Maggie's Mark (Ceiba Cartel Book 1)

by Michelle Cornish

  She swallowed hard. “I’d like to know what the two of you know about the Ceibas.” Her glance bounced from Harper and his mustache to Owens.

  “We’ve been monitoring them for months,” said Harper. “They’re desperate to expand their territory. This is a great opportunity.”

  Owens nodded. “We’ve been working the US angle, getting them to trust us with small deals so we can make a whopper of a deal and bust them bringing coke into the US. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Maggie nodded then reminded herself that the CIA was in Colombia to monitor the DEA as much as the Ceibas. They couldn’t tell them everything.

  Williams seemed to be getting antsy and stood. “Unless we bust them first.” Why did he think of everything like a competition? He’d lost his Texan drawl, for which Maggie was grateful. He marched out to the balcony where a telescope, like the one downstairs, was set up. He adjusted the tripod for his height and lowered his face to the eyepiece.

  “Holy shit! You guys have to see this.”

  Chapter 11

  Maggie rushed out onto the balcony to see what Williams was talking about. He pointed to the telescope. She hadn’t remembered it being set up before they’d left yesterday. Had Morales and the DEA agents been watching the Ceiba mansion from this apartment rather than their own? And why would they do that?

  “Check it out,” Williams said, uncharacteristically offering Maggie a turn at the telescope. She wasn’t that much shorter than Williams and only had to stand on her toes to see into the Ceiba mansion through the telescope.

  “Whoa. Impressive.” The image appeared clearer and closer than when she’d used the binoculars. Through the windows, she could see that Ricardo and Carlos appeared to be arguing. Almost the entire second level of the front of the mansion that faced the apartment was hundreds of glass bricks. Or was it? Most glass bricks were opaque, but she could clearly see into the giant house.

  She adjusted the zoom on the telescope. “Wow,” she whispered, forgetting Williams was still standing on the balcony with her.

  “What? What’s going on?” he snapped, and Maggie jerked her head up, making eye contact with him.

  “Only the windows on the bottom have glass in them. Check out the ironwork on the second level.” She gestured for him to take another look through the telescope. “The top windows are open to the air.” Were they still called windows if they didn’t have any glass?

  “Huh,” said Williams after taking a look.

  Morales, who was now walking toward the balcony, cut in, “The bottom windows don’t open. It’s common in older homes.”

  “What if it rains?” asked Maggie.

  “They probably have some sort of shutter system that’s triggered from the inside. Lucky for us they don’t have curtains.” He let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort.

  “Do we have audio?” she asked, heading back into the apartment.

  Garcia shook his head. It had been his job to plant a bug last night. Why hadn’t he done it when all hell broke loose? Oh right, that woman seemed to have him cornered. She made a mental note to find a way back into the mansion and get it done.

  “Everything happened so quickly, I didn’t get a chance to plant the device.” If the DEA agents had done deals with the Ceibas, why hadn’t they planted something? They seemed to have the apartment all set up for visual surveillance, why not audio?

  “So, what’s the next step?” she asked, eyeing Morales.

  “He works in the warehouse,” said Carlos as he leaned against the back of the couch, his arms outstretched along its back, a cup of freshly brewed tinto, so hot the steam was visible, in one hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  Ricardo paced in front of the couch while bowing his head and pressing his fingers to his lips. He didn’t like the sound of that. “If by taking care of it, you mean you’ll make sure he has a full recovery, then fine.” From past experience, he was sure that wasn’t what Carlos meant. He had no qualms about shooting anyone who got in his way even if they were part of the Ceiba operations.

  “Brother, you worry too much. I’ve got it under control.” Carlos blew on his steaming coffee then took a sip.

  Ricardo winced, imagining how the brown liquid must have burned all the way down, but Carlos showed no indication. Instead, he closed his eyes, a closed-lip half smile on his face.

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” Ricardo paced again.

  “Ay, last night wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Ricardo shot him a deadly look. “No shit.”

