KICK ASS: A Boxed Set (26 page)

With her eyes trained over the sight of her gun, Marisela winced, but waited for an opening. A split second. One clear shot. She tuned out Jessica’s ear-splitting pleas for help.

Beyond her concentration, she heard the deafening beat of helicopter blades. The cavalry had arrived, but could do no more than hover until Jessica was out of the line of fire.

Or so she thought. Somewhere on the other side of the truck, shots were fired, rapid, loud, and incessant until an explosion rent the air. The sound and vibration threw the last kidnapper off balance. He loosened his death grip on Jessica. She stomped backward with her spiky heel, slicing into the man’s ankle. He howled and she answered by throwing her head back, slamming his chin with the full force of her skull. He staggered. She broke free and dove to the ground.

The man shook as Marisela’s bullets pumped into him. Jessica crawled out of the way before his bloody body crumbled to the ground.

The helicopters swirled over them. Marisela looked around. Max was gone.

Marisela ran to Jessica, keeping her body low to the ground, her gun leveled ahead of her in case there was another kidnapper unaccounted for, one she hadn’t seen in the mad chaos of the gunfight. Her face still flat to the ground, Jessica yelped when Marisela touched her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Jessica curled against Marisela’s body, dragging her legs up close to her stomach and burying her head against Marisela’s chest. She didn’t answer, but simply wept, shaking as if the eighty-degree temperature had suddenly dropped below zero. Marisela forgot about the hovering helicopters, the second and third explosions of the boat burning on the other side of the truck, the whine of sirens moving closer and tucked her chin over Jessica’s head, which was already beginning to swell. She touched the spot gently and made hushing noises, speaking in soft tones, assuring the young girl that she would be fine.

“You did great,
mija
. You fought them. You followed your instincts and that’s why you’re alive. Your father will be so proud of you.”

Jessica shook her head, whimpered, but didn’t reply. Marisela tried to steel herself against the wash of emotional connection to the girl, but she failed. Jessica, so spoiled, so coddled, had fought for her life—crudely, but she was still breathing. Marisela knew all too well what the fear of death smelled like, tasted like. It rattled the soul. And worst of all, she knew the shaking never really stopped.

* * *

Marisela accepted the drink from Alfredo and without a single glance to determine the contents, threw back her head and swallowed. She slammed the shot glass down on the table in front of her, and by the time the kick of the distilled fire had subsided and her eyesight cleared, the drink had been refilled.

From behind her, Frankie brushed his palm across her back. She turned and scrutinized his expression, a confounding mix of concern and something—if she didn’t know better—she’d identify as fear. Didn’t make sense. Now that Jessica had been retrieved and Marisela had played a key role in her rescue, the Toscas were even safer than before. Unless, of course, Perez decided to blame the newcomers for the abduction. The logic wasn’t solid, but what frantic father didn’t entertain conspiracy theories from time to time? And the bottom line remained—they weren’t who they were claiming to be.

Javier Perez marched into the living room surrounded by a half-dozen of his top security men and lieutenants, all dressed in impeccable dark suits that clashed with both the climate and the casual elegance of the living room. Her host practically threw his body into the chair across from Marisela and with a violent wave of his hand, sent Alfredo and his whiskey away.

“How’s Jessica?” Marisela asked.

Perez glanced away and dropped his hand limply to his side. “She’s upset. The doctor wanted to give her something, but she refuses.”

Frankie squeezed Marisela’s shoulders, a fortified show of support. She ached to lose herself in his touch, and fought to stay focused. On Jessica. On the mission.

“She’ll be okay then?”

Javier glanced soulfully toward his daughter’s room. Knowing teenaged girls the way Marisela did, having been one herself once, she figured Perez had been banished from his daughter’s presence. Not because she was angry or blamed him for the terror she’d experienced today—though that could be the case—but most likely because Jessica didn’t want to suffer a meltdown in front of the man who loved her so much, he’d kill for her.

“Her legs hurt from the fall off the truck,” he continued. “She’s got a bump on the back of her head. Otherwise, she’ll recover quickly.”

