Джеймс Паттерсон - Ambush

Gabriela giggled, which made Alex twist in the saddle to see what her daughter found so amusing.

Biscuit was sniffing the hindquarters of Clemency’s colt, Samuel.

Alex looked ahead again to hide her smile.

Clemency trotted up, then had to fight to control Samuel.

Alex said, “You’re doing great, Clemmy, but think of you and Samuel as one. You’re part of him, and he’s part of you. Let him feel your confidence.”

Clemency nodded and immediately tried a quick turn and sprint, her long, dark ponytail flowing behind her.

Now Gabriela caught up to her mother.

“How am I doing, Mama?”

“Wonderful, baby. You and Biscuit are perfect together.”

Alex was distracted by another rider coming from the direction of the ranch. She tensed and unbuckled the pouch holding her pistol.

Then she recognized the rider and called out, “Manny.”

Her slim thirty-three-year-old cousin smiled as he approached.

Alex leaned over and kissed him.

He said, “You look beautiful, as always.”

The girls both raced up to greet her cousin, whom they called Uncle Manny.

Manny said, “I propose a race. Your mama and me, to the far hill and back. You two will be the referees in case she tries anything funny.”

Alex didn’t wait for a signal. She urged Mitzi into a full gallop, and Manny fell in behind her immediately.

Manny rode a gelding from her stable named Reynaldo. The horse was big, more than fifteen hands high, but he had a smooth gait.

Alex looked ahead slightly, avoiding gopher holes and other dangers to a galloping horse. She urged Mitzi on with a nudge from her feet. She’d never used a whip or spurs in her whole life.

Manny matched her step for step, kicking Reynaldo harder, but nothing more.

Reynaldo had the stride, but Alex had the experience.

Alex circled the oak tree at the crest of the hill. She looked up to see the girls cheering about four hundred meters ahead. Sweat was dripping into her eyes, and she felt her legs tiring under the stress of riding and standing up slightly in the stirrups.

Alex hated to lose. Especially to her cousin Manny.

Alex smiled at the girls’ squeals as she crossed the finish line ahead of Manny.

They both eased the horses to a trot, then returned to the giddy girls.

Manny said, “Once again, your beautiful mother has demonstrated to you that women can compete with men anywhere.”

Alex beamed at the victory and the girls’ excitement.

After a few minutes, they sent the girls ahead so they could talk about their shared profession.

Alex said, “Any interesting jobs coming up?”

Manny shook his head. “I’m taking a break. I was almost caught by the Brazilian national police after I completed a contract in Rio. Some oil company executive hired me to deal with one of his rivals. The job itself wasn’t that hard, but any time you take a contract not related to the drug business, the police tend to take notice. I barely made it back here without having to explain why I put two bullets in the back of the man’s head.”

Manny looked at her. No humor in his tone. “I’ve heard about your New York contracts. People in the United States don’t like it when cops are killed. It’s not like Mexico, where a payoff will keep people quiet. In the States they’ll do everything they can to find you. You’ve got the girls. This ranch. All those people you take care of. I’ve only got me.”

“And your mother.”

“Okay, but no children.”

Alex sighed. “What can you do? It’s the business. I’d prefer to stay here with the girls.”

“I would prefer that as well. Let me finish the contract.”

She laughed. “Always trying to protect me. I appreciate it, Manny, but I can complete any contract you can. Besides, there are still a couple of Canadians in New York I need to deal with as well.”

“When do you leave?”

Alex said, “Tomorrow I’m meeting with my liaison to the cartel. I’ll see what he has to say before I make any decisions.”

Manny laughed and said, “That is so you. No decision, no matter how small, is ever taken lightly. I wish I had your discipline.”

Alex sighed. “No, you don’t.”

I got home in the evening just before dinner. I was beat. I guess I wasn’t as fully recovered as I thought. Just like everyone from Mary Catherine to the doctors had told me. And oddly, I still had a hard time admitting I was stubborn.

The younger kids each darted into the hallway to greet me, as they always did. I doled out hugs and kisses that immediately wiped away my exhaustion. The older kids gave me courtesy nods, and Ricky even said, “Hey, Dad.”

Dinner smelled like a traditional Irish roast with maybe a splash of spices from Ricky.

As I stepped into the dining room, ready to greet Mary Catherine, I was surprised to see the athletic form of Father Alonzo helping to move some glasses into the living room.

“Hello, Michael. I hope you don’t mind that your grandfather brought me along for dinner.”

“No, of course not. In a family this size one more person is barely noticed.”

Just then, Chrissy ran up with our cat in her arms.

“Something’s wrong with Socky.”

I took a closer look. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Shawna and Trent joined the medical consultation.

Chrissy was hesitant.

I asked, “What is it?”

“It’s Socky’s... um... uh... butt.”

I checked, and sure enough, there was a piece of string poking out slightly. I leaped into action. I looked at Trent and said in a mock official tone, “Find me an open operating table with newspaper covering it.”

My son sprang to attention and called, “Yes, sir.” He gave me a quick smile and wink.

Trent led me into the living room, where he had cleared the coffee table and spread newspaper over it. He helped me hold Socky, who seemed to like the attention, as I conducted a thorough examination.

Eddie joined us out of curiosity as the girls knelt down to comfort the cat.

I used a napkin to grasp the string and pull. The foot-long string slid out easily, although afterward Socky squirmed free and fled.

I held up the string and said to the girls, “Voilà. The operation was successful.”

Mary Catherine stepped into the living room and said, “Quit acting like a child in front of our guest.” Then she saw the string I was holding and said, “I wondered where the pork-loin string went last night.”

I smiled and said, “I hope you’re not going to use it again.” I was rewarded with a hail of laughter from the girls.

Father Alonzo laughed, too, and said, “You’re a lucky man to spread such joy.”

I smiled. He was right.

As dinner simmered and the children cleared their homework off the dining-room table, I joined Seamus and Alonzo on the balcony.

Both priests sipped on glasses of red wine, and Seamus passed one to me. I accepted and brought it to my nose, hoping it wasn’t my Talisman Weir Vineyard Pinot Noir. Sixty bucks was a lot for a cop to shell out for wine. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.

Alonzo was perceptive. He said, “I hope you like the wine. I took it from the Communion box at Holy Name.”

I just stared at him for a moment, speechless.

Alonzo said, “I’m sorry — just a poor joke. We picked it up at the liquor store down the street.”

I wasn’t used to a priest with a normal sense of humor.

We chatted for a few more minutes. Alonzo complimented me on how well behaved the children were. It’s hard to not like someone who compliments your children.

I tried to get a little more of his background. He was raised in Bogotá, educated in Mexico City.