Page 31 of Fighting for Julia (Laguna Beach Cops #6)
Miguel followed Father Dominguez to the mission’s substantial library that also served as the priest’s office.
The sight of the floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with ancient, dusty books and the faint smell of incense cast Miguel back in time.
He’d spent many peaceful hours reading religious texts in the big armchair by the fireplace.
“You look troubled.” Father Dominguez settled into the armchair across from Miguel.
“I am, Father.” As succinctly as possible, Miguel explained his current predicament. “So, you can see this is a life-or-death situation for me and for Julia…the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”
Father Dominguez nodded, his expression grave and contemplative.
“I do not condone the taking of lives, my son, but I know in your line of work it is regrettably unavoidable. You can trust in God’s mercy and forgiveness.
Now, about this other matter, the one that brought you here today, you have thoroughly searched your heart? ”
“Yes, Father. This isn’t just about protecting each other in a dangerous situation. It’s about falling in love. Commitment. I won’t abandon Julia. Ever.”
“No, it’s not in your nature. You said Julia isn’t Catholic?”
“No. I’m hoping, no, praying , that once I bring her to meet you, you will agree to marry us, however unorthodox this may seem to you.”
Father Dominguez drummed his fingers on the polished armrest. “It is, indeed, unorthodox. However, Miguel, I have known you practically your entire life. I see the good work you do in this community. You are determined to rid this world of evil.” He paused.
“Bring Julia to eleven o’clock Mass tomorrow morning.
I will speak with her first, then with you both. Afterward, I will render my decision.”
They rose to their feet and embraced again.
“Thank you, Father. We’ll see you tomorrow at Mass.”
Miguel’s energy began to wane. He headed toward a grocery store to buy a few necessities and ordered takeout from Pop’s Diner. After he put the groceries away and ate a cheeseburger and fries with a chocolate milkshake, he texted Julia.
Miguel: I’m home, but I’m tired and plan to take a nap. Where are you?
Julia: On the boardwalk having lunch at Susie’s. It’s been a busy morning!
Miguel: Are you happy?
Julia: Yes! Be home soon.
He sent a red heart emoji and crashed on his bed.
Miguel didn’t know what startled him awake.
A subtle sound he didn’t recognize. A shift in the air.
An unfamiliar odor. Before he could reach for his gun in the nightstand drawer, a shadow separated itself from the gloom in his bedroom and hauled him from his bed.
Another shadow draped a black hood over Miguel’s head and held him in a vise-like grip.
The first shadow threw hard punches at Miguel’s face and broke his nose on the third round.
He grunted and swallowed blood. Miguel threw his head back and connected with his captor’s face.
His hold loosened, and Miguel twisted free.
He ripped off the hood and flung it at the assailant behind him.
The guy who broke his nose rushed him. Miguel lowered his head in a football tackle, grabbed his attacker around the waist, and they crashed into his dresser.
Miguel landed punches on the guy’s face and ribs until the second man kicked him in the side where he’d been shot.
Pain exploded. He cried out and lost focus.
Seeing their advantage, they concentrated their energy on his wounded side.
He flailed, throwing wild right and left hooks that didn’t hit their mark.
In the end, they subdued him, secured his wrists behind his back with zip ties, threw the black hood over his head, and dragged him outside.
They tossed him into a vehicle, a van, judging by the hard metal his body connected with.
Miguel heard one of them say in Mexican, “Drive around the block and stay out of sight. I’ll take care of Julia . ”
The side panel door slid shut, and the van slowly backed out of the driveway.
Miguel struggled against the zip ties and cursed.
He and Julia had miscalculated how badly General Escobar and the Andersons wanted to get to her, so he hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t strapped a knife to his ankle as he’d been advised.
He began to wiggle around the metal flooring, trying to find something sharp enough to cut through the zip ties.
The driver must have detected his movement because he yelled at him in Mexican, ordering him to stop.
