Chapter 15
Cal monitored Io, careful to be discreet. She wouldn’t appreciate fussing, but he was relieved she’d finished her food. Wiping his hands on his napkin, he gathered their wrappers and stuffed them into the carry-out bag.
“I’m going to toss this in the trash can outside,” he said.
Io looked up from the scrap of paper. “Good idea.”
She stayed alert while he opened the door. He didn’t waste time—trash gone, door shut, lock engaged. Only then did Io’s attention return to the clue.
This hotel felt closer to what he’d see in the States. Two queen beds, a round table, bland artwork. The AC even worked. Too bad they couldn’t stay more than one night. Cal resumed his seat and studied Io. She was still pale, but determination set her jaw.
“Does what’s written on that paper mean anything to you?” he asked.
“A la Sombra de la Misericordia Radiante,” she murmured. “I wish we had the rest of the sheet. Context would help.”
“It could be a code,” he suggested, reaching for his soda.
Io didn’t answer immediately. Her finger traced the words as she thought. Cal waited, letting her process.
“It could be,” she said at last. “Or part of a prayer. The name of an illuminated manuscript. Honestly, it sounds like a work of art. It could be many things, and this paper is torn on all sides. There was more around it.”
Her voice was flat, but he heard the frustration beneath it. He leaned back, giving her space.
“It could also be the name of a church or convent,” he added. “Or even a house. Puerto Jardin used to name homes. Grand estates and modest ones.”
“So it could be a residence near a church.”
Cal shrugged. “It’s a possibility, Thing.”
Her lips curved. “Do you know how many churches there are in Trujillo?”
“Lots.” He returned the smile, glad she was relaxed enough to tease.
Her amusement faded, but she stayed steady. “Yeah. Lots. I wish Fuentes hadn’t shredded everything else, but of course she did. She’s no amateur. I learned that the hard way.” She held out the scrap. “See if you spot something I missed.”
Their fingers brushed as he took it, and heat flared through him. He forced himself to focus. To ignore his reaction. Because wanting her again was a mistake he couldn’t afford.
He studied the fragment. Torn on all sides, though one edge was deceptively straight. No ink near the margin, no indentations. “Did you notice the quotation mark on one side?”
“I saw that.”
“Maybe Fuentes was taking notes. Citing someone.”
Io frowned. “You think this was something she was researching?” A beat passed. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“If that’s the case, it’s probably not a code. But we can’t rule anything out.”
“Right. Too soon to eliminate possibilities.”
“But it’s lower on the priority list.”
“Agreed.” Io pulled out the phone BD had given her.
“You’re calling someone?”
She shook her head and began typing. “Doing a little research.”
Cal set the paper on the table and sipped his soda while she tapped and scrolled. “Finding anything?” he asked when a furrow appeared between her brows. Even after being shaken just moments ago, she processed information as fast as anyone he’d ever worked with.
“Nothing helpful. No direct results. But the image search is interesting. Everything has a religious connotation. Mostly paintings.” She looked up. “Not enough to narrow anything down.”
“Did you search in Spanish or English?”
“Spanish. Let me try English.” A moment later she shook her head. “Still nothing. I’m getting hits all over. Book titles, anime characters, maybe a video game.”
“It was worth a shot.” He hesitated, then offered, “If this is a work of art, it could explain why the mob is watching the museum.”
She bit her lip, thinking, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t know the Museo de la Revolución well, but I doubt it has much art. More uniforms and weapons. And if this were in a museum, I think I’d have gotten a hit.”
“Why?”
“Museums list their collections online. And if they don’t, visitors post photos and captions.” She took a sip of soda. “If it’s artwork, it’s probably privately owned.”
“And if it were a convent or church, that would likely be online too.”
“Unless it’s long abandoned and historically irrelevant, yes.”
Silence settled between them. Comfortable, familiar. Cal let it linger, but they needed to move forward.
“What’s our next step?” he asked.
“That depends. Are we pursuing the clue or pursuing Torres?”
Their op was Torres. But the clue was Fuentes—and Fuentes had kidnapped Io. Cal wanted her off the threat board. He wanted Io safe. The Russians were another problem entirely, but one he’d shelve for now.
“Can’t we do both? Torres wants the treasure. Fuentes does too. We could kill two birds with one stone.”
Io’s smile made his heart skip. He raised his can and finished his soda to hide the reaction.
“I like the way you think,” she said. “Following the clue might attract Torres’s attention. If it relates to the Lost Treasure.”
He ignored the warmth her compliment sparked. “Here’s my thought. Fuentes is a treasure hunter. This looks like part of a larger piece of research. What else would she be shredding in a hurry?”
Io nodded, leaning back, thoughtful. “You’re likely right. We’re talking about the holy grail to treasure hunters.”
