Fierce Pride (33 page)

“What?” Santos gasped. “She can claim anything she chooses, but my father never spoke of her. I never saw her with him. Many women came to see him when he was ill, but she wasn’t among them. If she’d had a child with him, she should have come forward, and we could have proved or disproved it with a DNA test.”

“Perhaps your father threatened her,” Nuñez countered.

“My father never even raised his voice to a woman. He’d not have threatened her. He was between wives, so another child wouldn’t have disrupted his life.”

“Were you living here in the late summer two years ago?”

“No, I had my own apartment, but I was here often. My father was dating Ana Santillan then. He favored blonde women, and I never saw him with a petite brunette.”

The detective made a hasty note. “What about your mother?”

Santos struggled to his feet. Without speaking above a whisper, he promptly silenced the detective. “Leave her out of this.”

Libby stood and took a step to the side so if Santos threw a punch at Nuñez, she wouldn’t be caught in the middle. Apparently taking the same precaution, Nuñez moved around the coffee table and headed for the door.

“You should speak to your attorney, Mr. Aragon. From the few facts we have, Mr. Avila could have been responding to threats you and your father made to his sister. I’m very good at discovering the truth, and you should cease hiding it.”

Santos waited until he heard the front door close and then swore a menacingly vile oath. He didn’t translate the curse for Libby. “If Nuñez can find Victoria, we can match the baby’s DNA to mine, but I can’t understand why she’d hide the fact if my father sired him.”

“That wouldn’t make any sense, would it?” Libby agreed. “The baby would be proof, and she could have taken your father to court for support if he refused to acknowledge the boy.”

He shook his head. “Who knows what she was thinking if killing me struck her as the best option. This is all I need, another baby brother to raise. I didn’t think things could get any worse, but they keep piling on to make this the worst summer of my life.”

Crushed he hadn’t excluded her, she closed the door on her way out.

Chapter Fourteen

Libby left the house in tears and carried her sandals down to the shore where Santos couldn’t follow. He hadn’t enumerated the summer’s problems, and she knew she wasn’t among them, but he should have said so. She didn’t want to be remembered as the girl from his worst summer ever,
if
he remembered her.

She didn’t go far before sinking down into the sand. She hugged her knees and dried her tears rather than blubber pathetically. After all, she didn’t want to add to Santos’s problems, so she had to get hold of herself right now. She loved being with him, but therapy would take care of his knee, and they’d both known all along he wanted her company rather than a personal trainer. She ought to go home as soon as Maggie and Rafael came back so he wouldn’t be left alone.

She didn’t want to go home though, not yet. She gazed at the moonlight caressing the sea until she grew too cold to stay. She pushed herself to her feet and walked up to the house, as disheartened as when she’d left. As she crossed the patio, she didn’t see Santos sitting in the shadows until he spoke.

“You promised to tell me when I behaved like a squirrel-headed twit,” he murmured as she came near. “Come sit with me.”

She brushed the last of the sand from her new aqua-and-black tie-dye skirt and took the chair he’d pulled close to his. “You weren’t being a twit. I just didn’t want to be part of your awful summer.”

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “You could come after me with an ax, and it wouldn’t even register this year.”

The night hid her smile. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“No, but I’d thought you’d know I didn’t mean you.”

“I do know,” she admitted. “But so much has gone wrong. Nuñez has never been sympathetic, and his latest opinions are beyond absurd.”

“I’ve been sitting here thinking maybe not,” he admitted reluctantly.

“You mean your father could have known Victoria?”

“He could have met her on the beach. She seemed to be staying somewhere close, and she could have taken him to her home rather than come into our house. It might have been a single afternoon. He loved the ranch and could have gone there and forgotten her. Things happened around him, but that doesn’t mean he noticed.”

He had a detached way of discussing his father as though Miguel were a subject of a documentary. “You need the facts, the date of the baby’s birth, and your father’s whereabouts nine months prior. The baby, for that matter, so there can be a DNA test. But if Victoria had a son with your father and he ignored her, wouldn’t she have gone straight to the tabloids?”

“Yes, on a rocket, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“My father guarded his privacy as I do mine, and she might have believed splashing the news he’d had a child with her would ruin her chances with him. But for Nuñez to twist the attacks against me as retaliation for what my father may have done to her is as absurd as you believe. I wonder if she has the rifle.”

Now really cold, she rubbed her arms. “Let’s go inside.”

Santos went into the kitchen. “Want some ice cream?”

“I’d rather have tea and cookies. Where does Tomas keep the cookies?”

“They’re in the pantry in a round tin on the shelf with the tea. Tomas always had them on the bottom shelf where I could reach them when I was small.”

She found it and brought it out to the counter to open. “I’ll bet you were a cute little guy. These lemon cookies are so good. Do you want some?”

He had the freezer open. “Ice cream is enough, and I wasn’t all that cute.”

He’d obviously heard too many compliments to appreciate hers. She handed him a bowl and heated water in the microwave for tea. Windows lined the west side of the room, and they’d be easy target for someone standing outside. That the likely culprit was in the hospital in a coma made her believe they were safe. “Have you done anything about having exterior lights installed?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Come into the dining room with me.”

She carried his bowl and spoon and went back to the kitchen for her tea and cookies. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.”

“I doubt I will either. I can’t hope for anything better tomorrow. If Avila dies, Nuñez will probably find a way to blame me for the accident.”

“Manuel and I were there. Avila could have stopped. He didn’t have to follow us against the traffic. Could Nuñez have some reason to dislike your family?”

