A Man to Remember (18 page)

"Too risky."

"These people aren't risky. They're fun. They're here because it's beautiful and exciting."

"We've got to get out of here, Alyse. You just don't understand."

"It would be a good place to build a hotel, don't you think? Then you'd have plenty to do and we could live here all the time."

He smiled at her. Her blue eyes sparkled with the glow of a woman in love. He'd seen that look before, and he hated to see it in Alyse. She deserved better. He was a difficult man for anyone to love.

The next morning, he decided, was the limit. They had to leave. He'd get a water pump if he had to steal it. "I'm going to check on that damned water pump. We've been here too long as it is."

"I'll go with you." Alyse grabbed her purse and followed him.

The Mexican shopkeeper shrugged and shook his head when he saw them approach, even before Jake had a chance to ask.

"When is it supposed to arrive?"

"Ah, señor. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day."

Jake pressed his lips together in frustration but said nothing. He and Alyse walked out on the street and were immediately surrounded by policemen.

"Name, please."

"Jake Bronson."

"Mexican citizen?"

"American."

"You are registered at the hotel as Jake Skye."

"That's to protect the lady," Jake answered, and nodded toward Alyse, who had been separated from him and was also surrounded by uniformed men.

"Passport, please. What are you doing here in Cabo San Lucas?"

"On vacation."

"Have you ever heard of Silvio Juarez?"

Jake's brown eyes darted to Alyse and back to the official. "No."

"We have reason to believe you know Silvio Juarez. You are under arrest until further notice."

Alyse gasped. "What? What is the meaning of this? We're American citizens!"

She was shoved aside while hands roughly searched Jake's entire body. The gun! Immediately she thought of the weapon, for she knew he had it somewhere. Yet she hadn't seen it in days. Where was it? On him? Apparently not. Thank God the police didn't find a gun. They yanked Jake's arms behind him and clamped handcuffs on him. They were rough with him, and she could tell he was in pain. But she could do nothing.

Instantly an old black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb, and amid rapid Spanish, which Alyse couldn't understand, they shoved Jake inside the back seat.

He leaned forward and shouted something at her.

Alyse clambered to get closer to him. "What? Jake! What?"

"Don't tell anyone about this! Don't do anything! Just go home!"

"I'll help you, Jake!" She tried to clutch at him but was pushed aside.

"Don't do anything, dammit! Just go home and forget me! I don't need your help!"

Suddenly a brown hand shoved him flat against the seat, and the black sedan took off down the street.

Horrified, Alyse watched as they drove Jake away. Arrested in a foreign country! She'd never felt so helpless in her life.

Ignoring Jake's ridiculous orders to forget him and go home, she turned immediately to the onlooker next to her. "Where is the jail? Donde es la carcel?"

CHAPTER TWELVE

"This is outrageous! You can't just pick up an American citizen off the street and throw him in jail! He's an innocent man! Doesn't that mean anything to you? What's the charge?" Alyse leaned over a rickety wooden counter, her voice shrill and high-strung.

Behind the counter was a picture of utter confusion. Men ran back and forth between the rear of the building, where the jail cells apparently were, and the front office. Uniformed policemen huddled together and talked in rapid-fire Spanish on the phone. And when they weren't talking on it, the phone was ringing.

Then they trouped, en masse, to the rear again, leaving only one chubby Sergeant Gomez to man the front desk. Alyse was frightened and angry and felt as though she were losing control of her emotions. She wanted to stand in the middle of the floor and scream, "Tell me what's going on here!" But she knew that wouldn't help Jake.

Helping him was her primary goal even if he didn't think he wanted her help. He needed her to be calm above all. After all, he was locked up and she was on the outside. She was his only ally in this touristy, remote town in Mexico.

"Por favor, somebody help me. Somebody talk to me."

Finally the sergeant turned to her. "Please, lady, be quiet and wait. Someone will answer your questions later."

"Just tell me this. What is the charge against Jake Bronson?"

"No se. I don't know."

"I can vouch for him. He has been with me the whole time. I'll swear to it."

"It will not help."

"Then tell me what you suspect he's done."

Sergeant Gomez looked at her impatiently.

"No se."

"How long before I can see him?"

"No se. We are very busy here, lady."

Alyse pounded a fist impotently on the counter. "Well, who knows anything around here? Let me talk to the one in charge!"

"I cannot do that. El capitan is busy. You will have to wait."

Alyse felt close to tears. "Please let me see Mr. Bronson for just a few minutes. I would like to talk to him."

"You will have to wait for that. Maybe later."

"I'll have my lawyer look into this." Alyse drew herself up and squared her shoulders. Her tone was purposely arrogant and authoritative.

Maybe if they thought they were offending a pushy American, they would change their minds.

However, the policeman shrugged. "Your lawyer will have to wait also."

"Oh! You're impossible!" Alyse took a seat on the hard wooden bench and watched the melee around her. Apparently Jake was the most important prisoner they'd encountered in a long time, and they weren't sure what to do about him. Excitement and confusion prevailed.

She waited and watched while men came and went, repeated phone calls were made, and directives were barked impatiently. Hours went by, and still, she waited. Occasionally she asked someone if she could see the prisoner, but the answer was always the same. "I don't know. Wait until later."

Alyse thought she'd scream if she was told to wait again. Eventually, though, she out-waited the confusion. When there were only two guards left in the office, she approached the counter with her best smile.

"Please, señores, could I please see Jake Bronson now?"

The heavyset Sergeant Gomez gave the thin one at the desk a questioning glance. Apparently the thin one was in charge at the moment. He shook his head negatively. The sergeant gave her a helpless shrug.

