Page 28 of Fast Vengeance

“Well hello, stranger,” she answered good-naturedly with her typical wry humor.

Brock deserved the slight dig under it. He hadn’t spoken to her in over two weeks, though he’d texted the night they arrived home from Afghanistan so she would stop worrying. “Hey.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was just thinking about you, wanted to call and hear your voice.”

****

Life was so precious and fragile.

Fernando Diaz swallowed twice to get the bite of pineapple past the invisible restriction in his throat as he watched his young children playing on the living room rug after their lunch. He would do literally anything to protect them and the rest of his family. And could partly understand why Nieto had gone to such lengths to keep his daughter ignorant of his activities, even as an adult. Fernando was guilty of being overprotective too.

Given the recent turn of events and the splintering of two rival factions of the cartel, he had to do more than ever to protect his family.

“You know what this castle needs?” His mother, Maria, leaned forward on her hands and knees to choose another handful of Lego bricks, his children busy adding their architectural efforts to the lopsided plastic castle they were working on together.

“A library,” his five-year-old daughter said in her sweet little voice. “A big one, with a ladder in it. Like the one Beast gives Belle.”

“An excellent idea,” his mother said. “But what about a secret escape route?”

“Like a tunnel?” his seven-year-old son asked, intrigued.

“Exactly.” His mother beamed in approval and leaned down to point inside the castle. “See right there? What if we pretend to build a secret staircase from the library that goes beneath the castle?”

“Oh! From a secret door! You have to pull on a certain book on the shelf to get the door to open. So only we would know how to get inside,” his daughter said excitedly.

“You are so clever, mi corazón,” she praised. “And where should we have this tunnel lead to? Say, if we wanted to escape an attacking army.”

“Of pirates?” his son piped up.

“Pirates, or maybe soldiers. Where would be a good place for this tunnel to go?”

Pedro thought about it a moment. “The water?”

His mother smiled. “I think that’s a very smart choice. Then we could get away by boat if we need to.”

“Like Papá’s yacht,” Isa said.

“Perhaps. But maybe something even faster, in case we needed to get away in a hurry.”

“One of his helicopters, then. Or his speed boat,” Pedro said.

“Yes.” She wrapped an arm around each of the children and pulled them close for a kiss on the end of their noses. “My smart little angels.”

Pedro and Isa beamed up at her, and Fernando couldn’t help but smile. His mother truly was amazing. Just as she had with him, she educated the children about necessary survival skills in such a subtle, fun way that they had no idea that they were in fact being indoctrinated into the ways of protecting themselves in the vicious cartel world they unwittingly lived in.

On the heels of that thought, guilt settled in the middle of his chest. “Papá has an important call to make,” he announced, getting up from the couch. He’d put this off as long as possible, but there was no more time to waste with the added dangers they faced now. His wife was in the bedroom busy packing the last of their necessary items right now. “Keep building. I’d like to hear more about the tunnel when I get back.”

“We won’t be long,” his mother said, and kissed his children on the top of their heads before rising and following him down the hall.

Fernando pressed his hand to the biometric scanner beside the door, then bent to activate the retinal scanner. His mother stepped in after him and shut the door. Steel bars slid home across it, sealing them in and keeping everyone else out.

The secure landline sat on the antique oak desk in the corner, brought over from Spain by one of his ancestors two centuries ago. Without looking at his mother he picked up the phone and called the number of the government official best positioned to help with this situation.

When the woman on the other end answered, Fernando spoke the words he had prepared ahead of time. The phone would automatically turn his voice into a digital one that no computer system could identify.

“I have a tip on the whereabouts of Manuel Nieto. He’s currently in Chihuahua, near this location.” He gave the coordinates of a remote cabin where Nieto had last been sighted by a villager eager to accept the reward money for information that might lead to Nieto’s capture. “He is armed and has his bodyguard with him.” He glanced over at his mother, who nodded in approval. Then he ended the call.

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