Uncaged Love, page 21
“Yeah, we’re almost to Popayán now.” Rafe said in a too friendly voice for an operational check in, but perfect for their cover. “Where can we meet you?”
Chapter 24
Hidden in a narrow alley, across the Parque de Caldas from the mammoth cathedral, Rafe scanned the area.
Nearly fifty people wandered through the small city block filled with tall trees encircled by trimmed shrubs. Volcano-seekers, dressed for the equatorial heat in shorts and sleeveless shirts, strolled on the artful stone and brick pathways that rayed in every direction from the center statue in the city’s most famous park. Locals, in lightweight pants and long sleeves, walked pointedly toward their destination.
“This place is crawling with paramilitary.” Rafe’s quiet voice was controlled, but concerned. “I’ve seen sicarios from at least five different cartels. Some are friendly with Solis, others, I’m not so sure. I’ve trained men from this region for Narváez’s cartel buddies. They might recognize me, but I wouldn’t remember them.”
And fuck it all, that’s all we need.
“There’s the Catedral Basílica Nuestra Señora de la Asunción. Isn’t that where we’re supposed to meet your SEAL friend?” She sounded so tired.
They were both needed to rest. He hoped they would get somewhere safe, sooner rather than later. Answering her question, he explained, “Yes. It’s the seat of the archdiocese with a direct line to the pope.” The U.S.A. had used the religious connection on more than one occasion since he’d been in Colombia.
“Let’s hope they like Lutherans.” She was so cute.
Rafe smiled and brushed a kiss over her lips. The sensation was nice but way too brief. He wanted to grab her and kiss her mindless. Not there though.
Ever-present, the paramilitary were dressed like Rafe and Harper. They wore camouflage utilities, black boots, machine guns pointed downward but hands on the stock, ready for action. Only the tourists paid them any attention, giving the armed men nervous glances, never making eye contact.
“We need to get across the square. Any suggestions?” Rafe asked.
“Let’s blend in. We’ll swagger our way through the park and right into the front door.” Harper rose from their hunkered position in the shadow of a white block building, which looked like every other structure in Popayán. “As my old teammate, Tori, would say…own it.”
Damn, he liked this woman. She had more guts than most of the men he’d trained in Colombia. She was so confident in her skills…and where did she get those skills? She took out those tangoes back in Cali like a pro. He was sure she’d had hand-to-hand training in the Army, but she was too good at it. He’d ask her about it later.
Head high and proud, Harper stepped onto the sidewalk and sauntered out into the street. A taxi blared its horn as it screeched past, but she ignored the cab and everything around her. He could tell, though, she was hyperaware and missed nothing.
Rafe stalked beside her. Another car sped toward them. They both glared at it, daggers flashed from their eyes at the driver, who immediately slowed and curved around them. They looked exactly like what they were: bad asses capable of killing anyone who dared to cross them.
An orange-vested policeman held out both arms, palms up when they approached the street in front of the cathedral and stopped traffic. Rafe and Harper continued their casual pace and looked at no one, especially the uniformed officer.
Rafe had always liked the clean lines of the cathedral’s Roman architecture. Eight columns, their bases nearly six feet tall, stretched up more than forty feet in front of the centuries old building. The blocky clock tower anchored the cathedral at the far end, like a square lighthouse directing the faithful. Everything in Popayán was bright white, as if clean and pure. Rafe knew differently.
This city was filled with the scum of the earth. Thousands of tons of cocaine that grew on the surrounding mountains and beside tributary streams converged in the ancient city. Eventually, the product was refined, packaged, and distributed to the young adults in the United States.
Rafe had tried, and failed, to stop that flow of poison. Those were regrets for another day. Right now, he had to protect Harper so they could both leave Colombia.