  “My guy at the FARC got stuck on an assignment and lost track of where Le Gent was at. It was fine in the end.”

  “Except for this.” Ricardo gestured to the missing pane of glass where the warehouse worker had gone over the railing last night. As much as he hated to admit it, people were going to die over this—if Carlos hadn’t issued the orders already. Done with the conversation, he marched out onto the balcony to clear his head. If only there was another way.

  He leaned with his back against the railing which had miraculously survived last night unscathed. The yellow orchid on the end table between the couch and chair caught his eye and an image of Magdalena Sanchez flooded his mind. He’d never seen such a beautiful and mysterious woman. As he stood there against the railing, it was like he was watching their conversation from last night right before all hell broke loose. How he’d longed to trail his fingers through her hair after he’d tucked the orchid behind her ear. And those luscious red lips. The way they’d pressed against her champagne glass made him want them smoothed against his own lips.

  He shook his head, releasing him from his daydream. He had to fix what happened last night. He had to make it up to Julio Sanchez, but most of all, he had to see Magda again. He marched back into the house and past Carlos, still lounging on the couch.

  “I’m calling Sanchez,” he blurted as he raced to the nearest phone.

  “Why don’t I handle the bug while Garcia schmoozes with the brothers?”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the apartment phone rang. Wide-eyed looks shot around the room. Everyone that had the number was in the room. It had to be the hotel, forwarding a call from Ricardo.

  Garcia had given him the card, he should be the one to answer. She eyed Garcia, raised her eyebrows, then picked up the portable phone and handed it to him. “Show time.”

  He took a deep breath then pressed a button on the phone. “Hola,” he said. From the one-sided conversation, Maggie could tell Ricardo was arranging another meeting.

  “Si, si,” said Garcia then handed the phone to Maggie. She frowned and reluctantly accepted the phone.

  “Magda,” Ricardo said as soon as she’d put the phone to her ear and spoke. “I’m so sorry our evening was ruined last night. I hope you will come again tonight.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Ricardo cut in.

  “No party this time. Just a quiet dinner.” Maggie looked around the room, all eyes were on her, and her face flushed. How could she get into her role as a swoony Magdalena with everyone watching? She turned her back to her team and took a few steps toward the balcony.

  “That sounds lovely, Ricardo,” was all she could manage even with the distance from the team. Her stomach roiled at the thought of seeing Carlos again, but she knew he would be there. The brothers didn’t make decisions on their own. From what she’d seen last night, Carlos was the protector, the one you didn’t want to mess with.

  “I look forward to seeing you again, my dear.” His voice was warm and soothing.

  Her cheeks heated again. She wanted to tell him she looked forward to seeing him too, but Magda was more the type to play hard to get, so she simply said, “Tonight then,” and hung up.

  She stepped out onto the balcony and lowered her face to the telescope. Ricardo’s face was front and center, and he was grinning like a kid at Christmas. He walked to where Carlos sat on the couch and said something to him. Of course, Mag
gie could only see his lips moving, but after tonight, they’d have sound. Tonight, she’d hide the bugs and get this case moving along.

  Chapter 12

  “Come on, Garcia. Don’t you trust me?” asked Maggie from a bar stool in their Hotel Tequendama suite. They’d gone back there to keep up appearances in case the Ceibas had someone watching them.

  “Of course, I trust you.”

  “Then what is this about? Just give me the damn bugs already.” Maggie held out her hand. Why had McKay said she was in charge out of the three of them before they had left the US? He said Garcia and Williams were to back her up, something she really wanted to bring up right now, but she didn’t. Garcia was supposed to be Sanchez. The real Sanchez would have all the power. Why wasn’t Garcia in charge?

  She lowered her hand and was about to continue her argument with Garcia when Williams cut in. “Barnes has a point.”

  Maggie’s jaw dropped. Had she heard correctly? Was Williams agreeing with her? Garcia shot him a look.

