Still no response from Morales as the lush jungle trees got thicker and signs of civilization faded away.
Chapter 22
Morales parked the SUV next to a similar black SUV and a grey, rusted out van, in front of what appeared to be a warehouse in the middle of the jungle. Double doors surrounded by sheet metal were barely visible as a result of the vines that grew up and over the outside of the building. Why would someone go to so much trouble to hide the building then park right out front?
Morales shrugged on his shoulder holster and gun then grabbed the keys and stepped out of the vehicle. “Come on.” He glanced back at Maggie as he pushed his door shut.
She opened the door, hesitating. Her stomach tied in knots. “What’s going on?”
Morales motioned with his hand for her to get out of the vehicle, and Maggie emerged, somewhat apprehensively.
“You don’t even know what this place is, do you, Barnes?” He walked toward the entrance and Maggie followed.
“Well, shit. Why don’t you just tell everyone who I am?” She paused with her hands on her hips, wishing she had her gun. If they were sharing information like McKay thought they were, he should have told her about this place weeks ago. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he’d just learned about it.
“Nobody can hear us. They’re all inside.”
Maggie doubted that, and she was pretty sure Morales just blew her cover. She racked her brain for a reason he might have called her that, some way she could explain away his slip-up in case someone called her out on it.
“Who’s inside?”
“Carlos and his crew. You wanted to make a deal, didn’t you?”
“What the fuck, Morales?” Her face heated and she wanted to kick his ass. This was not how she saw this going down. The idea of doing a drug deal with Carlos Ceiba unarmed and unprepared was less than appealing.
She grabbed Morales’s arm as he reached for the door. “What are you going to tell him? As far as he’s concerned you and I are competition. Going in there together doesn’t make sense.”
“Trust me,” he said through gritted teeth.
Ha, fat chance of that. She trusted him about as far as she could throw him right now.
He lowered his voice. “I’ve been watching this guy a lot longer than you. I know how to handle him.”
Rage brewed in her stomach. Morales needed a good karate chop to the throat, but before she could argue, he yanked the door open and grabbed her arm, dragging her into the building. It was dark, except for the light coming from the opposite end of the warehouse. A large overhead door opened to the outside, allowing sunlight to flood the entrance. Half a dozen men were busy loading what appeared to be a military truck with bricks of cocaine.
“FARC?” Maggie whispered to Morales as the door they’d entered through slammed shut. The men by the truck jerked their heads up, and Morales’s fingers tightened around her wrist.
“Follow my lead,” he said, not answering her question.
Maggie’s mouth gaped as she took in the massive stacks of cocaine bricks piled neatly along the wall nearest to where the men worked. If Morales knew this was here, why hadn’t he told anyone? If members of the FARC were involved, McKay would want to know too. Maggie’s pulse sped as her anger escalated.
A man in a navy suit stepped out from behind the vehicle. His hair was slicked back, and Maggie knew right away, it was Carlos.
“Emilio, I see you’ve brought señorita Sanchez.” Emilio? Why would he give Carlos his real name?
Carlos walked toward them as Maggie made a snap decision to play along with whatever ruse Morales had cooked up. She didn’t have much choice since she was so ill-prepared for this meeting.
She dipped her chin in greeting, holding eye contact with Carlos. “Señor Ceiba.”
“Oh, please. Call me Carlos.” He was standing two feet in front of her. Morales finally let go of her wrist and she instinctively rubbed it. Carlos brought her hands to his lips then leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I believe we’re on a first name basis now, Maggie. Aren’t we?” His voice had an eerie edge to it, and she froze, holding her breath. It was too much of a coincidence that both brothers had called her Maggie. Had Consuella told the brothers she was a spy? Did they know the truth about why she was in Bogota?
When Carlos pulled back, Maggie turned to Morales, hoping for solace. Instead, he brought the handle of his gun down across her temple. Searing pain shot from behind her eyes then everything went dark.