The lavish ivory, pale blue, and light gray of the interior sanctuary was adorned with opulent gold details, a sign of this area’s beginnings. The gold mines still operated, but the artisans who used the precious metal to praise their Lord had died centuries ago and had been replaced by capitalists. The emerald-jeweled golden crown that sat upon the Virgin Mary was a replica. The real one, bartered years ago, lay in a museum in the States.
Harper gawked at the high relief fleur-de-lis that decorated the aisles and craned her neck to absorb the scope of the impressive dome. Aged locals pulled rosaries through arthritic fingers while sitting on unpadded ancient benches, no doubt praying they lived through the impending eruption.
Rafe furtively glanced back at the door when someone opened it.
Oh, fuck.
He dragged Harper through one of the side arches and forced her to kneel in front of tiers of burning candles. Reaching over for a long stick, he shoved it into a flame until it caught fire, then lit two candles huddled within short red glasses.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“We were followed. One of Solis’ lugartenientes just walked in.” With his head bowed, Rafe peeked back toward the main sanctuary and watched the uniform disappear behind a thick carved door.
“Are you sure he’s one of Solis’?”
“Positive. I trained him.” Rafe didn’t add that he was one of the best in that group.
“Shit,” Harper hissed.
“The toilets are this way, if you need to use them.” The raspy American-accented English brought a grin to Rafe’s tight-featured face. It had been far too long since he’d heard that coarse voice. As always, he was thankful for the sound of his old friend.
“Preacher.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Who else would you expect to come to this God-forsaken country to save your sorry ass?” the man said just above a whisper.
Rafe started to move, but strong hands held him penitent as a friendly face appeared between Harper and him.
“Harper, this asshole is one of my best friends, Matias Revas. Call him Mat or Preacher,” Rafe instructed by way of introduction.
At the mention of Rafe’s SEAL buddy, Harper had visibly relaxed. “You have no idea how glad I am to meet you.” She started to extend her hand.
“We’ll shake later.” Preacher covertly looked around. “Hold. And the Lord said, ‘Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. Matthew 7:15.’”
“Is that a warning about you or the priesthood here?” Rafe asked. Sometimes Preacher’s Bible quotes were a little ominous.
“Both.” Preacher covertly looked around. “The archbishop here enjoys his lavish lifestyle thanks to the many gifts from the local cartels, including one allied with Solis. You’re not safe here. He’ll turn you over to them as quickly as he finds you.”
Three male voices and stomping boots echoed throughout the cathedral.
Preacher mumbled what sounded like a short prayer and lit a candle. “Wise that you’ve chosen Saint Anthony who looks after travelers. We’ll need his blessing before this is over,” Preacher explained.
“How do we get out of here?” Rafe asked.
Preacher readjusted his robes to completely cover their clothes and appeared to be a priest consoling parishioners.
“Patience.” He squeezed Rafe’s shoulder. “First rule in an op, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. Matter of fact, I’ve learned a few new tricks along the way.” Rafe had missed this friendly banter, but he wouldn’t miss this life on the edge.
The rapid thud of boots on tile and the low murmur of several men’s voices created a Doppler effect as a dozen uniformed sicarios strode up the central isle and into the same side chamber as the first ones had entered.
“Word travels fast,” Preacher warned. “They must know you’re headed here.”
Damn. It had taken them only a few minutes to cross the park.
“Follow me and stay close,” Preacher ordered Harper.
The lower ceilings along the outside walls kept the three in relative shadows. Halfway to the lobby, Preacher shed the white robes and stuffed them into the corner of a pew. His American camouflage utilities were stripped of any identifying patches, and to Rafe, Preacher was the best thing he’d seen in five years.
A wave of comfort and familiarity washed over Rafe. For the first time in years, he was a member of a team and on the right side. Segundo was gone. Completely. He’d been a good leader, but Rafe’s mind shifted into follower mode. Preacher was team leader now. His mental load eased knowing the SEAL team would share the responsibility of getting them out of Colombia safely.