  “I’m serious. She can excuse herself to use the powder room and plant the bugs then. I’ve never known anyone to question how long a woman is in the bathroom primping. It’s annoying as hell, but it is what it is.” He shrugged then sat on the couch that faced the small kitchen. Maybe his agreeing with her wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  “Fine,” said Garcia, placing the bugs on the counter. In all the time Maggie had known Garcia, he’d always been on her side. What was it with him and these bugs? Was it because he hadn’t planted them last night? It should have been her job all along. Williams made a good point. Nobody would even notice she was missing. Although, with all the attention Ricardo had paid her last night, she wasn’t sure when she would have had a chance to hide the bugs either, especially with so many people around.

  Maggie tucked the tiny listening devices into the pocket of her denim mini skirt, something else she’d purchased as Magdalena Sanchez. She would have preferred jeans and a t-shirt, but she was Magda now, not Maggie. Paired with the skirt, was a black tank top and bright floral-print blazer. Once again, her wire was safely hidden underneath.

  In stark contrast to the previous night, the casual atmosphere at the Ceiba mansion allowed Maggie to take in the beautiful, bright architecture. It really was a gorgeous home, and since it was a private dinner there were substantially less bodies to pollute the space.

  The moment she made eye contact with Carlos, the hair on the back of her neck rose like hackles. Garcia played his role as Sanchez well, shaking hands with the brothers and acting like shootings like what happened last night took place all the time. In Sanchez’s world, they probably did, and since she was supposed to be his sister, she smiled and shook it off too.

  Carlos took Maggie’s hand and used it to pull her close to him, and he air-kissed each side of her face. Thank God he hadn’t actually kissed her. He reeked of booze and tobacco, but Maggie smiled and bowed her head ever so slightly.

  Ricardo must have sensed her dislike of Carlos, because unlike his brother, he took her hand in his, placed his other hand on top and held it there for a few seconds before letting go. His hands were soft and warm. He made no effort to kiss her hand or her cheek. Oh no. Had she misread his signals last night? Cozying up to Carlos instead wasn’t going to happen.

  A friendly smile spread across Maggie’s face while the four of them climbed the spiral staircase to the second level.

  As soon as they were seated on the lush couches upstairs—Ricardo and Carlos on one, and Maggie and Garcia on the other—a woman seemed to come from out of nowhere with a tray of crystal glasses half-filled with golden liquid. Maggie got the sense she had met her before. She was young and petite, almost too thin, with dark wavy hair halfway down her back. She offered the tray to Garcia first then Maggie. They both took a glass.

  Maggie subtly sniffed hers, hoping for a hint of what she was about to drink. She swore she smelled brown sugar. Once they each had a glass, Ricardo looked in her direction and nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Salud!” He held up the glass.

  “Salud!” they echoed back to him.

  They all took a sip of their rum. “Let’s hope things go a little smoother tonight.” Ricardo cleared his throat, as if embarrassed.

  Garcia smirked and waved his hand to show it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve seen much worse,” he added.

  Maggie leaned back against the couch. She crossed her legs, and her skirt slipped even higher up her thighs. Both Ricardo and Carlos noticed, and she fought the urge to sit up straight and press her legs closed. Magda would do anything she could to draw the brothers’ attention, and Maggie planned to do the same. She sucked her bottom lip, caught Ricardo’s curious gaze, then quickly looked away.

  After dinner—which was served at a thick wooden table with elaborately carved legs that reminded her of something from the eighteenth century—Maggie asked to use the powder room.

  “Of course,” said Ricardo. He stood and escorted her down a hallway, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked. Heat radiated between their bodies.

  When they reached the bathroom, she turned to Ricardo then placed her hand on his arm and slid it down to his elbow. “Thank you,” she said, locking eyes with him. His soft brown eyes showed flecks of amber that seemed to dance when he smiled, like he was now. He gently placed his fingers under hers and brought them to his lips. She closed her eyes, letting her heart flutter.

