Born Into Love (14 page)

“Slippers. How’d he know my new gigantic size?”

“Luz, probably.” Mercedes passed the last package. “Hurry! I want to know what’s inside. It’s too heavy for clothes.” With the tissue paper discarded, Mercedes peeked in. “Your son’s first dishes.”

Annie played with the cup and saucer. “I love the blue pattern. Maybe Diego’s not so bad.” She held up a hand signaling caution. “But he’s weird.”

“That’s the spirit.” Mercedes hesitated. “Okay if I head to work for a couple of hours?”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I know. This morning I’m doing odds and ends with the curator.”

Annie plucked her medical necklace. “Don’t worry about me. I’m wired, so’s the house. I live in Fort Knox.”

Mercedes re-packed the baby’s dishes. Upstairs she wiped away tears. She sensed telling half-truths only laid the ground work for bigger lies.

* * *

Diego’s fabulous car, the helicopter, all the new perks felt routine. Luz drove. Mercedes sat in the passenger seat. Taking the train now seemed barbaric. “I’m spoiled.”

Luz diverted her gaze from the narrow road built so close to the dunes that on windy days the sand smothered the asphalt. “Do you love my boss?”

Luz had skipped a bushel of segues and polite conversation. Mercedes staggered around in her mind before answering. “Luz, I’m older than you are. Maybe you and your crowd hold nothing back, but I don’t discuss my personal feelings with third parties. I don’t mean to offend you, but your question is out of line.”

Luz’s gaze returned to the road. “Never mind.”

“You are a strange girl.”

“Everyone says that.”

Mercedes opted for a nap and that seemed to suit her driver. At the airport, Mercedes thanked her. Luz studied her as if seeing her for the first time.

“I hope you like surprises.”

No way was Mercedes going to ask for an explanation. If she were going to be surprised then she’d handle whatever whenever.

With such a rocky morning under her belt, Mercedes wondered what work would be like. Would Remy gnaw his way into the museum? And Diego, where was he?

The helicopter landed at the Pascuas. As the blades stopped, Mercedes’ cell jingled. She raced inside the lobby and picked up. “Hello?”

“Mercedes, it’s Annie. Guess what?”

Her sister sounded too happy for bad news. “Tell me.”

“The blood bank called. Dave’s a match.”

“Wonderful.”

“Maybe he can be a good father.”

“We can hope.” Mercedes hesitated to say more. The lab would analyze his donation searching for disease. But she didn’t want to mention that. She took a deep breath. “I’m glad. It’s a step in the right direction.”

“You’ve got him all wrong.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I’m going back to bed. Baby’s jumping.”

On the exhibit floor everyone had a polishing cloth in hand or a polishing machine under foot.

The curator handed her the VIP list. “The names with question marks need to confirm.”

“Why do they wait until last minute?”

“The glorious want to make sure all the other fabs are coming. Don’t want to injure their A-list position.”

“By the way, have they found that dog?”

“No. He probably made his way out just like he got in.”

Mercedes surveyed the gallery. It would be easy to hide in a museum. The curator wandered off and Mercedes headed for the office. A florist rushed onto the scene with bud roses and nearly tripped on an orange extension cord the size of a man’s arm.

Mercedes longed for the lab. Still, maybe talking to the would-be guests would keep her from worrying. And she needed to hear from Diego. What was his plan?

Mercedes settled behind the curator’s desk. The calls fell into strictly routine including the last on the list.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Teodoro. My name is Mercedes Thomas and I’m calling for the Pascuas Museum. We would like to know if you will attend the exhibit tonight.”

“Yes, Mercedes, my people have waited a very long time. Ages.”

“And will you bring a guest?”

“Yes. We want to be there to witness a night Diego will never forget.”

“I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative. See you soon.” She disconnected and came up with a plan of her own. If the stalking situation wasn’t settled, she’d call the police and let the mierda fall where it may. And even though she had to get ready for the gala, food came first.

The Irish bar and grill satisfied her need for comfort with its dim lights and dark green walls. She ordered a corned beef on rye with Russian dressing. It made everything taste better. She cut into the sandwich, ate a forkful of spectacularly soft and flavorful meat. Bliss, until Remy and his lizoid shadow filled the banquette trapping her between them.

Procteur pushed his hair off his forehead. “I’ve got something you need to see.”

She took a sip of water. “Not interested.”

“Show her.” His goon withdrew pictures from his breast pocket.

As much as touching anything that had been close to the viper’s body turned her stomach, curiosity overcame revulsion. The photos showed the pitcher, open, the top resting next to the vessel; bits of resin lay scattered near the base. She breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t broken it. She ached to know what they’d found inside, but would not give Remy the satisfaction of asking.

He slid closer. “You’re going to help us.”

“The pitcher belongs to Diego. It needs to be. . .”

Remy slammed the flat of his hand against the table jarring the plate and silverware. No customers sat near and the barkeep ignored the sound. Too many brawls?

“You’ll cooperate or sissy’s going to take a bad fall. Not like the one you had—yeah we had a good laugh—you’re a klutz. Could be clumsiness runs in the family.”

Mercedes understood. She and Annie were expendable. “How did you learn about the pitcher?”

“Bribery, blackmail, things of that sort.”

“Harm my sister and I’ll come after you.” Their laughter left her humiliated. She kicked Remy. He speared her with eyes colder than an Antarctic winter.

“Hate me all you like, but you’re going to help us.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? Like what it is I’m supposed to do?”

“Plans are still in flux. When we feel like telling you, you’ll know. For insurance sake I’ve got you and lover boy on video looking awe-struck at the pitcher.”

