Naiara Salazar becomes Señora Santino Rizo and the First Lady of Malaguay without incident. Too bad I miss the whole thing as I'm busy arresting Zambrano and alerting Varela and the security team of the impending rebel attack without throwing the other guests into a frenzy. A troop is dispatched to capture the rebels that were posted at the checkpoint by the creek, which means they'll end up dead. Varela himself gets on the comms to alert the other soldiers about possible hostiles in our uniforms and cautions everyone to be on the highest alert.

Right after the ceremony, I order Felipe to take Rosanna back to the orphanage. Her eyes broadcast her disappointment at missing the reception.

"Please, cariño, just go with Felipe. I swear I'll make it up to you."

Her lips twist with frustration.

"Please, Rosanna, I'll meet you later."

"When?"

"I'm not sure but soon."

Interrogating Zambrano will keep me busy for a few days. Until we get the truth out of him, my career has priority.

~~~~

A few days turn into weeks. As interrogation instructor, he knows every trick in the book and stays silent even after Varela takes over the questioning. Since I'm under strict orders to keep him alive—a fact that must be known to him—threats bounce off him with no reaction. He is a steely icebox. Without family or other ties in the community, we can't even use his loved ones as leverage.

After endless hours of questions and silence, I'm as sleep deprived as he is and only my constant caffeine intake keeps me going. I don't even have time to think about Rosanna or Juilliard. Since I never gave Pearson an answer before the deadline, I assume that my space is gone. In a way, having this pressure off me is a relief and I'm more determined than ever to prove to Varela that I can get the job done. Making the most out of my soldier's career will guarantee Rosanna and me a prosperous future right here in Malaguay. And if she is so dead set on becoming a nurse, Varela or one of the other high ranks should be able to pull some strings to get her a training space in the hospital on Forbidden Hills.

One afternoon, when I'm having coffee after another frustrating session with Zambrano, Varela strolls into the mess hall. His lips are curled into an unusual smile, promising good news. By god, I could use some.

He folds into the chair at my table. "Méndez made contact. The rebels are ready to make an exchange."

"An exchange for what?"

"Turns out, Alejandro Ortiz is still alive. They want to trade him for Zambrano."

That he even considers the exchange is surprising. "I think that Alejandro being alive is good news, but do you honestly believe he is an equal trade for someone like Zambrano?"

"Zambrano is useless to us. If, by some miracle, you get him to talk, he won't have any valuable intel. The communications he had with the rebels over the past two years couldn't have amounted to much, or he would've raised suspicion earlier. However, the insider knowledge he gained of our own military could be detrimental in the wrong hands, so we can't just turn him over."

"What do you suggest?"

Varela's smile doesn't reach his cold eyes. "After the exchange, we'll have to silence Zambrano before he can spill our secrets to the rebels."

So he wants him dead. But that leaves an even bigger problem. An exchange is done in a way to offer protection to both sides. Otherwise, none of the hostages would ever make it out of there alive. "Do you have a plan, sir?"

"I do. The exchange will take place in the large clearing not too far from Lake Ercina. The area is heavily wooded on both sides, but a good sniper might be able to take a shot right after the exchange is completed."

I know the clearing. If the rebels were on the westerly side, it might work. From the mountains above, a sniper will have a certain advantage through the elevation, but the shot will still be tough. Not impossible, but I'd only give it a fifty-fifty chance. "We would have to come in from the easterly side."

"Agreed."

"And the soldier chosen needs to be a hell of a shot."

His thin smile is starting to creep me out. I feel like a mouse that's being baited with a tiny piece of cheese. "Someone like you could make that shot, don't you think?"

Even with all the additional training I've had, it'd be a challenge. "Honestly, I'm not sure, sir."

"What if you had a high-precision rifle—the kind an American sniper uses?"

That would increase my chances. By a lot. "I don't recall ever seeing a rifle like that in the arsenal."

"Oh, I picked up a few on the black market last year. I usually keep them locked in my office since they are for special use only."

That leaves only one final detail. "I need a spotter." No way I'll make that shot without one.

"What about Gallega?"

Felipe has no talent for guns. "I want Juana." Zambrano's betrayal led to the attack on the convoy. She lost a lot that day and deserves some justice.

Varela nods. "Miguel might not be happy since he wants her to take a step back from the military, but I'll talk to him. You'll get your spotter. This assignment is too important to not work with someone you trust."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now go and relax for a few hours. Get your mind into the right state. Making a difficult shot is just as much mental as it is skills."

"Will do, sir." I smile. This will finally give me a chance to visit Rosanna. God, I'm not even sure how I made it this long without her.

With a brief knock on the table, he gets on his feet. "The exchange is planned for six o'clock. Make sure you and Conde are in position by then."

"We will be. And thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you."

~~~~

When I get out of the Jeep, Rosanna squeals and throws her arms around my neck. Her skin smells like the vanilla body lotion she uses. My tightening pants cause me to shift. This far into the pregnancy, the ship has sailed. Her belly has grown; when I cup my hands around it to measure her, I feel the baby kick. It's amazing.