Preacher opened a hidden side door and all but shoved them through it. Heat and bright sunshine poured over them, temporarily blinding them. Harper tripped on the uneven sidewalk.
“Be careful. The last earthquake buckled some of the pavers.” When Preacher took Harper’s hand, Rafe stiffened at the shot of jealousy that speared his heart.
She’s mine.
But, no, she wasn’t his. Not really. He wanted her, constantly, and enjoyed being with her. His? For now. He watched her tight bottom under dark camouflage pants and wanted to hold those bared cheeks in his hands again as he slid into her.
Damn it. Stop that. He was growing hard.
“Where are we going?” Rafe needed to get his mind off Harper’s ass before he couldn’t walk, say nothing if they had to run.
“Iglesia de San Francisco. It’s not far. Only one block over and three blocks down.” The directions were probably true, but they couldn’t walk openly on the now cartel-guarded streets. So they slithered between buildings that had been patched with concrete blocks and mismatched bricks after previous volcanic eruptions every decade or so. They crossed small dirt courtyards where children kicked soccer balls, sprinted down cobblestone side streets, and backtracked several times.
When they popped out of another alley onto a three-lane street, they faced the solid yellow side of the five-story church. Halfway down was an entrance that seemed to magically open as the three approached.
“Hurry,” an older priest commanded. He shut and bolted the ancient door behind them. “This way.”
They passed several ornately decorated naves honoring saints then cut through one of the two-story arches. The old man moved fast, but Rafe took in the sanctuary where at least a hundred benches sat perfectly spaced down both sides of a wide aisle. A smattering of locals prayed or stared at the five-story tall altar and the life-sized statue of Christ on the Cross covered in gold.
Harper faced him for a brief moment and smiled. “Breathtaking, isn’t it? I love these old cathedrals.”
In the natural light from the clerestory windows three stories above, she reminded him of an angel. Sunshine kissed her cheeks and sparkled off lips she’d licked seconds before. Blonde highlights and uncontrolled curls encircled her face, backlit in a golden halo.
His knees almost failed him. He wanted to fall to them and beg her to be his forever.
There was no darkness within this woman. She fought the evil of the world and brought light and love to his battered heart. She was so beautiful, yet dressed in black camouflage with weapons strapped to her gorgeous body, she was also a warrior. His avenging angel. In that holy place, surrounded by danger, with light drenching them both, he knew.
He loved her.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. When they got out of Colombia, he’d tell her. They’d go together to buy the perfect ring, and she’d be his forever, because he was already hers. She owned his heart.
His smile was ear-to-ear. Hers broadened, and she stepped closer to him while the older priest fumbled with keys to open a deeply carved door.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love your smile? I don’t see it very often, but when I do, it takes my breath away.” She’d used the word love.
If only Harper had said she loved him.
He bent and kissed her quickly. Was it okay to kiss a woman in a church, other than during a wedding? He didn’t care. The light brush of her lips on his, the promise of more, was affirmation of his discovered love.
Well-oiled metal slid across metal as the bolt eased home. The dense cherry door opened silently on hand-hammered iron strappings that had been forged two hundred years ago.
Rafe glanced over his shoulder and took one last look at the gleaming man on the cross. Silently, he thanked him for bringing Harper into his life and prayed hers filled with the love he felt today.
Hand-in-hand, Rafe and Harper followed the priest while Preacher trailed them down a long whitewashed hall with rough wooden doors evenly spaced along the right side and the sanctuary along their left.
The hallway opened to a large formal garden encompassed by a square of two-story rooms with wide verandas. A tiered fountain at its center begged for silent contemplation.
“Inside, quickly.” The nearly gray priest seemed incapable of longer sentences, but more words weren’t necessary as his keys once again opened another door, this time to a hotel room.
Chapter 25
There was a collective sigh once the door was locked.
“This used to be a monastery, but it’s now Hotel Dann, one of the nicest places to stay in Popayán.” More relaxed, the priest spoke directly to Rafe and Harper. “This room is exclusively used by the church.”