“A video?”

“Yeah.
I put a camera in the plant. Give me a hard time and I’ll say you’re the thief. You’ll be smeared and let’s not forget unless you play along, you’ll be dead.” He smirked. “After we fool around for a couple of very messy hours.”

“Diego will stop you.”

“Castilla’s gonna have problems of his own.”

“So you say, but he’s connected, he’s powerful and he won’t scare that easily. Exactly what are you after?”

“Treasure. Amazonian treasure.”

“Why involve me?”

“You’re the game changer. A means to an end plus you’ve got some art background, no criminal record and your late auntie’s museum connections will give us creditability on the black market where it counts.”

The realization hit her. “You’re going to rob a tomb.”

“Wrong.
We’re
going to rob a tomb.”

* * *

Diego
had mastered pretense because he had had a great deal of practice. Mercedes had much to learn. She tried to appear untroubled as they arrived at the exhibit, but Remy’s threats had cut into her sense of security and left, not just fear, but anger. They joined the enthusiastic museum president, the chairman and the director for drinks in the bar adjacent to the exhibition gallery. His love accepted a flute from the hovering white-jacketed server who also offered one to him.

“Not tonight.”

She sipped daintily from the delicate glass and scanned the attendees looking for Remy and his cohorts.

“The collection’s wonderful,” the president said bubbly as the champagne he drank. “The stylized animals and geometric patterns fascinate me every time.”

When they were alone, she tugged his sleeve. “I can’t settle down. I’ll be right back. Just going to touch up my lips.”

She returned minutes later, pale, shaken and wearing a false smile for the benefit of passing acquaintances.

“Remy caught me in the hall.” She paused to get her breath. “He said the pitcher contained tablets, maybe even a message. He told me to pack.”

“Never.”

“He’s not afraid of you and I’m not running. I’ve been bullied before. We can call the detective who investigated the theft.”

“No authorities.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t like the looks of that combo.”

He
followed her gaze to Remy and Teodoro. Procteur raised his hand in an insolent wave.

The importer
smoothed his straight black hair, the real architect behind the menace. Diego crossed the floor, keeping Mercedes behind him. Closer now he recognized in Teodoro the madness of his ancestor, the sorcerer who had arranged his sacrifice. Tala and Teodoro shared a bloodline.

Mercedes latched onto
Diego’s sleeve. “What’re you going to do?”

“We play by their rules now.”

“You mean no rules.”

“You must step away from me.” The tone of
his voice shocked her. Her mouth gaped open. Apprehension flickered in her eyes and he hated himself. “While we are here, they will do nothing. Unfortunately, I am equally bound by those rules.”

“I don’t understand anything.”

“They are dangerous but mortal.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Mortal? Aren’t we all?”

“Please. Leave me now. Refresh yourself at the canapé table.”

“No.”

“These are not men I want near you.” Tonight it fell to him to wage war. Thankfully she didn’t persist. She stomped away but he doubted her obedience would last.

Procteur did not worry
him. Diego crowded Remy and the treasure hunter took a step back. But Teodoro? Teodoro spoke, his voice tinged with a hiss.

“You should have killed Tala.”

Like his ancestor, this sorcerer nurtured evil. As for Tala, after the wash of centuries Diego could not remember her face. What had her tribe expected from a vampire?

Teodoro leaned closer. “For centuries we searched. Each generation continued the hunt.” He flicked lint from his sleeve. “Several times we almost cornered you, but by rejecting human blood, you tricked us. However, the internationally famous Diego Castilla, who returns his art to the homelands, well, he attracted my attention.
”

“Notice? I have no scent; the reaction to a potion of which I have many. They allow me to keep secrets from you and others.”

“Remy wants gold, but what do you want?”

“You.”

“Why involve Mercedes and her family? Revenge your people with my death if you can.”

Teodoro’s eyes shimmered with mania. “It is true I do not need wealth. Shrewd of you to figure that out. I seek something more precious.”

Before Diego turned to challenge Remy, he verified that his beloved had stayed away.

Remy joined the conversation. “Guess what? You’re going to find Tala’s village.” He gulped champagne. “Who made the tablets, you or your brother?”

Diego’s thoughts retreated into the past. Seeing Rodrigo with gold ingots, not tablets, laughing as he created a map. How had they gotten into the pitcher? Only one way--Tala had taken them from his brother’s corpse.

Remy’s upper lip curled. “Not going to tell? I suppose you’ve forgotten about the mummy you carried into the jungle?
” He licked his lips. “And the gems? Know what my collectors’ll pay?” He glanced at Teodoro perhaps trying to judge if he had told Diego too much.

“I recall no treasure.” Only a heavy mummy bundle. “Grave robbing is your trade. Nothing can make me revisit the site. It is you who will regret this evening.”

* * *

Why was Diego still talking to those monsters?
Mercedes pushed away from the wall. She’d join them. Cause a scene of epic proportions, teach them a lesson, see them in jail. She burned for justice.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Startled, Mercedes turned to find the curator at her side. “Why?”

“To thank you for keeping your cool with the break-in and Remy’s disgusting tactics.” She offered Mercedes a glass of wine. “Here. It’s unique. Imported.” She lowered her voice. “Not enough for everyone so this is strictly private.”

“Thanks.” Mercedes took a sip. “Not as sweet as I expected.”

Ms. Rodgers downed hers. “Drink. The more you have the better it tastes.”

Mercedes emptied her glass then grimaced. “It hasn’t improved. Whatever you do, don’t buy stock.”