"I was just about to call you. Pearson said it's important that we apply for the visas soon, or we won't be able to go to New York when your semester starts." Everything about her bursts with excitement and she presses her lips to mine.

I stare at her. "Not sure if I follow."

"You and me. New York. Juilliard."

"I never agreed to go."

A mix of emotions crosses her face. Bewilderment, anger, and then this huge disappointment. "But Pearson said you did. The day of Santino's wedding. He said you'd go as long as I can come with you and we can keep the baby."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Yep, I did say that. Of course, I never thought he'd simply give in. His obstinacy was supposed to be nothing more than a scapegoat for my own indecisiveness. "Where is Pearson?"

"In his office."

When she's about to follow, I stop her. "Can you give me a minute?"

Her face twists as if she's about to cry. "Tomás, what's going on? Please don't tell me we aren't going."

I grab her by the shoulders and shake her gently to stop all the drama. Somehow, I have to find a way to tell her that I'm not prepared to turn my back on my life in Malaguay. "Everything is going to be fine. I just need a minute alone with Pearson."

My reassurance doesn't have the anticipated effect. The disappointment on her face is replaced by hopeful excitement. "Pearson has allowed me to use the internet. I already googled everything there is to know about New York. Tomás, the place is amazing. It's actually close to the seaboard and we could go to the beach on the weekends." She bites her bottom lip, her hands rubbing her baby belly as if our son is already part of the conversation. "And Pearson arranged for on-campus suite housing so we have enough space. It's usually only open to faculty and guests, but they're going to make an exception for us."

Fuck. Everything has been arranged.

Sudden panic makes her words echo hollowly in my ears. It's past the Juilliard deadline. My space is gone. It's what I've accepted. This revival isn't supposed to happen. How can I make such a life-altering decision on the fly?

"And the campus is really close to Central Park." Rosanna's eyes cloud over as she undoubtedly dreams about New York. "When the weather is nice, Isandro and I can go for a stroll while you're in class. And then there's . . ."

Zoning out Rosanna's chitchat, I turn toward the administration building and head inside. Pearson is finishing up a call in his usual spot behind the desk.

"I appreciate that you could get us in on such short notice, Mr. Ambassador. I owe you one." Ending the call, he drops the phone on the desk.

I slam into the chair before he can invite me to sit down. "Was that the embassy?"

"Yep. You and Rosanna have an appointment tomorrow."

With a sigh, I run my hand over my short hair. This is all going way too fast. I'm not ready for this. "You tricked me, Pearce."

He snorts. "And how did I trick you?"

"It's not fair that you keep going behind my back to make decisions for me."

"But you made the decision."

I shake my head. "No, you did. You're manipulating me. I never agreed to go."

He sighs with an eyeroll in the same way he used to when I was stubborn because I didn't get my way. "You gave me a condition. After thinking about it, I found it reasonable. Rosanna is almost eighteen. You and she decided to bring a child into this world and raise it together. It's not my place to tell you that you're making a mistake."

"But then why were you babbling about Rosanna and her dreams?"

"I spoke to her and she chose you and the baby. She said having her own family was her biggest dream. Again, reasonable. I'm sure you will agree."

"Fuck, Pearce. I need more time." Panic rises again. I'm not ready for this.

"Time's up, Tomás. You made a commitment to Rosanna. Are you going to back out?"

"No, of course not." I couldn't do that to her. Plus I might not even want to. She is the right woman for me. Going to America will be a brand-new start. It will be good for us. Even if it feels wrong right this second. It's probably just the jitters because this is all going so fast.

"The appointment at the embassy is at eleven o'clock. I told the ambassador I'd have to confirm it with you, but I sincerely hope you'll make an effort to attend."

After the mission tonight, Varela won't question if I ask for the morning off. "That should work."

"And I'll come with you guys to make sure all the paperwork is in order."

"Okay."

"It's for the best, Tomás. Malaguay is not the ideal place to raise a child."

"It's still my home." I frown at him. How can he understand? He wasn't raised here.

"Remember what I told you about change? You need to embrace it."

