Cuba Undercover Read online

  “You picked me because of my father?” She waved the picture at him. “You thought this would blackmail me into doing something illegal and stupid?”

  A thunderous explosion followed. But it wasn’t the sound that jacked up his blood pressure. “I know you don’t give a damn about freeing my sister,” he yelled above the storm, “but I thought you’d at least be curious about your father. Don’t you wonder why your mother lied to you about him for twenty-six years?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Antonio’s shoulders tightened. He drew them back when her expression didn’t change. “If I were to believe all those stories you put on the news, I’d believe you were an advocate for the abused and needy.” He shook his head, looking away from her. “I should have known you’d never risk ruining your picture-perfect life for a cause greater than your own well-being.”

  “Listen, Antonio.”

  He detested the way she addressed him in such a familiar way. Like she knew him. She did not. “So, that show of compassion is just for the TV cameras?” They had nothing in common. She was a spoiled American. And the way she was shaking her head at him reminded him of one of his high school teachers who used to address him as if he were just a worthless, stupid Spanish-speaking illegal immigrant. His blood pressure rocketed up another notch. He clenched his fists and took a long, deep breath trying to force down his growing contempt.

  “You’re like so many Cuban exiles I know,” she continued. “Your heart is scarred by hatred, and that’s affected your judgment. We can document your mission, but it’s not going to change a damn thing. Don’t fool yourself.”

  He shot to his feet, hesitating, trying to keep his anger in check. “Don’t insult me or my mission.” He kept his voice controlled.

  She still flinched.

  He wasn’t going to grab her again. He detested violence and what it could do to women. He’d warned Ignado not to ever be that physical with the reporter again. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not trying to bring democracy to Cuba.” But he had to win Rebecca over, convince her to help him, willingly. “I just want freedom for my sister.”

  Rebecca stood slowly. “If we follow your plan, we’re not going into Cuba as tourists, Antonio. And even though the U.S. is kissing Castro’s ass right now, the government over there will shoot us if they feel threatened. Don’t you get that? They’re still Communists dressed in Socialists’ clothing. That has not changed.”

  So, she did feel passion about the politics of their home country. But her insulting tone was forcing his body temperature up. He had to get out before he did something he’d regret.

  He stormed toward the exit, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught her blanching. Was that out of fear of him, or fear of being left alone in the swamp with a nasty storm on top of them? He reached for the flap.

  “Okay, okay. Wait.” Her voice raised a notch. “Tell me about your sister.”

  Antonio took deep breaths, staring at the flap. He should leave. The blood was still launching through his body, extra adrenaline making his muscles tingle. He forced himself to inhale and exhale until he felt his heart rate slow down. Taking his time, he turned and walked back to where he’d been before. He had to be in control here. Letting emotions rule was dangerous. Staring into the ground, he sat down, attempting to compose himself, waiting until she took a seat as well.

  When he sensed his body temperature dip back to normal and the tension leave his shoulders, he looked up at her.

  She was staring at him with her mouth wide open.

  Good. He’d gotten her attention. Now she knew how much control he actually had. How disciplined he’d become. Maybe she’d respect that. “My sister is about your age.” And she used to be as feisty. Now she’s just beaten down. “She still lives on the family farm where I was born in a little town about fifty minutes south of Havana called Güira de Melena. My family used to own our farm, about eight acres, until the revolution. Castro’s government took ownership of our land. Now they own everything and allow my family to work what used to be their soil. In return for that privilege, the government takes most of what we grow.”

  “We grow?” Rebecca asked.

  He admired her intelligence and the way she was not afraid to speak her mind. But right now the way her eyebrows were arching was pissing him off.

  “You speak as if you still own that land.”

