Read Online Santiago Sol by Niki Turner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Niki Turner
Tags: Christian fiction
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a romance novel.” She shoved aside the down comforter and silky sheet and swung her legs off the bed.
And what was it, then? The question whirled through her mind as she made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Nothing. Nothing is going on. I’m spending the day with a handsome man who wants to show me his hometown. End of discussion. She sighed. She hated to argue. Especially with herself. After her shower, she smeared creamy lotion over her skin, and shrugged into one of the complimentary robes. She riffled through the clothes she’d brought, settling on a pair of jeans, knee-high brown boots that worked well in every season and didn’t hurt her feet, a loose turquoise top with three-quarter length sleeves, and a multicolored scarf accented with silver sequins. She tugged out the boots, then reached into the corner of the closet, feeling for the walking stick.
Her hand snaked past the pouf of pink chiffon and tulle she’d hung on a hanger, and scrabbled against the back wall. A damp, cold weight of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “No,” she whispered.
Frantic, she shoved aside the dress and patted the closet walls, then moved to the floor. When her hands bumped against the knobby stick, which had toppled over in the back of the closet, she moaned aloud and clutched it against her hammering heart as a fresh fear blossomed.
Diego and his accomplice had traveled all the way to Colorado and broken into Eva’s home in search of the walking stick. If he figured out her connection to Eva... She grimaced.
If Eva’s suspicions were correct, people connected to the Sandovals had considered the heirloom murder-worthy. Whoever had it, or knew its whereabouts, would be a quick target. She had to keep the walking stick hidden.
She swallowed an acid lump of fear and tried to pray, but she couldn’t imagine what Jesus would do in a situation like this. What would Eva do? Tansy squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could picture was Eva’s frail form lying in her hospice bed, entreating Tansy to return the walking stick to the patriarch of the Sandoval clan.
“Lord, I want to do what’s right in Your eyes, what’s right for Miss Eva and for her family. She trusted me with this walking stick. Please, tell me what to do.”
She stayed there, forehead pressed to her knees in silence, listening until her body rebelled against the awkward position. She heard... nothing. No audible voice, no inner witness, nothing. The sharp rap at the door had her heart thundering. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the walking stick in her haste. The knock came again.
“Tansy? Are you awake?”
Sebastian. She cast a glance toward the bedside clock. Glowing red numerals told her it wasn’t even eight o’clock.
“I’m awake,” she said, knowing her voice sounded shrill.
“Good. I thought we might have breakfast at Melba’s again.”
She looked back at the bed. “Just a minute,” she shouted toward the door. She had to hide the walking stick, but where? Under the bed? Too obvious. As bad as the closet, she chided herself.
She moved into the living room and spotted the lush potted plants on the balcony, several as tall, or taller, than herself. She chose a mid-sized plant with plenty of thick, dark foliage and jammed the walking stick into the dirt along the plant’s thick stem. Stepping back, she fluffed the leaves and surveyed the results. No hint of the walking stick, not even the glimmer of the silver fox head, was visible.
Shaky, Tansy stepped back inside, closed the door to the balcony, and locked it.
“Tansy?” Sebastian knocked again, concern in his voice.
“Coming!” She hurried to the door and yanked it open.
****
Sebastian took in the tightly-wrapped robe and her frantic expression and knew something was amiss. He stepped inside, closed the door, and placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes scanning the room beyond for signs of an intruder. Diego, in particular.
And what was it, then? The question whirled through her mind as she made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Nothing. Nothing is going on. I’m spending the day with a handsome man who wants to show me his hometown. End of discussion. She sighed. She hated to argue. Especially with herself. After her shower, she smeared creamy lotion over her skin, and shrugged into one of the complimentary robes. She riffled through the clothes she’d brought, settling on a pair of jeans, knee-high brown boots that worked well in every season and didn’t hurt her feet, a loose turquoise top with three-quarter length sleeves, and a multicolored scarf accented with silver sequins. She tugged out the boots, then reached into the corner of the closet, feeling for the walking stick.
Her hand snaked past the pouf of pink chiffon and tulle she’d hung on a hanger, and scrabbled against the back wall. A damp, cold weight of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “No,” she whispered.
Frantic, she shoved aside the dress and patted the closet walls, then moved to the floor. When her hands bumped against the knobby stick, which had toppled over in the back of the closet, she moaned aloud and clutched it against her hammering heart as a fresh fear blossomed.
Diego and his accomplice had traveled all the way to Colorado and broken into Eva’s home in search of the walking stick. If he figured out her connection to Eva... She grimaced.
If Eva’s suspicions were correct, people connected to the Sandovals had considered the heirloom murder-worthy. Whoever had it, or knew its whereabouts, would be a quick target. She had to keep the walking stick hidden.
She swallowed an acid lump of fear and tried to pray, but she couldn’t imagine what Jesus would do in a situation like this. What would Eva do? Tansy squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could picture was Eva’s frail form lying in her hospice bed, entreating Tansy to return the walking stick to the patriarch of the Sandoval clan.
“Lord, I want to do what’s right in Your eyes, what’s right for Miss Eva and for her family. She trusted me with this walking stick. Please, tell me what to do.”
She stayed there, forehead pressed to her knees in silence, listening until her body rebelled against the awkward position. She heard... nothing. No audible voice, no inner witness, nothing. The sharp rap at the door had her heart thundering. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the walking stick in her haste. The knock came again.
“Tansy? Are you awake?”
Sebastian. She cast a glance toward the bedside clock. Glowing red numerals told her it wasn’t even eight o’clock.
“I’m awake,” she said, knowing her voice sounded shrill.
“Good. I thought we might have breakfast at Melba’s again.”
She looked back at the bed. “Just a minute,” she shouted toward the door. She had to hide the walking stick, but where? Under the bed? Too obvious. As bad as the closet, she chided herself.
She moved into the living room and spotted the lush potted plants on the balcony, several as tall, or taller, than herself. She chose a mid-sized plant with plenty of thick, dark foliage and jammed the walking stick into the dirt along the plant’s thick stem. Stepping back, she fluffed the leaves and surveyed the results. No hint of the walking stick, not even the glimmer of the silver fox head, was visible.
Shaky, Tansy stepped back inside, closed the door to the balcony, and locked it.
“Tansy?” Sebastian knocked again, concern in his voice.
“Coming!” She hurried to the door and yanked it open.
****
Sebastian took in the tightly-wrapped robe and her frantic expression and knew something was amiss. He stepped inside, closed the door, and placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes scanning the room beyond for signs of an intruder. Diego, in particular.
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