Enemy Mine (14 page)

“Good to meet you, sir.”
Liar!
Kathy saw the man’s narrow face light up with what looked like genuine pleasure. He had been smoking a slim, long cigar and placed it in a heavy leaded-glass ashtray. When he stood and extended his hand, she noticed several gold and diamond rings on his slender fingers. The watch he wore was a gold Rolex. Garcia obviously liked to show off his wealth.

“Ah, Señorita Katherine! Believe me when I say it is a pleasure! Welcome to my humble abode. We are most glad that you have come to us.” He gripped her hand and shook it heartily.

Nausea overwhelmed Kathy. Just the touch of the man’s soft, manicured hand made her want to vomit.
No! Don’t you dare! Keep smiling. Keep the look in your eyes that shows you’re really glad you’re here.
The words she
spoke were like tearing flesh off her body. “A pleasure,
patrón.
I’m happy to be here, thank you.”

Releasing her hand, Carlos grinned hugely. “Well! This calls for a celebration! Therese, my little dove, will you have Veronica serve us high tea?”

Gulping, Kathy stood there at attention, her hands at her sides. The hand Garcia had touched tingled, and she wanted to wash it to get rid of his energy. Garcia was short, maybe five foot seven inches, if that. Lean and athletic, in her estimation. His hair, black and shining beneath the lights from above, was carefully lacquered.

So this was the son of the man who had hurt her family. Barely able to breathe, Kathy wrestled with her hatred. Her hands itched to throw a couple of deadly karate chops at the son of a bitch and get it over with. But she stopped herself. She roughly reminded herself that her mission was to kidnap Tiki and make him suffer as much as her family had. A quick, easy death wasn’t in the cards for him. No way. He was going to twist in the wind like they had….

In that moment, Kathy’s hatred was so pure and powerful that her hesitation to kidnap beautiful little Tiki disappeared. The hatred consumed her, so strong she could taste it in her mouth. There was no question that it was worth going through the motions of meeting Garcia. She was so close to avenging her family. Finally.

“Of course,
mi patrón,
” Therese said, gesturing to a maid who stood attentively at the door with a silver tea service in hand.

“Sit, sit,” Carlos said to Kathy, smiling broadly, and
gesturing to the dark green leather, high-backed chair in front of his desk. Turning, he looked at Therese. “Will you join us?”

“No,
patrón.
I have some details to take care of in my office. Will you forgive me?”

“But of course,” Carlos murmured, picking up his cigar and puffing on it. The maid hurried in, set the tea service on a cart and rolled it up to his desk.

After Therese left, Kathy sat at attention in the chair, her hands feeling like lead weights in her lap. The maid, her almond eyes darting from her to Garcia, expertly poured the fragrant Earl Grey tea into a china cup.

“Gracias,” Kathy said after the woman handed her a cup of the fragrant brew. “Thank you.”

“
Sí,
Señorita Lincoln.”

So, did everyone know her name already? Kathy sat with the tea in hand as the maid brought over a three-tiered lazy Susan adorned with chocolates, an assortment of English shortbreads, scones and finger sandwiches.

“Thank you,” Garcia told the maid. “You may go now.”

Bowing deferentially, the servant hurried out of the room and quietly closed the door.

“Look at this! Surely in Canada, Señorita Katherine, you have high tea?” He waved his hand at the highly polished silver lazy Susan that sat between them.

“Yes, sir, high tea is widely practiced where I come from.”

“Well,” he said, seeming pleased as he crushed out the cigar and set it aside, “I had this especially created for you!”

Kathy couldn’t hide her surprise. “Sir?” Her fingers gripped the white saucer so hard she had to force herself to relax so that she didn’t break it. Heart pounding, she could barely look at Garcia’s animated, pleased face as he inspected the goodies on display.

“Therese thought it would be an appropriate way to honor you and your country, as well as your training as a nanny, to have high tea. We must celebrate your employment with me and my darling little Tiki. Look!” He nudged several of the crustless white sandwiches. “You see? We have taste in Sudamerica, no? There are cucumber sandwiches. Egg sandwiches. Watercress sandwiches. Please, please, help yourself.” He handed her another, larger plate.

