Dear Pearson—sorry that other commitments have prevented me from stopping by the orphanage. To make it up to you, why don't you bring the boys over to the compound in the afternoon for some ice cream? That'll give me a chance to read to them and would mean the world to me. Thanks, Stacy.

Miguel lowers the paper and glares at me with a dark expression. "Seriously? You're inviting the enemy to the compound? Why don't you just videotape the whole setup and send it to CNN so that the rebels know exactly how to attack us?"

My smile is contrite. "I didn't even think of that." At least he took it better than expected.

He sighs. "You really need to start thinking about consequences before you act. A blunder like this could have a serious impact on my business."

"I thought it was our business." I gaze at him from under my eyelashes.

"Well, yeah. Our business." He's about to crumple the piece of paper in his hand when he hesitates. "Though come to think of it, this might actually not be such a bad idea. I could arrange for a tour of the training center—without Pearson, of course—and show the boys what they're missing out on." He chuckles. "Hell, I might even be able to recruit some of them right on the spot."

What a sickening idea. Pearson will be furious; if he even shows up at all.

Miguel folds the paper and slides it into the envelope before handing it to Naiara. "Tell Pearson we'll throw in five new laptops as a gift that he can only get if he personally picks them up at the compound. That way, he's sure to come."

I hide my gasp with a little cough. Tomás is right, he's putting on an act. When he told me this morning that laptops were almost impossible to get, I actually believed his crap.

The question about my own computer rests on the tip of my tongue when I meet his gaze. His mood has changed for the worse. If I open my mouth in any type of challenge, he will lash out.

I offer a smile instead. "I'm really not that hungry and would rather lay down to work on the menu list. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all." He kisses the top of my head. "I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about this dinner since I didn't discuss it with you first. I love you and appreciate that we're in this together now."

Even Naiara wrinkles her forehead at the insincerity in his voice. I let it slide, not eager to rock the boat. My only priority should be the Coyote.

He doesn't come to bed until way past midnight, the smell of alcohol oozing from his breath and body. Stumbling around the room while he gets ready, he stubs his toe and mumbles a low curse.

