Found at Sea - By Anne Marie Duquette Page 0,28
well-being is my primary concern before we dive. Salvage diving is dangerous enough. It can be deadly if your mind isn’t on your work. Okay?”
“Right. Mexico first. Then the Mission.”
Tijuana
Next morning
TO AURORA, the usual potholed road leading to the women’s cárcel seemed to have developed new holes since her last visit. Despite her seat belt, she felt as if her bones had shaken loose long before they reached their destination.
Jordan rode silently beside her, ignoring the dust and the uncomfortable drive, but not the ravages of poverty before him. Not once did his expression or words show disgust, only sadness and compassion, especially when they passed the begging children.
His nieces and nephews will never starve with this man in charge of the Castillo family. I wish my sister was as safe. If Dorian doesn’t look any better than the last time I was here...
Aurora refused to dwell on that possibility. She stole a look at Jordan, then returned her eyes to the road.
He’s got heart. Jordan’s concern for her and her family surprised her and touched her deeply—more deeply than she’d thought possible.
But it’s too bad he’s such a stickler for rules and regs. Aurora admired his character, but knew his strict New England morals wouldn’t free her sister. And too bad her unconventional outlook on life interfered with Jordan’s view of her as a desirable woman.... She found him attractive in both looks and character, yet his polite disapproval of her actions hurt more than her pride. It wounded the tender heart she possessed, a heart that had learned to live with pain and loneliness. That was what being true to herself had required. Her unrelenting sense of rightness demanded that she try to free her family, no matter what the conscience of society or Jordan Castillo said to the contrary.
If he thinks a pinstripe-suited lawyer is going to help Dorian, he’s sadly mistaken. He doesn’t know Mexico like I do. And he doesn’t know Tanya, either.
Aurora felt tears start in her eyes at the thought of her sister’s suffering. At Jordan’s questioning glance, she mumbled something about the dust, then rolled up the windows and flicked on the air conditioner. She sighed and continued driving in silence until she reached the familiar littered lot in front of the women’s jail. As she drove toward the main entrance, she swiveled around, looking for Roberto. She’d called him at his message number last night, informing him of her visit this morning.
“Problem?” Jordan asked.
“Just looking for someone,” she answered. She paid another child to guard the truck from theft and led the way inside, clutching her bag of nonperishable groceries for her sister and niece.
The smell of the jail hit her hard as they both stepped inside, submitting to the usual search by guards. Despite the darkness, it seemed even stuffier and more oppressive than outside.
“Is he with you?” the guard asked in Spanish as she signed the book.
“I am accompanying the lady,” Jordan replied in perfect Spanish. The guard studied Jordan carefully, then with a new air of respect, he asked him to sign the book, as well.
They were shown to Dorian’s cell, that particular section guarded under the watchful eye of Olivia, the mother of the ill baby Guadalupe.
“It’s about time.” Tanya’s voice rang through the gloomy corridor. “Hey, who’s the hunk?”
Aurora flushed at her niece’s bad manners. She waited until she and Jordan were up against the bars to answer.
“Hello, Tanya. This is Jordan Castillo—where’s Dorian?”
“In the infirmary,” Tanya replied.
Aurora immediately turned toward Olivia. “Please, take me to her,” Aurora said in Spanish.
“Your man isn’t allowed in the women’s infirmary,” Olivia told her. “He can remain here to visit with your niece.”
“That’s fine,” Jordan said, also in Spanish. “Go, Aurora. I’ll wait until you get back.”
Olivia motioned to one of the other guards to stand watch over Jordan, and led Aurora away.
* * *
“SO, J.C., WHAT’S happening?” Tanya asked.
Jordan switched his gaze from Aurora’s departing form to the young girl—no, woman, he corrected himself—behind bars. The familial likeness between niece and aunt registered easily. Tanya’s hair, eyes, build, even her physical movements, often mimicked those of his new partner.
But there the resemblance ended. There was no welcome in the teen’s expression, no hint of generosity in the full lips, no warmth in the hard blue of her eyes. I’ve met her type before. She’s every con artist out to hustle what isn’t her own. Inside and out—white trash.
Tanya blanched, and Jordan realized he’d spoken the last few words