Garcia paced in the kitchen of the apartment he shared with Barnes and Williams. “I don’t like this. Morales and Barnes should have been back by now. It’s been what . . .” He checked the clock on the stove. “Over two hours.”
Williams nodded. “Me neither. I’m going downstairs. Maybe they checked in with Harper and Owens.” They must be in trouble if Williams was concerned. He never seemed to give two shits about anyone but himself.
Garcia ran a hand through his hair. “Good idea. I’ll wait here in case they come back.”
While Williams went downstairs, Garcia went to the balcony to check the telescope and see what was happening at the Ceiba mansion. It had been a pretty quiet morning. After Maggie left, Ricardo had spent some time reading in the great room then he had a late breakfast on the balcony. Carlos had yet to make an appearance.
The same woman was working as last night—Consuella, was it? He picked up his notebook from the end table and sat in one of the chairs, adjusting the telescope so he could see through it while seated. He flipped the pages of the notebook until he arrived at the page where he’d noted the names of all the help the Ceibas had with a brief description of each. Yes, it was Consuella who was working. She’d arrived shortly after Maggie had left. She’d cleaned then made Ricardo’s breakfast.
The apartment door flew open, and Williams continued straight out to the balcony. “They don’t know where they are either.”
“Shit. Should we call McKay?” Garcia asked.
“Let’s give it a bit. They’re going to reach out to their cartel contacts and see if anything went down this morning.”
Garcia rubbed the back of his hand along his forehead. “All right.”
The door flew open again. “That was fast,” Williams said as he turned around. It was Morales. “Where the hell have you been?”
Garcia stepped inside from the balcony. “Where’s Maggie?”
Morales shrugged, a frantic look on his face. “I don’t know, man. She took off.” His eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of his head, and he paced furiously. If Garcia didn’t know better, he’d think Morales had been sampling the product.
His gut clenched. “What do you mean, she took off?” That didn’t sound like the Maggie Barnes he knew. She didn’t just leave a job unfinished.
“We stopped to get some food, and when I came back to the SUV, she was gone.” Morales lifted his arms in the air, talking a mile a minute. “I think the Ceibas got her. She never should have gone over there last night.”
“You just said, ‘she took off.’ Which is it?” Garcia stepped closer to Morales as he debated about grabbing his arms so he'd stop moving and look in his damn eyes. He needed the truth.
“What makes you think it was the Ceibas?” interjected Williams.
“Uh . . . There was an SUV a few cars behind us. One I’ve seen them driving before.” Morales propped an elbow on the breakfast bar and rested his head in his hand.
“Why take her themselves though? Why not get one of their men to do it so they could keep their hands clean?” asked Williams. Garcia still didn’t know which story to believe, but it seemed more plausible she’d have been taken against her will.
Morales frowned. “It could have been anybody. They never got close enough that I could see the driver. They must have grabbed her when I went in to get food. I told you this was a bad idea.” He backed away from the breakfast bar then stepped out onto the balcony and rested his hands on the rail, his ba
ck to Williams and Garcia.
Chapter 23
The scent of damp earth filled Maggie’s nose. Her eye stung as she tried to open it, and warm blood trickled down her face as she hung her head. She was sitting in a cold metal chair with her arms tied together behind her back and her legs tied to the chair legs. It all started to come back to her through the throbbing in her head. Morales was working with the Ceibas. That’s how they knew her name. It had to be. Val was sure Consuella would keep her word like she said she would.
She opened her good eye and tried to adjust to the darkness of the small room. Something crawled over her foot, and she sucked in a quick breath, hoping it wasn’t one of Colombia’s deadly scorpions. Voices sounded outside the room, then a vehicle engine started, and the smell of gasoline wafted into the tiny space. The smell made her nauseous and reminded her she hadn’t eaten anything since last night.
It seemed so long ago now since she’d made love to Ricardo. Was it all an act? Was he working with Morales too, or was it just Carlos?