  He withheld the razor-sharp comment on the tip of his tongue. Concentrate on the plan. “My sister is beautiful.” He paused, wondering if he should share all of his thoughts. The reporter reminded him a lot of his sister. Even though he hadn’t seen Maria for over ten years, he’d seen pictures, and his sister’s letters used to have the same feistiness and determination he’d witnessed so far in the reporter. They were both exotic and beautiful. And at times, vulnerable. If he had met Rebecca under different circumstances… Not good to go there.

  “And?” Rebecca regarded him shrewdly.

  “And the head of the local CDR is in love with her. He wants to marry her.” The muscles in Antonio’s jaw tightened.

  “Antonio.”

  He lifted a hand to stop her. He could tell by the pity in Rebecca’s eyes that whatever she was about to say would only piss him off more. “My sister tells me she can’t go anywhere without someone in the CDR watching her and reporting back.”

  Rebecca’s back straightened. “What’s the CDR? Reporting back to whom?”

  “The Committee for the Defense of the Revolution.” Damn, she should already know this. Antonio exhaled, shaking his head. So much time had passed, and the younger generation of Cuban Americans did not care enough to learn the details of their country’s history. He was counting on Rebecca to help him change that. “The CDR members report counterrevolutionary activity to the government. The leader of each neighborhood CDR has to know the activities of each person on their block or in their section of town.”

  “They still do that secretive, Big Government kind of stuff?” She shrugged, then shook her head. “Not surprised.” She glanced at him with real concern in her eyes. “So, how does that affect your sister?”

  “A report from the CDR can be the difference between freedom and persecution. Basically, they’re the neighborhood snitches. And this Communist bastard is trying to persuade my sister to marry him. If she doesn’t, it’s been implied the whole family will suffer.”

  The reporter cocked her head like she couldn’t believe what he was saying. Maybe Rebecca wasn’t a real Cuban. Looking at her dirtied designer clothes and her ridiculous high heels, he turned away. American elitist. Disappointment rushed through him. Maybe that’s all she was.

  “Why doesn’t your sister just book a damn flight and leave? Travel restrictions have loosened.”

  “It’s not as easy as your news reports make it look.” At least her curiosity was still intact. That would help him achieve his goal.

  “Meaning?”

  “Your friend who had her face burned off.”

  “You know her?”

  “I know what happened to her.”

  “And that’s what’s happening to your sister?”

  “That’s what could happen to my sister if we don’t get her out. You of all people know that a woman who is the victim of domestic violence can’t just ‘book a flight and leave.’”

  “So, what’s your plan?” she asked. “How do you expect to smuggle us onto the island with all our camera gear? You know how much the Cuban government loves the American media.”

  Antonio resented her sarcastic tone. “I’ll make that happen.” He ground his teeth. He was trying to keep it professional, but she wasn’t making it easy. Antonio preferred to work alone for this very reason. “You speak the language, know a little bit about the country.” Not nearly enough. “You look like our people, and you’ll blend in. Then, when the time is right, you’ll capture the abuse and the rescue so no one misunderstands. I want the world to know I’m not taking my sister against her will. I�
�m not the criminal here. Even if people won’t believe me, video does not lie.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath and folded her hands as if in prayer, touching the top of her fingers to her nose. “Why the big show in kidnapping me?” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Why did your goons have to grab me so violently, and so publicly? Surely you know police are already looking for me. My TV station will make me the lead story.”

  Exactly. “You wouldn’t have come to Cuba willingly.”

  “No.”

  “And I knew that. Kidnapping you in public was all part of the plan.” He pointed a finger her way. “This kidnapping will get the public fired up. Your TV station will continue to make you the lead story. The headlines have already started. I’ve read a few online. Want to hear them? Kidnapped Correspondent. Menendez Missing. There’s already a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to your whereabouts. Everyone wants to know who kidnapped the pretty TV news reporter and why. If there’s no other breaking news, cable TV will keep your story as the lead, and they’ll show your kidnapping instead of the staged video ops of American tourists arriving in Cuba, like it’s fucking Jamaica or the Cayman Islands.

