So I set to work cleaning the kitchen. I’m going to be in here longer than I anticipated, and I know Rafe and Bennito are waiting outside, but what can I do? Duval and Fouquet asked me to clean up the kitchen, and they’ll be suspicious if I don’t. So I clean. I wipe down the counters, throw away trash, clean out the blender, and fill the dishwasher. The floor’s a mess but I give it a cursory swipe with my sponge, hoping they won’t notice that I’m doing a shitty job. Actually, nobody’s noticing me at all. Rose is sitting out on the porch, Fouquet is in the other room, and I can hear Duval in the front, talking on his phone. I slowly take a knife out of the silverware drawer and tuck it under a few towels. I feel better with it there, even if I know that if it comes to a knife fight, I’m fucked.
I finish with the kitchen and head to one of the bathrooms. It’s equally gross in here, but I clean it up quickly, and then move farther down the hall. It’s the bedroom. My heart speeds up again. Fouquet’s in there. Sucking in a breath, I knock on the door and repeat, “?Limpieza?”
The door opens a moment later and Fouquet comes out with a magazine. “Gracias,” he mumbles, and then heads out onto the sunporch with Rose. I wheel my cart into the room and begin to “clean.” I want to head for the lamp first, but I feel like that will be too obvious, so I pick up dirty clothes off the floor and fold towels and try to be casual. When I head to the bed, I tuck in corners, moving ever so slowly to the lamp.
Then, I glance around. No one’s looking my way. No one’s even at this end of the house. Carefully, I unplug the lamp and then pick it up. The base unscrews easily and something weighty drops into my hand. I reattach the base and move to the window with the hard drive, then drop it carefully into the grass. Then, I resume making the bed.
I’ve just about finished when Rose walks in, a sarong around her hips. “Hey, we need more towels,” she says, and then pauses when I jerk up. Her eyes widen and her voice lowers. “Ava?”
Shit. Count on her to recognize me despite my disguise. I put a finger to my lips and point at the door.
She shuts it, and rushes over to me. Her arms wrap around me tightly. “Oh my God, Ava, I thought you were dead. You’re alive!”
The tears that wet the shoulder of my uniform are genuine, and I hug her back, so relieved to see her. Rose looks beautiful, as always, lean and golden and so pretty it makes me ache to look at her. “Shhh,” I tell her softly. “We have to keep it quiet. They can’t know I’m here.”
She pulls away, her eyes stunningly blue and wet. “What? Why?”
“Long story,” I say. “The plane went down but we somehow survived. I think we landed in a tree.” I hold up my gloved wrist. “I hurt this.”
She gasps as if the world has ended. “Your modeling jobs. Oh no!”
Like modeling has even been on my mind lately. I shake my head and grip her hand in my good one. “Enough about me, Rose. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are they hurting you?”
If they’ve hurt Rose at all, I want Mendoza to shoot their nads off before he kills them. My hands squeezes hers tightly.
Her brows draw together and she looks prettily confused. “Hurt me? Why? Louis took me on vacation since I was stressed.” She tilts her head at me. “Ava, what’s going on? Why are you cleaning our room?” She frowns at my appearance. “Your face looks like hell. What did you do to your eyebrows? And—”
I shake my head. Rose, bless her heart, is the sweetest soul, but she’s about as deep as a mud puddle. “I don’t care about my appearance right now. Look, we have to get you out of here.”
“Get me out? Why?” She blinks at me. “I’m on vacation, Ava. Why would I leave? Louis says when he finishes with his business we’re going to spend more time on the beach.”
Has my friend lost her senses? “Rose. You’re not on vacation. They’re holding you hostage.”
She frowns, her brows drawing together, and then her face smooths out. “Don’t. You’ll make me wrinkle and my career will be over.”
“I’m serious, Rose. You think I’m working for them because I want to? They told me if I don’t, they’ll kill you.”
Her full lips part. “But . . .” Her jaw trembles, and I see it’s finally sinking in that something about this is not right. “Louis told me he was paying you to do this for him.”
“Paying me?” I hiss the words out. “Are you serious? Rose, he told me if I didn’t, he was going to kill you. Why else would I do something so illegal?”
“I don’t know.” She stomps her sandal-clad foot. Tears threaten her eyes again. “I don’t know anything! No one tells me what’s going on! Why would Louis say he’s going to kill me? He says he loves me.”
“They’re trying to shake down criminal organizations, Rose,” I tell her softly. God, why is she so blind when it comes to men? Louis isn’t the first loser she’s dated, but he’s definitely the worst. “And people are coming after them. The government, too. The men that saved me? They’re mercenaries. Hit men. And they want the information that Duval has.” I grip her arms. “Please, Rosie. Listen to me when I say that things are really bad, okay?”
She nods, her big blue eyes trusting and awash with tears. That’s the problem with Rose. She’s so damn trusting. It’s like she’s terrified of thinking for herself. Even at home, I’m the leader.
I rub her arm, trying to encourage her. “It’s going to be okay.” I look around, back at the window that I just tossed the drive out of. We can sneak out that way. “We’re going to get out of here, and Rafe is going to take care of us, okay?”