It hadn’t seemed like an act. She’d felt a real connection and thought Ricardo had too. Maybe the physical attraction she’d felt had thrown her intuition out of whack. As she closed her eyes, she saw Ricardo’s face and felt his touch on her skin. He’d been gentle and kind. He’d even seemed sad when she left this morning. If he was acting, he was damn good.
The door creaked open and Maggie’s thoughts rushed away as light flooded into the room. A figure stood in the doorway, but her one good eye hadn’t adjusted to the light yet, and she couldn’t tell who it was. They closed the door, leaving it open enough the room remained dimly lit.
Footsteps crunched on the dirt floor, and as the figure got closer, she could make out a dark suit. He pulled a metal chair, like the one she was tied to, from the edge of the room, placed it so the back of the chair was facing her, and sat on it backwards. His face was only inches from hers.
“Your brother—” He raised his hands and made air quotes. “He will be joining us soon.” Maggie wanted to shout that there was no way that would happen, but she thought it best not to say anything that might confirm her identity. Garcia was too smart to get caught. He would never let his emotions get the better of him like she had. Unless it was someone he trusted. Morales.
The image of his gun slamming down on her face flashed in her mind. Shit. They had all trusted him.
“Are you going to tell me who you are?” He rested his chin on his hands. They were practically nose to nose and the tobacco on his breath filled her nose, causing her to gag.
She looked him square in the eyes. “I’m Magdalena Sanchez, but you seem to have me confused with someone else.”
Carlos lifted his head and sniffed Maggie’s hair. “Emilio tells me you’re CIA.” That bastard. She held her gaze on Carlos, not reacting. It was her word against Morales’s. He definitely seemed to hold the upper hand when it came to Carlos, but she wasn’t going to admit defeat that easily.
“I have no idea why he’d think that. Why would the CIA care about your drugs?”
“Hmm, exactly what I’d like to know.” He drew his words out as he stood and moved his chair to the side so he could circle Maggie. He trailed his hand down her hair until he reached the top of the chair back. Then he crouched in front of her and drew a line with his finger from her neck to her cleavage and yanked her top down so her bra was exposed. If her feet weren’t tied to the chair, she’d kick him in the crotch. She gritted her teeth. Dirty pig. A clump of his greasy, gelled hair hung over his eyes and he leered at her from beneath it.
As he stood, he placed a hand on the chair between her legs then grabbed her skirt where the slit was and ripped it open, exposing her lace panties.
She spat in his face. “Hijo de puta.” She practically growled the words.
Carlos lunged at her and slapped her with the back of his hand so hard the chair fell backwards, and she cried out as she hit the ground.
“Ay, señor. We gotta go,” someone yelled from outside the room.
“You’re one lucky puta.” He grabbed his crotch and adjusted himself as if his treatment of her had given him a hard-on. “We’ll finish this later.”
Maggie closed her eyes and a hot tear slid down her cheek. She let out a panicked exhale as the door shut, and the room went dark again. A vehicle engine revved then quickly faded away.
Think Maggie, think. How was she going to get out of there?
Since her hands were tied behind her back, they had taken the brunt of the force when she hit the ground, softening the blow to the back of her head. She didn’t need to be able to touch her head to know a goose egg had still formed under her hair.
In the position she was in, the chair dug into her arms, cutting off circulation and causing them to go numb. She had to roll onto her side. She swung her knees to the right, but with her ankles taped to the chair, it barely budged.
God damn it! Why did it have to be a metal chair? There was no give, no hope for breaking free. She continued rocking her knees back and forth, grunting and using all her strength. It seemed to take forever, but finally she flopped onto her side, exhausted.
Chapter 24
Garcia pounded on the door to the apartment directly beneath his, Williams at his side. The door opened, and Mr. Mustache gestured for them to come in. Agent Owens sat on the couch, a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand and a cigarette burning in the ashtray next to him.
“Did you find out anything?” It had been hours since Morales had divulged Maggie’s disappearance and Garcia was anxious. He was certain the DEA agents would have heard something about the cartel’s actions by now.
