Fierce Pride (38 page)

“Do you always say, ‘love you’ to her?”

“Sure, we all do.” It was obvious her family was very different from his, and she was so sorry he’d grown up with such scattered love. “Let me pour my own Bailey’s. What do you want?”

He pulled her into his arms and put his whole soul into kissing her. He promised the world in his kisses, and when he pulled away, she had to shake her head to focus her eyes. “Could you put that into words, please?”

“You understood.” He smoothed her hair. “I got a text from Cazares while you and Maggie were away from the table. Rigoberto Avila died this afternoon.”

A sudden rush of terror squeezed her breathless, and she could barely gasp. Someone had the rifle, and they were sure to blame Santos for his death, but there wasn’t a hint of fear in his eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

“Now you really do need a bodyguard,” Libby murmured.

Santos pulled her back into his arms. “Rigoberto caused the accident that killed him, but I understand. Victoria or one of his friends may come after me.”

“Not, ‘may’,
will
, and we’ve got to be ready and find her first. Did you hear from Nuñez too?”

“Not yet. It’s Sunday; maybe he’s off duty.”

Libby sat back. “If you hadn’t hired Cazares, then we wouldn’t know Avila had died. We might have spent the evening on the patio, where we’d have been sitting ducks. Someone from the police department should have called to warn you.”

“It’s plain Nuñez doesn’t care if I live or die.”

“Well, I do!”

He flashed his killer grin. “Thank you. It’s too late to call Cazares, but I’ll talk to him tomorrow after I get back from therapy.”

“Call him before you go, and don’t drive the same route you’ve gone before. Avila was following us. Victoria could too.”

“Maybe she’ll claim the body,” he offered. “The police could talk to her then.”

“How is she going to know her brother is dead? Maybe she doesn’t even know he was hurt.”

“She has to know he didn’t come home Thursday night. She might have seen the police searching their apartment, and that’s why she’s stayed away,” he replied.

Libby left the sofa to pour herself some Bailey’s and bought him a brandy. “She showed up so often, she has to have a place near here. Maybe rather than hit tourist sites and look at apartments, Maggie and I ought to canvass the neighborhood with Victoria’s photo.”

“Don’t bring Maggie into it.”

“Santos, really. She’d want to help.”

“No, I won’t put either of you at risk. Don’t tell her anything tomorrow.”

“I kept quiet tonight, but it didn’t feel right.” She paced in front of the coffee table as she sipped her drink. “Even if I didn’t tell her anything, she’ll see I’m upset and ask why.”

“Tell her I’m a squirrel-headed twit.”

“I won’t blame it on you. Are you being deliberately dense? That would be a lie to cover a secret I don’t see any reason to keep. I’m going to bed. Do you want me to call Manuel to help you up the stairs?”

“I’ll call him.”

“Fine, good night.” She went up to her room but was far too frightened to sleep. She put on her cat sleep shirt and got into bed but read rather than try to sleep. Unfortunately, Dickens’s involved tale didn’t help. She remembered the book Santos had been asked to write, and while she didn’t want to confront him over it, she was too curious about it not to ask. She went to Santos’s room, but hesitated briefly before knocking lightly.

“Come in,” he called.

He was in bed, wearing a T-shirt, and looked content to spend the night alone. She wasn’t. She closed the door behind her. “Why didn’t you tell Maggie about the book offer?”

He laid his novel on the nightstand. “Juan hasn’t talked to the publisher, and they may not want something other than the inside story I’m not telling. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Rafael either. He knew only what my father wanted him to see, while I had more than twenty years with him.”

She sat on the foot of his bed. “But you didn’t know about Victoria.”

“Maybe she never met him. She wouldn’t be the first fan who wanted his baby. Her mind could be so twisted she’s actually convinced she’d had his child. We need to find her.”

Libby circled the bed to crawl under the covers. “I don’t want to think about sex tonight.”

Santos leaned over her and whispered, “Don’t think.”

His breath was warm on her cheek, and he smelled so damn good. She raised her arms above her head and giggled. “You aren’t playing fair.”

“I don’t care.” He silenced her laughter with a long, easy kiss and changed her mind before she could take a breath to argue.

Javier Cazares came to the beach house Monday morning. “I’ve been working along the beach, showing Victoria’s photo. Some women remember her from the time she worked at El Sol y La Luna. A couple also thought Rigoberto Avila looked familiar, but couldn’t recall where they’d seen him. I thought I’d continue along the beach houses today, unless you’d rather I do something more.”

“No, that’s fine,” Santos responded. “I haven’t heard from Nuñez, but I’ll call him in a minute. He’s probably waiting for Victoria to claim the body.”

“Was Rigoberto’s name in the papers?” Libby asked.

“It was given with the photos of the accident,” Cazares replied. “If she didn’t see the story, someone who knew them would have told her. There was a brief notice of Rigoberto’s death in one of the papers this morning, but it was in the back pages and could easily have been overlooked.”

“Nuñez will probably claim I should have seen it,” Santos responded.

Maggie looked into the den. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Libby assured her. “We’re trying to find where Victoria lives.”

“Did you ask Patricia? She might know.”

Libby winced and looked at Santos. “Why didn’t we think of something so obvious?”

“Give her a call,” he encouraged. “This is Javier Cazares, a private detective; my sister, Magdalena Mondragon.”

Cazares was standing and responded with a slight bow.

Libby checked her watch. “It’s too early in the morning to call Patricia now.”

“If it’s really important, call her anyway,” Maggie urged.

Santos nodded, and Libby made the call. Patricia gave a groggy hello and then complained, “You don’t need to call me at three in the morning to talk about Fox. I’ll tell him I’m staying here next year.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Libby replied. “When you talked with Victoria on the beach, did she ever mention where she lived?”

