Whispered Lies

“So what are we going to do?” Gabrielle asked that with all the enthusiasm of someone on death row. She’d run out of options and knew it.

“I told Joe we’d wrap up here and head to Zurich to help them identify the teens.” That had caused a heated discussion, but Joe had finally agreed, reminding Carlos that Gabrielle had to come back to the States at some point.

Her quick intake of breath confirmed she hadn’t expected a chance to dodge Joe again. “Good idea.” Gabrielle frowned next. “But I don’t want to leave without finding Ferdinand, to make sure he’s safe.”

“The longer we spend here asking about him, the more suspicion we’ll arouse. Retter and his team will search for them without drawing attention. Ferdinand might have heard about you asking for him and is hiding.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” When she didn’t continue, he could see she was accepting the decision to leave.

Carlos took her hand and walked in the direction of where their car was parked two blocks away. They hadn’t eaten since landing. He’d find a restaurant, then call Jake on the way to the car to give him a thirty-minute notice to prepare to leave.

“We’re missing something significant and I feel like it’s right under our noses,” Gabrielle complained. “Why can’t your people put this together faster?”

Carlos ignored her surly tone. He was just as frustrated as her. “My people are doing everything humanly possible right now. Let’s grab something to eat before we get back.”

She gave him a wry grin. “Trying to appease me? I can think of more interesting ways to put me in a better mood.”

“Insatiable wench.” Carlos smiled to hide the sick feeling in his gut over what she’d told him last night.

How could he possibly make love to her again with what he now knew? To do so without revealing his true identity would be using her. Never.

She laughed and gave him an exaggerated sigh, content to walk quietly alongside him.

He’d forgotten how intimate holding hands could feel. Such a simple gesture, but one he hadn’t shared since losing Helena.

His and Gabrielle’s destinies were never meant to cross. Now that his had intersected hers, they could not continue without causing harm to those he cared for.

Which included Gabrielle.

She’d shaken loose feelings he’d kept locked away for years out of survival instincts.

Gabrielle was sunshine warming his cold existence. He wanted to hold her in his arms for the rest of his life and wake up to her scent every morning.

But most important, she was the woman he had to find a way to shield forever from Durand and the Fratelli, then walk away from to protect. Hard to miss the irony in all this. Gabrielle had worked as hard to find Alejandro Anguis and bring him to justice as Carlos had worked to keep family secrets such as Alejandro’s identity buried.

Losing Gabrielle would rip his soul into pieces and leave a heartless bastard not even Joe could save.

“How about this place?” Gabrielle stopped in front of a sports bar.

“Works for me.” Carlos led her inside, where a short, black-haired girl in a rainbow-colored skirt and peasant top led them through a smoky room where several televisions dangled from the ceiling. He asked for a table in the corner so he could keep an eye on the entire room. A waiter brought two bottles of cola and took their order.

Gabrielle pretended everything was fine while she polished off her quesadilla before Carlos finished his last bite. She kept stealing glimpses of him. He was as solicitous as always, but she sensed a distance forming between them for some reason since they’d left Italy. What was he holding back from her? Something about the mission?

Carlos leaned back, eyes taking in everything.

But her.

Patrons spoke, ate their meals and eyed the televisions currently set on an American twenty-four-hour news station with a Spanish translation feed across the bottom. Her Spanish was rough, but she could glean the general information.

While Gabrielle had been racing across the world with Carlos, little had changed back in the States. The fuel crisis was churning political adversaries into a fever pitch. Candidates were battling fiercely for votes with the presidential election coming up next week.

Fuel issues lay between the two political parties, an intangible gauntlet with the power to drive even the most apathetic U.S. citizen to cast a vote on Tuesday.

When the images on the television screen changed to teenagers being interviewed, Gabrielle leaned close to Carlos and whispered, “Look.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and raised his eyes to the monitor. She read silently to herself.

The gist of the report was that teens of every income level from all over the world were traveling to speak to different countries as a unified group to ask nations to provide relief for physically challenged individuals. Starting in America, they were addressing how the fuel crisis impacted their lives.

The teens being interviewed said few people realized the burden placed on those with physical impairments who had a limited choice of vehicles, such as vans large enough to carry wheelchairs. They were imploring all the countries to offer aid in the form of gas credits and a list of other suggestions.

“Oh, dear Lord.” Gabrielle’s eyes bulged when the camera pa

The dialogue scrolling below noted these were three of ten students who would make a presentation this afternoon to members of Congress on how the fuel crisis is an additional hardship on the physically challenged.

“Now I know what bothered me about Joshua,” Gabrielle said under her breath.

“What?”

“The last report Gotthard sent included information on their injuries. Joshua lost his arm six years ago in a car accident where his arm was crushed.” Her heart pounded as she realized what she was saying. “Children adapt quickly. He should be proficient with the prosthetic by now…or at least comfortable, but he acts awkward, as though it’s very new. Amelia lost her leg from cancer eight years ago and walks as though she’s just getting used to it.”

Understanding dawned immediately in his face. Carlos stood, threw way too much money on the table, and took her arm. “Let’s go.”

“What do you think is going on?” she asked between breaths.

“You saw what the rest of us missed. We’ve got it all wrong.” He gave that quiet answer as he walked them calmly outside, then briskly toward the parking lot where he’d left their rental car. “I’ll call Joe in the car.”

He barely slowed at the cross street, let several cars pass, then took off again. The gravel parking lot was crowded with vehicles and a few scooters. Their rental car was parked in a corner at the back of the lot, next to a building.

A van was parked on the driver’s side and a sport utility with dark windows on the passenger side.

Carlos stopped and swung around, dragging her with him.

Three rugged-looking Hispanic men wearing jeans and boots strolled toward them. Carlos had more muscle and an inch on two of them, but the third was a brute. They all wore a mix of sleeveless shirts left unbuttoned with the tails hanging loose. They stepped from the shadow of the three-story building bordering one side of the lot. The wind whipped the left side of one unbuttoned shirt, exposing a weapon shoved between the man’s barrel gut and the waist of his jeans.

Carlos might be able to take all three, but he had no defense she knew of against the gun.

She couldn’t breathe past the fear gripping her throat.

Carlos looked over his shoulder and cursed. The swirling breeze fa