Taken aback by his obvious joy and pleasure in surprising her, Kathy nodded. “Thank you, sir. But I just ate. I’m still on North American time. You know? We eat dinner between 5:00 and 6:00 p.m.” Kathy knew that in South America, the schedule was very different. Dinner could occur between 8:00 p.m. and midnight. People slept late and had
desanuno,
or breakfast, around 11:00 a.m. Lunch, came around 3:00 p.m., after siesta.

“Oh…” Garcia said, disappointment evident in his voice.

Kathy decided to take a couple of the sandwiches, anyway. She couldn’t afford to make him angry or deny his efforts to please her.

“They look very good,” she said, taking one of each type. “I can’t resist.” She forced a slight smile and looked directly at him, which was a mistake. As soon as she peered into those black eyes, narrow and alert,
Kathy was reminded that Garcia was a murdering son of a bitch just like his father. At first glance, he seemed more like an athletic gym teacher than a drug lord. Everything about Garcia was subdued and refined, from the way he used his hand with a flourish, to his gentle way of speaking. She had expected a hard muscle-bound killer. Garcia belied the labels.

As she considered her enemy, Kathy did not taste the cucumber sandwich she stuffed into her mouth. Garcia’s crestfallen look changed to one of radiant pleasure. He quickly filled his plate with at least half-a-dozen sandwiches and sat back to savor each one with gusto.
Go ahead and enjoy yourself, you bastard, because pretty soon you’re going to suffer.

“I forget sometimes that
norteamericanos
eat at the strangest hours,” Garcia said.

“Yes, sir, we do.” No sense in arguing with him. Kathy repeatedly told herself to relax.

“There are scones here, too. Look! My chef went to great pains to call the British Culinary Institute in London this morning to find the perfect recipe for scones. Surely you must try at least one?”

Kathy reached for a warm, triangular shaped scone filled with raisins and other dried fruit. “It looks wonderful, sir.”

“Call me
Patrón,
” he said with a quick smile. Reaching for three small containers on the second level of the lazy Susan, he said, “Here, I just had these flown in from Lima. They arrived this morning—clotted cream, lemon custard and strawberry jam from Britain. The real thing,
señorita,
for high tea. Please, please, take some.”

She felt like a pig stuffing herself on command. The whole thing seemed like an absurd, distorted Salvador Dalí nightmare to Kathy. Her stomach was knotted. Jamming the scone slathered with a bit of the thick cream into her mouth almost made her gag. Her heart never stopped pounding. She slugged down several sips of Earl Grey tea to dislodge the lump building in her throat. As the tea soothed her nerves, Kathy breathed a small sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to completely lose it.

Garcia sat back, eating each finger sandwich with relish. “You see,
señorita,
since you are in my employ now, you will have high tea every day, just like in Canada. We will try the best we can to anticipate your every need. My chef is already preparing smoked salmon and other Canadian delicacies for your dinners to come. We want you to be happy here. If you want a certain type of wardrobe, certain designers, all you need do is talk to Therese and she will see that you get it.”

He was like a Santa Claus without end, Kathy thought. As if to stall her response to his generosity, she took another sip of tea.

“Well, that is very, very kind of you, sir, not to mention generous, eh? But I really have all the clothes I need.”
Because I won’t be staying long enough to need any others, you bastard.

“Oh, but I’m afraid you will, Señorita Katherine. You see, my little Tiki often accompanies me in my jet when we go for visits around the world. As her nanny, you must, of course, be properly dressed.” He raised his brows to emphasize his point.

Nausea rose again in her throat. “Of course, sir, whatever you say.”

“
Bueno!
Therese already has several designers picked out and she has a wardrobe in mind for you. Of course, you must like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Kathy murmured. “Really, all I want to do,
Patrón,
is care for your daughter. I’m not one for the limelight.” Or the photographers who might put her at risk of having her family see a picture of her in a newspaper or magazine. That would be disaster for Kathy, since her whole mission would be scuttled.

“I’m a very wealthy man,” Garcia said, “and I’m afraid the press of the world follows me. But I do not want my baby daughter exposed to their prying eyes, so you need not worry about being set upon by the paparazzi.”

“Good. I don’t feel a child should be subjected to that sort of thing. Tiki needs a fixed, stable environment to grow up in,” she said. Had she overstepped her bounds? She saw Garcia tilt his head and his eyes narrow speculatively upon her.

