The Colonel's Daughter (9 page)

“We have to go.” Dallas said extending his hand to Abby then helped her slide out of the booth. When he held open the door, he noticed a tear in her eye. “Are you alright?”

She gave her face a quick wipe, “I’m fine.”

Inside the truck, Dallas shifted into second gear slowly releasing his steel-toe boot from the clutch. “Look Abby, your father told me you have access to the codes.”

“What codes?”

“You tell
me
.”

“I don’t know about any codes. Why didn’t my father just give you instructions on getting whatever codes yourself? Why go through me?”

“Because he said you would know how to get them.”

“Well I don’t.” She changed the radio station, “Now this is a good song,” and started lip-synching.

He took his eyes off the road and for a moment, his gaze lingered on her face then chest.

She fidgeted through the glove compartment finding a pen with a missing top and a tattered notepad and inspired by the little boy’s chubby cheeks, she doodled.

Without taking his eyes off the road this time he asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m drawing a picture of the little boy from the restaurant.” She wet her lips with her tongue. “Believe it or not, my father is a pretty good artist. That’s where I got my skills.”

“The Colonel,” he laughed, “Painting with water colors,” he squinted, “Now there’s a sight.”

“I think he would have probably been an architect if it hadn’t been for his military career…although the army was always his only choice.” Her eyes fixed on the sketch.

Alligator Alley, a road that went straight for miles hadn’t a rest stop in sight. After driving for a couple of hours Dallas said, “I gotta stop for gas, do you need something?” as they exited on Snake Road.

“I’ll go in the store with you.”

Dallas parked alongside the pump then walked towards the passenger door. He took her hand into his and helped her out of the truck. She stopped before he could close the door so he pulled her body close to his. And while the wind tossed her hair she stared at his blue eyes. He placed a hand on her cheek and slowly leaned in for a kiss. He quickly released her but felt so drawn, he leaned in for more.

Left in a daze as she walked, she bit her bottom lip in recollection. He held her hand across the parking lot and into the convenience store.

Walking by a rack of cheap sunglasses, Abby said, “I could use a pair.” She tried some on, letting the price tag hang over her ear, “How about these?”

Dallas chuckled. “You could put any on and you’ll still look like a movie star.”

“Like these?” She slid on a pair of red star frames.

“Especially those, yeah,” he said with a big smile.

She put the red stars back and placed a chosen pair on the counter, by the cashier, then turned to Dallas, “I’m going to use the restroom.” In the bathroom, she studied her hair in the mirror. After wiping eyeliner that had run under her eyes, she fidgeted with her brown hair, taming her wavy locks. When she stepped outside, she spotted Dallas pumping gas.

She grabbed the grocery bag off the driver’s seat and looked inside. “Hmm…where are my new…oh…what else did ya get…chips…ah yes…soda…and a…”

Dallas placed both arms on the open Driver’s window, “Hey that was supposed to be a surprise.”

“You got me a sketch book? And pens?”

“Well…it’s really just a notebook…it’s all they had.”

Abby sighed with animated eyes.

“We need to get a move on.” He slammed the truck door. “I’ve broken enough rules as it is.”

“Really, you mean you don’t kiss all the women you rescue?”

“No ma’am I don’t.” He clicked on the seatbelt.

Entering the highway, Abby’s fingers fidgeted with her new pen, her mind drifted to a memory, her gaze towards the horizon. “This isn’t my father’s first time hostage,” she exhaled. “Before I was born, he was captured by the Guerilla in South America. The Colombian Communist Party, FARC. I’m sure you already know about them.”

“Yeah, the FARC is still around. They’re funded mostly by the cocaine drug cartel.” He paused. “The Colonel told Javi and me the story while we were with him in Afghanistan. He told us how he went out there to extract two American DEA agents who had been kidnapped in Medellin and his mission failed.”

“Yep, that’s right. Unfortunately my father was outnumbered.” Abby stared at his hands grasping the steering wheel. “I’m guessing something like that happened to you when you were trying to rescue my dad?”

He glanced at her face. “Something like-that.”

“Did he tell you about his scorpion bite?”

“No, he never mentioned a scorpion.” Dallas raised an eyebrow.

“Those guys were being forced to travel through the whole jungle by foot. And one time a scorpion crawled into his boot and got him real good right on his heel.” A squeamish Abby shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh man, that had to have been painful.” Dallas squinted.

“Well, he got very sick. He broke into a cold sweat. Then he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel his legs. And since the hostages were not allowed to stop moving, the two DEA guys carried him through the Amazon jungle. And right before they reached a small village, their captors beat them and left my father to die right alongside a dirt road.”

“Your dad’s been through a hell of a lot. He’s the bravest man I know.”

Keeping her gaze on the horizon, she continued. “My father could hear the armed men laughing and calling out to him.”

“What’d they say?”

Her voice deepened, “Pray Gringo pray that somebody picks you up before you die Gringo.”

“Yeah, I’ve been called Gringo before. I hate it.”

“My dad always told me that he never prayed so hard in his life…up until he passed out. And when he opened his eyes, all he could remember was the image of a radiant woman and the smell of lilacs that filled the small room.”

“Now that you mention it, I remember your father asking us in the small cave if we smelled lilacs. I thought he was joking.”

“I heard my father say many times that the beautiful lady saved his life.”

“Who’s the lady?” He rested his right arm along the top of the seat while steering with his left hand.

“It’s an image of the Virgin Mary called Our Lady of Guadalupe. It hung on the concrete wall of the cottage where the villagers took him in. They lay him on a cot for a month while he recuperated and his cot faced the large framed picture.”

