‘Shut up, James,’ Felipe bit out, then to Francesca said, ‘I’m sorry if we scared you but I did warn you of the dangers.’
‘You warned me of kidnap and robbery. You said nothing about a car ride turning into the rollercoaster ride from hell. You said nothing about being armed.’
‘Would you have preferred we let them catch us? Should I have asked them nicely why they were following us and what they wanted? Should I arm myself with a feather duster to protect you?’
‘Well...no...’
‘Then let’s get in the plane before they find us and tell us in person what they want.’
‘We’re supposed to be going to the hospital site.’
‘That can wait.’
‘But...’
The look on his face stopped her arguing further. It was a look that spoke plainly. If she didn’t get out of the car and onto the plane right now he would carry her to it.
The adrenaline racing through her peaked to imagine what it would be like carried in his arms...
Humiliating, that’s what it would be, carted off like a recalcitrant child.
Jutting her chin in the air, she twisted round and got out, snubbing James’s offered hand.
‘I don’t know why you’re ignoring me, I wasn’t in the car,’ he complained.
She couldn’t help but smile weakly at his boyish charm even though he too had a gun in his hand. ‘Shut up, James.’
‘Yes, shut up, James,’ Felipe muttered as he followed her, scrutinising their surroundings, his hand on her back, ready to throw himself on her should anything happen.
His heart still pounded from the adrenaline surge of the race back to the airport and he was as angry about that as he was about Francesca’s idiocy. Adrenaline was part of the job—for most of them it was the job—but not like that.
Only when they were airborne did he put the gun back in his inside jacket pocket.
He’d seen Francesca’s fear when he’d produced it.
Good.
Fear could be a useful tool provided one knew how to control it. She had controlled her fear well enough, he admitted grudgingly, but she had to learn her safety wasn’t a game. There would be no compromises in that regard.
He closed his eyes and breathed welcome oxygen into his lungs.
He hadn’t experience a charge like that since the hostage situation a decade ago that had ended in such destruction and his own medical discharge from the forces.
* * *
When they landed back in the safety of Aguadilla, Francesca found she could breathe again. Caballeros had frightened her more than she wanted to admit. The guns Felipe and his men carried frightened her too; a physical reminder of the danger Daniele and Matteo had been so keen to ram into her but which she had naively thought they were exaggerating.
Felipe took the wheel, taking them through rural byways where coconut sellers lined the road and men sat at tables playing board games. One minute they were driving through what looked like jungle, the next in the open air with the Caribbean Sea gleaming before them, then back into the jungle. Twenty minutes after they left the airport, they pulled up outside a pretty single-storey lodge.
‘This looks nice,’ she said, attempting a conciliatory tone at the rigid figure driving the car who hadn’t exchanged a word with anyone since they’d left the airport.
Now that her adrenaline had settled she could appreciate that a combination of her fear and the awful realisation that she’d screwed up had made her come across as a spoilt brat. Felipe and Seb had done nothing more in the car than they were being paid for—keeping her safe. And Felipe had tried to warn her in the meeting, she remembered. But they’d been non-verbal warnings she’d ignored in her determination to seal the deal.
She would have to apologise.
‘This is where we’re slumming it,’ James said, his eyes twinkling.
‘Hardly slumming it,’ she protested. ‘It’s charming.’
‘Nah, not you. Seb and I have to slum it while you and grumpy here get to live it up in a seven-star paradise up the road. Don’t party too hard.’
Both men slammed the doors behind them, leaving her in the back alone with Felipe up front.
He switched the engine back on.
‘Hold on, I’ll come and sit up front with you,’ she said, but found the door wouldn’t open. ‘Have you turned the child lock on?’
He turned the car round, saying, ‘Put your seat belt back on, we’ll be there in a few minutes.’
She slumped back and folded her arms, her warmed feelings towards him disappearing in an instant at his arrogant highhandedness.
‘“Put your seat belt back on,”’ she mimicked under her breath. ‘“Don’t do this, don’t do that, just do exactly as I say.”’
He could forget an apology.
Not even the long private driveway dotted with security guards that opened up to reveal their perfectly named Eden Hotel could lift her mood, or the thought of calling Daniele with the good news. When the contracts were signed a week from now he’d fly over and check the site and get the architectural plans, which he’d promised to get started on, finalised.
But she would have to tell him too about her foolishness. He would be rightly furious with her. She was furious with herself.
She followed Felipe out of the car and into the sweet air, and hurried to follow him into the hotel.
And what a hotel it was. Francesca had stayed in many luxury resorts with her family while growing up but nowhere that could compare to this. The Eden Hotel was like a tall, sprawling villa set back from its own private sandy cove, its pristine white fascia covered in all manner of colourful climbing flowers and vines.
It oozed money, a feeling compounded when she stepped into a giant oval atrium with a waterfall as a centrepiece that managed to be both bustling with life yet utterly serene, evoking the sense of calm she so desperately needed. It made the Governor’s residence seem like a trifling town hall.
Felipe strolled to the horseshoe-shaped reception desk and used the time spent checking in getting a handle on the turbulence still coursing through him. All he wanted was to get into the privacy of his suite before he said or did something he regretted.
Once they’d been given their respective keys he said, without looking at the woman who’d caused all the turbulence, ‘Your luggage has been taken to your suite. I’ll meet you in here after breakfast on Monday...’
‘Monday?’
‘None of the officials you want to see will be available tomorrow. Not on a Sunday.’
‘But Caballeros is in a state of emergency!’
‘Have you made any appointments?’
‘Not yet,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘I didn’t want to get ahead of myself before I got the Governor’s agreement. I’m planning to call everyone on my list when I get to my room.’
‘They won’t see you tomorrow. For all its faults Caballeros is a religious country and Sunday is considered a day of rest so we will meet on Monday.’
‘If I can get appointments made for tomorrow then we go back tomorrow.’
‘We go back on Monday.’ He stared hard at her angry face. ‘You can use tomorrow to do some proper research on what you’re dealing with and be fully prepared.’
‘Meaning?’