The Stronghold. Lisa Carter

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СКАЧАТЬ Her second?

      At the sight of the Apache’s fearsome face—mapped like the canyonlands, full of scars and chasms—Pilar squeezed her arms around her drawn knees.

      The Apache surveyed the battered form of her stepfather. “Understood, Doña.” His slightly skewed right eye went dull as a winter’s day. “It will be taken care of.”

      Pilar shivered as if something cold and dreadful had walked over her grave.

      “We must all adapt or die.” Abuela extended her hand to Pilar. “Come, child. Let me help you.”

      Her gaze ping-ponging between the sinister-looking cowboy and her dear abuela, Pilar inched up the wall.

      The Apache reached for the skillet at her feet.

      Hissing, Pilar snatched it from the floor and cradled it against her chest.

      One corner of the Apache’s mouth lifted into what may have passed for a smile.

      To Pilar, it more likely resembled a grimace.

      But with great deliberation, the Apache offered his hand.

      “Pilar?” Isabel coaxed.

      And at Abuela’s urging, Pilar surrendered her weapon to the Apache.

      Isabel placed an arm around Pilar and led her out toward the brightly lit hacienda. Hefting Byron into his arms, the Apache deposited her brother inside and departed.

      Pilar never saw the Apache cowboy again.

      She also never saw her stepfather again.

      Tending Byron, Isabel hastened to assure Pilar she hadn’t killed the wicked man.

      Leaving Pilar unsure if she was glad or sad about this fact.

      She returned to the foreman’s house the next day to find all traces of blood and tissue wiped clean.

      And when Alex returned to the ranch, he found Byron and Pilar ensconced at the big house in rooms of their own. To the best of her knowledge, Alex never knew what happened that night—or before—to her and Byron.

      “We will not speak of this again,” Isabel told her.

      Apaches weren’t the only ones, Pilar discovered, who could keep secrets.

      Isabel telephoned the San Carlos Tribal Child Protective Services and explained how the children’s stepfather simply walked away without a word.

      Although Pilar was fairly sure her stepfather hadn’t walked anywhere. Carried, maybe. Disappeared, for certain.

      The highly respected Doña Isabel Torres was taken at her word. Child Protective Services left Pilar and Byron in Abuela’s loving foster embrace for good.

      And life, as Pilar entered high school, became good, too.

      Because indeed, Abuela’s superpower was her ability to make everything right.

      Chapter 9

      9

      The shrill ringing of his cell woke Alex before six a.m. Praying another girl hadn’t been taken last night, he half-fell out of bed in his haste to answer the call. But it wasn’t Charles or Sidd or the tribal detective he’d yet to meet.

      It was Manny To-Clanny.

      “You gave me your card yesterday and said if I ever needed you . . .” The boy’s voice sounded muffled. “I need you now. Actually, it’s Auntie who needs you now.”

      “What’s wrong, Manny?” Alex’s tone sharpened. “Are you alright? Is Pilar—?”

      “She’s not alright. I can’t get her to unlock the bathroom door. When she screamed, I found her on the bathroom floor, surrounded by broken glass. She . . .” Manny took a deep breath. “She’s cutting herself. I-I don’t know what to do.” The boy’s voice rose and ended with a whispered sob. “She yelled at me to get out. Then she slammed the door and locked it.”

      Alex squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, God.

      “Please, Mr. Torres.”

      “Call me Alex.”

      “I never told anybody about what she does after one of her nightmares. I never told Abuela, though I think she knows. I shouldn’t have left Auntie alone when she woke up. But she’s been better for so long, I didn’t think—”

      “This isn’t your fault, Manny.”

      “Something bad—really bad—happened to my auntie before, didn’t it, Alex?”

      “Yeah,” Alex whispered into the phone.

      He, Alejandro Roberto Torres, happened to Pilar.

      “I think maybe only you can fix her, Alex.”

      Alex sank onto the bed, his head in his hand. “I’ll come right away. But it’s God, not me, who’ll help her, Manny.”

      Help me to help her, God.

      “You plus God, I’m sure of it.” Manny sighed. “ ’Cause it’s your name, Alex, she calls for in the dark.”

      ***

      A fist pounded the door. The wood rattled against the frame. “Open the door, Pilar. It’s Alex.”

      Curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, her eyes widened.

      Not him. Anybody but him.

      How had—? Manny must’ve called him. The look on Manny’s face when he spotted the jagged shard of glass in her hand . . .

      Oh, God. Pilar shuddered. She was so broken.

      Lines of blood flowed down her arm.

      More fist pounding. “Pilar? Answer me.”

      She had no business raising Manny. No wonder he was getting into fights and about to join a gang. She was so messed up. Too messed up to be playing mother.

      And now for Alex to see her like this?

      She pressed a towel against the cut to staunch the bleeding.

      “Pilar, if you don’t open this door right now, I’m going to break it down.”

      “Leave me alone,” she shouted, her heart thundering.

      “Good,” he yelled. “Glad to see you’re still in the land of the living. You’ve got until the count of three and then—”

      “Just go away, Torres.”

      “One . . .”

      A soft thud against the door panel as if his shoulder tested its strength.

      She СКАЧАТЬ