“A grail worth a billion dollars. Never underestimate the power of greed.”
Io straightened, eyes widening.
“What?” Cal asked. “What did you just think of?”
“Cal, Fuentes is a pro. She’s slick. What are the chances she made a big mistake?”
He caught her train of thought. “You think she planted the clue? That’s a long shot.”
“Possibly, but why rip up a sheet of paper before shredding it? It’s easier to slide it in whole, and it’s a confetti shredder. We’d have nothing. What if Fuentes wanted us to find this scrap? What if she deliberately dropped it behind the shredder?”
“Thing, she might have wanted someone to find it, but there’s no guarantee it was meant for us.”
“You’re right. We don’t know if this is a legitimate clue or a wild goose chase. We don’t know if following it will lead us somewhere or if it’s just a distraction, something to keep us, or someone else, busy while she advances her own agenda.”
Cal mulled it over. “Fuentes knew who found her. Oz said there were high-tech cameras around the property. High-tech enough to zoom in on the car and ID him and your sister. She’d assume we’d come back to check the house. She couldn’t know the mobsters would find it too.”
Io picked up the paper. “Your team wouldn’t care about the treasure, and she’d know that. This was meant for me. I’m sure of it.”
“There’s another question we need to ask,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Fuentes grabbed you, but she left you behind. Why? If she wanted you badly enough to kidnap you, why not take you with her?”
“She was in a hurry?” Io offered.
“She cleared the house. There’d be enough time to wrap you in a tarp and throw you in the back of a vehicle.”
Io paled, falling silent.
Cal got up, crouched beside her, and took her hand. PTSD hit hard, and he wanted her to know he had her. He’d protect her from any threat at any time. Not only the obvious ones. “She’s not getting you again. No one is touching you.”
For a moment, Io looked shaky, like she had in the house. Then she closed her eyes, breathed deep, and locked it down. She didn’t pull away. Her hand stayed under his. She was in control, but she was still dealing with the fallout.
“This clue could be a trap,” she said softly.
Her voice was steady, and pride tightened Cal’s chest. “Are we backing off?” He already knew the answer, but maybe he’d get lucky.
Io shook her head and met his gaze. “Let’s chase it a little, see where it leads. But we stay on guard. And if it feels like a distraction, we disengage.”
She was being smart. He liked that. And hated it. If she were reckless, he could take control. Try to, anyway.
“Sounds sensible.”
Her lips curved, some color returning. “I never thought I’d hear that from you.”
She was teasing, not accusing, and Cal grinned as he stood, though it faded quickly.
“Fuentes wanted you for a reason. Until we figure out why, you’re at risk.
This clue might be a red herring. It might be a trick.
Or like you said, a trap. But if we don’t chase it, we have no answers.
” He crossed the room, needing to move. “The damn thing is that even knowing it might be a setup, we could find ourselves in over our heads before we realize it.”
“You’re not wrong.” Io rose and closed half the distance between them. “But another theory came to me. Instead of being a trap or misdirection, what if it’s a homework assignment?”
“What do you mean?”
“The treasure’s been missing for two hundred years.
People have searched since day one and found nothing.
Research hasn’t turned up much. What if Fuentes discovered the name A la Sombra de la Misericordia Radiante and couldn’t learn anything?
What if she thought the Paladin League would have better luck? ”
“You do the legwork, she swoops in and grabs the prize.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Maybe we should talk to Frankie. She knows more about the treasure than anyone right now. Even Archer.”
Cal stopped pacing. Sure, he’d visited Frankie when Io was missing because it was life or death, but risking BD’s wrath by involving his fiancée now? He shook his head immediately.
“It makes sense, Cal.”
“It might make sense to you, but you’re not the one who’ll be filling sandbags when we get back to the States. And if anything happens to her…” He let the sentence die, shook his head again. “BD will kill me. And I’m not exaggerating.”
“Hurt you? Yes. Kill you? No. It’s not easy to get rid of a body.” Before he could react, Io continued, “But we’ll save Frankie as a last resort. Does this compromise work for you?”
Cal’s jaw tightened. Her tone made it clear she remembered the last time she’d offered a compromise. And how he’d shut her down. That had been the beginning of the end. A couple days later, he’d told her to leave Germany.
This wasn’t the same, even if the echo was there. But her voice told him she remembered every word of that argument.
Every word of her attempt to save their marriage.
And his refusal to meet her halfway.
He couldn’t meet her halfway. He couldn’t risk losing her. He needed her safe.
And that was the moment their marriage had ended, the moment they hadn’t been able to come back from. The moment she realized he wouldn’t fight for her. Wouldn’t fight for them.
Thoughts spun through his head as he held her gaze, searching for a response that wouldn’t reopen old wounds.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It works.”
But their past was a minefield. One wrong step, and their assignment could blow up in his face.