Alyse's heart sank, and to keep from crying, she walked outside on the porch. The afternoon air was hot and breezeless. Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she tried to decide what to do. She could tell the other Americans connected with the sailing regatta, the ones who'd invited them to the party last night. They might be able to help. Or she could call her family lawyer in San Diego. But after what Jake had yelled at her from the police car, she needed to consult him first. There were still too many unanswered questions about the whole situation.

His warnings haunted and puzzled her. Why would he warn her to do nothing and tell no one? Obviously he would need support and assistance getting out of this place, so why had he ordered her to leave?

She checked her watch. It was after two o'clock, siesta time, and the streets were practically empty. Most of the shops were closed until later in the day, when it was cooler. Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn't eaten since the meager breakfast with Jake. He probably hadn't eaten either. She certainly hadn't seen any trays of food being delivered to the prisoners.

Just as she was thinking of bringing Jake a sandwich or a taco, a beautiful Mexican woman approached Alyse. She smiled cheerfully and tossed her long dark curls. "Buenos dias." Using a mixture of broken English, Spanish, and hand signals, she indicated that she wanted to speak to Sergeant Gomez, the policeman on duty.

"I'll be glad to tell him you're here. Let me see what I can do," Alyse said generously. "Como se llama?"

"Carmen." The woman's dark eyes flashed toward the jail office, then toward the street.

Alyse smiled at the woman, then slipped inside the jail office. She motioned to Sergeant Gomez. Thankfully the thin officer was dozing at the desk in the stifling heat of the afternoon. "A young lady waits on the porch to see you, Sergeant. She is very pretty. Her name is Carmen. She would like to talk to you outside, in private."

"Carmen, eh?" Gomez's chubby face perked into a smile. "Ah si! Gracias."

"Uh, señor, please, may I talk to the prisoner for just a few minutes? You understand, I'm sure." Alyse nodded toward the porch. "Just for the little time that you talk to Carmen, I'd like to see him. He's my fiancée." She clutched her heart and gave him a woeful expression.

Sergeant Gomez looked at his dozing partner, then back to Alyse. She looked so innocent and winsome, who could deny her appeal for this one simple request? It was stuffy in the cramped jail office, and a brief respite seemed a small favor. He nodded once and made a motion to be quiet. They tiptoed past the sleeping guard and through the heavy wooden door that led to the rear of the building. The sergeant unlocked a barred door, then hurried outside, leaving Alyse to find her own way to Jake.

Without hesitation she hurried down the narrow hallway of cells. The place reminded her of something out of the old west. Jake was in a middle cell, the only prisoner. His long form stretched out on a bunk, an arm flung over his eyes, he was apparently asleep.

"Jake!" she whispered loudly. "Jake! Wake up!"

He roused with a jerk and swung his feet over the narrow bed. When he recognized her, his expression changed. "Dammit, Alyse. You shouldn't be here!"

She gasped at the sight of him and clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle the cry of agony that rose in her throat. "Oh, my God, Jake! What have they done to you?" One eye was swollen shut, and a tiny trickle of blood marked a cut on his cheek. His beard was gone, and several bloody nicks dotted his chin and jaw line.

"We just had a little disagreement," he mumbled, and shuffled across the concrete floor to greet her. "We understand each other now, though. Neither of us is willing to give an inch."

"About what?" She reached through the bars and clutched his hand. "Oh, Jake, they shaved your beard! Why?"

"They wanted to see the real me."

"What. . . what is this all about, Jake?"

"Just a little misunderstanding. I'll be out of here in no time, Alyse. Meantime, you —"

"Meantime, I'm calling our lawyer! Why, I won't stand for this kind of treatment!"

"No! No, don't do that, Alyse." His voice was harsh, and his dark eyes commanded her. "Please. Listen to me. I don't want you involved in this any more than you already are. This is too dangerous. If you really want to help me, you'll do as I say."

"Anything, Jake." She clutched him with both hands through the bars.

"Do they have the jewelry box?"

"No, of course not. It's in the hotel room where you decided to hide it. I'm sure it's still safe."

"Okay, now listen carefully. Take the box, and fly out tonight."

"Without you? You can't possibly expect me to leave you to rot in this jail!"

He gripped her arms through the bars. "You must, Alyse. This is what I want you to do. Take the box, and fly to San Diego tonight or as soon as you can get out of here. When you reach San Diego, there is someone you must contact. He — and only he—will be able to help me. You must not tell anyone else about this. It's imperative. Do you understand?"

Alyse nodded numbly, confused but willing to listen.

Jake continued in a low voice. "The man is James Hugo. Tell him everything that has happened here—everything—and that you have the box of jewels. James will arrange to get the box from you, and he'll know what to do from there. And don't worry about me. James will get me out of here in a few days."

"Oh, Jake, I can't —"

He shook her slightly. "Yes, Alyse you must. If you want to help me, this is the only way. Now go!"

"I just can't leave you here, Jake." She fought stinging tears.

"This is something out of both our hands, Alyse. Now don't worry about the Skye Command. We'll get it out later. I'll take care of that. I promise."

"I'm not worried about the boat. I'm worried about leaving you here. This is the most absurd thing I've ever heard. This place is awful."

"One more thing, Alyse. The gun."

Her eyes grew round and she repeated the dread words in a whisper. "The gun?"

"It's hidden on the boat, in the bilge, next to the engine. Get it, and toss it in the bay as soon as possible! A weapon could implicate you, and I don't want that. They must not find it, so get rid of it. Okay?"