A sudden lump forms in my throat. Some changes aren't meant to happen. "I'm just not sure I'm ready."

~~~~

Just after five, Juana and I set up our gear behind a rock wall on a plateau with a clear line of vision to the westerly side of the clearing. Branches and leaves will still be an obstruction, but I'm sure I'll be able to work around them. The high-precision rifle lies well in my hand. Juana and I spent the past three hours at target practice, a welcomed respite to take my mind off Rosanna and New York.

I couldn't get away from the orphanage fast enough. Although Rosanna was a little miffed that my visit was so short, she accepted my claim that I needed space for tonight's mission. Truth is, my head is so full it's about to explode.

Juana gives me a sideways look. "Is everything okay? You seem preoccupied."

"Oh, it's Rosanna. She's pestering me about this America thing."

She rolls her eyes. "When are you going to make up your mind? You've been brooding over this now what? A month?"

"Almost two."

"That's long enough."

"It's a huge decision." And it will have an impact on the rest of my life.

"Then just go with your gut instincts."

I wish it were that easy.

After she takes the binoculars out of the backpack, her attention returns to me. "Truthfully, I don't see your problem. For me, this whole thing is a no-brainer."

"I don't like that everyone is rushing me."

Her lips curl to a mild smile. "Okay. Who is rushing you? I mean, you've had almost two months."

"I guess."

"Then what do you want?"

I sit down in the hopes that this will help organize my thoughts. My gaze travels over the mountains. Why is it so hard to let go? Malaguay has nothing to show for but violence and war. I should jump at the opportunity to get the hell out of here. "That's exactly what I'm not clear about. Right now, my career is going so well. Varela promised to make me mayor."

"Whoa, back up. You're gonna be mayor?"

"He said I'd get a promotion once I find the mole. I'm sure if I make this shot tonight, it's in the bag."

"That's big." She stares into the distance. "You aren't even twenty."

"Exactly." Though my birthday isn't too far out. "But then, I also see Rosanna's point. America might have its own problems, but it's still much safer than here. And the baby would have opportunities I could never give him in Malaguay."

"Sounds like a good place to raise a child."

"Yeah, that's what Pearson said. But then there's also the thing with the violin."

"Okay . . . ?"

She looks so puzzled that I laugh. "I mean, professional violinist. How does that even sound? Who takes a job like that seriously?"

"Personally, I find it kind of cool. What does Felipe think about you leaving?"

I snort. "You know Felipe. As long as he can crash at my place when he comes to visit and I take him to a bar where he can pick up a girl, he's cool."

"So he's of no help. And your brother? What does he think?"

"I haven't spoken to Mateo yet."

"Wow, not at all? I thought you guys were really close."

"We're going through a rough patch." Since the day he told me that he might cross over to the rebels, I've kept my distance. Leaving for America might tip the scale in their favor. I don't want that burden on me.

"Well, you know my opinion. You should cherish what you have. Getting a shot at a family with a woman you love and who loves you back the way Rosanna does is rare. If you blow this, you might never get another chance."

It's my biggest fear. In all this, I don't want to lose her.

Distant engine sounds drift from the clearing and I hit Juana's shoulder. Four Jeeps pull up on the westerly side. Grabbing Juana's binoculars, I turn the lenses until I have a sharp picture. About a dozen rebels get out of the vehicles. A few surround a prisoner. A bag is still over his head and I can't confirm it's Alejandro.

Dust twirls up as more Jeeps arrive on the easterly side. Jorge is behind the wheel in one of them with Zambrano in the backseat.

"Showtime."

I hand the binoculars back to Juana and turn the rifle a little on its stand until the barrel points at the rebel Jeeps. She positions herself behind me to align with my scope. When the bag is removed from the prisoner's head, I almost don't recognize Alejandro. His whole face is swollen from a beating and fresh blood is still on his lips. Those bastards must have also starved him; he's practically skin and bones. With unsteady feet, he staggers toward the tree line.

At exactly six o'clock, both sides get into position. Zambrano and Alejandro walk toward each other as rifles from opposing sides witness their progress. If one of them starts running, they both will be shot. If a bullet dislodges due to a nervous trigger finger, neither of them will make it across the clearing. If either side opens fire, every single soldier will die. These are the rules of the exchange. They have never been broken. Until tonight.

I swing the barrel of the rifle around until Zambrano's head appears in the crosshair. In this position, it'd be easy to put a bullet into his skull, but that would also be a death sentence for Alejandro. The barrel of my rifle moves together with Zambrano across the clearing. Twenty more steps and he'll be in the clear. I don't have to swing my weapon around to ensure Alejandro has the same distance left. That's a given.

Zambrano reaches the tree line. For a second, thick branches cover him before his head reappears between the leaves.

I breathe slowly in and out. "Status?"

"They've got Alejandro in the Jeep and are about to leave."

"Tell me when they are out of range of hostile fire."

"Roger that."

A rebel pulls Zambrano into a hug. They both laugh as they push each other around. I breathe in, then out. Hell, what is taking Jorge so long?

"Our men are gone."

"Roger that." I turn the dial on my scope until I have Zambrano's head directly in the center of the crosshair. "Contact. Give me wind call."

"Push left. Point two."

I inhale and hold my breath, slightly adjusting my position. Before I can pull the trigger, Zambrano moves out of sight.

Shit.

"Go eleven o'clock," Juana says.

I move the barrel per her instructions. Zambrano's head reappears in the crosshair. "Contact."

"Push left. Point two."

Same wind. I inhale and hold my breath. My finger curls around the trigger. I hit a slight resistance. Exhaling, I pull through. The recoil against my shoulder is a love tap compared to my regular rifle. By the time the crack of the bullet breaks the still evening air, Zambrano's head explodes. He will take our secrets to his grave.

~~~~~

© Sal Mason 2018

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