Ricardo nodded. “Very well.” He held out his hand for Maggie’s. When she placed her hand in his, electricity shot up her arm, and heat spread through her body. On the outside, though, she was calm and collected. She dipped her head slightly as Ricardo brought her hand to his lips.
Carlos stomped up to the three of them, his machine gun still slung across his body. “Leaving so soon?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Garcia.
Glass shattered above them, and Maggie looked up as a man flew over the second-floor balcony. Guests gasped as he landed on a table full of food, causing food and drinks to go flying and the table to snap in half. His face bled, and he lay spread eagle, one leg tucked up. A tattoo of a snake slithering around a dagger filled his entire forearm with ink.
A vehicle’s terse horn blared, and Maggie jerked her head to the sound. Williams was waiting for them at the end of the front walkway. “That’s our cue,” she said.
“I’m so sorry,” Ricardo said as Maggie and Garcia fled the mansion. They ran down the walkway to where the SUV waited. Maggie jumped into the back seat then glanced out the window that faced away from the mansion. Movement in the bushes caught her attention. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She squinted then tried to relax her eyes. A petite Colombian woman appeared to be hiding behind the vegetation. Maggie stared at her as Williams drove away, knowing the woman couldn't see her through the tinted windows. She held a baby close to her chest. Maggie fought the urge to tell Williams to stop the SUV.
“Did you guys see that?”
“Yeah, that was a real shit show,” said Williams.
“Not that,” said Maggie. “The woman in the bushes. I swear she was holding a baby.” Garcia turned his head and raised his eyebrows at her. “Who would bring a baby anywhere near this place?” she asked.
“We’re not in America anymore, darlin’?” Williams said in his fake Texan drawl.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Obvious,” she bit back. But he was right. Clearly, they weren’t.
Chapter 9
Not long after the team arrived at their suite at Hotel Tequendama—to keep up appearances with the cartel—three sharp knocks rang throughout the suite, then a key scraped against the lock.
“That better be Morales,” said Garcia, giving Maggie a sideways look as she entered the common area from her private room.
As Garcia’s hand touched the knob, the door flew open, almost slamming into him, and Morales pushed past. Bags of takeout hung from his hands.
“Oh, thank God,” said Maggie. “I’m starving.” They’d left the party much quicker than any of them had planned, leaving the team half-starved with no supplies in the kitchen. Williams had called Morales upon arriving at the suite to let him know everyone was fine. They knew he and the two DEA agents—whom they hadn’t met yet—would be watching the mansion from the apartment and likely worried about what went down.
Nobody had thought to bring groceries over to the suite from the apartment before the party. Maggie was sure the men expected her to do it, but she was stubborn and trying to prove a point.
“Jesus,” Morales said, placing the takeout on the kitchen counter. “We were getting ready to come in there when Barnes and Garcia ran out of the mansion and jumped into the SUV. We’ve got to get some two-way radios.”
Maggie grabbed one of the takeout bags off the counter and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar at the opposite end of the counter.
“Maybe now that we’re a little clearer on what we’re dealing with, McKay will hook us up,” offered Williams.
“Any idea what happened?” asked Morales.
Williams threw his hands up in the air. “Don’t look at me. I was stuck in the SUV all night.” Maggie was sure he had an itchy trigger finger and probably wished he was in a position to shoot something, but they weren’t in Colombia to kill people. If that was the case, they’d be no better than the people they were investigating. He grabbed the takeout bag closest to him and leaned against the counter opposite where Maggie sat. He pulled out a burger, unwrapped it and took a big bite.
“Ricardo said something about professionals. Any idea what he might have meant by that?” Maggie asked, dabbing her mouth with a napkin from the takeout bag.
Morales looked off to the side as if he was concentrating then suddenly raised his finger in the air. “Right. He said something about letting the professionals do what they came to do.”
Maggie nodded, knowing that she may have been close enough to Ricardo at the time that Morales would have heard the conversation through the wire. “He was talking to Carlos,” she added, anticipating his next question.
“What’s with the flower?” Morales asked, bobbing his nose at the orchid behind Maggie’s ear. She plucked it out of hair then brought it to her nose, trying hard not to smile.
Setting it on the table, she said, “Nothing. Ricardo gave it to me.” Her cheeks heated and she hoped they weren’t going red. “I think it was his way of welcoming me to his home.” She shrugged.
“So what do we do now?” Garcia asked, opening the remaining bag of food. “Clearly that didn’t go as planned.”
“Maybe it did, though,” added Williams. “There’s definitely some sort of terrorist activity going on here if the Ceibas have a party and some group shows up to shoot everybody.”
“Unless it was another cartel trying to send a message,” added Morales. “We need to find out who was doing the shooting and if anyone was hurt. That might help us figure out the reason behind it all.”
Maggie balled up the garbage from her chicken salad sandwich and tossed it into the bag it originally came in.
“Meet me at the apartment in the morning, and we’ll go over the tapes from tonight,” said Morales.
Maggie turned to Garcia. “Did you know that guy who went over the railing when we were leaving?”