“
Sí,
yes, I agree with you,
señorita.
What else do you see about my little pastry? I would value your insights about her.”

Little pastry?
She realized it was Garcia’s endearment for Tiki. Every father had a pet name for his child. Her own dad still called her Pet. Why wouldn’t Garcia have one for his daughter? Somehow, Kathy hadn’t envisioned a murdering drug lord being so human and caring.

Setting the cup and saucer on the edge of his desk, she wiped her mouth with the linen napkin and then gripped it in her lap. She had to be careful here.

“Well, sir, I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, but Tiki seems underweight and small for her age. I could feel her ribs beneath the clothes she wore. Perhaps she’s been sick, or something else caused this, eh? Something I’m not aware of?”

Garcia’s face seemed anguished for a moment. Again the emotion was real. Kathy hadn’t thought Garcia capable of human feelings. She was wrong, again.

“Well, it’s complicated,
señorita.
” Waving his hand, he said, “My little pastry is a very picky eater. But it goes beyond that.” His voice grew sad. “Her mother, Paloma, is very sick and rarely sees her. She is here at the villa, under a doctor’s care, of course—twenty-four hours a day. My daughter pines away for her mother, but she is incapable of being there for her.” Shrugging, he gave her a weary smile. “So I try to be both parents to her, knowing full well I can never replace her beautiful, darling
mamacita.
Tiki loses her appetite as a result. You can understand this, of course?”

Kathy didn’t want to be touched by the information, but she was. Tiki was such a bright, active child and Kathy ached for the girl’s pain. “Yes, sir, I certainly can.”

“Anything else you noticed about my little pastry?”

“Only that she’s outgrown the shoes she has on,
Patrón.
I think she needs a new pair.”

“I am pleased that you have already noted these things.” He snorted and bit into a scone. “The last nanny was not as alert as you are.” Brushing his hands after consuming it, he said, his mouth full, “I would be deeply indebted to you if you could find a way to help my daughter grow and gain weight. I’ve hired nutritionists,
but none of them have been able to help. The psychiatrist’s recommendations haven’t aided her. The only other person she truly responds to is her teacher, Señorita Adelina Fields, but that only goes so far, too. I would give all the money in the world to see my daughter flourish once more.”

Deeply moved by his pleading tone, Kathy said, “With your permission, sir, I’ll try. Maybe in a couple of weeks, after I get to know her and her tastes better, I might work with someone in your kitchen?”

Brightening, Garcia said, “But of course! I’m very pleased you care about this,
señorita.
” He beamed at her. “Truly, as Therese has already said, you are an angel from God himself for my little pastry.”

Choking down the bile, Kathy demurely lowered her eyes and kept her voice soft. “I hope only to make her happy,
Patrón.
”

“Well, you must know that Tiki has a little American friend named Sophie who is staying with her presently. She has the other, smaller bedroom. You will meet her soon.” Garcia leaned back in his chair and waved his hand. “She is a friend of the family. Her parents have left her here with us as they travel the world. When you meet Sophie, I’m sure she will tell you many stories.”

“Oh?” Kathy kept her voice even. She knew Sophie had been kidnapped, and she was wondering how Garcia was going to handle this topic.

He smiled briefly. “Sophie is, well, how do I say this? She is very unhappy here. Of course, she’d rather be with her family and is very angry they have left her in our care. I’m afraid you’ll find that she will tell you
lies,
señorita.
She would do anything to leave.” He chuckled indulgently. “Her latest tall tale is that she was kidnapped by us. So you must not play into her lies, and understand that she is simply an unhappy child for the present. You will be caring for her, also.”

“That’s not a problem,
Patrón.
” Amazed at how Garcia spun his story, Kathy cautioned herself to remain on guard around the bastard. If she didn’t already know Sophie had been kidnapped, she’d have believed him.

“I
DON’T LIKE THAT
!”
Tiki jabbed her index finger at the breakfast plate that the waiter had just brought her from the kitchen.

So much for her first day of work. Kathy hadn’t been here an hour and Tiki was already in rebellion. She sat with the child at a small table in the rear of her playroom, where she ate her meals. Kathy had spent the short amount of time she’d been there acquainting herself with the little girl, her habits, her likes and dislikes.

