The Night She Got Lucky

  The corners of Larry’s mouth pulled down.

  “I also happen to be the man who loves your ex-wife and cares deeply for your boys. I am the man who stepped into the giant pile of doo-doo you left behind and has begun to clean it up.”

  Larry’s nostrils flared.

  Lucio gestured graciously to the front door. “And now, I must insist that you leave.”

  HeartherLynn started barking from the top of the stairs.

  Larry’s right arm swung out in a wide arc, his elbow cocked, his fist flying right at Lucio’s head. Lucio ducked and Larry’s fist went swishing by. Then Lucio blocked an uppercut coming from the left, and a right headed for his chin. After a few more moments of such ridiculousness, Lucio realized that Larry had no intention of stopping his flailing. That left him with no choice.

  HeatherLynn continued her barking frenzy.

  Lucio popped Larry right between the eyes.

  The doctor cried out in pain. His fists ceased swinging and he cupped his palms under his nose to catch the blood. But the fury still burned in his eyes, and Lucio suspected that a broken nose was not enough to stop him. He braced himself as Larry lowered his head, turned his shoulder, and prepared to inflict a full-body slam.

  “Stop it!” Joshua screamed, running into the hallway from the kitchen. “Dad! Stop it!”

  Ignoring his son’s plea, Larry charged Lucio, who avoided the onslaught with a simple sidestep. Larry head-butted into the wall with a thud.

  “God, Dad!” Joshua went to his father, who was lying in a heap on the tile, blood still flowing from his nose. Larry moaned. “Get up,” Josh said, with more annoyance than concern in his voice.

  Lucio helped Josh pull his father to a stand and walk him into the kitchen. Once Lucio saw that Josh was doing a fine job settling his father in a chair, he went to the freezer for some ice.

  “Why did you have to do that, Dad?” Josh collapsed in the chair next to him and handed him a wad of paper towels. Larry tipped back his head and stuck the paper to his nose.

  “Where’s your mother?” Larry mumbled.

  Lucio handed Josh a plastic bag filled with ice and stepped away, leaning up against the stove out of Larry’s view.

  Josh nodded his thanks to Lucio. “She’s upstairs getting dressed or something.” Josh held the ice to his father’s upturned nose.

  “Go get her. I need her to see this,” Larry whined. “I want her to see the handiwork of her new boyfriend. I want her to see with her own eyes the difference between us—that I am a healer and he is a destroyer.”

  Josh glanced at Lucio and rolled his eyes. “You started it, Dad. I saw the whole thing,” Josh said. “Lucio didn’t want to fight you. He was only defending himself.”

  Larry tried to laugh but just ended up gurgling his own blood. “The man is a fraud,” Larry said, pointing over his shoulder, well aware that Lucio stood behind him. “He’s a thief and a liar and maybe even a spy.”

  “Yeah,” Josh said. “We know all about the trouble he’s been in.”

  Larry peered over the ice bag at his son. “You do?”

  “Of course,” Josh said. “He told us all about that stuff the first night we met him.”

  Larry’s shoulders hunched over. “Oh,” he mumbled.

  “None of it is true, Dad,” Josh said, gathering the bloody paper towels and tossing them in the trash can below the sink. “The State Department has cleared him. There were no criminal charges. And Lucio found out who set him up in the first place and there’s going to be an arrest.”

  Larry’s eyes traveled to Lucio, leaning back with his arms across his chest. Even from under the ice pack, Larry was producing a sneer.

  Since it looked like Josh had the situation under control, Lucio excused himself. “I’ll go get your mother,” he said to Josh. Then he nodded in Larry’s direction. “You might want to get that nose checked out.”

  “I’m a physician.” Larry took the ice from his face and glared at Lucio. “I know what I need to do,” he said, the blood dripping down his chin.

  Lucio shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He found Genevieve sitting on the edge of the big bed, slipping on a pair of shoes, listening to a CD with the volume turned up high. No wonder she hadn’t come running downstairs when Larry cried out in pain.