“No, but one of the Ceiba brothers will be calling me tomorrow to set up another meeting. I can ask them when we meet again.” He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “That was crazy.”
“This whole night was crazy.” Maggie glanced at the orchid on the table then waked to the kitchen cupboards and searched for a bowl. There wasn’t much in the way of dishes in the cupboards, but she did find a small, clear dessert bowl that she filled with water then plopped the orchid into.
Williams raised his eyebrows at her.
“What?” she asked. “It’s beautiful.”
“Whatever,” he said. “Still came from a criminal.”
She ignored him, carrying the orchid to her room. Ricardo wasn’t at all like she’d imagined him. She’d been through his and Carlos’s files and thought they’d be very much alike. From what she saw tonight, they were complete opposites.
After sticking her nose in the bowl and inhaling the orchid’s fresh scent, she placed the orchid on the nightstand beside her bed then hung up the red outfit she’d worn to the party. She hadn’t taken the time to do it earlier because Morales had arrived at the suite.
Ricardo shouldn’t have drawn her attention like he did. She’d felt an instant attraction, the kind that made her heart skip a beat. It might not be appropriate for Maggie Barnes to be thinking this way, but Magdalena Sanchez was a different story. As the sister of a prominent drug lord, Magda could do whatever she wanted. Hell, it was probably the best way for her to get close to Ricardo. Who would it hurt if she had a little fun while she got to know her target a little better?
“This was a total disaster,” Ricardo said to Consuella, gesturing around the cluttered kitchen after he’d helped her bandage the hand she’d cut when cleaning up the glass from the shattered railing.
“It’s okay, señor,” she said. “You didn’t know this would happen.”
The man who went flying off the balcony would be fine once his body healed from his ungraceful landing. He was lucky the table was there to break his fall. Ricardo wasn’t even sure who he was—one of the production workers, according to Carlos. Why was he there
? The party was supposed to have been for customers.
“Have you seen Carlos?”
She smirked. “He’s off with one of his bimbos,” she said, her tone cutting through the air like she was bothered that Carlos gave other women the same attention he gave her.
“I’m sorry, Consuella. My brother is a womanizing prick.” Ricardo shook his head and looked down at the ground. When he looked up again, her eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of her head. “We both know it’s the truth,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows and bobbed her head. “That’s why I don’t let him have the real goods,” she said. “The two of you pay me enough, I let him get away with touching the goods, but that’s all he gets.” She shook her head and waved her hand in a back and forth “no way” motion.
“Good for you.” Ricardo looked out of the open concept kitchen at the mess that was waiting in the main living area. “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”
She sucked in a breath and placed her injured hand across her chest. “I couldn’t do that.”
“I insist. You’re hurt, and I won’t take anything off your pay. In fact . . .” He paused to look at the mess again. “You deserve extra for the work you’ve already done.”
“You’re a good man, señor,” she said, taking off her apron and placing it on the kitchen counter. As she walked out of the kitchen, she touched his arm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ricardo nodded. “Let me walk you,” he said. “It might not be safe after what happened earlier.” He escorted Consuella to the small cottage, a five-minute walk from the mansion, that three women who worked for the brothers shared. When they got within twenty feet of the cottage, Valencia ran out, carrying her baby.
“Consuella, thank God, you’re okay.” She hugged Consuella with the arm that wasn’t holding her baby girl. Valencia, shorter and younger than Consuella, started working at the Ceiba mansion around the same time as Consuella. Because the three women had rotating shifts, with only two of them ever working at the same time, they took turns looking after the baby. Ricardo racked his brain trying to remember her name, secretly chiding himself. He should know this.
“Hola.”
“Hola, señor.” Although it was dark, Ricardo could tell she was nervous. “Is Carlos with you?”
Ricardo shook his head. The fact the woman had asked was laughable. Carlos wouldn’t be caught dead at the cottage.
“Everything okay here?” he asked.
“Si, señor.” She nodded, still clinging to Consuella. Something had happened between her and Carlos, he was sure of it. He could tell from the way she skittered around him when she worked. Several months before her baby was born, a look of fear had appeared in her eyes whenever Carlos was around. She seemed to fear Ricardo too, although he couldn’t understand why.
The baby squirmed in Valencia’s arms and let out a whimper. She must have woken during the night. It was awfully late for her to be up.
“Ay, Maria.” Valencia held the baby with both hands now and rocked back and forth. Maria, of course. How could he forget? It had been his mother’s name. She’d roll over in her grave if she knew what had become of him and Carlos. The coca business had been so easy for them to fall into. If only he’d had a little more foresight to see what partnering with Carlos would end up like. He would have run the other way.
Ricardo nodded to the women. “Have a nice night.”
“And you, señor.”
He meandered down the path, his thoughts swirling in his mind. Maria was his niece, he was quite certain. There was no way Carlos would take responsibility, but he would do whatever he could to help Valencia and her daughter, even if she hadn’t asked him to.
Chapter 10
Maggie was the last one out of the suite in the morning. It’s not that she was running behind, but with the three of them sharing one bathroom, somehow, she drew the short straw and ended up getting the last shower. It was cold and quick, but she was still the last one down to the lobby. She handed a note to the woman at the front desk.