Where was Sophie? Kathy hadn’t had time to look for her, and suspected she was probably back in the bedroom area.

Looking at the uninspiring scrambled eggs and thinly sliced bacon with some french-fried potatoes, Kathy didn’t blame her for her disinterest.

“Is there anything you do like there, Tiki?” She pointed to the plate in front of the child.

Poking at the rubbery bacon, she said, “This. I like this.” Tiki quickly grabbed a strip and started to eat it.

“Whoa, kiddo. This is knife-and-fork time….” Kathy took the meat out of her hands. Smiling patiently, she wiped off the girl’s mouth and fingers. “Now, I know
your other nanny taught you manners. You’re a young lady and you need to use good table manners.” She picked up the fork and placed it in Tiki’s hand, the knife in the other. The girl scowled. Getting up, Kathy positioned herself behind the child and guided her to cut up her meat. Tiki seemed mollified by this attention and mimicked her directions.

Though worried when Tiki still ate only a few ounces of meat, and drank only soda pop, not milk, Kathy gave up on coaxing her to eat more. She thanked Mateo, the nervous-looking servant, who whisked away the un-eaten portions.

She was still sitting with Tiki at the table when she heard a child crying softly. It had to be Sophie. Frowning, Kathy turned and cocked her ear toward the faint sounds.

“Tiki? Do you hear that? Who’s crying?” she asked as she patted the little girl’s bow mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, that’s Sophie. She cries all the time.”

“Really? Can you show me where Sophie’s bedroom is?”

Tiki scooted off her chair and over to a door on the other side of the room. “Sure!”

Kathy followed, keeping her expression neutral.

“Sophie’s here,” she said, stretching and pushing open the door. Tiki then ran across the hall and stood proudly in front of another door.

“This is
my
room!” The girl bounded inside.

Peeking in, Kathy smiled and said, “Yes, it is. And a very nice room it is.” It was a simple room with a twin bed, one window with iron bars across it and lots of toys,
especially blond-haired Barbie dolls scattered helter-skelter across the freshly made bed. Kathy made a mental note to teach Tiki about taking responsibility for her bedroom.

In Kathy’s opinion, the room was nondescript. Tiki didn’t have personal identification with her room. What did she like? What were her favorite colors? Tucking those questions away, Kathy turned and walked back across the hall to the door where the crying was coming from. At the end of the short corridor was another camera high on the ceiling.

“Let’s knock gently on Sophie’s door, shall we?” she asked.

“Sure!” Tiki moved to the door. “She’s always sad.” She knocked politely on the door. The sobbing continued.

“Really?” Kathy didn’t dare let on she knew about the kidnapping. “Why is that, Tiki?” Kathy opened the door to Sophie’s room.

Tiki moved inside, looking worried. “They took her away from her mama and papa.”

“Oh?” Kathy feigned surprise as she walked into the room. There, on a twin bed near the window, sat little blond-haired Sophie. She was dressed in a crumpled white nightgown, her long hair uncombed and hanging in snarls about her shoulders. Instantly, Kathy’s heart went out to the child whose eyes were red and swollen from crying.

“Get out!” Sophie shrilled at them. She raised her hands and made a dismissing motion. “Go away! I don’t want you in here, Tiki!”

Crouching down, Kathy brought Tiki into her arms.
“Do you want to go rock on your horsey for a while? Let me get Sophie dressed. I’ll join you in a few minutes. Okay?”

Nodding, Tiki looked worriedly at Sophie. “She cries all the time, Dolly.”

Kathy knew that to Tiki she would always be Dolly. That was fine. Smiling gently, she smoothed some of Tiki’s dark bangs away from her scrunched up brows. “Let me talk with Sophie and let’s see if we can help her. It’s always good to try and help others, Tiki.”

“Okay.” Tiki moved out of her arms and went back to her play area.

Kathy scanned the room and saw another damnable video camera. She would have to be careful how she spoke to Sophie. Slowly rising to her full height and wiping her damp palms against her slacks, Kathy moved toward the bed and halted a few feet away from the child.

“Hi, Sophie. My name is Katherine Lincoln. I take care of Tiki. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Sophie glared up at her and wiped her cheeks with quick, angry swipes. “No! I hate you! I hate all of you!”