  Lucio stood in the doorway a moment, simply watching her. He loved the graceful arch of her foot, her slim ankle, the delicate bones at the top of her feet. His chest tightened at the sight of her arm extended its full length, fingers stretched to buckle the strap.

  She was so beautiful. He loved her so much.

  “I think I broke Larry’s nose,” Lucio confessed.

  Genevieve’s head snapped up. She blinked at him, surprised to see him there. “Really?” she asked. Genevieve didn’t look very concerned.

  “Yeah. He went crazy on me. I had no choice.”

  She shrugged, then stood. She grabbed her bag from the coverlet. When she raised her eyes to his, Lucio was stabbed with the knowledge that something had changed in her. Her coloring was high. Her eyes were brighter. Genevieve’s expression seemed to hold a subdued peacefulness he hadn’t noticed before.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, taking her eyes away.

  “Genevieve?”

  She turned quickly, her hair flying around her head with the movement. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know,” she said. “I know you’re leaving. Piers told me all about it.”

  Lucio’s body tingled. He straightened from his casual pose against the doorjamb, and stared at her. Why would Piers tell her such a thing? He knew Lucio had no intention of taking that job. They’d talked all about it!

  And then, seamlessly, everything clicked in Lucio’s head. The paranoia he’d felt leaving Sydney’s office wasn’t paranoia at all—it was his intuition. Piers getting him that contract was underhanded and mean-spirited. It was not the act of a friend. It was an attack from an enemy, and the wound was intended to be fatal.

  “Joder!” he hissed.

  “Don’t use language like that in front of me,” she whispered.

  It was then that Lucio realized Genevieve’s expression wasn’t peaceful at all. She looked defeated. Devastated.

  “I was offered a job, yes, but—”

  “How nice for you.” She clasped her hands to the front of her belly, the small bag dangling by its strap. She looked at him with sarcastic enthusiasm. “And how was I going to find out about this little trip? By postcard?”

  “I did not take the job,” Lucio said, a lump of sorrow filling his gut. “I planned to tell you all about it tonight. I was going to let you know I was offered a contract but did not accept it.”

  “I see.”

  “I am not going anywhere, mi amor. Please believe me.”

  She did not respond.

  “Genevieve, my agent called me to his office two days ago to tell me I’d been offered an assignment. That is all.”

  She said nothing. She hadn’t moved.

  He reached for her, cradling her upper arms in his hands. “Guapa ’ ”

  “Cut the Spanish endearment shit,” Genevieve said, slicing her hands straight up to knock his grasp away. “That’s enough. I’ve had enough of your Rico Suave act. And that’s all it has been—all along—an act!”

  The knife of her words cut to his heart. An icy fear ripped through the center of him. He was so stunned that he could hardly speak. “I do not understand,” he said. “Why would you say that to me?”

  Genevieve let loose with an embittered laugh. “Please,” she said. “I can’t hear any more of this. I told you that I couldn’t survive another betrayal, that all you had to do was not hurt me and everything would be okay. You said you wouldn’t, but that was a lie! You betrayed me and you hurt me anyway.”

  Lucio raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Genevieve had not heard a thing he said! It was like she’d already written him out of her life!

  “If I go anywhere, I
want you with me.”

  “Mauritius? The independent island off the coast of Africa known for being the home of the dodo bird?”

  “Well, if that is what you wanted,” he said, a little confused by her flippant response. “It would not be first-class travel the whole time, but you would get to see the world the way I see it. You could watch me work—get to know me better by seeing how I’ve lived my life.”

  She stared at him, her eyes steely and steady but revealing nothing.

  “Genevieve, is that what you want?”

  “Not hardly.”

  He reached for her hands.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  A wave of nausea flooded through Lucio and he stumbled back from her. What had Piers done?