  The powder room was much more than she was expecting. There was a large soaker tub surrounded by abstract tile mosaics on two of the walls and the ornate taps appeared to be made of gold. It was probably more likely a metal made to look like gold, but it all looked so elaborate.

  Maggie waited an appropriate amount of time then flushed the toilet and turned on the water so it would appear like she had used the facilities if anyone had been monitoring her. “Show time, boys,” she said in a low voice, knowing Morales and the DEA agents would hear her through her wire. “Time to plant some bugs.”

  She slowly turned the handle and opened the door a crack, listening for voices.

  “I understand you want to expand,” said Garcia. “My manufacturers in Medellín can’t keep up with the demand. I think we can help each other.”

  Finally, they were getting down to business. Had they been waiting until she wasn’t in the room? Her presence was supposed to help the deal, not hinder it. Ricardo and Carlos joined the conversation, and she crept farther down the hall, away from their voices, until she came to a large bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and the decor was fresh and light, matching the main living area. Of course, with the help the brothers had, anyone could be keeping this room tidy. A white orchid sat on the bedside table and she rushed over to it, taking one of the bugs out of her pocket.

  No, she thought, remembering Ricardo’s apparent fondness for the orchid he had given her. If this was his room, placing the bug there was too risky. A large palm tree sat on the floor next to the glassless window. The plant sat inside two pots—a functional one inside a decorative one—making it the ideal place to hide a bug without affecting the sound quality. She quickly placed the bug, then with the slyness of a cat, she left the room.

  At the end of the hall, were stairs leading down. The voices of Garcia and the brothers still drifted down the hall. How long had she been gone from the table? Could she place the other two bugs without attracting suspicion to herself?

  Screw it. She hurried down the dark staircase, her feet as light as possible. The stairs led to a large great room situated behind the spiral staircase in the foyer. There were papers and books on end tables. It looked like the type of place the brothers might have conversations in the morning, so she slipped one of the bugs under an end table.

  As she turned to head back upstairs, the woman who’d served them drinks earlier, and been attending to them in the dining room, came around the corner with a tray that held a carafe of some kind. A whiff of coffee caused her senses to perk up. Maggie spri
nted up the stairs, hoping the woman hadn’t seen her. She carried on down the hall, back to the dining room.

  Shortly after arriving at the table—the men had barely noticed her take her seat—the woman entered the dining room with the tray of coffee. Maggie kept her face neutral as a flash of recognition shot through her mind. It was the woman with the baby she’d seen outside in the dark last night as they drove away.

  Chapter 13

  The woman eyed Maggie as she served the coffee. Whenever Maggie looked at her, she was staring back at Maggie. How the woman managed to get the coffee in the cups while staring at her, Maggie had no idea. Where was her baby?

  When the woman got to Carlos, she concentrated on him instead of Maggie. He reached for the woman’s hand after she’d placed his coffee in front of him, but she quickly jerked it back. He waved it off.

  “Magda.” Ricardo drew her attention to him. “Would you care to escort me to the balcony?” He stood. Garcia and Carlos had resumed their conversation. “These two can handle things,” he said.

  “Of course,” she said. She waited while he walked to where she sat and pulled the chair out for her while she stood. He offered her his arm, and she looped hers around his absentmindedly while she ran through how she might be able to hide the third bug on the balcony while Ricardo was there with her.

  The temperature had dropped a little since they’d arrived, and Maggie was glad she’d opted for a blazer over her tank top.

  “Have a seat.” Ricardo gestured to the wicker furniture, and Maggie sat on the same couch she’d been sitting on when the gunfire had erupted last night. Instead of taking the chair that was at right angle to the couch, like he had last night, Ricardo sat next to her. They turned their bodies, so they sat facing each other, and Ricardo ran his fingers through Maggie’s hair at her temple then gently pressed his lips to hers. She placed a hand on his thigh.