The Lost Girls (Lucy Kincaid #11)

She glanced at George. She hoped he hadn’t already called the police. Because if he did, they would take her back. She knew it.

Nadia seemed to sense her hesitation. “You are safe here, Marisol. But you’re still weak. You had a baby.”

She blushed. She hadn’t told Nadia about the baby, but she’d known. Maybe it was something women know, once they have a child of their own.

“Please trust me on this,” Marisol said. “These are dangerous, bad people. Angelo can protect me, he is a good man. Like John.”

“Why don’t you have Angelo come here to get you?”

What did she say to that? She didn’t know why, it was just her gut feeling. “Because you’ve done more than can be repaid.” She had clean clothes. They were Nadia’s, and they hung loose on her, but it felt good to wear something clean that smelled so good.

George walked over and put a phone in her hand, along with money.

She shook her head. “I can’t take this.”

“I programmed my number in here. If you need anything, any help, call me. John and I will come.”

“I—”

“You will take it. It’s not much money, but it will feed you.”

She hugged them both and tried not to cry again.

Then she left. She had a two-hour walk ahead of her, but she felt so much better now than she had before. Angelo had been emotional when they spoke.

“I didn’t know what had happened to you. I looked everywhere, but the policía said you had gone away. Poof! Just disappeared. I feared the worst. Thank God you’re alive. I will be there, just tell me when and where.”

Soon, Ana would be free. Soon, she would have her baby.

I love you, Angelo. Thank you.

*

Two hours later, while Nadia was preparing dinner and feeling surprisingly sad about Marisol leaving, John burst into the house.

“Wipe your feet,” she said out of habit. She’d raised three sons and two daughters. John was the youngest and the only one who still lived close by.

“Where’s Marisol?”

“She left.”

“What? Why?”

“She spoke to the young man from her home. Angelo. He’s coming to get her.”

“But why isn’t she here?”

“Johnny, what’s wrong?”

“I talked to Adam after classes ended today.”

“You promised you wouldn’t go to the police, Johnny. Your word.”

“I didn’t tell him about her, I just asked hypothetical questions.”

“Adam is not a stupid man.”

Adam was her son-in-law, a good man, but he was a policeman, and he could be very law-and-order, especially when it came to immigrants. Nadia feared what would happen to Marisol. The girl was scared, terrified about something. Nadia could only guess. The police couldn’t help her, not even a good man like Adam.

“An infant was left at a church in Freer. It’s under police protection at the hospital. I think it’s Marisol’s baby.”

“She wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“No, Ma, that’s not what I mean. I mean that the police think that the baby’s mother is in danger. And then Adam said another woman who’d just had a baby was found dead in an alley.”

Nadia crossed herself.

“Where did Marisol go?”

“I don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me.”

George came into the kitchen. “I heard her on the phone. I know where she’s going. We should be able to catch up with her.”

But when they arrived at the intersection fifteen minutes later, there was no sign of Marisol or anyone else.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kane was on edge, which put Sean on edge.

“What haven’t you told me?” Sean asked as he secured the plane. They’d landed at a private airstrip outside of Guadalajara. According to Kane, no one used it regularly, and they should be good for a day or two.

“After the cartel used Siobhan to lure me into a trap, I’m wary.” Kane double-checked his .45 and slipped a back-up into an ankle holster. “I traced the helicopter and ID’d the guy with Gabriella. I’m pretty sure she’s in deep with the Flores Cartel. No one can know our real connection to this rescue.”

“No one knows Jesse is mine,” Sean said. “I didn’t even know until yesterday.”

Kane didn’t say anything.

“You think Madison set us up?” Sean shook his head. “If that were the case, she would have gone through RCK to ensure you were brought on. No one wants my head.”

Kane grunted.

“Not as much as they want your head.”

“You can’t come with me to Dante’s.”