“Why are you looking for her at this hour?” Patricia asked through a wide yawn.

“It’s midmorning here, but it’s important, Patricia. Did she point out a house or say anything that would help us find her?”

“I mentioned Santos’s beautiful vintage car, and she said something about her father being a chauffeur. Maybe he lives at one of the big houses near yours.”

“Thank you. That’s a big help. Love you.” Libby ended the call. “Victoria’s father is a chauffeur. Would Manuel know him? He saw the photo of Victoria and Rigoberto when we gave it to Nuñez, but he didn’t say he recognized her.”

Santos swore in Catalan. “I have the sick feeling he does.” He used his phone to summon the chauffeur to the house.

“I’m lost,” Maggie interjected. “What’s going on here?”

“Libby will tell you later,” Santos promised. “Everyone keep quiet. Let me talk to Manuel without interrupting.”

Manuel stopped at the den door. “Yes, sir, what do you need?”

Santos gestured for him to come in. “Victoria’s father is a chauffeur at one of the homes nearby. Do you know him?”

Manuel folded his hands behind his back and looked down. “I know a few of the chauffeurs, not all of them.”

Santos didn’t raise his voice, but his threat hung in the air like smoke. “You know Victoria’s father, though, don’t you? Why didn’t you speak up when you knew we were searching for her?”

Manuel frowned and, struggling with his response, cleared his throat. “Your father asked me to forget she’d ever been here.”

“Why?” Santos asked.

Manuel glanced toward Maggie and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say this in front of you. Miguel met Victoria on the beach one Sunday when everyone had the day off. She went home the next morning. He said she was lovely, but he’d had enough and avoided her. I’d forgotten about her, and Miguel wouldn’t have wanted me to mention he’d spent a single night with her. When I saw the photo, I’d hoped you’d find her without my having to disrespect Miguel’s memory.”

“God forbid,” Maggie said. “Santos and I know what our father was like, so keeping his secrets is absurd.”

“I’ll handle this, Maggie, after he shows us where Victoria’s father works. Does he have his own apartment over the garage?” Santos asked.

“Yes. It’s the white house with the huge aqua glass windows, a few houses down the beach. His name is Luis Rubio.”

“We should call Nuñez,” Libby said.

“The way he called me?” Santos countered. “I’ll call him, but only because I’d rather he got shot than one of us.”

“Shot? Is there a real danger of it?” Maggie asked.

Libby walked up to Manuel. “How many gunshots would it have taken before you finally told us what you knew? Rigoberto might have been arrested before the accident that killed him. Has that occurred to you?”

Manuel nodded. “It has. I’m sorry, I was wrong.”

Mrs. Lopez came to the door. “Detective Nuñez is here.”

“Please show him in,” Santos replied. “Let him speak before we tell him what we know.”

The detective appeared startled to find the den so crowded. “Mr. Aragon, perhaps we could speak in private.”

“Manuel, please go back to your apartment. Everyone else stays.”

Nuñez moved aside to allow the chauffeur to exit. “I’ve come with the grim news Rigoberto Avila died yesterday afternoon without regaining consciousness. He had no visitors, other than you and Ms. Gunderson. We can tie him to the drawings you received, but nothing more. If he started the fire or shot at you, there’s no evidence of it. We’re still trying to locate his sister.”

“Thank you for coming with the news,” Santos responded. “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”

Nuñez looked down his nose at his notes. “I have other cases involving other victims.”

“Of course, but we might be in more danger than we were, and you put our lives at risk. That shouldn’t have happened.” He nodded to Cazares. “Fortunately, I have other resources. We’ve found Victoria’s father is a chauffeur at the white monstrosity with the aqua windows just down the beach. She may be staying with him. He could be the one who shot at me.”

The detective’s mouth drooped into a disgusted sneer. “How did you learn this?”

“We have a gift for detective work,” Libby volunteered. She smiled at Santos, and he nodded. “The man’s name is Luis Rubio.”

“I’ll call my men. We’ll warn your neighbors to stay indoors. Please do not leave your home until I say you may.”

Maggie waited until the front door had closed behind him. “I won’t leave today without hearing a detailed report on what’s been happening here. If there were fires and gunshots, why didn’t you call us to come home? Do Mom and Dad know anything about this?”

Libby had an answer ready. “Just like your slashed wrists, there’s no reason to alarm Mom and Dad over this. We didn’t tell you, because we wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon.” She moved toward the door. “Let’s see if Tomas has any of his delicious breakfast rolls and have coffee. I’ll tell you the whole story, or as much as we know thus far.” Maggie followed Libby from the room.

Santos urged Cazares to take a seat. “You’re parked in front. Would you mind waiting for the police and reporting what you see?”

“I would have done it on my own,” he responded. “If you decide to let your chauffeur go, I’ll help you find an honest man to replace him.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you know. Do you want something from the kitchen?”

“I travel with a cooler filled with my wife’s sandwiches and water, so I’ll be fine. I doubt it will take long for the police to search the house and make arrests, although I heard nothing about physical evidence against the girl and her father.”

“That’s true. Maybe Rigoberto Avila left a detailed diary that will implicate Victoria.”

“He was an artist. His thoughts would be in his drawings.”

Santos reluctantly agreed and let him go. He appreciated Cazares’s help but dreaded having to hire anyone new. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d known Manuel his whole life, but if keeping his father’s secrets meant more to the man than protecting his son, then the chauffeur’s loyalty was badly misplaced. He was sick of living in his father’s shadow, but this was the first time it had nearly cost him his life.

While Libby narrated an amazing tale, Maggie picked her slice of the delectable pastry into tiny crumbs and her coffee grew cold. “This is really too much to take in at one sitting. I should have taken notes. With the level of hatred involved, the odds are probably good the baby is Miguel’s. What’s Santos going to do?”