andrew started to follow them, but Carter remained.

“Are you coming?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Carter said. “I want to train longer tonight.”

Andrew spun around and picked up his broken dummy.

“If you're staying, I'm staying,” Andrew said. “We're a team.”

“In memory of our families,” Carter said.

“In memory of our families,” Andrew repeated.

Carter nodded his head and went back to practicing. Andrew was glad they were staying late tonight. The harder he trained, the better he could honor Mia's memory.