same for the bike, though.”
The three of them looked at the crumpled motorcycle.
“I could probably pull the cycle out from underneath if you could back up the SUV.” He turned to Jorge. “What do you think?”
Jorge’s expression remained guarded. Miguel surrounded himself with smart people and Jorge was no exception, despite his frequent employment as Julia’s babysitter. He and Miguel were as close as brothers and had been ever since soon after they’d met at the University of Texas where they’d both been business majors.
The connection registered immediately. There was no such thing as a coincidence. What did it mean that this man was from Austin, too? Her earlier apprehension returned. What was going on?
Interrupting her thoughts, Jorge handed her the keys. “Back up the truck,” he ordered. “I’ll help him remove the motorcycle.”
He didn’t trust her to be alone with the man—not even for the short time it would take to reverse the SUV. Or was it vice versa? While considering, she hesitated for less than a second, but Jorge noticed regardless.
“Is there a problem?” he asked sharply.
“No,” she said. “Absolutely not. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt. Is it safe to do this? We could call a wrecker—”
“We’ll be fine,” the biker said with a slow smile, his eyes locking on hers. “Just fine. Don’t you worry.”
Once, when she’d been six years old, Julia had left the back door of their Mississippi home open and a rattler had slithered inside. When she’d seen the snake in the kitchen a few minutes later, she’d screamed so loudly the yardman had run into the house without even knocking. He’d compensated for his lapse in protocol by dispatching the unwanted guest.
Since her marriage, she’d often thought she’d let another snake into her life.
Suddenly Julia had the feeling she’d done it again.
THE TWO MEN YANKED the remains of the cycle from beneath the SUV, the Harley’s fender screeching a shrill protest against the pavement. They proceeded to gather up the bits and pieces scattered around the road and put them in a pile to one side.
“There’s a decent mechanic in town,” Guillermo said when they finished. “But I don’t know if he’s good enough to handle this.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands with it. “He’ll need parts from Bogota. If I were you, I’d start looking for another mode of transportation.”
The bodyguard’s expression was neutral, but Cruz caught the undercurrent of his words. “Good idea,” he said in an equally indifferent way. “I’d hate to be stuck here without a way out. Poor planning, you know?”
They exchanged another look, then Julia beeped the horn. Leaning through the open window, she called out. “Are you finished?”
Guillermo nodded and started toward the driver’s side of the SUV. Julia got into the passenger seat, and Cruz took the back by himself. Cruz could tell the arrangement made the bodyguard nervous but he held his tongue, started the vehicle and pulled it back onto the road.
“Skip the market,” Julia ordered Guillermo, “and go straight to Portia’s. We need to get Stan’s scrape cleaned up as soon as possible. You can drop us off there then go back and buy the supplies we need.”
“That’s not how we do it, Julia. Miguel won’t like it—”
“It’s how we’re going to do it today,” she replied. “Because Miguel wouldn’t like a lawsuit, either. You were driving way too fast or you would have been able to stop in time.” She shot a look over her shoulder at Cruz as if for confirmation. “I’m sure Stan doesn’t have plans to raise a fuss but he certainly has grounds to do so.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” Cruz answered in a deliberately lazy voice. “I’m not into the justice system myself. I think we oughta dump all the lawyers out to sea and settle our problems ourselves. I bet you agree with that philosophy, huh, Bill?” He reached over the seat and patted Guillermo’s shoulder in a friendly way. The touch was brief, but underneath his fingers, he felt the broad strap of a second holster. The body guard had two weapons, just as Cruz expected.
Behind the wheel, Guillermo grunted. Scattering children and dogs, old ladies and chickens, they wound their way through the narrow streets of San Isidro, a cloud of dust marking their passage. There were pockets of privilege and wealth that came close to resembling Miguel’s compound with its broadband Internet service and satellite telephones, but most of the city remained in the past. Cruz had been to Havana once and he couldn’t help but compare the two places.
There the clock had stopped when Fidel had taken over—the cars were straight from the fifties, few homes had televisions and even fewer had enough food for every member. Here in San Isidro, on the back streets anyway, time had stopped before then. The cars he saw were older and more beat-up and most of the homes had no electricity. Their definition of running water meant it was running in the street, not inside the homes.
They slowed before Portia Lauer’s home and Guillermo honked the horn. Under a red-tiled roof, white stucco walls gleamed in the bright sunshine while along the side of the house, rows of bougainvillea swayed in the breeze. In stark contrast to the street they’d just come down, the Englishwoman’s villa could have been featured in Architectural Digest.
Underneath the beauty, however, the same realities existed. Everyone had to get along and get by. A uniformed guard ran out and opened a set of large metal gates.
Clearly apprehensive, Julia Vandamme turned around in her seat to look at him. “How long have you been staying at Portia’s? She didn’t tell me she was expecting you.”
“She didn’t know I was coming. It was a surprise visit,” he said. “But I think she was happy to see me.” His laugh sounded rusty, even to his ears. “If she wasn’t, she put on a good act.”
“Portia’s always gracious,” Julia said, her eyes meeting his. “She’s a very special person. I think a lot of your aunt.”
Julia Vandamme didn’t know what was going on, but her message was obvious. If he had hurt her friend, Cruz could expect some trouble of his own. Although pointless, he was struck by her warning. Just looking at Julia, he would have made the assumption that she wasn’t someone who valued loyalty but he’d be mistaken. Maybe that explained her appeal to Meredith. That kind of devotion meant a lot to her.
The SUV pulled to a stop and Guillermo reached for the door handle.
“We’ll take it from here,” Julia ordered, stopping him with her voice. “There’s no need for you to bother.”
The bodyguard’s jaw twitched and he opened his mouth to protest, but Julia was already out of the vehicle. She slammed the door in his face, then turned to Cruz. He limped pitifully out of the car.
Julia reached out and touched his arm. “Can you walk? Should I go get help?”
“I’m fine,” he said stoically. “No problem.”
As if realizing what she’d done, Julia snatched her hand away from his arm and sent an uneasy glance toward the SUV. The bodyguard looked at them