Kathy saw the fear and deep sadness in the child’s blue eyes. “Do you mind if I sit here for a moment, Sophie?” She patted the end of her unmade bed. Sophie must have awakened earlier, but stayed in her room, crying. That broke Kathy’s heart.

“I don’t care,” Sophie muttered defiantly.

Kathy sat down on the bed. “It’s 10:00 a.m., Sophie. Would you like me to help you get dressed for the day? Or do you like wearing your nightgown all the time?”

Looking down, Sophie touched the wrinkled white material. “I don’t care…I don’t care….”

“If I choose something from your dresser over there, can I help you get changed?” Kathy pointed to the beautiful antique dresser made out of burnished teak.

Shrugging, Sophie whispered, “I don’t care….”

Kathy eased off the bed and walked over to the dresser. From the drawers she chose a pair of denim coveralls and a bright yellow T-shirt. Kathy found a pair of orange socks and white tennis shoes and came back over to the bed.

“Do you want to dress by yourself, Sophie? Or do you want me to help you?” Her heart bled for the girl, who was obviously suffering deeply from the kidnapping. Was this how her older brother, Jason, had felt? Sophie was depressed, her hair unkempt, her face swollen from constant crying. Had Jason pined away like this in that villa in Hawaii? Had he cried endlessly like Sophie? He rarely talked about that time in his life, and now Kathy was having her eyes opened as to what he’d endured.

“I can do it,” Sophie muttered, and pulled the clothes from her hand. “My mommy taught me how to dress.”

“Good,” Kathy said. She watched as Sophie got rid of the nightgown. Alarmed at how thin the girl was, with every rib pronounced, Kathy gulped. She kept her tone reasonable and soft. “Are you hungry, Sophie?”

“No.” She quickly put on the T-shirt, shimmied into the coveralls and pulled the ankle socks on her feet.

Kathy handed her each small tennis shoe, which she diligently put on. She even tied the strings into a nice, neat little bow.

“Would you like me to fix your hair?” Kathy asked. She got a brush from the bathroom.

Shrugging, Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, her long legs dangling over it. “I don’t care.”

Seeing just a glimmer of light in the child’s blue eyes, Kathy smiled and gently sat down next to her. “Well, I think you’re a very beautiful young girl and if you’ll let me, I’ll put your hair into braids.” Sophie had long, fine blond hair.

“Tiki always pulls my hair. And it hurts.”

Kathy carefully began to brush out the snarls in Sophie’s hair. “She does?”

“Yes, she likes my blond hair. She keeps trying to pull it out and put it on her own head. I keep telling her she’ll never have my color of hair.”

“I see,” Kathy said. Little by little, Sophie was warming up to her. “Maybe she’s just trying to make friends with you.”

“But she hurts me. That’s why I stay in here. I don’t want her pulling my hair.” Sniffing, Sophie wailed, “I want to go home. I miss my mommy and daddy. Why won’t they let me go home?” The child buried her face in her small hands and sobbed.

Heart breaking, Kathy brought Sophie into her arms and rocked her back and forth. She couldn’t say anything that would give away her mission and she was afraid the guards might see the contempt in her expression. Closing her eyes, Kathy held the sobbing girl until she calmed down. Once she’d dried Sophie’s tears, she continued to work on her hair until it was straight and unsnarled. She set the brush aside and made a sin
gle braid down the back of her head. Then she arranged it on top of her head with a barrette.

“There, I think we have your hair up,” Kathy said with a slight laugh. “Go over to the mirror and look, Sophie. Tell me what you think.”

Sliding off the bed, the girl dejectedly did as requested. She looked at herself in the mirror and shrugged. “It looks okay. Thanks.”

Kathy got off the bed and went over to her. “Are you ready for an adventure, Sophie?”

“Adventure?” she asked, looking up at her.

“Sure. I have an idea, but I need you and Tiki to help me with it. Are you game? Do you want to play?”

“Well, Tiki will pull my hair and it hurts.”

“No, she won’t,” Kathy promised with a smile. “I won’t let her, okay?”

Standing there, Sophie looked around. She held on to Kathy’s hand a little more tightly. “You’re different.”

“Oh?” Kathy saw hope suddenly burn in Sophie’s eyes, the sadness replaced.

