Excerpt from Wicked DeceptionChapter OneMarianna Castillo fought to keep her breathing
even. For the past four weeks, whenever she left the thick, protective
walls of the abbey, she was followed. She didn’t recognize any of the men who’d trailed
her, but Mari had a good guess who they reported to. The curious thing
was they had yet to make a move. The waiting added to her anxiety. Would
this be the day they grabbed her and dragged her to face their boss? Her nerves ratcheted higher because she hadn’t
spotted today’s stalker yet. She looked around again, trying to seem
casual, but didn’t see anyone who made her instincts jump. Mari could
feel their presence, though, and knew—knew—someone was back
there. At least Sister Ana and Sister Rafaela were too
busy debating who sold the best-tasting bread to be aware of her
struggle. The last thing she wanted was to lie to the nuns about what
was happening. As they entered the open-air market, it became
harder to keep her panic under control. It was loud. There were vendors
hawking their wares, calling out to passersby. There were shoppers
haggling for the best price. A nearby stall sold wind chimes, and a
customer was sending the clapper against the tubes, searching for the
right melody. Mari dropped her head, letting the fabric from her
nun’s veil conceal the sides of her face. She wished she could skip this
torture, but everyone at the abbey took turns doing the shopping and it
would call attention to her if she didn’t go. It was scrutiny she couldn’t afford. Only the
Mother Superior knew Mari wasn’t actually a nun. For her safety, and the
safety of the convent, it needed to stay that way. A vendor called out a greeting and she nearly
jumped. The sisters of La Convento de Madres Fieles came three or
four times a week to buy food, and many of the regular sellers were
familiar with them. Sister Ana replied, allowing her to remain quiet. The market was open nearly every day, but not all
the stalls were permanent. Some were manned by farmers who drove in from
the countryside only when they had something to sell. Everything the
abbey needed was available here—meat, vegetables, fruit, spices—and so
were items the nuns didn’t purchase such as masks or jewelry. In other circumstances, she’d enjoy browsing. The
place had a carnival-like atmosphere and it would be fun to explore some
of the more intriguing stands. But there were too many people here and
that increased the odds of running into someone who could give her away. One of the sellers in a temporary booth surged out
into her path, and she nearly screamed. Sister Ana spoke with him, and
Mari closed her eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. She clutched the cross she wore around her neck
with one hand and the rosary cross hanging at her waist with the other.
Her habit was the only protection she had and it seemed a meager
disguise. The black tunic was short, ending above her knees, and she
wore sensible black walking shoes. Her remaining garb was traditional, and she was
thankful for the form-fitting white coif which covered some of the sides
of her face. The white under veil and black over veil came down halfway
between her shoulders and elbow, and dipping her head allowed it to
conceal most of her face—at least from the sides. Sister Ana took her arm. “Come along, Sister
Dominga Maria. The sooner we finish the shopping, the sooner you can
return to the convent.” Mari smiled weakly and forced herself to release
the death grip she had on the two crosses. So much for fooling the
women. They’d seen her terror, but attributed it to leaving the convent.
They weren’t wrong, but the reasons being out from behind the walls
scared her weren’t what they believed. Sister Rafaela handed her a string bag. “Here,
Sister Dominga Maria,” she said. “We’re almost to Señor Rodriquez’s
stall. You pick the root vegetables on our list.” She nodded. Mari had almost gotten used to
answering to Dominga Maria. Almost. But a few months in the convent
wasn’t enough time to have it become second nature. Sadly, she didn’t
think that day would come. If the threat from the men watching the abbey
escalated, she’d have to run again. And find another disguise and a new
place to hide. Her stomach churned and she rested a hand over it,
trying to will it to settle down. Mari was exhausted, so tired of
running. So tired of trying to stay one step ahead of a man who had his
own personal army. They reached the vegetable stand, and it was so
large, it felt like a small warehouse. As they entered, Señor Rodriguez
came over to greet them, as he always did and his wife joined him. Mari
was only required to nod as Sister Ana carried their part of the
conversation. The couple were regular attendees at Iglesia Sagrado
Corazón de Jesús, the church next to the abbey. When the pleasantries ended, Mari separated from
the other sisters and headed for the section where the root vegetables
were located. Her mind wandered as she picked the items from her list. If she was right about the men watching the abbey,
where did she go next? There was no immediate answer. She flashed to the
next problem. Money. She had none and there was no one she could ask for
help. Henri knew Zoey was her best friend and she knew he was monitoring
her, waiting for Mari to contact her. It didn’t matter how much time
passed, he wouldn’t abandon the strategy. If she gave in to temptation,
it would put Zoey in danger, and she couldn’t do that. She picked up a medium-sized onion and studied it
