Secret Worlds (365 page)

“No, Lahash. It was you. It was
all
you.” Raphael’s face reddened as he pressed Lash into the wall, causing it to crack. “You interfered with her role and challenged her authority as archangel. All missions are given for a purpose and should be followed accordingly. The girl was not meant to survive the accident.”

“Gabrielle”—he spat her name as if it were something bitter—“was waiting for an opportunity to get me kicked out. She hates me.”

“That is not true.”

He scowled. “She does. You’re just too blind to see it.”

Raphael closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His anger was not helping Lash to see reason; it was doing the opposite.

“I know you two are not on the best terms.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lash muttered.

Raphael ignored him and continued. “She has everyone’s best interest at heart, including yours. I’m sure of it.” He released his hold and stepped away. “You were reckless, disregarding those around you. I do not understand this kind of behavior from you.”

Lash sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t see the point. Why do we bother with what we do? People will do whatever they want to, anyway. Like Megan. She’ll probably be high again within the hour.”

“That’s the problem with you, Lahash. You have lost faith.”

“Faith?” Lash snatched a remote control from the nightstand and turned on the television, flipping through the various channels, pausing a moment between each tap of the button. His jaw clenched as he scowled at each image that flashed across the screen: men covered in blood, bodies lying on a dirt road, and women shrouded in black, crying out in anguish; a destroyed building with smoke and ash whirling in the air, and women and children spilling out of it, covered in ash; a dark-skinned little boy, no more than four years old, dressed in a pair of muddied shorts, his stomach swollen from hunger and face blank as he stood alone on the side of a road.

He stopped at a channel that displayed a group of women primping and dressing toddlers to look like high-class hookers with the intent of winning a beauty pageant.

Lash threw the remote, shattering the screen. “Is
that
what you want me to have faith in? How can I put faith in
them
?”

Raphael looked to the cracked television, his eyes glistening. “Lash, do you not think that I have felt the same way you do? I, too, have struggled with placing my faith in people, especially when it seems as though no one cares for anyone else but themselves.” Raphael placed a hand on his shoulder. “Michael has agreed to give you one more chance. He will allow your return if you prove your devotion and faith.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Lash asked, feigning disinterest. The wall he had built around himself, to protect him from getting hurt, was in full force.

“You can’t fool me. I know you want to return.”

Shit. He should have known that Raphael would see right through him.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

Relief flashed in Raphael’s eyes, and he let out a breath. He took out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “This is the location and the photo of your next assignment.”

Lash sighed as he ripped the envelope open and took out a card. “Naomi Duran,” he read. “Duran. Wait, is she related to Javier Duran?”

Raphael opened his mouth then closed it. Lash could tell there was something important he wanted to tell him, but it looked as though there was also something holding him back.

“All I can tell you is that it is of vital importance that you keep her safe,” Raphael said.

Lash cursed under his breath. They weren’t going to make it easy for him. He flipped over the card; on the reverse, a pretty young woman with wide, pale blue eyes looked back at him. The room became still as he studied the photo. He glanced up and found Raphael leaning toward him expectantly.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Raphael diverted his eyes. He walked to the sole window in the room and pulled the curtain back. “Take another look. If you need a better quality photo, I can acquire one for you.”

Lash peered at Raphael suspiciously. He was acting strange. Lash glanced down at the photo again. There was something familiar about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He traced a finger over her full red lips. He couldn’t have been assigned to her in the past; he would’ve remembered someone who looked like her. “The photo is fine. So, all I have to do is keep her safe. From what?”

Raphael glanced out the dirty window and then tilted his head as if listening for something. “Let’s make this quick,” he said and marched up to Lash. He placed his hands against Lash’s temples, and a vision of Naomi appeared in his mind.

“What the … is she trying to get herself killed?” Lash yelled.

Raphael withdrew his hand

“You can’t just show me that and run,” Lash said.

“I shouldn’t have shown you that at all.” Raphael’s face lined with worry as he walked out.