“Could you please forward any calls to my suite to this number?” Maggie gave the woman her room number and asked her not to give out the apartment phone number.
The woman nodded. “Of course.” She flipped through a Rolodex and placed Maggie’s note in it. A hotel this posh took pride in handling guest requests confidentially, and Maggie had no doubt the woman would do what she asked.
As she crossed the street to the SUV, she looked to the sky, hoping to see some blue, but it was cloudy and hazy. The humidity clung to her. Once at the SUV, she pulled the door handle, but it didn’t open.
“Hey. That’s not funny,” she said, slamming her palm against the window, assuming Williams had locked her out. A few vehicles down the row, a catcall sounded. She turned in the direction it came from, and Williams yelled out the driver’s window of a different black SUV. “Ay, Magda. Over here, darlin’,” he said in his Texan drawl. She rolled her eyes. God, he was loving this. How had she not noticed there were two, almost identical, SUVs?
She abruptly changed direction and marched to the correct SUV. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath before she got to the SUV, so Williams couldn’t hear. After climbing in the back, she let out a haughty breath and slammed the door.
Garcia chuckled in the front then glanced back at her, giving her a “never mind him” kind of a look. Williams maneuvered the vehicle away from the curb and down the street. They’d gone about half a block when Maggie caught a light in the rearview mirror. She whipped her head around to see smoke billowing into the sky. People convened where the other black SUV had been. It was now in pieces, strewn across the street.
“Jesus,” said Garcia, his head now cranked to look out the back of the SUV as well.
Williams glanced in the rearview as he continued to drive.
“We have to go back,” said Maggie. “We need to help.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Williams. “If there was anyone in that SUV, they’re beyond help.” Maggie’s mouth gaped. How could he be so insensitive?
“He’s right, Mags,” Garcia said, as if reading her mind. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re the Sanchezes right now. That bomb could have been meant for us.”
“That bomb might have been meant for us as the CIA too,” said Williams.
“Shouldn’t we at least stop and look for clues?” she asked, oblivious to the danger that lurked.
“The cartel doesn’t stop and look for clues. They get even.”
“But the CIA does.”
“Sure, but we’re all under cover right now. Did you forget we just left the hotel?”
She knew he was right, as much as she hated it. She also knew it was only a matter of time before car bombings became her reality. It was a favorite assassination method of the cartel. But who had they been trying to assassinate?
She stared out the window while she ruminated. The hum and gentle swaying of the vehicle lulled her into a false sense of security. Soon the scenery changed from typical cityscape to vibrant plant life.
With a population of almost four and a half million people, downtown Bogota reminded her of almost any big city with a history. Skyscrapers clustered in the center where all the activity was, and small brick heritage buildings could be found across the street from more modern concrete ones. With its mugginess, it was probably the stickiest place she’d ever been.
Buildings became more spread out, and vegetation replaced sidewalks as they got closer to the apartment and the border between the city and the jungle. She eyed the palm trees in the distance hoping to catch a glimpse of the indigo-winged parrot she’d read made its home here. They were rare, but still she hoped.
By the time she and her team entered their apartment, Morales and the two DEA agents were already discussing the previous night’s events.
“We need to find out what he meant by ‘professionals.’ My money’s on either professional hitmen or the F
ARC,” said Morales.
“FARC? Really? You think the People’s Army is working for the Ceiba cartel?” This question came from a mustachioed man Maggie hadn’t met. She assumed he was one of the DEA agents.
“Isn’t that what we’re here to find out?” asked Williams as the three CIA officers approached Morales and the two other men. Why were they in this apartment instead of the one downstairs where Morales said they lived?
“Hey,” said Morales, turning to the newcomers. “This is Ben Harper.” He pointed to Mr. Mustache. Even though he was sitting, he seemed short and he had a pudgy gut. “And Daniel Owens. They’re the DEA agents I told you about.” Daniel was fair, his blond hair in need of a trim. His brightly colored wide-leg pants and long collared shirt told Maggie he was fond of the fashions of the previous decade.
The two DEA agents stood from where they sat in the living room and strolled over to Maggie, Garcia, and Williams then shook all their hands. She was right about Mustachio—he was a few inches shorter than she was. His mustache and hair were almost black, and his skin was dark enough he could pass for a native Colombian like her.
“Nice to meet you,” she said to both men.
“You okay?” asked Owens. “You’re white as a ghost.”
“I’m fine. There was a car bombing as we were leaving the hotel.”
Owens nodded. “Consider yourself officially welcomed to Bogota. It takes a bit of getting used to, but they’re pretty frequent in the city.” She didn’t think she could ever get used to something like that.
Morales cut in, seemingly unconcerned about the bombing. “I’ve got them up to speed on what we talked about last night.” The men resumed their seats in the living room while the three who’d just arrived sat around the kitchen table. “Let’s figure out our next move.”
Everyone nodded. Maggie paused. Should they really be talking about their next move? She didn’t know anything about these DEA agents. What were they bringing to the table?
Maggie's Mark (Ceiba Cartel Book 1) Page 4