  “I couldn’t go there even if I wanted to,” she said. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Lucio’s attention returned to her face. She looked stricken, afraid. “You mean being away from the boys? Leaving them with Larry?”

  She laughed nervously. “That’s always a concern, but that’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean, then?” It occurred to Lucio that a chasm had formed between them. Untruths and doubts had created a vast, dark separation between them. They weren’t communicating. They could not read each other’s hearts. It had happened fast. It was the ultimate injury.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Genevieve said. “Nothing matters anymore.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Genevieve!” Lucio blocked her way out of the bedroom, unsure how to proceed but certain he had to get to the bottom of this. How he longed to touch her! “Please do not leave.”

  Genevieve’s chin trembled with the effort not to cry. “Piers showed me your contract, okay? Let’s just be real here. I saw it. I know. There’s nothing left to say.”

  Lucio felt the blood roar through his brain. “No,mi amor. There is no contract.”

  “I saw your signature, Lucio!”

  The bad taste in Lucio’s mouth had a familiar tang to it. Suddenly, for the very first time, he knew. He knew everything, the whole picture.

  Ilsa may have sent him the rat, but the real rat was Piers. Piers had probably doctored those e-mails from Ilsa. And, of course, Piers knew how to fill out a Geographica expense report—he’d done it as many times as Lucio had! And he’d certainly seen his signature enough to do a decent job of forging it, on an expense voucher and a contract! Setting up the anonymous bank account? It would be a snap for Piers. Getting the video to the Chinese? A minor errand.

  Oh, Mother of God. How could I not have seen this?

  Lucio froze where he stood. Whatever was displayed on his face caused Genevieve to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

  The stupid cell phone in his pocket buzzed once again. Why on earth had he let the boys talk him into getting one?

  “Aren’t you going to see who that is?” Genevieve asked, walking around him to get to the door.

  Lucio yanked the phone out of his pocket to turn it off, but the small screen announced that Jason had sent him three messages.

  “It’s Jason,” he said, clicking on the button that would bring up his messages. Even before the words appeared on the screen, Lucio was filled with a horrible dread.

  “I hope he’s learning a lot from Piers,” Genevieve said, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “He’ll probably be spending quite a bit of time with him once you’re gone.”

  The bitterness in her voice barely registered with Lucio, because he was focused on the terrible words now appearing on his cell phone.

  The first message from Jason read, Smthin’s f’d up ovr here. The second read, Saw P’s passpt was n Chna sm tm u were girl didn’t do it cm get me NOW.

  And the third message said only one word’HELP.

  Lucio looked up. He shoved the phone in his pocket, his breath shallow and fast.

  “Is something wrong with Jason?”

  “I have to go.” Lucio turned, but Genevieve grabbed his arm.

  “What’s going on?” she yelled. “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucio said. “Wait here. I’ll go get him.”

  He raced down the stairs but Genevieve was right behind him, yelling for him to tell her what had happened to Jason, demanding she go with him.

  When they hit the bottom of the stairs, Josh and his blood-soaked father waited for them.

  “What the hell is going on?” Larry asked.

  “God!” Genevieve said, seeing him.

  “Your boyfriend beat the crap out of me,” Larry said.

  Josh gripped the stair railing, looking to Lucio and then his mom. “There’s something wrong with Jason, isn’t there?”

  Lucio flung open the front door, his mind racing with all the worst possible thoughts: Piers was unstable and would hurt Jason—even kill him—to get one last jab at Lucio. He couldn’t let that happen. He would not.

  “¿Coño!” Lucio hissed, seeing that Larry had blocked his car with the Porsche. “We have no time. Give me the keys to your car.” He shoved his hand toward Larry. “Now, gilipollas!”

  Lucio could barely think over the dog’s incessant barking.

  Larry fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the keys. “You are not touching my car,” he said, his announcement muffled by the towel. “I will drive.”

  Josh ripped the keys from his dad’s hands and tossed them to Lucio. “You can’t even see, Dad! Your eyes are swelling shut!”

