Love Behind the Mask: Book Two of the O’Connor Sisters Trilogy (The O’connor Sisters Trilogy, 2) - Softcover

Lowenstein, Raj

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1490790187 ISBN 13: 9781490790183

Publisher: Trafford Publishing, 2018

Synopsis

Esperanza Ricardo Maria O’Connor is whisked from her home in Naples, Florida, to central Minnesota, where she falls under the protective custody of Kyle Moran. Heavily disguised, Esperanza and Kyle clash as Kyle struggles with his demons, while Esperanza struggles to keep from losing her heart.

About this title

About the Author

Raj Lowenstein lives with her husband and Boxer/Huskey mix in the Pacific Northwest. Their three children and three grandchildren live in Colorado and Texas. She has a Bachelors' Degree in American Sign Language Interpreting with a Minor in Jewish Studies from the University of Houston. Check out her other books, upcoming books and events at.... www.rajlowenstein.net.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Love Behind the Mask

Book Two of the O'Connor Sisters Trilogy

By Raj Lowenstein

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2018 Raj Lowenstein
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-9018-3

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

I woke quickly but did not move, not daring even to let my eyelids flutter. The sounds, the smells of this place were unfamiliar. I was lying on a sofa. I knew from the shape and feel of the material under my hand wedged between my body and the back of the couch. I touched the fabric of my silk pajamas, allowing myself an inward sigh, grateful that I was, at least, still dressed. There was an ache in my shoulder, more like a sting, that hadn't been there when I had gone to bed. Other than that discomfort, I felt intact.

I listened for a moment and became aware of five separate voices. Three were muffled and distant, perhaps in another room, while two were nearby. Those two spoke in deep-voiced whispers, trying maybe not to wake me with their voices but not too concerned if they did.

One voice was deeper than the other and without much of an accent. The other had a distinctive Latin flavor. This I could use. If the five men hadn't hurt me yet, I doubt they would. Or at least I prayed they wouldn't.

I allowed a small moan to escape my lips as I stretched. Then after hearing the Latin-voiced man inform the others I was awake, I sat up and allowed my eyes to focus on the two men sitting on the coffee table directly in front of the couch.

They were dressed in dark slacks and wrinkled button-up oxfords. From what I could see, three men now stood in the arched entryway; all five were dressed in the same nondescript colors. If they had worn ties, they had long since been discarded. I let my eyes travel over the room, seeing instantly this was not my home in Naples, Florida. It was dull with furnishings old and worn.

I focused on the three men standing in the archway. They returned my careful scrutiny before stepping back into opposite ends of what must be a hallway.

"I am Special Agent Garrett of the FBI's High Profile Bureau or HPB. This" — he indicated with a side glance at the man next to him — "is Special Agent Villarreal. Are you Esperanza Ricardo Maria O'Connor?" the man asked me, his voice calm and patient.

Villarreal, a polished-looking man, distractingly handsome, repeated his question, "Soy el agente especial Garrett de la High Profile Bureau del FBI o HPB. Este, es el agente especial Villarreal. ¿Está usted Esperanza Ricardo Maria O'Connor?" His voice, like the others, was calm.

The fact they had brought someone in to speak Spanish to me was unnerving. I am a red-haired — well, really, strawberry blond — with a peaches-and-cream complexion, freckled-faced, green-eyed woman, which always surprised everyone the first time I spoke. This meant they knew enough about me to suppose that under duress, I might understand my native language better than English.

I had been born in New York to a Spanish actress who returned to Madrid with me when I was two. She was fair and blond. My father was an American actor of some accomplishment who had been born of Irish immigrants. This all conspired to make me look very much like a native of County Galway, Ireland, and not what most thought of as a Spaniard from Madrid.

I looked at the man who spoke in English. He was tall and square-jawed. Not a handsome man yet still attractive. I responded, "Soy una ciudadana americana," in the calmest voice I could manage.

