Elizabeth Lowell - The Wrong Hostage

“Yes,” she said.

“ Bueno . Two days.”

“Two days? For what?”

“To find el cabron that is your husband.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Lo siento.” Hector shrugged. “The death of a son es muy triste . Ver’ sad.”

Grace couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And she couldn’t afford not to believe it.

This can’t be happening .

But it was.

“A request, please.” She spoke quickly, softly, with a steadiness that came from a soul-deep certainty that she would die before she let this butcher kill her son. If that meant begging a favor from one of the most violent men in any nation on earth, then she’d beg. “I must be able to come to the school and see Lane at any time. Surely you understand why.”

“Seguro que si,” Hector said, smiling. “A mother, she must see her son. But today a few minutes solamente . Surely you unnerstand why.”

Grace didn’t miss the mockery in his last words. A matter of power. He’s showing me that getting what I want is entirely at his pleasure .

The Butcher .

How did this happen?

“Yes, I understand,” she said tightly.

Jaime’s expression was disdainful, as contemptuous of his uncle as everything else in the world. Especially Lane Franklin, gringo son of a thieving gringo father.

“Thank you,” Grace added, throttling her fear.

“Don’ be sad,” Hector said, smiling almost intimately at her. “I learn much time ago always to offer a choice. Plata o plomo . Silver or lead. Smart people, they choose the silver.”

Grace drew a hidden breath and vowed not to show any weakness. “Do you understand that Ted and I are divorced? I didn’t control him when I was married. What chance do I have now?”

“My people say you have power. Use it to please me.”

“Power? Hardly. If I really were powerful, you’d be worried that I’d turn my supposed power against you.”

Hector laughed. “They want me in El Norte and in Mexico for murder and a thousand other crimes. Si, I ver’ afraid of the law.” He laughed harder. “You smart, you work for me.”

Grace nodded and hoped her face didn’t show her fear. Or her hatred.

“You keep this between us,” Hector said, “or I kill the boy. ?Claro? ”

“Very clear.”

Hector turned away.

“Did my husband know this was going to happen?” she asked.

Hector paused, tilting his head as he considered the question for a moment. Then he spoke to her with a combination of respect and mockery that was uniquely his own. “I tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Is what you demand, Judge?”

She nodded.

“Franklin know,” Hector said simply. “Is part of our deal to have el nino in Mexico.”

Grace couldn’t hide her anger. She didn’t even try. “Does Lane know he’s a hostage?”

Hector frowned and shook his head. “I no scare children. Two days, senora .”

Grace started to ask for more time. A look at Hector’s bad eye told her to save her breath. His clothes might have been clean, crisp, fresh; his dead eye was a preview of hell.

“Si,” Hector said, smiling. “You smart woman. Adios .”

The aging crime lord turned and strode away, his sour-faced nephew trailing behind.

As soon as they were beyond earshot, Grace turned on Calderon. She looked at him like she’d never seen him before.

“Is your son enrolled here?” she asked.

Calderon nodded.

“You put him up as a hostage?” she asked in disbelief.

Calderon looked at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head. “It wasn’t necessary, not south of the line. He would be as vulnerable on the street in front of our home as he is at All Saints. Besides, my son and I aren’t at risk. Hector knows I put a lot of my own money into the investment pool Ted stole.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

Calderon hesitated, then shrugged. “My own investment was five million.”

“And Hector’s?”

“Ten times that at least. Twenty times, possibly.” Calderon shook his head. “Jaime never told me the whole amount, but he was trying to sell it to politicians and narcotraficantes in both hemispheres.”

Grace did the math and felt like throwing up.

Fifty to a hundred million dollars .

The referee blew a long, shrill blast on his whistle, echo of the scream throttled in her throat.

Lane broke away from the celebration of his team’s victory and jogged toward her.

Calderon looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, but…” He shrugged.

“Only a few minutes.” Grace took a deep breath and put a bright smile on her face. “You bastard.”

Calderon faded out of hearing as Lane ran up and gave Grace a hug that lifted her off her feet. He was taller than she was. Stronger.

His hazel green eyes and fierce grin were like Joe Faroe’s.

When did Lane grow so much?

Where did the time go?

How am I going to get him out of this velvet hellhole?

“We kicked butt,” Lane said in a deep voice that was also an echo from her past. “Did you see it?”

“I saw your butt get kicked,” she said, running her hands over his sweaty head and shoulders. The ripple of lean muscles on his arms surprised her. He must be lifting weights when he isn’t studying . “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Just a bump.”

The echo of Hector’s words made ice slide down her back.

“Coach-Father Rafael-told me you’d only be able to stay a few minutes,” Lane said. “Something about having to rush back home. Is it Dad?”

“Is that what Father Rafael said?” Grace asked carefully.

Lane swept his sweaty brown hair off his forehead with a gesture that was also from the past.

At least Joe wouldn’t have put Lane up as some kind of human collateral .

I only knew Joe a few days, but I know that much .

She wanted to blame Ted for being so unspeakably selfish, for not being able to see the wonderful boy who had grown up right under his nose, calling him Dad. But it was her fault. She’d been so busy with her own career that she’d let the marriage slip away.

Not that Ted had been eager to keep things together. He liked the fact that she was successful, powerful. He liked it because she didn’t have time to notice that he was never home.

Damn you, Ted. Even if I deserve this, Lane doesn’t. He’s the only innocent in the mess we call our lives .

“Where’s Dad?” Lane asked.

Grace reached over and brushed his sweaty hair back so she could see his eyes more clearly.

“On the road,” she said. “Why?”

Lane looked away, not wanting his mother to see his disappointment. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Whenever he needed his father, he was somewhere else. Once, just once, Lane wanted his father to be proud of him, to be there when he needed him.

Like that’s ever going to happen .

“No big deal,” Lane said, turning back to his mother with a smile. “He asked me something about computers and I have the answer now. But it will keep. I’m sure he’s got a lot on his mind.”

Grace bit back harsh laughter. “That’s an understatement.”

For a moment there was silence broken only by the distant sound of men’s voices as the crowd at the soccer field dispersed.

“Mom, I want to go home with you,” Lane said baldly.

“I want that, too.” Grace hugged her son close so that he couldn’t see her eyes. She didn’t want him to know how frightened she was. “But Mexico is run by men.”