Harper and his mustache stared back, a confused look on his face.
“Did anything unusual happen with the cartel this morning?” How could this guy not know what he was referring to?
Williams stepped up beside Garcia. “Barnes is missing remember? We need to start looking for her.”
“She’s supposed to meet our informant in—” Garcia checked his watch. “Thirty minutes.”
Harper and Owens looked at each other. “Morales told us—”
“You guys hear from Barnes?” Morales interrupted, stepping out of the bathroom.
Garcia shook his head. “If she doesn’t show up to meet her informant. I’m going looking for her.”
Morales opened his mouth, but Garcia cut him off. “I don’t care what you have to say. You’re not changing my mind.” His heart raced, and he stood a little taller than he had a moment ago.
“I’ll go with you.” Morales put his arms through the straps of his shoulder holster and secured his Glock in place. “Why don’t you get ready? I’ll fill these guys in and be right up.”
“Fill them in? You mean they don’t know Maggie’s missing?” Heat bloomed in Garcia’s cheeks. That made no sense. Williams had already told them what was going on when Morales had returned without Maggie. Harper and Owens were supposed to be monitoring the cartel for signs that something was off. Why hadn’t Morales checked in with them? He resisted the urge to smash his face in.
“They just got back from surveillance. We haven’t had a chance to debrief.” Morales shot the two DEA agents a pointed look.
Garcia glanced at the beer and the cigarette smoke. “Really?” He lunged toward Morales, preparing to pin him to the wall and get the truth out of him, but Williams stepped in front of him.
“Come on. Let’s go upstairs and get ready like he suggested.” Williams gave Morales a knowing nod, as if to say, “I’m watching you.”
Garcia turned and headed to the door, taking a deep breath as he gave Harper and Owens—who looked at him as though they were deer that’d been caught in headlights—a goodbye nod. Screw them. He’d find Maggie without their help.
Upstairs, Williams watched while Garcia secured his gun in its holster at his waist.
“I don’t know, man. I think I should go with you.” Williams bit on a nail then spit a piece of it over the railing of the ba
lcony. He dried his finger on his shirt. “Something’s up with Morales.”
“Why do you think I’m packing?” He pulled his pant leg up, exposing another gun at his ankle. “I don’t trust him either, but you need to stay here and monitor the mansion. We have no idea what they’ve done with her. What if they bring her back there?”
Williams nodded then his face went deadpan. Garcia wouldn't like what he had to say next. “We have to consider the other alternative.”
“What? That she took off?” Garcia shook his head in disbelief. “There’s no way Maggie would abandon us or this mission.” His cheeks puffed out as he let out some air.
Williams held up his hands. “Okay, okay. But undercover work does weird shit to people. We have to be prepared for anything.”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.” Garcia stepped back inside the apartment.
Three loud knocks sounded on the door, then someone tried to come in, but Williams had locked the door behind them when they’d come up from Morales’s apartment. Garcia headed to the door to answer, grabbing the SUV keys off the counter on his way.
Williams followed him. When he was close enough, he grabbed his arm. “Hey,” he said in a lowered voice. A stone-cold stare filled his eyes. “Watch your back.”
Garcia nodded. “You too, man.” He continued to the door then looked through the peephole. After unlocking it, he pulled the door open. Morales stood on the other side of the threshold with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Had he been listening to them? This guy was turning out to be a real piece of work.
“I’m driving,” said Garcia as he stepped past Morales.
The door shut, and Williams paused before locking it again. He wasn’t sure Harper and Owens could be trusted either, and he didn’t want them barging in and surprising him while he was spying on the Ceibas.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed back onto the balcony. The usually clear sky was dark and absent of stars tonight. Through the telescope, he could see Ricardo was in the great room, one of the rooms Maggie had placed a bug, but he was alone and appeared to be reading a book.
Maggie's Mark (Ceiba Cartel Book 1) Page 9
