Hidden Agenda (8 page)

“What about Felipe?” Ivan asked.

“I don't know, Ivan,” Olivia said.

“Who's Felipe?” Michael asked.

“He's an old friend of the family. He lives in a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It's about as off the grid as you can get. We could go there. Let you rest a couple of days while we figure out what to do next.”

“You're sure no one could trace us there?”

“I don't know how,” she said. “My father doesn't know about the cabin, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Do you trust this man?”

“I'd trust him with my life, yes.”

“Good, because that's exactly what we have to do.” He let her help him put his shirt back on, regretting the day he'd ever agreed to walk into the lion's den. “How far is the cabin?” he asked.

“Two . . . two and a half hours tops.”

“Okay, but I need your cell phone first and yours too, Ivan, if you have one.”

“Our cell phones?” She pulled hers out of her back pocket while Ivan grabbed his from the car. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure we stay off the grid.” He pried her phone open and took out the battery, then watched Ivan do the same with his. He waited until he had Ivan's attention, then looked at his two unlikely rescuers. “By the way, I don't think I've thanked you both yet for saving my life.”

She turned to him with those wide, almond-shaped eyes of hers that made his mind fuzzy. “We only did what any Good Samaritan would have done.”

“Maybe, but it would have been safer for you to walk away, and you know it. You took a risk and saved my life.”

“Like you did just now at the gas station? It seemed like the right decision at the time.”

His vision blurred. He needed another dose of pain medicine. Needed to sleep. “Let's just pray we're making the right decision now.”

O
livia pressed on the brakes in front of the familiar cabin, then eased her car beneath the shadowy canopy of trees. Once again, she tried to ensure they hadn't been followed. She was starting to question their decision to come to the cabin.

But there was no turning back now. Michael had slept most of the way, which she'd been thankful for, but thirty minutes ago, she'd noticed beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and a patch of blood seeping through his bandage. If Felipe couldn't help him, they'd have to chance going to the nearest emergency room.

Felipe stepped out onto the wooden porch with a shotgun raised to the heavens, the moonlight catching the scowl on his face. She stepped out of the car slowly, with her hands in front of her. Felipe had never been one to trust strangers. Forty years ago, he'd left his life in Mexico, where he'd watched his family killed. He'd never been able to escape the images of their deaths.

“It's me, Felipe. Olivia.”

Ivan exited the front passenger seat with a grin on his face as Felipe's brown-and-white hunting dog, Gizmo, covered his face with slobbery kisses.

“Olivia . . . Ivan . . . what in the world?” Felipe lowered the weapon to the ground and ran down the stairs before gathering her up in a hug. “I was hoping you'd call for Christmas, but a visit's even better, even though you're a few hours late.”

“I know. I'm sorry for dropping in on you like this, so late, without any warning.”

Felipe took a step back to look at her in the yellow glow of the porch light. “You look tired, but good.”

“Thank you. And you . . .” Olivia shot him a worried look. “You've lost weight.”

Felipe patted his midsection. “Thanks for noticing, but why didn't you call me and tell me you were headed this direction?”

His question drew her back to the issue at hand. “We've run into a few . . . problems.”

“What happened? Are you in trouble?”

“It's a long story, but yeah. We need your help.”

Felipe reached out to pull Ivan into a hug, then stepped back to look at him. “Better watch out for that dog of mine. He's always running off, hunting down some vermin, then bringing it back.” He laughed. “It's good to see you.”

Felipe paused when he caught sight of Michael sitting beneath the dome light in the backseat of the car.

“Who's that?” he asked.

“His name's Michael.”

“A friend of yours?”

Olivia hesitated. If she wanted Felipe to trust her, she was going to have to tell him the truth from the very beginning. “He's a cop.”

“Whoa, hold on.” The welcoming tenor in Felipe's voice vanished. “A cop—or any lawman for that matter—only means one thing. Trouble. And that's something I don't want here.”

He'd never told her why he wasted his days cooped up in this
cabin, though she'd always suspected he'd had a run-in with the law at some point.

“He's one of the good guys, Felipe.”

“And you know that how?”

