“…Señorita Patton,” said the tallest of the guards. He was dirty and unshaved and a long, wicked-looking scar curved across his cheekbone, disappearing into his oily whiskers.
“¿Cuáles el problema?” Jay asked the guards.
“What’s the problem?” he’d asked. And Tory leaned a little closer, trying to make out the guard’s response.
“…para el comportamiento sospechoso,” the guard said.
Suspicious behavior? Great. She wondered if one of the people she’d spoken to yesterday in the market had called the cops on her. She hadn’t even gotten started yet. Sinking back against the potted plant, she waited until she heard the guards leave. They’d probably stake out her room and wait for her to return.
Well, she’d known that her exclusive story had some risks. She thought briefly about packing up her stuff and heading back home. Tyson would understand. But Tory wondered if she’d ever be able to look herself in the eye again.
She wanted to visit—as a journalist, not as a guest—the prison where King had been held. The story was flowing through her veins. And though it might be dangerous to stay on Puerto Isla, she knew that nothing would satisfy her until she figured out the puzzle that was this exclusive interview with a SEAL.
She peered around the plant and saw that the lobby was clear. She hurried out the front door of the hotel, her pulse pounding and her hands shaking. She wasn’t used to evading the local cops. A hand snaked out and grabbed her arm as she exited the hotel.
She jerked her arm free and spun around, hitting her assailant with a jab. She tried to lessen the pressure when she realized it was Jay.
He grunted and rubbed his jaw. His breath smelled like coffee and mints.
“You’re a dangerous woman to know, Patton,” he said under his breath. He pivoted so that she was pressed up against the side of the hotel wall and his body shielded hers from view. A little too close for friendly working-relationship comfort.
“Sorry about that,” she said, stepping sideways and away from his body. Jay was her co-worker and she reminded herself that she was involved with Perry. She was feeling things she wouldn’t normally feel if they’d been on her home turf.
He sighed and leaned against the wall next to her. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his pants.
“I’ve done worse damage tripping over a chair,” he said with a wry shrug.
“So la policía are after me?”
He gave her a wry look beneath his eyelashes. “Yeah, who’d you tick off?”
The list was short and she had a feeling that this problem had followed her from New York. “It could have been one of the people I spoke to at the marketplace. But I’ve got to be honest—I don’t think they like the police.”
“Yeah, but I got the feeling the locals don’t like the americanos that much, either.”
“You didn’t sound American,” she said, then had another thought. “I thought I saw Shannon following us yesterday.” Did Shannon hate her enough to throw her to the island militia, which pretended to be all that stood between Puerto Isla and lawlessness? Tory knew the answer and she suspected Jay did, as well.
“Do you think Shannon called them?”
He shrugged. Reaching out, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You do look very American.”
She waggled her eyebrows at him. She’d been in scary situations before. She’d never forget the first night she’d spent in the maximum-security prison for her story on women behind bars. This wasn’t any different. She’d done nothing the Puerto Isla cops could hold her on.
“I’m good at wiggling out of tight spots,” she said.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to use that skill while you’re here.”
“I want to go to the hospital where King is being held and see if we can’t get our interview tonight.” She’d made another call to Perez and had flat out told him she wasn’t leaving the island without her interview. In fact, he could have sent the police to arrest her. But he’d reluctantly told her to call again in the morning. He’d see what he could do.
What if Del Torro’s government didn’t want her to see King until he’d recovered from his time in their prison? She thought it would be in their favor to demonstrate how different they were from Santiago’s government. But Perez had done an abrupt change in position in the past twenty-four hours. And Tory knew that she was working on a short clock. She needed to get to King, and quickly.
“You got it, boss lady. I’ll grab my camera gear and meet you here.”
They pulled up to the hospital where Thomas King was being treated just after lunchtime.
Jay parked the vehicle and they headed toward the building. Two men with AK-47 assault riffles stood at attention at the entrance, despite the fact that it was a public hospital, not a military one. Considering the fact that there was still a curfew and guerrilla unrest on the island, the guards weren’t unexpected. But they did give her pause as she walked toward them.
There was something unnerving about men in uniform with guns. Tory put on her most charming smile and approached them. “¡Hola! Soy Tory Patton con UBC. Estoy aquí ver a un paciente americano.”
“Ningunos visitantes permitieron adentro hoy.”
No visitors, interesting. She’d hoped they’d just let her in. “I’m with the press and spoke yesterday to Juan Perez. Is there someone here I can speak to?”
“No.”
“I’m just going to go inside and talk to the doctor in charge, okay?” Tory said. From past experience, she knew that, if you kept talking and walking, usually you could get in anywhere.
“No visitors.” Both of the guards stepped closer together, blocking her path.
“Okay,” she said, backing away.
“That was a little weird,” Jay said once they were out of earshot of the guard.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t they let us in?” she asked.
“The police captain who was asking for you mentioned that they are enforcing a strict curfew.”
“What time? It’s only the afternoon.”
“I know. I don’t think things are going as smoothly for the new government as we were led to believe.”
“Me, either. If we have time, we’ll try again to shoot some tape on the street talking to the citizens about the new government.”
She and Jay got back in the Jeep. Tory glanced over and noticed the guards still watching them. “Damn, this ticks me off. I’m not going back to the States without this story.”
“So what’s next? Come back later?”
“Did you bring the hidden-camera unit I used for the prison story?” Tory asked. The hidden camera actually looked like a purse and had a switch that she could flip to record.
“Yes. I wasn’t sure what the situation was going to be like here.”
“Jay, I love you.”
“Ha, you say that to all the guys.”
“Yeah, but with you I mean it.”
He climbed over the seat and dug around in his camera gear until he found the camera and small handbag that went with it. Tory shot some test film of Jay climbing back into the front seat. She rewound the film and played it back.
“This