"I'm an American citizen," Villarreal voiced.

Nonplussed, Agent Garrett continued in English. "Are you the daughter of Spanish national and actress Consuela Teresa Antonia Del Torro?"

"¿Está usted la hija del nacional española y la actriz Consuela Teresa Antonia Del Torro?" Villarreal repeated.

"No he hecho cualquier cosa illegal." I pressed on not answering his question.

"I have not broken any laws." Villarreal duplicated my comment over Garrett's next question.

"Are you the daughter of American national and actor Richard Calvin O'Connor?"

Without a pause, Villarreal continued this overlapping interrogation. "¿Está usted la hija del nacional americano y el actor Richard Calvin O'Connor?"

"¿Dónde usted me ha tomado?" I continued.

"Where have you taken me?" Even through the fear, I was impressed with Villarreal's ability to match my inflection.

"Are you the twin sister of Catálan Orlando Teresa O'Connor, also known as Cat Conners?"

"¿Es usted idiotos?" I finally said in a raised voice.

"Are you Idiots?" Villarreal voiced and then translated, saying, "¿Está usted la hermana gemela de la Catálan Orlando Teresa O'Connor, también conocida como Cat Conners?"

Because we were talking over each other, I didn't at first comprehend the last question that had been asked. When it finally sank in, I froze and turned my attention from Agent Villarreal to Agent Garrett. I knew at that moment I had a wide-eyed expression of cautious understanding. My twin, Cat Conners, whom family and friends called Teresa, and I had been known to occasionally play elaborate pranks on each other. She had the money, as I did, to do just about anything we wanted. I would not have put it past her to pull a stunt like this on me. It was always for fun, never really malicious. But sometimes we like to push the envelope. We had been doing this since we were kids.

"You know I speak Inglés, English." It wasn't a question but a statement, and to my chagrin, it sounded like Jew no I espeek ingles, English.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched Villarreal open his mouth to speak and then slowly close it. The coffee table was higher than the couch, so Garrett and I were eye to eye. Again, he asked in his calm voice, "Are you Esperanza Ricardo Maria O'Connor?"

I nodded.

"Are you the daughter of Consuela Teresa Antonia Del Torro and Richard Calvin O'Connor?"

"Yes, and that bruja Catálan is my twin. You know this already," I said, not being in the mood for this early morning prank as Villarreal supplied the translation of bruja (witch).

"How much is she paying you to do this?" I was genuinely fuming, and my accented rage was making my English almost impossible to understand. I stood and moved from the couch and headed toward the hall, only to be blocked by two of the men who had earlier seemed to disappear.

"Ms. O'Connor," Agent Garrett's voice said behind me.

I turned and faced him, my breath catching in my throat. Garrett, Villarreal, and the two who had been behind me but were now shoulder to shoulder with the others produced guns and badges. I moved to the chair at my back and lowered myself with a thud.

I knew with the money in the right hand, anything was possible, but Garrett, Villarreal, and the others didn't look as if this was a joke to them. So I asked, "Is Teresa all right?" Villarreal followed the two men out of the small living room, and Garrett took a seat on the couch. "She is fine but in some trouble."

This was a surprise to me. Although Teresa and I had never been close, growing up on the opposite sides of the Atlantic, we were not estranged. She had worked hard from the time she was ten or eleven years old to become the artist she was today. Her name was never attached to any type of Hollywood scandal. She was a consummate professional, just as our parents had been on both sides of the Atlantic.

"What trouble?" I asked, curious to see how something on the West Coast affected me in Naples, Florida.

"Do you know a man named Gabriel Planz?" Garrett inquired.

"No," and then I added, "You have to understand, Teresa and I didn't grow up together. When we were two, our parents divorced and spit us up. I went with our mother. She with our father. We saw each other perhaps once a year. I didn't speak English until I moved to the States at twenty-one. Teresa never learned to speak Spanish. There is no reason for me to know any of her friends. She lives in California, and I'm in Florida." I explained, hoping this would get me out of whatever I had found myself in.

"Mr. Planz is not a friend," he clarified. "He is a high-ranking member of a drug cartel. He is a very dangerous man. Unfortunately, your sister saw something she shouldn't have seen. We currently have her in protective custody in California. However, we were concerned that, as it is somewhat common knowledge Cat Conners has an identical twin sister, you could be used to keep her from testifying in a trial against Mr. Planz." He paused, seeming to measure how I was reacting to the information he was imparting.

I looked back at him, understanding my situation.

"So," I surmised, "I need to be placed into protective custody as well."

I watched as Garrett's face briefly looked as if he had sucked on a lemon. "Yes," he confirmed.

"For how long?" I asked.

"Four to eight weeks," he answered, looking down at his shoes. Looking back at me, he continued. "The office out of Miami received intelligence that there might be an attempt to kidnap you last night. This is why we moved in when we did. We apologize for drugging you, but we were apprehensive about the amount of time we had." He glanced at his sleek black watch and then, after informing me it was already five thirty in the morning, went on.

"We have already constructed a cover story. Yesterday evening, you left Miami International Airport and flew to Madrid on Iberia Airlines. Your passport has gone through security checkpoints both at Miami and Madrid's Barajas International Airport. There have been other arrangements —"

Villarreal stuck his head around the corner and interrupted him, "Garrett, turn on the television, channel 7."

As I watched, all five men filled the room to stare at the television.

The fresh-faced reporter stood in front of my house. I felt, for the first time, real fear as I watched the story.

"About four this morning. Police arrived while the two armed men were still inside the residence. Initial negotiations broke down quickly, resulting in shots fired that left one intruder dead and the other in critical condition."

The shot returned from outside my house to the studio, a small cameo of the field reporter filling the screen. The anchor asked with false concern, "Stan, what about the residents of the house? Was anyone at home?"

Stan's face filled the screen again. "Rob, we have learned that the owner of this house on West Lake Drive is Esperanza O'Connor. According to sources close to Ms. O'Connor, we know that Ms. O'Connor had left yesterday for Spain."

"Thank you, Stan," Rob said as the background behind the news desk filled with the face of my sister, Cat Conners.

With more excitement than was required, Rob shared with everyone watching his news broadcast at five thirty in the morning. "Ms. O'Connor is the identical twin sister of Oscar, Tony, and Grammy Award winning actress Cat Conners. Ms. Conners, who is often referred to as this generation's Grace Kelly, has not been able to be reached for comment." A shot of the late Grace Kelly, for the movie High Society, flashed on the screen next to my sister's face when they mentioned Ms. Kelly's name.

I huffed in disgust and turned the TV off. When I looked up, I saw all five men scrutinizing me in a way they hadn't done before. I knew they were trying to compare us, both to each other and to the late Princess Grace of Monaco. When they had made the planes, textures, and shape of my face and body fit into the mold of my sister, I saw the look of, as a friend always called, WOW on their faces.

Garrett cleared his throat; the room emptied.

"As you can see," he said, returning his attention back to me, "our information was correct."

"Where are you going to put me?" I interrupted him.

He was momentarily silent before taking a deep breath. It was his body language that clued me to the fact he was about to tell me something I wasn't going to like.

Not letting him begin, knowing I would have to agree to whatever the HPB had planned for me, I interrupted, "Mr. Garrett, first of all, who and what is the HPB?"

Garrett explained the HPB was a division of the FBI that dealt with individuals who were considered "high- profile individuals." They, the HPB, were not as tied to the FBI rules and regulations and therefore were able to keep those under their protection well hidden.

I nodded my understanding and then continued. "I will agree to do what you ask of me without argument on one very specific condition. Wherever it is I am sequestered away to, I have a piano. I must be allowed to keep up my playing."

