Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(109)
“Perdón, se?orita.”
The woman lowered her head, almost as if she expected to be struck across the face, but having just glimpsed the woman’s soul, Jennifer felt no sympathy.
Turning toward the vanity, Jennifer glanced back over her shoulder. “Help me with my hair. Then we will try on some clothes.”
Exactly fifty-eight minutes later, the maid knocked on the door to Don Espe?osa’s private terrace.
“Yes?”
Opening the door, the maid curtsied, a sight that almost brought a smile to Jennifer’s lips as she waited just behind and to the left of the massive, hand-carved teak door.
“Well, bring her in.”
Jennifer stepped forward, pausing when she was just across the threshold, her breath catching in her throat. The terrace opened out onto a spectacular view over the city of Medellín. It and the surrounding mountains formed the most beautiful sight Jennifer had ever seen, its grandeur dwarfing the Spanish opulence of this private dining area and the elegantly dressed man who had just arisen from his chair.
When, after several seconds, her eyes focused on her host, she was surprised to see a warm smile on his face. Don Espe?osa’s eyes swept her body, lingering on the delicate, flowing lines of the white peasant dress and the colorful silk sash tied about her waist. Jennifer’s short, coal-black hair had been softened ever so slightly with an orchid just above her right ear. The man’s gaze left a tingle of self-awareness that made her notice the tropical evening breeze across her bare arms and shoulders, the feel of the sandal straps between her small toes.
Don Espe?osa stepped forward, taking her hand and raising it gently to his lips, the surreality of the moment making her head spin.
“Welcome to my humble home, Se?orita Smythe.”
116
“Welcome to my humble home, Se?orita Smythe.”
The petite young girl standing before him opened her mouth as if to say something, but the shock of hearing her real name robbed her of her voice.
Don Espe?osa smiled, lowering her hand from his lips. He had been looking forward to this meeting more than anything he had done in a long, long time. It was quite funny, really. In almost any other scenario, he would have personally supervised the videotaped torture and killing of someone who dared to touch his personal bank accounts, then posted the video on the Internet as a warning. But his standard response didn’t fit this situation.
Somehow, this teenage girl had hacked a network of banks and casino security systems in a way that all his high-paid computer experts hadn’t begun to figure out. Combine that surprising fact with the discovery that she was a runaway whose father worked on Dr. Donald Stephenson’s top-secret Rho Project in Los Alamos and you had Jorge’s full attention. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t rape and kill her, but he would take his time deciding.
The drug lord bowed his head ever so slightly. “I must apologize for the conditions in which you have been kept. Had I not been away when my people brought you in, I would have ensured that you received proper treatment. Unfortunately, some of those I employ can be a bit overzealous in their efforts to protect my interests.”
Leading her to the small table, Don Espe?osa pulled out her chair. “But let us defer such talk until after dinner.”
The speed with which the girl regained her composure amazed him. A soft smile spread across her lips as she slid into the chair he held for her.
“Thank you, Don Espe?osa.”
The don moved to his own seat, a snap of his fingers bringing two members of his wait staff to the table.
“May I offer you something to drink? Some wine, perhaps?”
The young lady laughed, her easy, comfortable manner surprising him once again.
“I’d rather have a Diet Coke if you have one. Otherwise water’s fine.”
“I think we can manage that.”
Jorge spoke a few words in Spanish and one of the servants scurried away as the other poured a small amount of red wine into the don’s glass. Jorge swirled the red liquid several times, smelling the aroma before taking a sip. Seeing his nod of approval, the servant filled his glass, set the bottle on the table, and began serving the appetizers.
As the first servant returned with the Diet Coke, Don Espe?osa leaned forward so that his elbows rested on the table.
“So, Jennifer…it is okay if I call you Jennifer?”
“My friends call me Jen.”
There it was again, that unnatural maturity and self-confidence.
“Very well then, Jen. What do you think of my city?”
Jennifer paused, her gaze taking in the city nestled in the valley below his hacienda. The purple sunset crawled across the sky above the western mountains, its rich palette forming a backdrop to the lights that were just beginning to wink on across the valley.
“Glorious.” The tone of her voice confirmed the sincerity of Jennifer’s comment.
Throughout the appetizers and the leisurely meal, Don Espe?osa continued to study the girl. To observe the way she enjoyed their casual dinner conversation, one would never suspect that she had been held prisoner in a filthy cell for more than two weeks, probably wondering just how she was going to die. Jorge had been around many self-confident people that would have crumbled under similar circumstances.
But there was something else about this girl from Los Alamos, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that raised the small hairs along the back of his neck whenever he really focused his attention upon her. Madre de Dios. What was there about this child that could do that to him?