before adding it to the string bag. If only she could trust the
authorities. But Puerto Jardin had too much corruption, and Henri—as
well as his boss—had bought the loyalties of police officers, soldiers,
and government officials. Seeking help from any of them would be as good
as signing her death warrant. Thirty-two months—not that she was counting—hadn’t
improved her circumstances. In her mind, things were worse now because
at least at the beginning she’d had hope. Instead of reaching for a potato, Mari clutched the
crosses of the rosary she wore around the waist of her habit. There were
two. One was large and silver with black enamel inlays, and while there
were some interesting flourishes, it was fairly ordinary. The second
cross was much smaller and possibly the most beautiful combination of
metals she’d ever seen. It had been designed centuries ago specifically for
the sisters of La Convento de Madres Fieles. The base was a broad, flat
silver. The second layer was a pewter cross, smaller and simple with no
frills. Atop that was a third layer, a black and gold cross with
fleur-de-lis ends that arced outward, wider than the base. The final
layer was a tiny silver cross centered in the middle of the black layer
beneath it. Gripping them tighter, she closed her eyes. A loud laugh from outside the booth had her eyes
popping open. Mari carefully released the crosses and picked up the
potato. What had Sister Ana said? The sooner they finished shopping, the
sooner they could return to the convent. Sister Rafaela was already at the front of the
stall when Mari joined her. She put her string bag on the counter, and
with a smile, Señora Rodriguez reached for it to add her vegetables to
the total. Sister Ana came up a moment later and her produce joined the
collection. “We’ll go next to the baker’s stand and buy the
bread,” Sister Ana said and Mari nodded even though this was the route
they always took through the market. After completing the purchase, they bid farewell to
the owners and exited the stall. They paused, the bright sunlight taking
a moment of adjustment, before continuing. Glancing around to see if she
could spot the man on their tail was second nature. She located him. This one she recognized. Mari quickly faced forward again and struggled to
keep her pace sedate. Her heart was pounding so hard, it amazed her that
neither sister heard it. Javier Jiménez. One of Henri’s top lieutenants. Following nuns
through the market would be beneath his position. Unless they planned to
capture her today. Her wimple suddenly seemed to choke her and she
struggled to draw a breath. She bowed her head so the veil would help conceal
her face, clutched the string bag she carried, and tried to think. If
Jiménez was certain of her identity, wouldn’t he have snared her
already? He wouldn’t care about causing a scene in the market. Could he
merely be shopping like so many others were? They reached the baker and Mari's thoughts raced in
circles while Sister Ana handled the purchase. Maybe his wife had sent
him to pick up a few things, and it had merely been bad luck that he was
behind her. For a moment, she allowed herself to hope it was
nothing more than an errand, but Mari was a realist. The man was
old-school and would never do women’s work like shopping. He was
following her and she had to assume the worst. Jiménez kept his distance but continued tailing
them to the stand where they bought rice, then to the fish vendor. Mari told herself to stop glancing around, but she
couldn’t help herself. One more stop. Then they’d return to the abbey,
and she’d be safe. At least for a little while. The fruit vendor’s stall was as large as the one
where they’d bought their vegetables. It had a tin roof, and in front,
there were low tables with hutches resting on them filled with the items
being promoted. Today, the shelves were loaded with limes. Sister Rafaela made a comment, and Marianna smiled
in response although she had no idea what the other woman had said. Before she could prevent it, Mari looked over her
shoulder. Her tail was still there, and as she turned forward again, her
eyes connected with a man seated near a food trailer. Although he was
subtle, she could feel his gaze, and despite the danger she was in, heat
shot through her body. He made her breath catch for a completely
different reason than Jiménez. And that gorgeous guy was a mercenary, there wasn’t
a doubt about it. The only Americans in Trujillo who dressed in
camouflage gear were the men who came down here to fight for pay. Could
he be working with Jiménez? Mari hurriedly looked around, trying to discover if
more men were present, but no one else jumped out at her. Her eyes
returned to the mercenary, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to
her any longer. Maybe he’d only been staring because she was a nun. The
sisters in Puerto Jardin were much more visible—and much more
plentiful—than nuns in America and it was possible he’d merely been
curious. But even if he had no real interest in her, Mari
still needed to worry about Jiménez. She scanned again, and this time, she tried to come
up with an escape route, a way to disappear fast if the man came toward
her. What she saw didn’t reassure her. With the rough cobblestones and
the growing crowds of people coming to the market for lunch, getting out
of here quickly would be difficult. Maybe impossible.
This excerpt is from WICKED DECEPTION
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