He stirred his chocolate ice cream to make it smooth and creamy. “Have you taken a good look at him? He doesn’t wear a wedding ring, so maybe my father’s reputation with women annoys him when he can’t get one, let alone dozens of women for himself.”

She licked cookie crumbs off her lips. “Maybe it’s something that petty. What’s happened to Cazares? Did you hear from him?”

“He called just as I was leaving therapy. Photos are e-mailed to the tabloids. The wedding photo and photo of the fire came from a Jose Muñoz, and checks were sent to a private post office box. It’s a common name, and now that Avila’s in the hospital, there’s no reason for Cazares to track Muñoz, who might be Avila’s alias. I don’t care about the photo from the restaurant on Tuesday. Do you?”

She picked up another cookie. “Not really. I wonder if there were any taken of us cruising the harbor.”

“There’s no way to squeeze any news or scandal out of it, so probably not. I don’t want you to think my life is always this public or scary. It’s just a strange summer. Maybe the stars are misaligned.”

“Just here over Barcelona?”

He shrugged. “Rigoberto Avila’s luck is worse than mine. Why don’t you call the hospital, say you’re his sister and ask how he’s doing?”

“What if they trace the call? I don’t want to see Nuñez here again tonight.”

“Let’s go to the hospital in the morning and call from a pay phone downstairs.”

It was an intriguing idea, but she still had doubts. “Santos, if you don’t have any trouble, do you intentionally make some?”

“I want to know how Avila is, that’s all.”

His sly smile told her otherwise. She sipped her tea. “Sometimes it’s a good idea to walk away.”

“The way you did? I would have followed you if I could.”

She imagined wild sex on the beach, and while sand might have been a problem, they could have lain on her full skirt. Her mind had a mischievous way of going to the same delightful place whenever they were together. She hauled it back. “How are the elevator repairs going?”

He stared at her, his gaze filled with confusion. “I’d have followed to apologize for hurting you, and you want to talk about the elevator?”

She reached for his hand. “You were talking about one thing, and I was thinking something else. There’s no reason to beat it to death now. I just wanted to change the subject.”

“I’ll be able to walk up the stairs on my own before the insurance company settles up so work can begin on replacing the elevator. I’m tired of being trapped here, which has nothing to do with you, because you’ve kept me sane. Let’s go to the ranch this weekend. I can miss a couple of days of therapy.”

She wanted a change of scene too. “Fine, but you should go tomorrow. Let’s find out how Avila is, if we can, and leave for the ranch in the afternoon.”

“Would you mind if we didn’t come back?”

“We have to. You need therapy for you knee. You have such a great natural strut, I’d hate to see you lose it.”

He regarded her with a skeptical glance. “I save the strut for the bullring.”

“No, you don’t.” He’d look good crawling along the ground, but she’d paid him enough compliments for the night. “Do you have some more good videos? If we can’t sleep, maybe we could watch something.”

“Other than each other?” he teased. “I’ll find something you like.”

Clearly he’d been raised to pamper women, and she enjoyed it. It was a shame he’d sworn off marriage and had no interest in raising children. Her mother had taught her to listen carefully to what men said; otherwise, the truth could go unnoticed. There wasn’t anything that had gone unnoticed with Santos, and she finished the last cookie and watched him lick the last bite of ice cream off his spoon.

Late Friday morning, Santos and Libby leaned against the pay telephone wall on the first floor of the hospital where Rigoberto Avila had been taken. It was a newer construction than the one where Santos had been treated. Modern, with rounded corners and long hallways, it was alive with clattering motion.

“How could we have overlooked the fact I don’t speak Spanish?” Libby cried. “How am I going to inquire about Rigoberto?”

“I’ll tell you what to ask,” he replied.

“Fine, but how will I understand the nurse’s response?”

“I’ll listen.”

He was patient with her and repeated the simple question until she was confident she could speak it clearly. They went through the hospital switchboard, but no calls were being forwarded to Rigoberto’s room. “Now what?” she asked.

“We’ll buy flowers in the gift shop and carry them upstairs to his room.”

“We don’t know where his room is,” she reminded him.

“Watch me.” He led her into the gift shop and selected the largest bouquet they had. The clerk stared at him, frowning as though she knew him but couldn’t recall his name. He paid with cash so there would be no trace he’d been there. He turned to Libby. “Do you remember Rigoberto’s room number? I should have written it down.”

“No, it went right out of my head,” Libby replied with a superbly innocence gaze.

“Could you tell us Rigoberto Avila’s room number?” Santos asked the clerk.

The clerk chewed her lip. “We’re not supposed to release the room numbers. You’ll have to go to the front desk and ask.”

“I understand, privacy. We’ll ask, but will you send the flowers up to Rigoberto’s room for us so we don’t have to carry them around with us?”

“Yes, sir, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait, don’t you want to sign a card?”

“Of course.” He took a small card from the display beside the cash register. “What should we say? Get well soon seems inappropriate.”

“Maybe just love from your aunt and uncle?” Libby suggested.

“Perfect.” Santos wrote Rigoberto Avila on the envelope and enclosed the best wishes from his aunt and uncle. “Will those reach his room soon?”

“I’ll have one of our other clerks take them upstairs right away.”

Santos thanked her again and led Libby down the hall to the elevators, where they could observe the entrance of the gift shop. He checked his watch. “This should work, but Rigoberto will have the flowers even if it doesn’t.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

Santos touched a finger to his lips. “Try and appear serious, as though we were visiting a desperately ill nephew.”

Libby took a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “How’s this.”

“Perfect. Look.”