“It's a long story, but for now what's important is that he's hurt.” She shivered despite her heavy coat. The temperature had dropped over the past couple of hours, bringing with it the couple inches of snow the weatherman had promised. “I thought maybe you could help me patch him up.”

“Forget it. There's a perfectly good emergency room fifteen miles from here. They'll be happy to see him.”

“Can't do that. There are some men after us.” Olivia reached out and grasped Felipe's hand. “We need your help. You told me once that this cabin is completely hidden from the outside world. If that's still true, this is where we need to be. If it's not true—”

“Of course that's still true.” Felipe's brow furrowed. “Which is why I don't like having strangers showing up.”

“He's not the enemy, and neither am I. Please.”

Olivia heard the panic in her voice. Maybe they had been foolish coming here. Maybe they should have gone to the authorities or to Michael's family.

Felipe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still frowning. “You know I'd do anything for you and your brother, but this . . . I'm not risking my life for some stranger. And if you were followed . . .”

“I made sure we weren't. No one knows we're here. We've even disassembled our phones.” She looked up and caught Felipe's gaze. “If not for Michael, then do this for me. Just for a day or two, until we figure out what to do.”

Olivia helped Michael out of the car while she waited for Felipe's response. His shoulder had continued to bleed, his face was pale, and she could feel the heat radiating through his shirt.
The panic that had settled in her stomach earlier started to spread. Felipe was right. They'd made a mistake coming here. Not only were they involving Felipe, but Michael was getting worse. He needed to be in a hospital.

“You know, you're right, Felipe. We'll leave. He's gotten worse, and—”

“If what you've said is true,” Felipe interrupted, “then maybe you're exactly where you should be. I could never live with myself if something happened to either of you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Felipe nodded. “I know I could end up regretting this, but yeah. Come on in.”

Felipe and Ivan helped Michael across the uneven ground toward the one-bedroom cabin while Olivia locked the car and brought in their stuff.

She walked into the living room behind the men, thankful for the fire blazing in the corner of the room. She closed the front door behind her and flipped the double lock. Inside the familiar living room sat two old couches, a lounge chair, a coffee table, and a small television. Felipe had never been one for creature comforts, and had never even thought to remodel the dark paneled walls or the blue-and-green shag carpet straight from the seventies. But to her, the place was perfect.

Michael groaned as they set him down on a quilt draped over the double bed in the bedroom.

“Tell me what happened,” Felipe said. “He's burning up with fever.”

“He was beat up.”

“I can see that. Okay, you can explain everything later, but for now, it looks as if he's lucky to be alive.” Felipe peeled off Michael's shirt, and Olivia saw that fresh blood soaked the bandage on his arm. Felipe gave her a hard look. “This isn't from being beat up. He's been shot.”

“It's just a flesh wound, but he lost a lot of blood.”

Felipe switched on a lamp on the bedside table, then let out a sharp huff. The bare bulb cast shadows against the walls. “Looks as if I'll be giving up my bed for the night, but you're going to have to replace the quilt he's just ruined.”

Olivia gave him another hug. “I always knew you were a softy beneath that tough exterior of yours.”

Felipe shot her a weak smile. “That's not a secret I want getting out.”

“Fair enough. What can I do?”

“Looks like you did a pretty good job already, but there's a well-stocked first-aid kit along with a bucket of clean rags to the left of the sink. Grab it all and ask Ivan to get a bowl of warm water.”

In the kitchen a pot of coffee sat on the stove, sending its pungent smell throughout the small cabin and bringing with it memories of Olivia and Ivan and their mother sitting in the living room, while Felipe told story after story of his life growing up.

He'd been a part of their lives as long as she could remember. A friend to her mother, a father-figure to her and Ivan. Today, those memories seemed a lifetime ago.

Ivan stopped her in the middle of the kitchen. “I'm sorry,” he signed.

“For what?”

“Insisting we bring Michael with us. I didn't realize it would cause so much trouble. And now we've involved Felipe. It's like a row of dominos.” His eyes darkened. “If they find Michael, they find us. If they find us, they find Felipe . . .”