When he joins me in bed, I pretend to be asleep, hoping to avoid sex. My fingers graze his nude body by accident and I'm taken aback by the sticky touch of his skin. He must've been with another woman. Fighting my tears, I listen to his snoring. An unhappy sensation claws at my chest. Even without the Coyote, or Devon, or the beatings, this marriage would probably never work out. If I ever jump into another relationship, I'll make sure I have my eyes wide open.

~~~~

When Pearson arrives at the compound just after lunch the next day with about a dozen boys, he's thoroughly pissed.

"This better be good," he hisses as he folds into the chair next to me in the mess hall. "I don't like bringing the boys here."

"Not now." I glance around the cafeteria, but Miguel is talking to General Varela. I haven't seen a sign of Tomás all morning, a worry that has given me a persistent stomachache. "Did you get my message about the attack to Devon?"

"Of course."

When the servers bring out the ice cream to loud cheering, I stand up. Miguel watches the spectacle with glee on his face, probably already scheming how he can best convince the boys to sign up for their doom. As Varela walks over to us, he glares at Pearson and me with open hostility.

He folds his arms. "Mr. Moore, what an unpleasant surprise. I hope visits like this don't become a habit."

Pearson gulps at the apparent rudeness.

"Pearson is Miguel's and my guest," I jump in before he has an opportunity to start an argument.

"So I heard." The general studies me with cold, hard eyes. "For the future, please confirm these types of arrangements with me or my deputy. Any visits to government facilities by foreigners need my approval as the nation's security advisor."

I flash him a rueful smile. "Sorry. I'll remember that the next time."

He mumbles something to himself, ready to leave, when I seize the opportunity to quiz him about Tomás.

"Speaking of your deputy, do you know where Tomás is?"

"Unfortunately, Mayor Araya has fallen ill. He'll be out of commission for a few days." Varela's eyes narrow. "I'm surprised Miguel didn't tell you."

I want to ask him how badly hurt he is but don't feel comfortable discussing Tomás in front of Pearson. Boththeir expressions are curious; they must find it odd that I asked about him in the first place. I need to be careful not to put my foot in my mouth with everything that's going on.

Varela leaves and Pearson's full focus shifts to me. "What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later." I pick up Harry Potter. "Let me read to the boys now, and then Miguel will take them on a tour of the training center. That'll give us some time to talk."

Pearson grumbles something that sounds like "fucking great" but doesn't stop me from leaving the table. I read the final three chapters of the book while the boys relish their ice cream. They hang on my words the entire time and when I reach the climax of the story, their eyes sparkle with joy. Their faces are so young and full of so much excitement that the prior hardships of their lives seem forgotten. They could have so much going for them if they didn't have to grow up in a war zone.

After the reading, Miguel lines them up in a row. "We'll go now to the training center. There, you'll get a chance to shoot your first gun."

The excitement reaches a new level and anticipation fills the mess hall.

When I join Pearson back at the table, he gives me the darkest look yet. "I'll probably go home with an empty van tonight. What the hell were you thinking? Do you want to sabotage their futures?"

"I'm sorry, but this is really important." The news about the upcoming dinner with the Coyote rests on my tongue when Naiara falls into the chair next to me.

"Miguel suggested that I keep you two company while he gives the tour." She beams at us, totally oblivious that she just ruined my plan.

Silence falls over the table. As she studies her nail polish, Pearson mouths a "now what" my way.

"So, I'm almost done with the menu for tomorrow night," I start tentatively, hoping that somehow, our conversation will swing into the right direction. "I just have to come up with a suitable appetizer."

"I'd do smoked salmon," Naiara says. "Most people like it. It's always a safe bet."

"Hm." I look at Pearson. "What do you think? We're having some important dinner guests." My eyes go wide, emphasizing the last words.

Amusement plays on his lips; he hasn't caught on that I'm trying to send him hidden messages.

"I'm not a good person to ask." He laughs. "I neither like fish nor have I ever been in a position to afford fancy-schmancy appetizers. Sorry."

I internally groan, my plan isn't working, but other than flat out stating that a terrorist is coming to dinner, my mind comes up blank. "Well, I guess, salmon it is." I beam at Naiara. "I'll finish the list after Pearson's visit and you can go shopping."

"No rush. I already told Miguel I can't go till tomorrow morning since I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon." She rises, holding on to the edge of the table as if she's dizzy. "If you'd excuse me. I need to use the bathroom."

I wait until she's out of earshot before cutting into Pearson. "You must've been the worst operator in history. Didn't you notice I was trying to tell you something?"

Pearson grins. "I did but wasn't sure how to approach it." The jest fades from his face. "Now, what is so important that you drag me here and risk the welfare of the boys?"

"The dinner guest tomorrow night—it's the Coyote."

He gasps, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "Seriously?"

Like I would ever kid about something like this. "I was shocked myself, but yes, he's really coming." I pause to ensure that no one can overhear us, but neither Naiara nor Miguel are anywhere in sight. "You have to tell Devon."

"Miguel must have something on him. A terrorist who's usually a phantom doesn't just accept casual dinner invitations."

"But what could he have on him?"

Pearson shrugs. "In any event, you be careful. That guy is dangerous."

The chance I'll ever find out is highly remote. Last night in bed, I had plenty of opportunities to think about Devon's options, and after watching enough CNN and movies, I have a pretty good idea what the US government is about to do.

"Pearson, I know they're gonna flatten the place."

He diverts his gaze.

