Once they were safely inside she told Williams to drive.
“Where are we going?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Maggie. “This is CIA Officer Hank Williams.” Williams lifted a hand off the wheel as if to say, “Hi” then he pulled away from the curb. “I’m Maggie Barnes.” She held out her hand to Val and she took it. “I’m going to cut to the chase, Val, we could use someone like you in our operation.”
Val touched the only exposed part of her baby, the back of her head. “Her name’s Maria,” she said, answering Maggie’s earlier question. She kissed her head.
“We can pay you to help us. You’d keep working for the Ceibas like you are now, and we’d come up with a way to make regular contact, so you can tell us anything you find out.”
“Like an informant?” she asked.
“Exactly.”
She nodded then her stare drifted out the window, and her eyes glazed over as if she was thinking about something. The women jostled into each other as Williams maneuvered the SUV through a section of potholes. Val clutched Maria even though the baby was fastened to her. As if snapping back to reality, she said, “Could you head out of the city? If the rumors are true, there’s something you should see.”
“Care to enlighten us?” Williams asked as he glanced in the rearview, his dark shades hiding his eyes. Was he testing Val?
“A couple of days ago, one of the Ceibas’ warehouse men crashed their party. Carlos told Ricardo he would take care of it. When Consuella, one of my roommates, was digging around to find out about Maggie, her friend in Le Gent told her Carlos made an example out of him. Apparently, he also stole from the warehouse and was trying to start a side business.”
“Oh, shit,” said Williams.
Val nodded. “Head east.”
Williams did as Val instructed. They were headed out of the city, in the opposite direction to where the apartment and the Ceiba mansion were located.
“Does your roommate know I’m CIA?”
Val shook her head. “No, she just knows you’re not Magdalena Sanchez.” How did she figure that out? What were the chances she’d get to meet Consuella and ask her herself?
“Did she tell the brothers?” Her stomach knotted at the thought of them knowing, each for different reasons. She couldn’t bear to hurt Ricardo, and Carlos would likely want to kill her.
Val shook her head again. “Ricardo was the one who asked her to check up on you?” Of course, Maggie already knew this from the bug she’d planted in the mansion. “Ricardo is a good man even though he is involved in such a terrible business. Consuella thinks he has a thing for you, and she’s not sure how to tell him you’re not who you say you are.”
“For now, I need him to believe I’m Magdalena Sanchez.”
“I understand,” said Val. Maria squirmed and a tiny cry escaped her mouth, but she kept napping. “I’m sorry I had to bring her. Consuella and Sara are working today.”
“It’s fine,” said Maggie. “We’ll keep both of you safe.”
From the front, Williams swore, pulling the vehicle over to the side of the road. Up ahead, a mob of people had gathered below what seemed to be—
“Oh, Dios!” Val exclaimed, gawking out the window. “It’s true.”
Chapter 16
“That hijo de puta,” she practically spat the words while Maria slept peacefully, still fastened to her chest.
“Who’s a son of a bitch?” Maggie asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew who Val was referring to.
Val smoothed Maria’s dark, fuzzy hair and kissed her head again. A tear ran down her cheek, and she wiped it away before it landed on her baby’s head. Her entire body had seemed to stiffen at what she saw out the windshield.
“Carlos. If he didn’t do this, he ordered someone to do it.”
Williams sat with his hands resting in his lap, his mouth gaping. Ahead of them, with lush jungle greenery all around, three headless bodies hung from what seemed to be a telephone wire running across the road. Their clothes had been removed—two men and a woman. Each had had their right hand removed. It was one of the many ways the cartel punished thieves. Something caught Maggie’s eye on one of the bodies—a tattoo on the forearm—but she was too far away to know for sure that it meant what she thought.
She opened the door, intending to walk closer to get a better look.
“No, señorita.” Val grabbed her arm. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Here.” Williams handed her a pair of binoculars, and Maggie gave him a funny look as she accepted them. “What? I was a boy scout. I always come prepared.” He held up a camera.
“Make sure you get a shot of that tattoo.” Maggie adjusted the binoculars and confirmed her suspicions. The tattoo was the same one she’d seen on the man at the Ceiba mansion the night of the party, the one who’d gone flying over the second-floor balcony. “If that's not the same guy who was at the party the other night, then he has the same tattoo.”
Williams spun around in his seat, so he was facing Val. “Does that tattoo mean anything to you, darlin’?”
“It’s not a cartel tattoo that I know of. Carlos said he’d taken care of that man.” It was likely the same guy from the party.
Thunk.
Williams turned back to the front of the SUV. “Shit.” He started the engine as two men came toward them with rocks. Thunk. Thunk. “What the hell?”
He gunned it and cranked the steering wheel, so they were headed back the way they came.
“You’re outsiders. Whether you are Sanchez’s people or CIA. You’re still outsiders to the people of Bogota.”
“Jesus,” said Williams, checking the rearview. “Looks like we’re all clear.”
“They probably saw you taking pictures and got scared,” Val added.
They continued on through Bogota until they were within walking distance of the Ceiba mansion. Maria had stirred a couple of times and Val took her out of the wrapped fabric and nursed her during the drive. She sat on Val’s lap, looked up at Maggie, and reached a hand toward her. Maggie gave her a finger, and the baby squeezed hard. What a grip!
