she was from him.
He herded her along in front of him on the path to the bungalow, her pace slower than he would like as she picked her way around puddles, ignoring the rain. Antonia was a dreamer, an observer, walking through life as if the world that unrolled before her were meant to be studied and captured in memories or on canvas. He’d loved that about her, but right now, it was driving him nuts.
Along the way she peppered him with questions that he did not answer. Finally, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. His breathing ticked up a notch at the feel of her palm pressed against him. He found his own fingers curled around her wrist.
“It’s because of your brother, isn’t it?” Her black eyes gleamed, defiant, even in the steady rain. “Whoever that was, he’s after you because of Hector.”
“That’s immaterial.”
“No, it’s not. Your brother is a criminal, Reuben, can’t you see that? He’s dragging you down.”
“My brother is clean, Antonia. He got out of the business and he’s stayed out.”
“And you believe that?”
“I believe that. I’ve prayed every day for the past decade that Hector would go straight, and he has. He was trying to be a good father to Gracie.”
“He attacked my sister when she said she was leaving.”
“Mia had not a scratch on her. My brother was the one who needed stitches.”
“She thought he was going to kill her and take Gracie.”
“She thought wrong. Hector loves Gracie, and he knows she needs her mother.”
Antonia’s eyes flamed, and there was a note of entreaty in her voice. “He went after my sister. She defended herself.”
Reuben looked away. There was no time for this again. Not now and he shouldn’t have mentioned Gracie. “Okay, suppose that’s how Mia felt. She was scared. She believed she had to defend herself. I get that. Hector has a temper and he loses it sometimes. When Mia was released from jail they could have come to an agreement. All Hector wanted was to see his daughter.”
“He’s lying about everything, and you’re too blinded to see it.”
“Your sister is the one breaking the law by snatching Gracie from her father.”
She shook her head, eyes hard. “He’s a drug runner, Reuben.”
“That’s in the past, before he even met Mia. He made mistakes and I’ve forgiven him for that.”
She looked away and wiped the moisture off her forehead. “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Everyone deserves forgiveness, Nee. Didn’t you learn that in Sunday school?”
His arrow hit the mark, and she turned on her heel and walked ahead of him on the path, the anger and disappointment simmering between them, thick as the storm-soaked clouds. When they reached the bungalow, he held the door for her and made sure the lantern and flashlight were functioning. He folded the heavy accordion hurricane shutters over the window and clamped them shut. Antonia stood on the porch watching, her long hair swirling in the wind.
“This bungalow is the sturdiest thing we’ve got. Hurricane ties, nailed roof. It’s all up to code, so I’m optimistic.”
“What about the main building?”
Reuben shot a look at Isla, silhouetted against the sky like a grand lady, unaware of the disaster gathering around her. Built in the late 1800s, the beautiful three-story house had been damaged in past hurricanes, and repaired to the best of their ability at the time, but codes and materials had improved since then. There were always other items on the purchase list. He found it ironic that tourists came to Isla to experience a historic setting, yet they required all the expensive modern conveniences from Wi-Fi to flat-screen TVs. Isla was in desperate need of retrofitting, and now it seemed they were out of time. His stomach tightened as he pulled his thoughts back to the bungalow.
“In the small closet there’s access to a shelter underneath the bungalow if it looks like it’s not going to outlast the hurricane. It will keep you safe from the wind, at least until it floods. Hopefully that won’t be for a while. There’s water and some food. You’ll be okay.”
A fresh burst of wind rattled against the shutters. He handed her a second flashlight. “Lock the door and don’t open it unless it’s me or Silvio.”
The fear flickered in her eyes. “You really think someone is coming?”
He didn’t want to add to her fear, but he’d always told her the truth and he wasn’t going to start lying now. “Yes, I do. Garza wants the island, and he thinks he’s going to force me to give it up.” He hesitated. “I don’t want you involved in this, but I’m worried that you already are.”
She sucked in a breath. “The man on the beach and the one on the Jet Ski. You think they were Garza’s men?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would they think scaring me would influence you? Everyone knows we’re not together anymore.”
Reuben felt the flood of feelings well up from deep in his soul. Not together, but you’ll always be a part of me. “Enemies will use anything, even the past. Maybe they thought they could still get to me through you.”
Her eyes locked on his. “Can they?”
He wished desperately at that moment that Antonia was still on the side of friend. Of all the things they had been to each other, he missed that friendship the most, the comfort of having someone on his side who knew him completely and loved him anyway. With the rest of the world he’d always had to wonder if friendly folks were cordial as a way to keep on good terms with the Sandoval family or out of fear of his brother.
Past history. Hector was out of that life, though he’d never convince Antonia of that.
“Keep the door locked,” he repeated before thrusting a bag into her arms. “Paula made up this food for you.”
Antonia blinked. “I thought she hated me.”
He shrugged. “She can’t stand the thought of anyone hungry.”
Antonia sighed. “So I’m supposed to stay shut in here while you fend off this man who just blew up your boats and tried to scare me on the beach?”
“When the police make it here it will all be over. They’ll get you back to the mainland.”
She took a step toward him, and he saw the beads of water imprisoned, trembling in the strands of her hair like tiny crystals. “What will happen to Silvio, Paula and Gavin while I’m tucked safely away in this bungalow?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m going to find the guy who blew up my boats before he finds them.” And you.
Antonia jerked and he thought her face went a little paler, but it might have been a trick of the shadows from the waving palms outside. “Wait for the police. Please, Reuben.”
“Won’t get anybody here until after the storm.”
She toyed with the zipper on her windbreaker. “He’ll kill you. You’re an orange grower, not a commando.”
He saw his own grim smile reflected in the dark pools of her eyes. “One thing about the Sandovals is they know how to survive.”
He waited in the rain until he heard the sound of the lock sliding home.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте