Chapter 10

Nyx had been in larger private libraries. She'd been in more opulent private libraries, but this was the first one to feature a dining room table in the center. There were six chairs upholstered in pale sage linen, and the table itself was polished to a high sheen. An empty bowl sat in the center. Not just any bowl, but one that she suspected was from the late Nazca period. She couldn't help wondering if it had been looted.

Piled on one end of the table was a stack of historical documents. Her assignment. Nyx frowned over how little care was taken with the papers.

Shaking her head, she continued her study of the room. The floor was deep brown tile, the walls and bookcases were painted white, and a picture window made the space feel brighter. There was a large painting on the wall to the left of the door. Every other available inch, from the floor to the ceiling, was filled with books and small trinkets. It also featured a ladder that rolled on a metal rail. The temptation to play on it was real and in other circumstances, she might have given in.

Other circumstances. The door to the library had a small oval window. It gave her a view of the man assigned to guard her. Only the side of his head, but the reminder was enough.

Nyx did another visual sweep. Everywhere she turned, there were nooks and crannies. A narrow credenza held a softly ticking clock and more artifacts. The shelving had drawers, lots of them, and little niches were holding more treasures. She could easily spend days simply exploring the space.

Despite how charming the library was, Nyx had exchanged one prison for another.

Besides the armed man in the hall, she occasionally saw men outside the picture window. Patrols. It figured. Vargas was hypervigilant. Guards on the wall. Guards patrolling the grounds. Guards watching her and Lurch.

Nyx's frown deepened as she thought of Lurch. Her brother's bestie was protective of her. He'd be worried about her extended absence. It was a safe bet Vargas wouldn't bother to inform him that she'd been given a job. She could only think of one idea. She went to the entrance and lightly tapped on the glass window. She knew better than to whip the door open.

When the guard turned, she signaled for him to open the door. He shook his head. Nyx repeated the gesture.

With a scowl, he indicated she should move back, and when she complied, he opened the door. "What?" the man growled in Spanish.

"Could you please get word to my fiancé that I'm working on something for Se?or Vargas? He'll be concerned about my absence."

"If Se?or Vargas wants him to know he'll take care of it. Get to work." The man closed the door firmly enough to discourage Nyx from a second attempt.

She walked toward the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down, but she wasn't ready to read historical documents. The guard, confident she followed orders, turned his back to the door. Motion caught her eye. A man carrying an M4 passed by the picture window. He never glanced toward the house.

Nyx monitored the patrol, using the clock in the room. Someone passed about every three minutes and that surprised her. She would have thought Vargas was savvy enough to have his men in a less regular pattern. None of them showed any interest in the library, though. The routine gave her some assurance that she could do what she needed without being spotted from outside. A glance at the door showed her guard standing facing away from her.

After arranging the papers to make it appear as if she was working, Nyx watched for the patrol. When the man passed, she did a last glance at the door, before rushing to the drawers near the window. With the room loaded with so much stuff, there had to be something here that would help her and Lurch.

The drawer was a mess, things tossed in. There were playing cards, stacks of unused napkins, assorted tokens from a board game, and scorepads from a different game. She moved things around, digging to the bottom, but it was more of the same.

Two and a half minutes. She went back to her seat.

She waited for a few passes before she went to the next drawer. Once she was farther from the window, she'd worry less about being seen, but right next to the glass? Yeah, she was being cautious. This drawer was another mess—pencils, pens, and paper tossed in randomly. The bottom held a few felt-tip markers.

Nyx returned to the table, taking a couple pieces of paper and a pen with her.

Someone had loved books, but it didn't appear to be Se?or Vargas. The room might be clean and tidy, but it had an unused feel to it. Maybe it had always been for show and not study, but the drawer full of game items suggested the library hadn't always been neglected. If board games had regularly been played here, the large table made sense.

Shaking off her questions, she glanced back at the door. Her guard still stared out into the hall. She went to the next drawer. Stamps, envelopes in various sizes, cards, and stationery. The Puerto Jardinese postage stamps were fifteen years old.

Maybe she wasn't going to find anything useful. It wasn't as if she could write a letter to Archer asking for assistance.

The next drawer had rubber bands, paper clips, sticky notes, and binder clips. Nothing was organized. As she worked her way around the library, she found a drawer of construction paper in assorted colors, another with business cards and old planners—again, fifteen years old or older.

She was back in view of the window and returned to the table. Nyx spent time reading through a few documents, moving the two-hundred-year-old papers as carefully as possible to avoid damaging them.

When the patrol passed the window, Nyx headed across the room. The next drawer put her in full view of anyone outside and her back would be to the window.

This drawer was full of charging cables. Dozens and dozens of them. They snaked everywhere. Quickly, she pawed through the cables. Toward the back, one of them had weight. Picking up the cord, she followed it through the knots of wires. Her heart pounded faster. It was plugged into a cell phone.

A really old cell phone.

She tried to power it up. The battery was dead. It wasn't unexpected, but the stab of disappointment was real. It was a flip phone, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand when closed. The size was good for concealment. Unfortunately, the raspberry pink color made it noticeable.

With a start, she realized she'd been standing there too long. Sliding the drawer shut, she slipped the phone in her pocket and returned to the table. Nyx didn't manage to sit before the patrol went past the window, but he didn't glance her way. With a soft sigh, she sank into her chair and tried to think things through.

The hacienda was far enough away from San Isidro that it was unlikely there was reliable cell service. As if this mobile was even on a plan any longer. Vargas and his minions probably used satellite phones to ensure connectivity.

A phone conveniently in the room? That bothered her, but all the drawers were filled with junk. It had probably been forgotten years ago.

Nyx covered her pocket with her hand. This was the best chance she had to get a message out if she could get the mobile to charge. And if it connected to something long enough for her to send a text. A voice call was out of the question with her guard standing just outside the library.

She scanned the room again. This time she looked for an electrical outlet. The only one she saw was below the window directly opposite the door.

Maybe she should smuggle it to the suite and charge it there? Except what if they searched her before returning her to the room? They very well might, and if she got caught with it, things would go bad fast.

The phone was small and the space was crowded. She'd take her chances that her jailor wouldn't notice it when he turned to check on her. Her heart beat faster as she waited for the patrol to pass. It seemed to take forever for him to appear and even longer to clear the window. She forced herself to count to thirty before she scurried for the outlet.

This was scarier than when she'd checked out the drawers. At least then she could claim to be looking for a pad of paper and a pen. Now? She'd be caught cold with a phone in her possession.

Nyx plugged it in and tried to position it in the most discreet location possible. The dark floor helped, but the outlet was in the white wall. It left the cord starkly exposed. If the guard noticed it and questioned her, she'd play dumb. He wouldn't believe her, but she wasn't giving up an opportunity to get an SOS out.

No matter how terrified she was.

She tried to focus on the papers. How long would it take before the phone had enough charge to light up? Would it work? Could she get a message out? What would she say to Archer?

Her hands shook and Nyx fisted them in her lap, out of view of anyone who glanced at her. She needed to get control of her fear. Emotion got people killed. Her dad had told her that many times. She had to stay calm.

Focusing on the words was impossible. The writing was swirly and faded, the paper fragile, and she was too aware of the phone. Nyx wanted to check it, to see if she could use it, but it was less than ten minutes since she'd plugged it in. If she went back and forth, it would increase her chances of getting caught. The risk was too great.

Her dad would tell her to be patient.

The door opened abruptly. "Se?or Vargas wants to know if you've found anything yet," the guard demanded.

Nyx had to take a breath before she could speak. "Not yet. It's difficult for me to read the old Spanish." It wasn't completely untrue. The state of the documents did make it hard.

The guard stood in the doorway, unmoving, and she hoped like hell that the phone didn't beep or flash or do anything else to call attention to itself. She drew another deep breath. The precariousness of the situation left her on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Se?or Vargas has guests coming tonight. You have half an hour. I suggest you apply yourself. You do not want to make excuses to el patron when he meets with you next."

With another loud thunk, the door closed behind him and Nyx took a few minutes to calm herself. And to make sure he wasn't returning. She waited for the patrol to pass, then slowly—carefully—made her way to the phone. It didn't turn on.

Did it need to be charged longer or was it completely dead? Unrecoverable? She didn't know enough about phones from this generation to have a guess.

Half an hour.

She glanced at the clock. She'd give the phone another fifteen minutes and check again.

The time crawled by. Nyx found it impossible to focus on the historical documents. This wasn't something she was particularly interested in, not like Frankie. Still, the idea of an angry Vargas was enough to force her to read through a few pages, skimming slowly.

Fifteen minutes felt like a hundred and fifty years, but finally, it was time to check the phone. Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Nyx watched for the patrol to pass before heading to the outlet. She tried for a saunter, but her legs felt jerky.

Would the mobile turn on? If it did, would it make noise?

She better have a plan in case it did. Her heart was in her throat as she crouched to pick up the phone. With one finger on the volume, she pressed the power button. The instant she saw something light up, she pressed to take the sound to zero.

Nyx didn't make it. There was a low tone before she had it muted.

She glanced over to the door, but the guard wasn't paying attention. Maybe it had been soft enough, short enough, that he hadn't heard it. Her breath came out serrated, but adrenaline was flowing through her body like water going over Niagara Falls.

The battery level was at one. As for cell connectivity, she didn't have a single bar. She couldn't afford to wait any longer, though. Rushing back to her chair, Nyx held the phone below the table and flipped it open. There was no keyboard.

How did she send a text without a keyboard?