“Show them,” Preacher ordered.
With a nod, the priest moved to the paprika-painted accent wall and crossed himself before he gently slid the rough charcoal drawing of Christ aside. Beneath it laid a modern palm scanner and numeric keys. “Please join me.”
In a room filled with heavy Spanish antiques, the modern electronics seemed out of place, but Rafe and Harper walked over to the panel.
“Senorita, place your hand on the screen then type in six numbers that you’ll remember in an emergency.” She complied then stepped aside.
“Rafe, you’re next.” Preacher commanded.
He did as ordered and then slipped the picture back in place.
“Now, let’s try this again. Harper, if you would please.” Preacher seemed very familiar with this place, but Rafe wouldn’t question anything as long as it got them all out of Colombia.
She swung the picture aside, placed her hand on the pad, and then typed in her six numbers.
The wall moved almost silently. There was enough room for a person to pass through the exposed space. They followed Preacher, who flicked on the lights.
“We’re inside the church clock tower.” Pointing, he continued, “That door leads to the sanctuary, that one to the street, Calle 4. It was the last street we crossed to reach the church. Those stairs lead to the top of the bell tower, which is also a good sniper position. That’s where I’ll be when you’re ready to leave.”
They stepped back into the luxury of the hotel room to find a tray of food on the sturdy old table but no sign of the priest.
“You’ve been here before,” Rafe noted.
“You know I was in seminary before I joined the Navy.” Preacher gave Harper a shy grin. “I was going to be a Jesuit priest. I started in Catholic pre-school, did the acolyte thing, went to a private Catholic high school, then Xavier University. I was destined to be a priest, like my uncle. Or so I thought.” He paused and stared at the room around him.
“What happened?” Harper broke the silence.
“I did a summer in-service here after college graduation and met Mariah. We were in the same program helping the nuns at the orphanage and in remote medical facilities way up in the mountains. My room was on the top level across the way. Hers was a few doors down.” He looked at his feet and smiled. “My uncle gave me some great advice when I left home that summer, ‘This is your last chance to live it up before you give it up.’ I took his words to heart. After sleeping with Mariah all summer, it was almost impossible to leave her, but I returned to seminary. Within three months, I knew the whole celibacy thing wasn’t for me.”
“So why the Navy?” Harper asked the question before Rafe could.
“I was raised Jesuit, the warrior priests. They’re known as God’s Marines for a good reason. I guess service to God and country was engrained in me all my life. I’d sailed since I was a kid, so the Navy seemed like the right choice. Obviously, it was. I’m still in and plan to make it a career.”
“I’m glad you knew about this place,” Harper told Preacher. “So how long do we have before we can get out of here and on our way home?”
“We’d like to take you out after dark, but with Puracé about to blow, we don’t want to waste any time. We’re set for thirty minutes after dark.” Rafe watched his friend’s eyes travel the length of Harper, assessing her with the discernment of a true leader.
“You look tired, Harper, worse for wear. You’re safe here, for now. You should try to nap or relax in the tub a while, relieve those weary muscles.” Preacher’s smile was that of concern, not the least bit lascivious like Rafe’s. The thought of all that warm water bubbling around them, soaping her breasts as she leaned against him, running his hands up and down her body until she arched into him…
“The tub is big enough for two.” Preacher looked at Rafe and smirked as if he knew what he was thinking.
“Voice of experience?” Rafe chuckled.
“We lived here for three months.” What do you think? was left unsaid.
“Well, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, that tub sounds like the best suggestion I’ve heard in days.” Harper started to unstrap the weapons from her body and lay them on the thick dark table. “Nobody has to tell me twice.” She gave Rafe a knowing look.
God, he loved this woman. She was sexy as hell as she rested her foot on a chair rung and ripped the Velcro securing her knife and pistol to her thigh.