“I can walk from here,” Val said. “I know you are supposed to be on your way to Medellín.” Williams pulled down a deserted street and waited while Val tied Maria to her chest with the wide fabric again. The baby snuggled right in.
Val looked up from her handiwork. “You must be thinking I’m a terrible mother to work for drug lords while raising a baby.” Actually, the thought hadn’t crossed Maggie’s mind. She knew Val had started working for them before she was pregnant. “We have more at the cottage than most families. But I do hope to get away from . . . Carlos.” Her entire demeanor changed when she said his name, and Maggie remembered how she’d been at the mansion when Carlos tried to grab her hand.
“Did he hurt you?”
Val looked away but didn’t confirm or deny Carlos had done anything. She simply stroked Maria’s head.
“We can help you get away,” Maggie said.
“Let’s see how I can help you first,” said Val.
“We’re looking for any indication the brothers are involved with terrorist activities, particularly the FARC. We’re not so concerned about the drugs. Other people are handling that.”
Val’s eyebrows lifted as if she was surprised the CIA wasn’t concerned about the drugs. “Like Consuella, I have some friends in Le Gent. I’ll talk to them.” She moved toward the door and Maggie picked her purse up off the seat and pulled out her wallet. She gave Val all the pesos she had in her wallet, the equivalent of a hundred dollars.
“There will be more,” she said as Val got out of the vehicle.
Val accepted the money. “Thank you.” She tucked the pesos in the strap of her top, under her sleeping baby.
Chapter 17
Three weeks later . . .
Maggie continued to work with Valencia whose contacts in Le Gent proved to be making headway. It was definitely the FARC who had defended the Ceiba pr
operty the night of the party, but the CIA needed more evidence, and Maggie was feeling the pressure from McKay. She’d been to the American Embassy to file reports and had taken a call from McKay while she was there.
“Come on, Barnes, you need to pull the trigger on this.”
“I’m working on it, sir. It’s close, real close.” Maggie knew it was just a matter of time before one of the brothers slipped up and exposed the cartel’s involvement with FARC and its coercive activities.
“I talked to Morales, and he agrees it’s time. Do whatever you have to do.” When had he talked to Morales, and why hadn’t Morales mentioned it?
She knew exactly what she had to do. Val had convinced Consuella not to tell Ricardo what she’d found out about Maggie not being Magdalena. Ricardo had called her almost every night since she and Garcia had supposedly left Bogota. Of course, she took the calls from in the apartment while watching Ricardo through the telescope.
Some nights, she’d go to bed, and all she could think about was Ricardo’s hands on her body after one of their calls. Many had gotten as hot as a 1-900 number call. Not that she’d ever called one of those numbers.
If only there was a way to spare Ricardo and have Carlos take all the blame. Many times, Ricardo had mentioned coming to Medellín to visit and Maggie had come up with a lame excuse why that wasn’t a good idea. She’d told him her brother would think he didn’t trust him or that soon they would be back in Bogota to talk about their next deal.
Now that McKay wanted her to do whatever she had to to get the evidence they needed to arrest the Ceibas, she called Ricardo with the good news—she was coming to visit.
“I’m telling you, it’s a bad fucking idea,” was all Morales said when Maggie told the men about her plan. She didn’t get it. All they needed to do was record her conversation and keep an eye on her from the apartment. It’s not like she was asking them to come with her. “It’s too soon. I’m telling you, we’ve been working with these guys longer than you, and you need to take things slow and build their trust.”
“But McKay said—” Wait. Why did McKay tell her Morales had agreed? She’d known McKay a lot longer than Morales. Something didn’t add up. Was Morales siding with the DEA? Did he want them to make a bust before the CIA?
“But Magda already has Ricardo’s trust,” argued Maggie, changing her line of thinking. She was pretty sure her heated conversations with Ricardo had been recorded, and she was likely going to get reprimanded for crossing the line when the powers that be reviewed the tapes, but she didn’t care. Her plan was working. She knew Ricardo would tell her anything she wanted to know, but Morales wouldn’t listen. “If you don’t want to back me up, that’s fine, but I’m doing this.”
She stormed into her room, closed the door, and flopped down onto her bed. It was still early, and she’d told Ricardo she’d see him around dinner—completely doable since the flight from Medellín was only about an hour. She had plenty of time to prepare.
A soft knock sounded on her door. Only Garcia knocked like that, as if he didn’t want to disturb her. “Come in,” she said, not moving from her bed.
Garcia entered then closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of her bed.
“I one-hundred percent support you. Whatever you need from me, you got it.” He patted her leg.
“Thanks, G. I know you do.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen tonight. I think Ricardo is falling for Magda. Things could get a little . . . heated.” She dropped her gaze, her cheeks burning. There was no “could” about it. Things were definitely getting hot tonight.
He nodded. “Promise me, you’ll be careful.” It almost sounded as if he was giving her a sex talk, but she understood what he meant. “I will. You’ll be watching and listening, right?”
“Absolutely, Mags. I’ve always got your back.”