  “The cops are already looking for you, but they started locally. My plan was to be out of the country tonight. The storms have delayed us, but not for long. We’ll leave Miami by early tomorrow morning on a private yacht out of a private marina. As soon as we’re in Cuba, I’ll let you drop your media friends a few hints. That will keep you the lead story until we return. Then you can show them the truth of what’s still going on in Cuba once the video ops are over.”

  Rebecca’s mouth fell open, but her eyes shone with what looked like a new found respect.

  A sense of accomplishment swept over him.

  “You know a lot about how the media work. You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, haven’t you?”

  “Every single day of my adult life.” If she only knew how hard this desire drove him, she’d find a way to break free. So his obsession didn’t break her, too.

  Instead she nodded, two fingers covering her lips.

  “When we get back, the whole country will be dying to hear everything you have to say. They’ll be hungry for all the video you have to show.” And my family will finally be together and free. Antonio watched as the look in her eyes changed from reluctant admiration to annoyed realization.

  “And you expect me to spoon-feed them your version of the story. What if things really are better in Cuba now that Obama’s loosened restrictions?”

  “I expect you to do your job.” She wasn’t getting what he was all about. He’d always been a firm believer in the truth. “Document what happens and report what you see. Do that, and you’ll be a big star.” Antonio paused, watching her shake her head and look away. “That is what you want, isn’t it, Rebecca?” She seemed a bit put off by that simple truth, but weren’t most TV journalists somewhat vain and ambitious? He was counting on her drive to play in his favor.

  She bit her bottom lip and stared at him. Her big eyes bored into him with such force he almost looked away again, uncomfortable from the effect she had on him. She was making him feel guilty. Damn it.

  “I’ll do this on one condition.”

  Like she had a choice at this point. She was too valuable to his mission. The reporter was coming to Cuba whether she agreed to or not. But he’d play along. For now. “Let’s hear your condition.” He preferred to have her and her photographer’s compliance rather than continue to force them at gunpoint. Another stroke of lightning flashed outside, making her jump. The angry growl of thunder followed fast on its tail. Antonio glanced at the door. The tent siding bucked repeatedly.

  “First, I want to know everything you know about my father, including where he is in Cuba.” Rebecca turned her gaze back to the picture. “And before we find your sister and document her rescue, you have to lead me to my dad.”

  His stomach hardened. You have no idea how long I’ve waited to face that man. He murdered my father. “If I can.”

  “Oh, you can. And you will, or we don’t have a deal.”

  Antonio smiled at her bravado, but a sense of gloom tugged at him.

  “Secondly, I want a guarantee of our safety.”

  He raised his eyebrows at that. “I thought you said one condition.” He couldn’t stop himself from scoffing. “I can’t promise your safety.” He pushed himself off the ground and turned to open the storage unit. “I can’t even guarantee that for myself or my men. The plan is dangerous. And I have no idea what to expect. Haven’t been back to Cuba since…well, awhile.” He thought he had stored rain gear in there.

  She made a rustling sound.

  What the hell was she up to now? He turned, waders thrown over his forearm and boots in one hand. She stood right in front of him, chest puffed up and heaving again. He smelled the faintest hint of jasmine coming off her. The combination of her courage and her scent aroused a curious sensation in him. He ground his teeth, irritated that she could attract and distract him like this. It had never happened before. He prided himself on being the most disciplined of men.

  “I’m talking about our safety among your group.” Rebecca’s hand flew to point at the tent flap. “I don’t want me or Dallas to be threatened by your men. Especially by that big tattooed guy. He hurt me.” She rubbed her neck.

  “Ignado?” Antonio nodded. “I’ve already told him to stop.” He couldn’t resist adding, “But you can’t provoke him. He has a short fuse. As for your photographer, he’s a big man. I imagine he can take care of himself.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  That kind of disrespect would have to stop.

  “And I get exclusive rights to all video we shoot while in Cuba,” Rebecca said. “You don’t own it. You don’t even touch it.”

