Free The Fifth Kingdom by Caridad Piñeiro

parked to face her. “I agree. It’s more likely that the two were PM members who joined the cartel so they could use the cartel’s resources for various reasons. To get weapons, money to run PM and to more easily cross the border whenever they needed.”
    “Good news, I guess,” she said, but then sneaked a glance down at the parcel, feeling like it was a ticking time bomb in her lap.
    “I don’t know about you, but it’s late and I’m hungry. I can order in some food if you’re up for it before we tackle that,” he said and gestured to the box.
    A reprieve , she thought, and offered him a weak smile in appreciation for his consideration. “Thanks. That sounds great. I’m a little hungry as well,” she said even though in reality, there was a knot of worry in her stomach that would dim her appetite.
    He dipped his head in agreement and they walked to the safe house building, passing by the two agents who were still on duty guarding the perimeter. Inside the apartment her father reclined in the wing chair, an annotated copy of the Codex Mendoza resting on his barrel chest. A soft snore rumbled out with each exhalation. She carefully took the book off his chest and laid it on the coffee table along with the parcel from her mother. There was a chenille throw on the arm of the sofa and because of the slight chill in the air-conditioned apartment, she gently covered her father with it.
    She turned and Bill was near one cabinet in the kitchen, pulling some papers from a basket. He turned to say something to her, but she placed her index finger on her lips to urge him to be quiet and he took note of her father. With a nod, he walked down the hall and into his room and she followed.
    He laid out the papers—menus for various take-out places in the area—on his bed. “Pick anything you and your dad like.”
    With her father’s penchant for Italian food, there was only one choice. “Eggplant parm and chicken parm. Linguini on the side,” she said and handed him the menu for the Italian pizzeria.
    “My favorite.” He dialed the restaurant, placed her order and then added several more dishes, salads and garlic bread.
    “Hungry?” she teased and he grinned, displaying that devilish dimple.
    “I’m a big boy.”
    Yes, he was, she thought and strangled her reply. Settled on what she hoped would be a safe comment. “I’ll go set the table.”
    “Please add two spots. By the time the food comes, the next watch should be here and the guys going off shift may want to grab a bite before they head home.”
     
    She confirmed she would and walked out, leaving him alone in his room. Gathering up the menus, he sat down on the bed, beginning to seriously feel the events of the day. The pain in his side had been nagging him for hours. Battling to ignore it had drained him and for a moment he wished he could do much like Deanna’s father had done. Put up his feet, lay back and rest for just a few moments.
    Unfortunately there was still too much left to do today, including tackling whatever was in the box that Miranda Adams had sent to her daughter. He had no doubt there was something personal inside. Something that would have special meaning between the two women and no one else. He only hoped Deanna would be able to handle the message.

    Dinner turned out to be a surprising treat, Bill thought.
    Although his men had opted to head home to his family, Deanna’s father possessed an unexpected humorous streak. The seemingly doddering professor had regaled them with stories throughout the meal, which had turned out to be exceptionally good Italian food. Everyone had seemed to enjoy themselves, even Deanna, although her smiles and laughter never quite seemed to drive away the shadows in her eyes.
    He understood all too well what she was holding back. He had hidden his emotions while moving from one foster home to the other. It was only when he was in his teens that he was lucky enough to land a spot in the home of a Marine who