“The other lady didn’t care if I sat in here all day. She just left me alone. A man would bring in the meals, but I didn’t feel like eating.”

“I see,” Kathy murmured. “Well, that’s over now. Come on. Let’s pick up Tiki and go on our adventure, okay?” She saw the girl’s blue eyes clear of the ever-present tears. As she slowly drew Sophie out of the bedroom and down the hall, Kathy felt her heart wrench with anger and sadness over the child’s abduction. Compressing her lips, she dipped her head to hide her expression. This mission wasn’t turning out anything like she’d
planned. It was out of her control and heading in directions she’d never thought possible.

W
HEN
K
ATHY APPEARED
in the immaculate kitchen, the head chef, a Frenchman by the name of Denis Franchot, hurried up to her. He had a look of stunned disbelief and wariness written across his thin, narrow face.

“Mademoiselle?” he queried. “How may I or my staff help you?” Distrustfully, he eyed Tiki, who stood at Kathy’s side.

Thankful for her years of studying French, Kathy introduced herself and the two girls in the chef’s native tongue. “Chef Franchot, I need your help with my two charges. I would like to go through your refrigerators with them and find out what kinds of food they like or don’t like.”

“But you speak flawless French!” the chef declared.

“Thank you,” Kathy said, smiling. “You’re very kind to say so.” She looked at the girls. “Chef Franchot, I’m sure you know they aren’t eating much, but I have an idea of how to get them to eat more, with your help, of course.”

She saw the chef’s eyes light up with joy. “
Oui,
but of course,
mademoiselle!
I, too, am worried about them. I have tried everything, but they have turned it away.” He gave a very French shrug, but seemed genuinely concerned.

Kathy knew the French felt their cooking was the best in the world. “I’m sure you have done everything you could. I’ve tasted your cooking and I’ve loved it.”

The chef glowed over her compliment and bowed his
head. “Thank you,
mademoiselle.
Those are words that make my heart sing. I live to create beautiful food that makes people joyous to consume it.”

“May we sit at one of the tables where you chop up your veggies?”

“But of course!” Chef Franchot snapped his fingers. Instantly, servants hurried over to find three chairs for them. In moments, Kathy had the girls positioned at the wooden table. The sous-chefs moved to another part of the kitchen, where they prepared lunch and the evening meal. Once they had the space to themselves, Kathy opened one of the walk-in refrigerators and retrieved some vegetables.

“Okay, girls,” she told them, “this is our adventure.” She spread at least ten different vegetables in front of them. “Now, since I’m new here, I need to know what you do and don’t like. Tiki, you first. You take the veggies that you like and put them in front of you.”

Grinning, Tiki quickly grabbed a few. “I like this game!”

“I do, too.” Kathy turned to Sophie. “Your turn.”

Sophie glumly chose five other vegetables.

Kathy wrote down all the information in a small notebook she carried in her pocket. After asking the servants to return the veggies to the refrigerator, Kathy went and retrieved several kinds of fresh fruit. She laid them out on the table. This time, Tiki didn’t wait. She quickly lined up four of them in front of her and gave Kathy a glowing look of triumph. “These are mine! I like these!”

“Very good,” Kathy exclaimed, writing them down. “Your turn, Sophie.”

Sophie nodded and delicately picked out her favorites.

By the end of a half hour, Kathy had all the staff in the kitchen assisting her with smiles and laughter. The two little girls, who were the stars of this adventure, loved the attention from the staff. Even Chef Franchot came over with an armload of spices and joined them. Kathy praised him for his idea and Franchot glowed.

Kathy had each girl open a spice jar and smell it. If they liked the fragrance, they kept it in front of them. If they didn’t, they placed the bottle in the center of the table. Further inspired by the fun, one of the sous-chefs, a Frenchman named Philippe, brought over a large tray filled with different garnishes. Tiki squealed with delight over the rainbow of colors on the plate. Sophie even took some interest as the sous-chef placed it with dramatic grace on the table between them. Both girls eagerly picked their favorites from the plate, and Kathy recorded the information.

Next came drinks. Kathy instructed the servants to bring over small paper cups filled with a beverage, so each girl could sip and choose. Tiki giggled nonstop, completely wrapped up in the adventure. Sophie gave Kathy a hopeful smile, which made her day.