  Lucio was already running across the lawn to the car. By the time he got the door open and got behind the wheel, it was clear that whatever kind of mission he was on would not be a solo one—Larry and Josh had already crammed themselves into the back half-seat of the Porsche and Genevieve was sliding in beside him in the front.

  He groaned in frustration and gunned the car into reverse, squealing as he made his way through the neighborhood. It was barely sixty degrees Fahrenheit, but Larry had the top down on the pussy-puller! There was no time to fiddle with niceties—it would have to stay down.

  How could he have missed this? Lucio slammed his palms against the steering wheel. He’d sensed it! But he’d ignored it! ¿Estúpido! And now the crazy son-of-a-thousand-bitches had Jason!

  CHAPTER 19

  Lucio took a quick glance at Genevieve next to him. Her red hair was flying around her face. Her mouth was open in shock and her eyes were huge.

  Lucio would give anything to save Genevieve’s son. He would give himself for the boy’s safety, and might yet have to. And to think—this had nothing to do with Jason. It was Lucio’s battle, Lucio’s problem, Lucio’s past that had brought all this on. But the innocent boy might end up paying for Lucio’s selfishness with his life.

  If something happened to Jason, Genevieve would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.

  “Tell me!” Genevieve screamed over the wind and the sound of the high-performance engine. “What’s going on?”

  Lucio shook his head, dreading having to say it out loud. “The best thing you can do is call the police,” he told her, his voice calm. “Piers’s address is 890 Green Street, number eight.”

  Genevieve had her phone out, already dialing 911. Tears were rolling down her face. “Do you think he’s hurt? Has there been an accident?”

  Lucio took a corner way too fast, and the screech of the tires had other drivers pulling to the curb.

  “What are you doing to my fucking car?” Larry screamed from the back. “Where are we going? What’s wrong with Jason?”

  “I don’t know!” Lucio yelled over his shoulder, taking the entrance ramp to the 101. “I just pray we’re not too late.”

  Lucio heard Genevieve screaming into the phone that she believed her son was in danger, but that, no, there was no fire, no medical emergency, or crime that she was aware of.

  “Just tell them there’s been a break-in!” Josh called out from the back. “A man with a gun! Give them the address!”

  She did it, groaned in
frustration, then hung up.

  “This is a nightmare!” she yelled. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Lucio felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. He took one hand off the wheel and fished it out, tossing it to Ginger. “What does it say?” he shouted.

  She clicked on the phone, turning slowly to Lucio. “It says, All is well. No need to come.”

  Genevieve was not the only one on the edge of being sick. “Are the words spelled out?” Lucio shouted.

  “What?”

  “The words in the message—are they spelled out instead of … the Host! I do not know the word!”

  “Abbreviated?”

  “Yes!”

  Genevieve looked again. “It’s all spelled out. No abbreviations. Why?”

  He shuddered. That last message had been from Piers, not Jason. He was sure of it. And it had been a warning to stay away.

  “Tell me now!” she screamed. “What does this have to do with my son?”

  “No! Stop! Please! ”

  Piers had him by the hair. With one hand, he dragged Jason backward through the living room, through the kitchen, and toward the balcony doors. With his other hand, he pressed the barrel of a gun into Jason’s skull.

  Jason didn’t know which sensation was worse—the searing pain he felt from the way his hair was being pulled or the press of the gun against his head.

  “Please don’t do anything to me!” Jason said, gasping for air, struggling in vain to find a foothold that would support some of his weight. “I’m a kid! I haven’t done anything!”

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” Piers said, his voice soft and cold. “If you do not shut your fucking mouth I will cut out your tongue.” At that moment, as he dragged Jason past the kitchen counter, Piers grabbed a serrated kitchen knife from the cutting board and shoved it in his belt loop, then put the gun back to his head. “Do not think I won’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have been looking through your stuff but you said I could go in there! You told me I could see your passport!”