The obvious relief on his face and the sudden relaxation of his posture did not do anything to relieve my feeling I was not going to like what I was about to hear.

I said a silent prayer that I would have the strength to do what was going to be expected of me and not to strangle Teresa when I saw her again.

"Ms. O'Connor," he started before I interrupted.

"Mr. Garrett," I said, none too warmly, "you and your" — I searched for a word to describe the other men — "compadres drugged me and removed me from my home without my permission. I am assuming you rummaged through my belongings as well. You might as well call me Esperanza. Oh," I added as an afterthought, "who is going to clean the mess that you all made at my house?"

He promised me it would all be taken care of before I returned.

Thinking of something else sent chills down my spine. I asked, "What about Vicki Jaeger?" Vicki was my assistant, actually, a friend who helped me out by being my personal secretary and lending a helping hand when I needed it. She would be a good source of information should anyone care to look.

He nodded as if he expected the questions and said, "Mrs. and Mr. Jaeger and their two boys left yesterday afternoon for an extended trip to Argentina. It seems Mr. Jaeger's father is feeling a bit ill and wanted his family near him. They should return when the senior Mr. Jaeger is feeling better."

He added, letting me know just how grave the situation was, "Mrs. Jaeger helped with all of your travel arrangements. She was very concerned for your safety, and thus, we were concerned for her and her family as well."

* * *

I wasn't finished with my questions. "What about my work? If I am going to be gone for two months, who's going to run my businesses?"

Agent Garrett called out a name, and one of the three agents I had seen from the archway into the living room entered. Garrett repeated my question. The agent informed him that I was the owner and CEO of three companies — a Mercedes dealer, a recording studio, and a production company that focused on producing recording artists. Also, I was a concert pianist and singer and was often in demand for events.

Agent Garrett raised an eyebrow at me in surprise before turning his attention back to the agent. "How much of these companies does Ms. O'Connor handle? How much is on a hands-on basis?"

The agent, still standing in the entryway to the living room, glanced at a file folder in his hand for a moment before answering. "Ms. O'Connor attends the monthly meeting at O'Connor Mercedes and occasionally spends a day at the dealership. However, with the production company and recording studio, she is one of the main scouts for new talent and for promoting the current artists under the label." He paused to scan his notes again. "She owns the building that houses both companies. She has an office and is most often in the office before nine until sometimes after six. Ms. O'Connor does not see to the day-to-day operations yet, nonetheless, is heavily involved with the business and her staff."

I gawked at him. How had they gotten all this information about me? Was it something they had already possessed, or, hopefully, it was newly acquired knowledge?

"Are any of the three companies currently in the middle of sensitive negotiations?" The agent was asked. "Or is she currently recording any albums?"

Again, he checked his files. "The production company is currently in negotiations with a new band. According to my informant, ERM Enterprises, that's the production company, and ERMO, that's the recording studio, are within days of completing and signing the contracts. It is a multimillion-dollar negotiation."

"Can you get someone to expedite the contract signing?" Garrett addressed me and not the all-knowing agent.

"I can make a call and get it taken care of immediately. We were just working out the finer points of the contract," I told him, not really understanding why I had.

Garrett nodded to the man, and he produced a phone. "Call Mrs. Jaeger, we supplied her with a disposable cell so she would be easy to contact, and give her whatever authorization you need to make it happen."

I wasn't used to being told how to run my life or my business. I didn't like it one bit. I found myself, yet again, doing as I had been told.

I watched as he thanked the other agent. When I had finished my abbreviated conversation with Vicki, he retrieved the cell phone from me. He nervously cleared his throat and, with a slight smile, began again, "Esperanza" — he smiled at me — "you will need to understand the situation we find ourselves in."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Love Behind the Mask by Raj Lowenstein. Copyright © 2018 Raj Lowenstein. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Publication date: 2018
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1490790187
• ISBN 13: 9781490790183
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 298