“No,” Olivia said. “You were right. He'd be dead if we hadn't rescued him.”

“And because of what we did, we might all be dead soon.”

Olivia grabbed the first-aid kit and a handful of rags from the bucket near the sink. She was unwilling to give in to the
fear churning her insides. “We're going to get through this. Alive. Besides, we couldn't have just let them kill him. We both know that.”

“Maybe, but—”

“No buts. We're going to figure this out. And until then, Felipe needs you to bring him a bowl of warm water.”

Olivia turned away. While her own words might be laced with confidence, the sea of doubt roiling inside her had yet to die down. Had tonight really been worth saving a man they didn't know? Especially when it meant putting their own lives at risk?

Felipe looked up as Olivia stepped back into the bedroom. “Did you find everything?” he asked.

“Yes. Ivan will be here in a second with the water.” She set the rags and the first-aid kit on the end of the bed, surprised at how worried she could be about a man who had just stepped into her life and turned it upside down. “How is he?”

“Besides the gunshot wound, he's badly bruised, and has a fever we need to get down. All I can do is clean him up and give him some pain medicine and a strong round of antibiotics, which thankfully I have. Beyond that, we'll watch his fever and make sure his wound doesn't get infected.”

“Where did you get antibiotics?” she asked.

Felipe smiled. “I told you I had a well-stocked first-aid kit.”

Olivia started to ask another question, then stopped. Maybe there were some things better off not knowing.

Like the fact that her father was a part of the cartel.

Olivia buried the thought. “What else, Felipe?”

Ivan brought the bowl of water into the room and set it next to the bed while Felipe handed her a tube of antibiotic ointment. “As soon as I finish washing the cuts on his face and the backs of his hands, put this on them. Barring an infection, he should recover in a few days.”

They continued in silence, while Michael drifted in and out of consciousness, groaning every few moments, as if he were trying to escape from a bad dream. The problem was, waking up wasn't going to change anything. Reality was going to seem worse than his dream. At least with dreams, you eventually woke up.

Felipe signaled her back into the living room once they were done. The clock on the wall read 1:22. Ivan had taken the coffee off the stove, then fallen asleep on one of the couches, with Gizmo at his feet.

“Hungry?” Felipe asked.

“No.”

“How about some coffee? It's decaf and still hot.”

She nodded. Caffeine or not, she had a feeling she wasn't going to be able to sleep for a long time.

Felipe pulled out a couple of mugs. “Do you still take it with cream and sugar?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “For everything.”

“I could never deny your mother anything. Guess nothing's changed with the next generation.” His smile lingered for a moment, then faded as he spooned in the sugar. “Tell me what happened that you would bring a cop to my doorstep.”

Her decision to tell him the truth wavered. “We were on the island . . . at our father's house. Ivan saw a man murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Michael was going to be next,” she continued. “If we hadn't rescued him, he would have been dead by morning.”

There were flicks of anger in Felipe's eyes. “Why didn't you just leave him there and let the cops take care of things? That's their job, isn't it? You took too big a risk for a man you know nothing about.”

“But they didn't catch us, and Michael will live now.”

He sat down in the green lounge chair in front of the fireplace,
avoiding her gaze as he stared into the lingering yellow and orange flames of the dying fire.

Olivia sat down across from him in the wooden rocker, holding the warm mug between her hands. “What is it, Felipe?”

“You don't realize what you've just gotten involved in.”

“By saving a man's life?” She knew it was far more than that, and she was frustrated over the secrets and lies. “Tell me what's going on. Tell me what I don't know about my father.”

“Your mother once told me that what attracted her to him in the beginning was the fact that he was a successful businessman. Someone who was stable and solid.”

“Businessmen don't hire hitmen to kill people who get in their way.” She took a sip of her coffee as years of questions rose to the surface. “Tell me the truth.”

“I knew this day would come, when you'd ask me these questions.” He leaned forward and set his cup on the hearth, a deep sadness marking his expression. “Your mother wanted to paint the picture of the perfect family to the world, but Antonio Valez, even with all of his wealth and possessions, couldn't hang on to the fantasy.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head. “I promised . . . She made me promise . . .”