Lash ran into the hallway. “Wait! Will Michael at least let me have all my powers back?”

Raphael continued to walk, his image fading with each step he took. “No. You must do this on your own.” With those final words, he vanished.

Jane wiped her sweaty hands on the hem of her black skirt. She looked out of the tinted window of the Mercedes at the small cluster of people gathered around the closed casket. “This is wrong, Luke. I shouldn’t be here.”

Luke clicked off his phone and patted Jane’s hand. “We’ve discussed this. It would be worse if you didn’t give the family your condolences for their loss,” he said. “You’re perfectly safe. Sal will be right behind you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said. The last thing she needed was to intimidate the family with Sal’s presence. “Because of me, the poor man is dead. The last person they want to see is me.”

“It was ruled an accident,” he pointed out.

“The man is
dead
.” She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. Now was not the time to get another migraine. “I wasn’t paying attention to the road and because of that a man lost his life.”

Luke took her hand and gave her an aspirin. “You were not at fault.” He handed her a bottle of water. “One of my sources on the investigation told me that there was alcohol in his system.”

“I’m sure they would’ve found that in mine too if they had bothered to check.” Jane popped the pill in her mouth and turned her attention back to the funeral. A small, elderly woman, probably the man’s mother, leaned against a young man and cried into his chest.

“You have Sal’s quick thinking to thank for that.” Luke turned to the sound of crunching rocks as a news van pulled up next to the car. “Good. They’re here.”

“You called the media?” Jane gasped. “Unbelievable.”

“Look, Jane. We can’t take any chances with this incident tarnishing your impeccable reputation.” Luke tapped the back of the driver’s seat. “She’s ready,” he said to Sal.

“I’d rather do this in private.” She loathed the thought of having her apologies broadcasted on the evening news.

“Your run for political office affects more than you,” Luke said adamantly. “Think of all the manpower and money that went into making you who you are today. You owe it to the party.”

As much as Jane hated to admit it, he was right; too many people relied on her and in the game of politics, image was everything.

Luke looked down at his watch. “It’ll only be a few minutes. You have the Houston Children’s Hospital fundraiser downtown in an hour.”

Jane’s stomach fluttered. She couldn’t think about leaving this poor family and then heading straight to a fundraiser where she would be giving her speech on the importance of a community supporting each other in times of need. She felt like such a fraud.

The door opened, and Sal extended his hand, waiting. She sighed as she placed her hand into his and stepped out. As they walked toward the gathering, she could feel their eyes looking at her curiously. She kept her distance and waited for the appropriate time to approach the Durans. She couldn’t help but think back to the little boy, Javier, who’d sat behind her on that fateful day when her flight from Los Angeles had gone down, killing everyone except for the two of them.

When she’d discovered that the man she crashed into was named Javier Duran, she’d had Luke check his background. The chances of him being the same Javier she‘d met many years ago were slim, but she couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he was the same person. She’d been relieved when Luke had told her he wasn’t but saddened to learn that the Javier from the plane had died years ago from cancer.

“Senator.” Sal touched her elbow and led her closer to the gathering.

Jane looked at the news crew and pressed her lips to a thin line.
The money shot
, she thought.
Make sure you get the poster child for the American Federation Party in the photo consoling the family.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Jane waited for the others to leave before she approached. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her hands against her skirt one final time and walked toward the grieving family.

***

It took every ounce of strength for Naomi to stay where she was and not run away from the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. Over the past couple of days of preparing for the funeral, she’d been able to stave away the grief of losing her father.

The sight of Welita crying into her black lace handkerchief tore at her heart, and she wondered what kind of god would do this them. Out of all the people in the world, why him? Why now? It wasn’t fair. Her father was finally turning his life around, rebuilding his life, only to lose it in an instant.

She placed a rose on his coffin and wondered what she was going to do with him gone. It was then that she saw, from the corner of her eye, a svelte woman stepping out of a black Mercedes. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized who it was.
Who in the hell does she think she is, coming here
?

