Page 49 of Rafa's Convenient Wife

“Thank you,” she whispered before giving the lukewarm and too-bitter brew a taste.

Beto dropped heavily into the chair next to her. He exhaled loudly and stretched out his long legs. He still wore his blood-stained suit, and she wondered if he planned to burn his clothes just as she did. There was no way she could ever wear this dress again, not even if it was pristine after laundering. She would always remember Rafael’s pale face as he passed out on that dirty sidewalk.

Beto sighed and shifted on the hard chair. He retrieved his iPhone and tapped at the screen. “Lola,” he said, answering her unasked question. “She’s just letting us know Jasper has been asleep since his bath. Dina, Camila, and Mama are all asleep in the same room. Everyone is safe, and she’ll keep checking in every hour.”

“She needs to sleep,” Sky said, her voice raw and rough. “She can’t do anything from home.”

“She’s a worrier,” Beto said, pocketing his phone again. “Even if she wanted to sleep, she wouldn’t be able to after all this.”

All this. Such a benign way to describe the most terrifying experience of her life. One minute, she had been holding onto her husband, fantasizing about all the wicked things they were going to do together once they got home, and the next she was holding onto him hoping he wouldn’t die.

When the shooting started, she had been so confused. All the yelling and screaming and the popping shots. Then Jasper screamed, and she saw the blood and panicked. It wasn’t until she finished checking him over that she realized it wasn’t his blood at all.

It was Rafa’s.

“Señor. Señora.” Two men in suits approached respectfully. They flashed official badges before the lead agent apologized. “We’re sorry to bother you.”

“We’ve already answered questions,” Beto said tiredly. “We talked to the police on the scene and again when the detectives met us at the emergency room.”

“We’re not local police.” The lead agent showed his badge again, and this time she was able to read the emblem clearly.Policía Federal Ministerial.PFM. Mexico’s version of the FBI. “We have information that you need to hear.”

Beto shot her a worried look and then slipped his arm around her shoulder in a comforting manner. “We’re listening.”

After the two agents introduced themselves, Agent Morales explained, “We were acting on a tip from our American counterparts. We were able to use their information to locate Beverly Van Cleef and her boyfriend at a hotel not far from the city center. They were waiting for the shooter—Emiliano Veracruz—to send word that he had completed his task.”

“His task?” Sky asked, awash in fresh terror. “You mean shooting Rafael?”

“No.” Agent Morales looked pained as he clarified, “The target was you, ma’am.”

“Me.” Of course. Beverly’s hatred really did have no bounds.

“From what the shooter revealed during questioning, we believe that the plan was to kill you and kidnap the baby in the chaos. A young man on a motorcycle was waiting nearby to snatch your nephew and take him to the rendezvous point.”

Beto’s arm tightened around her shoulders, consoling and supporting her. She glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened. He was so like Rafael.

Rafael who was in surgery fighting for his life.

Because of me.

As if he could read her mind, Beto said, “It’s not your fault, Sky.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked, crying again.

Beto looked distraught and turned his attention back to the agents. “Where are they now?”

“They’re in custody. They won’t be getting out any time soon, no matter how much noise that woman makes,” the second agent promised. “Kidnapping. Attempted murder. Conspiracy.” He ticked off the charges. “They’re looking at serious time in prison.”

Sky zoned out as Beto discussed legal matters with the agents. Beverly really was a lunatic. There was no other explanation for her vile behavior. She could have walked away with all themoney she wanted and access to Jasper. She could have lived a perfectly happy life—but she chose violence and hatred instead.

“Hey,” Beto said and gently shook her shoulders. “Sky.”

She blinked several times and realized she had missed the federal agents leaving. Now, two surgeons were standing in front of them.

Desperate for any news about Rafael, she jumped to her feet. “Is he okay? Is the surgery finished?”

The female surgeon smiled encouragingly. “The surgery went well. There were no complications. The bullet did some damage, but we were able to control all bleeding and remove the round.”

“He’ll recover?” Beto said, sounding afraid to hope.

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