"It's okay, really." I rest my hand on his arm. "I brought this on myself and I'm ready to accept the consequences. Just please, if I don't make it out of there alive, tell my parents I love them. Tell them I'm sorry for everything."

His eyes glaze with wetness. "You're a brave woman, Stacy Degray. There's no way in hell I'd go back to that house."

"Miguel would get suspicious and cancel his plans." I shake my head. "No, I have to stick this out. Hopefully, some good will come of it and the Coyote will never get a chance to endanger lives again. At least that would mean I've made a difference in this world."

I omit that this is also the price I've imposed on myself. For Emilien's death, I'd sacrifice my own life to save many others. It's fair under the circumstances.

He's about to respond when Naiara makes her reappearance. She's a little pale around her nose, but otherwise, glowing. Soon she and Pearson are engaged in a pleasant conversation about new schoolbooks she wants to buy for the orphanage.

I tune out, my mind occupied with the next few days. What will they tell my parents about my death? I suspect it'll be some lie to keep this from the media. I can't even blame them—politics is nothing more than a game. Only the best players win.

When the boys march back into the mess hall, Pearson gets to his feet. Some of them carry boxes with brand new laptops and I let out a sigh of relief that they are all accounted for.

Miguel is a good sport about it. "I tried, but they all insisted on going back home with you." He rests his arm on my shoulders and bids Pearson goodbye.

"Thanks for everything, Stacy." Pearson's handshake is firm and he gives me a small smile. "Good luck with your future endeavors."

We understand each other without further words, both knowing that this is likely the last time we'll ever see each other.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in Miguel's office, where he works on his computer while I finish the list. Every so often, my gaze strays to the blue sky that is scattered with white, fluffy clouds. I long for the solitude of the mountains.

"Do you think we could take tomorrow off and go hiking?"

Miguel looks up from his screen. "I'd really like that. We could have a little picnic by the lake I took you to before."

I smile. That was an amazing day. We swam in the lake, the cool waters like a protective layer surrounding us. It had been one of those moments with Miguel where everything was absolutely perfect.

"We should leave early, though, so that we're back home around four to get ready for the dinner." He closes the laptop. "Let's get out of here. We can grab a bite and have some snuggle time." Pulling me off the couch, he cups my behind. "I've missed alone time with my wife. The boys today made me realize how much I want my own son."

When his arousal presses against me, I want to tell him that I'm not ready for a child but decide to let it go. It won't matter one way or the other and arguing is the last thing I need tonight.

When we get home, the large table in the dining room is fully set, promising that our plans for a quick meal won't materialize.

"I want to have a family dinner," Naiara announces, the biggest smile on her face. She tugs on her lip, practically exploding to share some news with us.

"We'll just take a shower and be right down." Miguel pulls me behind him until we're in our bedroom.

As soon as the key turns in the lock, his hands are all over me. Peeling me out of my pants and shirt, he is careful when his fingers glide over the tight bandage wrapped around my torso to protect my broken rib. His lips are gentle, but after being kissed by Tomás, a roughness I didn't notice before lingers behind. Since we're expected downstairs, he rushes, oblivious that with every thrust, the pain in my rib cage multiplies. By the time he's done, my whole body throbs. He rinses off in the shower while I get redressed.

When we walk into the dining room, Santino is already waiting with Naiara. His arm is draped around her shoulders and they both beam at us.

Miguel pulls the chair out for me. "What's going on, Dad?"

Santino's grip around Naiara's shoulders tightens. "We have some wonderful news. Naiara is finally expecting."

My stomach cramps and I'm having second thoughts. How can I endanger her life and that of her unborn child?

"I just found out this afternoon," she says as Santino helps her with her chair.

The president takes his seat at the head of the table. "Any news with you two?"

Miguel shakes his head. "Nothing to report, sir."

An uneasy silence hangs over the table while Santino's gaze scans over me. "I see the rebels took it easy on her. She got lucky, even though I blame you." His hard eyes cut into his son. "A husband should protect his wife from harm. You should never have allowed her to go alone with Tomás into the woods."

I fully expect Miguel to argue that Tomás ignored direct orders, but he stuns me when he accepts his father's blame. "Yes, sir, I know, and I'm sorry."

More pressing silence follows that's replaced by easy chatter as Naiara takes center stage. For the remainder of the meal, she talks about her plans for her pregnancy, having chosen Beverly Hills as the place she wants to give birth. Apparently, with a diplomatic passport, visa formalities aren't an obstacle and the enemy's health care is preferred over her own. Such hypocrites.

"They have really good hospitals and almost everyone speaks Spanish." She smiles at me. "I'd really like Stacy to be there with me in the last month or so." Her eyes are hopeful. "Please, Miguel, let her go with me."

"I'll think about it." Miguel stuffs the last piece of steak into his mouth. "It's still months away. By then, Stacy might be pregnant herself and who knows if she will still want to travel."

I toss Naiara a crooked smile, thankful that she even considered sharing such an important time with me. It's not fair what is happening to her. Just like Pearson's boys, she deserves so much better.

By the time Miguel tucks me into bed, my head buzzes and I even snuggle in his arms to take my mind off my imminent fate. In twenty-four hours, I could be dead. I should probably feel something—fear, sorrow, regret—but my body is completely numb. It's almost like my will to live has already been drained from my soul.

~~~~

© Sal Mason 2017

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