She cursed under her breath when a couple of men with cameras followed close behind the senator.

Chuy nudged her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Over there.” She tilted her head in the direction of the intruders. “The gall of that woman. She brought her own personal camera crew.”

“We’re done here. I’ll tell Lalo to get the car. Welita doesn’t need to go through this.” Chuy hurried to Welita, who was busy talking to the priest.

“Hurry.” Naomi watched the senator as she walked toward them, her heeled shoes crunching on the pebbles that lined the path. A hulking giant of a man trailed behind her. With his black cowboy hat and crocodile boots, he looked like the typical Texan, but the fierce look in his eyes screamed danger. She shivered.

“What’s wrong, Mijita?” Welita stepped up next to her. “Chuy says you want to leave.”

“It’s getting hot, and the heat isn’t good for your heart condition,” Naomi said. “We need to get you home.”

Welita looked bewildered. “My heart is—”

“Mrs. Duran,” Jane called out.

“Shit,” Naomi muttered under her breath.

Welita turned and recognition crossed her face. “Senator Sutherland.”

Naomi stepped in front of Welita. “Senator, we have nothing to say to you.” She took Welita’s arm and pointed her to the direction of their car.

“No, please,” Jane said as she stepped forward. “Please, don’t take offense. I’m here to offer my condolences.”

Naomi whipped around. “You’re not here for us.” She threw a glance at the news cameras. “You’re here for your own benefit, you bi—”

“No seas grocera, Naomi!” Welita reprimanded. “Mind your tongue.”

“I’m sorry, Welita. This woman doesn’t deserve any kindness. She comes waltzing here with her fancy Mercedes like she owns the place, thinking that she can say ‘I’m sorry’ and we’ll fall all over ourselves and forgive her.”

“That’s not my intention at all. Look”—Jane took a deep breath—“let’s calm down before things get out of hand.”

“Calm down? Calm down?” Naomi let go of Welita and took an ominous step toward Jane, her hands curling into fists. “Lady, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Chuy, stop her,” Welita said, her eyes widening as she watched Sal reach into the inside of his suit.

Jane touched Sal’s arm and shook her head. He hesitated and stepped back, his hand still inside his jacket.

“Come on, Naomi.” Chuy grabbed her arm. “You’re making Welita upset.”

“Me? I’m making her upset? She”—Naomi pointed to Jane—“she’s the one that started it by showing her face around here.” Naomi struggled to get out of Chuy’s tight grasp, her voice turning into a fevered pitch. “She wants to be in the news. I’ll put her in the news. I’ll make her video go viral.”

“Naomi … stop.” Welita began to wheeze.

“Let’s calm down,” Jane said. “I’m sure—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Naomi growled then glanced at Welita. “Look what you’re doing to my grandmother.” She then turned to the TV crew. “Are you getting this? Is harassing an old woman enough to get your ratings up or do you need some blood?”

“Knock it off. Now!” Chuy shook Naomi and then gripped her face. “Look at me. Get a hold of yourself. What would your father say if he saw you acting like this?”

Naomi looked at Chuy and blinked. In his brown eyes, she saw her father. Awareness filled her, and she heard Welita sobbing behind her, her soft voice begging her to go with them back to the house. She wanted to stay angry. Rage was the only thing that was holding back the dark sorrow that threatened to overtake her. She looked down at Welita and then back at Chuy. Pain came in full force as she realized how she was hurting the only family she had left. She had to let go—for now.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed hard as the fire within her grew cold. The last thing she wanted to do was to give the world a view of her bawling.

Without another word, she went to Welita, kissed her cheek, and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulder as she led her to the car.

“Mrs. Duran. If there is anything I can do ….”

That woman won’t give up.
Naomi gripped the door handle in response to Jane’s words, but she didn’t turn. She took a deep breath and vowed that she would find a way to make sure that the senator would pay for what she did. One way or another, she’d find justice for her father.