“I know who she is. She’s from Mexico.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “I went to Mexico with my father to visit the Basilica of Guadalupe. It was an emotional trip for us after having him back home safe. He always said that surviving the jungles of Colombia was a miracle.”

“I would have never pegged the old Colonel for a man of faith.”

Abby began a new sketch, adding stars as the backdrop.

“There’s a Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe in my home town,” Dallas paused. “The Cathedral is in the Dallas Arts District.” He ran his hand over his crew cut then down his face. “I haven’t seen Texas in over a year.”

“My dad and I lived in Texas.” Having lived with her father for a greater part of her life, Abby told him about the time she spent in Texas when her father had been assigned to Army Headquarters in Fort Sam Houston. “My parents have been separated for years. I lived with my dad until he went on tour. Then I moved back in with my mom. It worked out though since I started attending University of Miami.”

“Let’s not talk about the U. Being in there was like being in a foreign land, actually, more like enemy territory.”

She laughed. “Well at least you’re not wearing that silly hat today.”

“Are you talking about my Longhorn cap?” Joking, he opened his mouth as if appalled. “Oh that’s it. It’s getting put on right now.” He tugged at the steering wheel threatening to pull over. “I’ve got a Longhorn cap and a shirt in the back of this truck.”

“You are not pulling over for that, no.” She joked.

He pulled the truck off the highway, leaned over the seat to the extended cab in the back and grabbed his rucksack. He quickly removed his shirt and before replacing it, Abby caught sight of his muscular upper body but also the scars that covered his back.

“What did they do to you, Dallas?” She brought her hand close to him without touching.

“Oh, that’s nothing, just a scratch.” He slipped on the orange Texas Longhorn t-shirt and threw the rucksack in the backseat.

“That…was more than just a scratch.”

He fidgeted with his cap before putting it on. “You’re right it was more than just a scratch. They tied me to a post and whipped the shit out me.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “I’m not sure what instruments they used but it felt like daggers on my back.”

Abby stared in silence.

“All that just to get us to talk, to say something, anything,” his breathing got heavy.

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry you had to go through that. Do you think my dad’s going through it right now?”

“No, of course not, don’t think that way, Abby. They got what they needed to know already. Anyway, they’ve learned that there’s nothing they can do to get the Colonel to talk. Don’t stress yourself out about your dad. He’ll be alright.”

“I can’t help it.” She grabbed his hand.

He stared into her brown eyes for a moment before he kissed her and his tongue moved about in gentle rhythmic movements. Realizing that he was quickly losing sight of his objective, he pulled away, fighting his desire to feel her round breasts. His mind pictured her soft tongue touching his body and he was jolted, straightening up on his seat and placing both hands on the steering wheel.

Abby stared at his blue eyes and licked her lips. Noticing that he had to adjust his pants, she realized how uncomfortable he really was. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He raised an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat staring at his pants.

“I’m the one that should be apologizing, not you.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me for anything.” She put a knee on her seat and leaned into him, kissing his face. As she was about to straddle him, he gently pushed her away.

“No, no, no, no. You’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” He took a deep breath, pressing his thumb and index finger against his forehead, “Wow, this is difficult.”

“I blame the Longhorn shirt.” She joked. “Once you put it on, I just found you simply irresistible.”

“Oh really, then I wonder what’ll happen if I put this on?” He put the Longhorn cap on and winked.

“Ooh yeah, now that is sexy.” She laughed.

He turned the truck back onto the highway. “Abby, I think it’s better if we don’t talk for a little bit. I need time to think.”

“Ok.” She grabbed the notebook from the floor and turned the radio up.

* * * * *

Dallas pulled into the US Army Hospital in Tampa and picked up his cell phone.

“Yo Javi…I’m at the Southside entrance.” He paused. “Yes, I’m driving my pickup truck. I’m used to handling pickup trucks. This is a muscle truck. It can ride just as fast.”

Abby gave him a puzzled look while she listened.

“Quit arguing, then.” He shook his head. “Well, you can drive whatever you wanna drive when it’s your turn to choose. I know…I know…you would never choose a pickup truck. They ain’t just good to help people move…well I’ll tell you this, don’t ever ask me to help you move, ‘cuz when people gotta move, the owner of a pickup truck is all of a sudden their best friend.” Dallas hung up and looked at Abby.

She lifted an eyebrow, “Are you guys always like this?”

Javi checked the corridor before sneaking towards the elevator. He caught sight of Samantha sitting at her mother’s desk. He gave her a wink and a wave as he limped inside the elevator.

Dallas laughed hysterically at the sight of Javi exiting the building. Abby giggled. With his cell phone camera pointing to Javi he said, “I gotta take a picture of that outfit you got on. Is that a teddy bear with balloons? Aha…It’s a boy!” Dallas teased.

Javi puckered his brow, “Get me to a store and a change of clothes ASAP!” He boarded the extended cab of the truck.

* * * * *

Dorothea’s big eyes appeared over the counter of the nurses’ station as she watched the approaching swagger of finely pressed jeans. Maurice Shahrivar had been sent to Tampa with explicit instructions from his father to kill Captain Santos.

“I’m looking for an old friend.” He said in a charming voice. “His name is Javier Santos.”

“Well, how about that. The Captain has civilian friends.” She batted her eyes and pointed to Javi’s room. “He’s in that room right over there.”

Maurice entered the room to find an empty hospital bed. He drove his fist into the door. After regaining composure, he strutted back down the hall. As he came near the elevator, he paused to watch a little girl with golden curls sitting at a desk adjacent to the nurses’ station. She tossed her baseball high above her head right into Maurice’s hand. He rubbed the ball with his bare fingers noticing a handwritten signature.