Miguel replied in Spanish, “Go fuck yourself . ”
That caused a flurry of rapid-fire threats.
“Come back here and say that to my face, you fucking son of a bitch . ”
Miguel hoped to antagonize the driver into doing just that. They’d left his legs free, and if given the opportunity, he might be able to get the guy into a scissor hold until he passed out.
But no such luck. His captor wasn’t rising to the bait.
With their hands gripping multiple shopping bags and laughing in easy camaraderie, Julia and Brielle breezed through Miguel’s front door.
“Miguel! We’re?—”
Both stopped dead in their tracks. They lost their grip on the shopping bags. Brielle reached automatically into her shoulder bag for her gun, but Julia grabbed her arm.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“Good advice, cousin.”
The stranger pointed a Glock at them. Tall, with features reminiscent of old Spanish aristocracy, he resembled Julia’s Escobar heredity. He’d addressed her in heavily accented English.
“Who are you?”
He feigned a pout. “You see, that disappoints me. I’m your cousin, Alfredo Escobar.”
“Where’s Miguel?”
“I’m afraid he’s tied up at the moment.”
“If you harm him?—”
“Now that depends solely on you , cousin.”
“What do you want?” Julia already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.
“Our grandfather requests the pleasure of your company.”
Julia crossed her arms. “Oh, really? Well, Gramps can shove his request up his ass because I have my own request.”
Alfredo Escobar laughed. “Oh, really?”
“I’ll accompany you to Mexico on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I want Gramps to kill Axis and Axalia Anderson.”
Alfredo Escobar’s expression changed from mild amusement to cold fury. “Fuck, no. He finds them useful. And I want Axalia.”
Julia almost gagged. Brielle let out a small gasp. “She’s seventeen .”
“And quite the woman. A consenting adult.”
“She and Axis are psychotic. Axalia will rip out your heart and eat it for breakfast.”
“Should make for an interesting relationship.”
“Then tell Gramps I want Axis’ head on a silver platter.”
“Why? He’s your half-brother. Your blood.”
“His blood doesn’t run through my veins. I feel nothing for him or Axalia. They deserve to pay for their crimes.”
Alfredo inclined his head. “You are more alike than you think.”
“Call Gramps right now. Make the offer.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll blow your head off,” Brielle declared. While Alfredo’s attention had been on Julia, she’d pulled out her gun. She released the safety catch. “Make the call.”
Something akin to respect entered Alfredo’s dark eyes. He yanked his cell phone from his back pocket. “Don’t shoot. I’m laying down my gun.”
“I think we should shoot him anyway,” Brielle said. “Just because of what he’s probably done to Miguel.”
“It’ll be good sport. We can send his body to Gramps.”
Alfredo scowled. The call went through, and he put it on SPEAKER. “Grandad, I’m with Julia. She’s willing to accept your invitation if you cut off Axis Anderson’s head and give it to her on a silver platter.”
In the background they heard shrieks of laughter. Axis and Axalia .
General Escobar guffawed. “Julia, are you listening? Come do it yourself. Alfredo, take me off SPEAKER.” Whatever he said to Alfredo caused his face to darken with determination. “Yes, General.”
Alfredo quickly lifted his gun off the coffee table. “Playtime is over, ladies. Come with me now, Julia, or Miguel Rivera is a dead man.” He took a step forward.
“Stop,” Brielle ordered. “I’m Lieutenant Brielle McQuaid, LA SWAT. You’re under arrest, Alfredo Escobar.”
Alfredo responded to her warning by cocking his gun and aiming it at her.
“Don’t shoot Brielle,” Julia pleaded. “I’ll go with you, Alfredo.”
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid? Brielle McQuaid is the daughter of Cameron McAdams and the wife of Secret Service agent Justice McQuaid, a former Navy SEAL who’d rip off my head and devour my brains.
But if you don’t come with me right now, Miguel Rivera won’t be alive much longer.
We already worked him over pretty good.”
Brielle lowered her gun.