two male flight attendants settled into seats in the rear.
“I don’t see how you do it,” Phyllis remarked, stifling a yawn. “I went to bed at nine and still, could have used a few more hours in the sack.”
Lori shrugged and raised a brow at Phyllis, who at fifty-one, was the senior flight attendant and self-proclaimed mother hen of the crew. Her salt-and-pepper hair, wise blue eyes and authoritative voice inspired respect and trust. When Phyllis doled out her motherly advice, her much younger crew members usually listened, convinced that she cared about them and would have their backs if things got rough. At her age, and after a long career with GAA, Phyllis knew the business well and was generous in her support.
“Hotel rooms bore me,” Lori responded in her defense. “I can only take them for so long and then I have to get out and check out the local scene. Watching TV and eating room service meals drive me nuts. Dancing relaxes me. It’s like a good workout, only much more fun.”
A flicker of her bright blue eyes was all that Phyllis offered.
“You could have come to the soccer game with me and Sam,” Allen called up from the back of the van. “The fans in this town are absolutely wild. I was beginning to think we might not make it out of the stadium alive when the home team lost. Hell, it was a mob scene in there!”
While the two guys discussed the soccer game they’d attended the night before, Lori turned back to Phyllis. “You should have come. I found a great club on the beach. It had walls of glass and a fabulous view of the ocean. Really a spectacular place. The men here really know how to dance,” Lori said, giving Phyllis a brief overview of her night out on the town, but omitting the fact that her Latin dance partner had kissed her and then disappeared.
Phyllis, who rarely ventured out of her hotel during layovers, made a sound in her throat that told Lori she was not particularly impressed by her coworker’s description of her latest layover adventure.
“You need to be more careful,” Phyllis warned. “American women out alone are targets for all kinds of scams and dangerous schemes. What do you get out of going to those clubs, anyway?”
“A good time,” Lori answered, not particularly worried about Phyllis’s concerns. Lori had chosen a career as a flight attendant so she could travel, meet new people, experience different cultures. Hiding out in fear in a hotel room when she could enjoy one of the most beautiful cities in the world was not her idea of fun. “Besides, I can protect myself,” Lori went on, turning from Phyllis to look straight ahead as the van pulled onto the highway leading to the airport. “I have a black belt in karate, remember?”
“What good is that if some man puts a drug in your drink? Takes you away in his car and you wind up getting raped, beaten or left alone in some strange place?”
Lori’s head whipped around, jaw raised as she shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Phyllis! You need to stop. Nothing like that will ever happen to me.”
“How do you know? It could. Happens all the time. There was a story on Worldwide News last night about a woman in Brazil who…” Phyllis persisted, rattling on about a bizarre tale of drugs, international kidnapping and identity theft that she had seen on TV the night before.
“You’ve been watching too many true-crime programs,” Lori commented with a flip of her hand.
Phyllis made a grunt in response and went on. “Criminals make a lot of money off naive people who don’t pay attention to what’s going on around them. Million-dollar ransoms are common,” she finished, pressing her lips into a hard line to emphasize her point.
“Maybe,” Lori hedged, not wanting to get into a back-and-forth with her coworker over a hypothetical situation. “But I don’t make enough money to be a target for anything other than a spin on the dance floor,” she admitted to Phyllis.
But I sure would love to feel my mystery kisser’s arms around me again, Lori thought, wishing she’d bent her rules at Club Azule and gotten personal with her Latin hunk.
Chapter Three
When the sleek black Mercedes pulled up to the Passenger Drop-off area at Mexico National Airport, Ramón turned in his seat and faced his brother, Xavier, who put the car in Park.
“Congratulations again, bro,” Ramón said to Xavier, flashing a proud smile at his elder, and only, sibling. “You’re gonna be the best judge in the state of Guerrero,” Ramón predicted. “Probably make it to the Mexican Supreme Court one day.”
Xavier Vidal assessed his brother’s face with a steady, solemn gaze. “That is definitely part of my plan,” he stated with the kind of confidence that validated Ramón’s prediction.
At forty-two, Xavier was ten years older than Ramón, but the two brothers were very close. Their parents had emigrated from rural Mexico to the United States when Xavier was five years old, becoming U.S. citizens by the time Ramón was born in Houston five years later. After graduating from law school at the University of Texas, Xavier returned to Mexico to open a law practice in Acapulco, leaving his baby brother behind.
“Thanks for coming down for my swearing-in ceremony,” Xavier said, placing a hand on Ramón’s shoulder.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Only wish Dad could’ve come with me,” Ramón replied, swallowing the emotional lump that rose in this throat as he recalled his father’s disappointment when Ramón insisted that he stay home.
At sixty-one, Tomás Vidal, who had suffered two heart attacks in the past four years, resided in an assisted living center near Ramón’s condo in Houston. Ramón visited his dad every day, made sure he had everything he needed and kept him up-to-date on family news. Since Ramón and Xavier were all the immediate family that Tomás now had, the three Vidal men were very close.
“I know Pop was upset, but his heart was so weak that any travel is too risky,” Xavier agreed.
“Yeah, but it’s so hard for him to accept.”
“I know…I’m glad you live close enough to keep an eye on him.”
“Dinner once a week at Hugo’s. No exceptions or excuses allowed.” Ramón laughed.
“I know he loves that,” Xavier replied.
“He does. And as soon as we sit down at his favorite table, his face lights up. He even flirts with the waitresses.”
Xavier grinned, slapped Ramón on the arm, and said, “Well, give him my love. I’ll call next week, after things settle down.”
“Will do.” Ramón reached around, grabbed his carry-on bag off the back seat, and patted the outside pocket. “I got your swearing-in ceremony right here on DVD, so Pop can see you taking your oath of office.” Ramón shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “He’ll probably invite everyone in the center over to his room to watch this with him. He’s very proud of you…and so am I.”
Xavier nodded, lips compressed in understanding. “Well, next time you come to Acapulco, you’ve gotta stay at the house.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And we’ll spend some time just hanging out,” Xavier added. “Sorry I couldn’t hit the club with you last night, but with all the people in town, and the crowd at the house…”
“No problem,” Ramón interrupted, knowing that Xavier had been swept up in a whirlwind of congratulatory lunches, dinners and parties all weekend. “I understand, bro. Not much was happening at Azule anyway.”
The blast of a taxi driver’s horn alerted Xavier that he had been at the Drop-off stand longer than allowed. “Hey. Gotta go,” he said to Ramón, who quickly opened the passenger-side door. “I’m blocking traffic and you’re gonna miss your flight. Later!”
“Yeah, later!” Ramón echoed. He shook his brother’s hand, got out and slammed the car door shut, but remained at