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight. She didn’t know if it was the undercover work, being away from home, or the pressure to arrest the brothers—probably all of the above—but it felt good knowing she had a true friend on her side.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “I know we’re only pretending to be siblings, but I’ve always thought of you like a little sister. It’s why that one night we had felt so weird.” His cheeks deepened in color and Maggie laughed.
“It was weird wasn’t it?” She punched him in the shoulder. “I’m glad we got past it.”
“Me too.” Garcia stood. “Don’t worry about those assholes. You know what you’re doing.”
“Thanks.” She hoped he was right, otherwise her undercover career would be over before her first assignment was finished.
Chapter 18
Williams dropped Maggie off at the Ceiba mansion. The engine of the SUV idled while she walked to the door. As she raised her hand to press the doorbell, the engine revved then faded away into the night. A piano interlude drifted out from the mansion windows. It was almost too lovely to interrupt by ringing the bell.
She rested her fingers lightly on the doorframe and waited, allowing the music to lull her into a false sense of security. Her lungs filled with the night air, and she slowly exhaled. She wasn’t leaving until she’d gotten what she came for—an admission that the Ceibas had the FARC on their payroll.
The front door flew open and she dropped her hand from the doorframe. Her thoughts came to a screaming halt as her breath hitched.
“Magda, there you are.”
She took a slight step back and dropped her gaze to the ground, doubting herself. Could she really go through with this? When she looked up, Ricardo was smiling gently, and all her fears faded into the night.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the piano music.” She stepped inside the mansion and leaned into him, putting her arms around his waist and inhaling his masculine scent. He squeezed her back and gently smoothed her hair down her back.
“It’s only a CD,” he said. He gestured behind him to the great room where a stereo system sat on the sunken-in shelves along one wall. “One day, I’ll take you to see my friend play in the city. He’s amazing.” He kissed the top of her head, and she dropped her arms, easing out of their embrace. Lightly, he cupped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. “I’ve missed you,” he said as he trailed his fingers along her neck and down her exposed shoulder, sending shivers up her spine.
She wore an off-the-shoulder floral blouse and a long, flowing skirt with a side slit all the way up to her thigh. Since she’d bugged the mansion, there was no need for her to wear a wire tonight. For that, she was thankful. She was quite certain, one way or another, she’d be naked later.
“I missed you too,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
Ricardo took her hand and led her upstairs. “Consuella has set up the balcony for us.” She raised her skirt with one hand, so she didn’t trip on it on the way up the stairs.
“Is Carlos home?” She tried to act like it didn’t matter if he was or not.
“He’s in the city for the night. It’s just us and Consuella.”
This news eased Maggie’s nerves a little, but she wondered if Consuella had learned anything else about her. She’d seen Val yesterday, and she swore Consuella was on their side.
Maggie gasped as she walked toward the balcony. Tiny white lights ran along the railing. In the center of the balcony, a small round table and two accompanying chairs sat. A candle burned brightly in the center of the table and two plates of bite-sized food waited for them.
“It looks amazing.”
“You look amazing.” He kissed her hand then pulled out one of the chairs for her. A surge of warmth spread through her body. She really wanted to kiss him, but she also wanted him to make the first move, so she sat, and he helped her push the chair in.
Ricardo walked around the table to where a champagne bucket sat in a stand. He pulled out the magnum of champagne, a piece of ice falling from the bottom of the bottle. She took a breath to calm her nerves. Why was
she so on edge? Their conversations had been so natural, but now that she was here, she had to concentrate to keep from shaking.
She eyed the shrimp ceviche while Ricardo opened the champagne. As he poured her a glass, his eyes drifted to her cleavage, and she took full advantage, leaning over the table and tossing her hair back. By the time they started their second glass of champagne, Consuella had served dinner. Even after being in Colombia for a few weeks, the only thing she recognized on her plate was chicken, but she didn’t let on.
They’d talked so freely on the phone, but tonight she was feeling tongue-tied. She didn’t want to ruin the night by talking about business, but it was the whole reason she was there. Carlos and Garcia were the ones who talked business. Even with all the telephone conversations they’d had in the last few weeks, Ricardo never once asked about business. He only wanted to know about Magda and her life.
Enough hemming and hawing. If she was going to lock it in, there was no time like the present. She had to get the business out of the way so she could enjoy the rest of the evening. “Do you think it will work out?”
“Our expansion?”
Maggie nodded, a bit shocked that he knew what she was referring to, but of course, he would. “Do you think my brother is the one to make it happen for you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He put a piece of chicken on his fork and lifted it to his mouth then shrugged. “Carlos will make it happen.”
She sensed he didn’t care one way or the other, like he could take it or leave it.
“Let’s not let business ruin our evening.” Shit. How was she going to get him to talk about their involvement with the FARC?
“My brother is a cautious man,” she said, sipping her champagne. “I sense your brother is not.” She leaned back in her chair and tilted her head toward Ricardo.
Having finished his meal, he placed his fork on his plate and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. He placed the napkin on his plate and nodded. He pointed a finger at her. “You’re very observant.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Maggie's Mark (Ceiba Cartel Book 1) Page 7