Marisela toyed with her empty glass, grateful to have something in her hands. “She was brave and strong,
señor
. You should be proud.”

He speared his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath. “How can I be proud when I am supposed to protect her? She’s so young. So frightened. I’ve been very careful,
señora
, to see that my daughter was never dragged into my world. Today, she experienced all the ugliness I’ve sheltered her from for seventeen years.”

Marisela forced herself to relax back into the couch. Frankie didn’t take his hands off her and for this, she was glad. She couldn’t help wondering if Perez suspected she and Frankie had been somehow involved in the kidnapping, but figured if he did, they’d both be dead by now. If nothing else, she’d earned his trust by saving his daughter. And the situation could have turned out so much worse.

Now more than ever, Marisela wanted this case completed.

She wanted Jessica out of here, safe in the United States where men wouldn’t abduct her out of a boutique dressing room and spirit her off to God knew where to do God knew what, all on account of her father and his illegal business dealings.

“Who did this?” Marisela asked.

Javier glanced at the men that surrounded him, each one more silent and still than the other. Like beaten dogs, cowering. They clearly had no clue who orchestrated the kidnapping—and for their ignorance, they’d recently incurred their boss’s wrath.

“I do not know. The police will identify the bodies, but there is no indication they are tied to any of my known enemies.”

“What about this new threat? The one you’ve hired Dolores and me to handle?” Frankie asked, moving around the couch and sliding onto the leather cushion beside her.

Perez shook his head. “We have no proof they are anywhere near this island. Stealing a shipment and stealing my child are two different things.”

“But you have to suspect someone,” Frankie insisted. “Has anyone tried to take your daughter before?”

With a single-worded order, the room cleared.

“I am reluctant to speak of my personal life to business associates, but since you risked your life today to save my daughter, I believe I can share my suspicions with you. I do not believe the attempt to kidnap my daughter is related to my profession. There’s hardly been time for Ochoa’s men to retaliate, especially since I haven’t yet made it known that his death was on my order. And the three men at the marina—no one recognized them.”

Marisela watched Perez closely, alert to any sign that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Is that so unusual? Your enemies come from around the world. How could you possibly know them all?”

“I can’t, but these men were not professionals. The plan was weak at best, as if thrown together at the last minute. Opportunistic. They were sitting ducks in that truck once they reached the pier. They did not anticipate resistance.”

“They nearly succeeded. You can’t ignore that,” Marisela countered.

“I have no intention of ignoring that I almost lost my daughter today,
señora
, “he snapped. “Security has been doubled on the island and for the time being, Jessica will remain on
Isla de Piratas
, even when school is back in session next week. She’ll take her lessons here. I won’t risk losing her.”

Frankie broke in, his voice calm and deep. “You can’t keep her prisoner forever. She’s nearly an adult. She’ll soon make her own choices,
¿verdad?
”

Javier sat forward, his hands folded loosely in his lap. “You both tell me things about my daughter that I already know. Can you tell me anything I do not—some wisdom you’ve learned during your extensive stay on my island?”

None of his sarcasm was lost on Marisela and she displayed the right amount of contrite apology in the tone of her voice and tilt of her head. “I’m sorry,
Señor
Perez. We shouldn’t presume.

Javier nodded, then waved her apology away. “No, you shouldn’t, but I’m honored that you do. Obviously, you care about my child.”

Marisela crossed her legs, trying to look casual, trying not to appear as if she cared too much. “She’s a special girl. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but she reminds me of myself, when I was her age. Frivolous, but smart. Lonely. Desperate for her father’s approval.”

Javier shook his head, but Marisela could see his belief in his sad eyes.

“
Señor
,” Frankie said, “who would have something to gain from taking her? To date, you are the most powerful arms dealer in this part of the world. Antagonizing you will not weaken your power. Your enemies would know this. At this point, all but Ochoa are working to get into your good graces.”

“
¡Exactamente, Rogelio!
Only one person would be so uncaring about Jessica’s safety,” Javier answered, disgust thick in his tone. “I’ve known ruthless people in my lifetime, but even you in your profession have never met anyone as cold and cruel as the person I suspect.”