  He couldn’t believe the size of her cojones. “You don’t have that kind of bargaining power.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” She raised her chin. “Or I wouldn’t be here in the Everglades, in this pup tent on steroids, talking to you about some insane plan. You do need me. So don’t play games. And I want to contact my news director and let him know what’s going on. I want at least one person here in the United States to know where we are and what we’re doing. I’ll make him promise not to report that fact until we’re out of the country.”

  “That is not happening. At least not right now. And let’s not forget who’s the comandante.” He’d taken her cell phone earlier while she’d been unconscious. Let her try to call anyone. Antonio stuck out the hand not holding his gear. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Rebecca hesitated, looking down at his outstretched hand as if the answer were scribbled in ink somewhere on his flesh. When she looked up at him, he didn’t see conviction in her eyes, but she verbally committed. “Deal.”

  Good. He was glad she’d agreed to document his sister’s rescue. He would have hated to force her to comply. The cameraman, too, although once the young man had calmed down, he’d made it clear he was going wherever his reporter was going. They were close friends. That was obvious. Better to have them both on board.

  A quick slap of light, followed immediately by a thunderous explosion, startled her. She reached out and grabbed his extended hand, maybe to steady herself, maybe out of fear, but the unexpected connection sent electricity shooting through his fingers and up his arm. What the fuck was going on? He’d never had this kind of visceral reaction to a woman he’d just met. Get a grip. In his haste to end that powerful contact, he dropped his gear. He leaped back, breaking their connection. “I’ve got to go.”

  She tensed. “Go where?”

  “I need to take care of a few things.” Antonio leaned down and grabbed his stuff, trying to avoid her eyes. “You’ll be safe in here.” But as he strode out of the tent, he knew that neither one of them would be safe until they got in and out of Cuba—

  alive.

  Chapter Four

  Rebecca jerked awake.

  Her h
ead was throbbing at a jackhammer’s pace. What the hell was that noise? It sounded like engines grinding. She rubbed her eyes. Where the heck was she now?

  Engines grinding? Boat engines. On a boat heading to Cuba. Cuba! Holy shit. She pushed herself into a sitting position. The mission has begun. She was one step closer to meeting her father.

  How the hell had she fallen asleep? Once they’d left the marina in Miami, Antonio had disappeared topside on the yacht. One he’d left, Dawg, who had joined them on the way to Miami, had recounted his memory of their abduction, including Dawg being tossed into the van right after her. But the big guy hadn’t been physically hurt, and once on the yacht, he’d gone to the galley looking for food for them both.

  After eating crackers and cheese, she’d finally been able to relax. The boat had rocked in a lazy, comforting rhythm. She remembered resting her head on a pillow on the couch in the salon, swearing it would only be for a minute. She remembered nothing after that.

  “Antonio, ven aquí.”

  The tattooed man’s voice. Rebecca faced the cabin door. That jerk must be on the top deck, too, because that’s where his voice was coming from.

  “We’ve got people on our dock.”

  What did that mean? Crap. Had they been discovered already? She jumped up, grabbing on to a counter as the cruiser swayed unexpectedly to one side. She hung on and shuffled toward the open doorway. Her stomach somersaulted in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see where they’d landed. They were really in Cuba, the “forbidden” land. At least, still forbidden to her. Before her mother had died, she had forced Rebecca to promise that as long as a Castro was alive and in charge, Rebecca would never visit Cuba. For any reason.

  “No disparen!”

  Rebecca froze. Hold your fire? That was Antonio’s voice. Oh dear Lord, they’d been caught by Cuban police? Her heart skipped.

  Tiptoeing onto the deck—she’d escape and make her own way home if she had to—a layer of wet heat smacked her cheeks and assaulted her body. Better than a bullet. The glare of a full moon threw a blanket of light on a rocky shoreline and a rickety pier that reminded her of the gnarled fingers of an aging woman. This can’t be Havana?