“And that is?” Frankie asked.

Perez grabbed the decanter of whiskey, poured a glassful, and downed the amber liquid in one choking swallow. “Her mother.”

Marisela had to remember to act surprised. “Her mother is alive?” she asked, her voice halting. “I just assumed…”

“Yes, she’s alive. She’s
Americana
, lives in Boston. Elise Barton-Ryce, socialite and professional bitch. She likes people to think she has a lot of money, a lot of class, when in reality, she has neither.”

Perez stood and refilled his glass again, glancing through the archway that separated the living room where they conversed from the hallway that led to Jessica’s room. He undoubtedly did not want his daughter to overhear this discussion.

“I don’t understand,
señor
. She doesn’t have money?” Frankie asked. “Then how could she pay someone to take your daughter?”

Perez glanced down the hall before he answered. “She has enough for
chapuceros
like the ones you encountered today. Her trust fund would give her that. But she has expensive tastes and my sources tell me her financial resources are limited. And for all her faults—and believe me, she has many—I doubt she has adequate contacts to find anyone better than she did.”

Well, he was wrong there. Not that Marisela was going to point that out.

“Why would she try and kidnap her own daughter?”

“I don’t allow her access to Jessica. She got pregnant by accident, I assure you. She was disgusted by her condition.”

“Why didn’t she have an abortion?” Marisela asked.

Javier shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. She’s Catholic, but I doubt God has any influence over her. I can only thank
El Señor
that she didn’t, because now my daughter is with me, where she belongs.”

Marisela shifted forward. She’d never trusted the woman, and here was her chance to find out the scoop from someone who really knew Elise, even briefly—even if he had a clear bias against her.

“Maybe she really wanted the baby, but was too proud to let you know.”

Javier spit on the floor, then made a gesture Marisela didn’t recognize, but could easily interpret nonetheless.

“Or maybe not,” she mumbled.

“Believe me,
señora
, there is not a maternal bone in that woman’s body. I went to Boston when Jessica was born. I only had to watch Elise for a few days after she returned home from the hospital to know my daughter would not receive the care and supervision she deserved. Nannies and servants! That is not how you raise a child!”

Marisela and Frankie exchanged a look, but said nothing more. They knew the rest of the story. Javier took the child and so far as Marisela could see, had done a damned good job of raising her. He’d clearly had help, but Marisela had seen Jessica and Javier together. There was no stiff distance dividing them, just the to-be-expected high emotions of a teenaged daughter on the verge of womanhood and a father who wanted to keep her safe.

“Has this woman tried to take her before?” Frankie asked.

Javier shook his head, his nostrils flaring as he paced from the doorway.

“She never lifted a finger to get Jessica back, nor did she ever contact me, ask me for a visit. She wrote to Jessica once, asking her never to contact her, but I intercepted the letter. She didn’t care about her child. She never cared.”

“Then why would she care now?”

Marisela watched Javier stalk around the room like a caged animal. The veins in his neck and temples engorged as his muscles tightened. And yet, his voice was an even whisper when he finally spoke again. “Trust me, she has her reasons.”

He knew something—something he wasn’t willing to share.

“Then take care of her,” Frankie suggested, crossing one leg casually on the other. A subtle change in his attitude drew Marisela’s attention to his body language, to the lean cut of his slacks and the sharp polish and tapered heel on his ankle boots. From the grim line on his mouth to the square set of his shoulders, Frankie oozed cold intentions.

They were, after all, killers.

“You would do this?” Javier asked.

Marisela adopted Frankie’s icy mien. Dolores and Rogelio wouldn’t hesitate to offer this solution. The fact that Javier Perez didn’t smile conspiratorially or jump on the opportunity cut like a hot knife through Marisela’s heart. He was not the man she expected him to be when she’d signed on to the mission. Then again, how good or bad he was as a man or as a father shouldn’t matter. She had a job to do. She had to keep her eyes on the prize.