by Katie Reus
If Mercado really was a criminal mastermind—and apparently she was thinking in James Bond–movie terms now—then it made sense he would know who some of the police were. Now she was very thankful that Nathan had kept her involvement in all this very quiet. The fewer people who knew, the safer she was.
“Yesterday I was attacked in a similar way, but it was more brazen. I had to pretty much crash to avoid hitting innocent people. The guy got away, but this morning a man . . .” She swallowed hard. Damn it, she’d been keeping it together, but talking about it was making too many emotions surge to the surface.
Mercado took her hands again, and a small part of her was grateful to be able to hold on to someone. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just worried, but you shouldn’t upset yourself.”
“No, it’s okay. It just hit me harder than I realized. Long story short, a man I fired not too long ago attacked me and another employee in the parking lot this morning. I thought I was being smart bringing someone with me, but the man Tased one of my waitstaff.” Which she still felt guilty about. “I managed to disarm Neal—that’s his name—with pepper spray and a lot of screaming.” She let out a short laugh. “It was absolutely terrifying, but I’m hopeful they’ll be able to prosecute him for everything.”
Mercado’s jaw had tightened and for the first time she could see more to him than the sweet, potentially possessive man. There was a rage simmering beneath the surface. It flared like a bright meteor before dimming and the polite man she knew was back. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“Thank you, truly.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you headed home?”
She nodded. “Yes, and I think I’m going to take tomorrow off. Maybe.”
The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “You’re like me. Work, work, work. If you’d like to be alone, that’s understandable, but if you want company I’d like to spend time with you.”
This was pretty much the perfect opportunity. She desperately wanted to go home and crash, but she smiled. “I don’t really feel like going home and I definitely don’t want to go somewhere public. We could . . .” She gave him the most sincere smile she could muster. “. . . kick up our feet by your pool with a couple drinks. I wouldn’t mind the company.”
His smile was easy. “That sounds like a plan. Do you want to go home first for anything?”
“No, just let me grab my purse and let my staff know. Should I drive or will you be able to bring me home later?”
“My driver will take you home whenever you wish.”
If it wasn’t for Nathan’s reentry into her life and the whole “potential psychopathic criminal” thing, Mercado would be a catch. “Perfect. Just give me a few minutes.”
Amelia kept her movements steady and normal as she headed back into the restaurant when in reality her heart was racing triple time. She’d gotten the invite to Mercado’s house again and all because of a deranged ex-employee. She was going to take full advantage of it and she sure as hell wasn’t going to his place without backup.
She ignored everyone and made a beeline to her office. Once inside, she locked the door and with trembling hands dialed the number Elliott had given her before.
He picked up almost immediately. “Hey, Amelia. You okay?”
She could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard and other voices in the background. “Fine. I don’t have time to get into it, but I got what you needed. I’m going there now.” She wasn’t sure how much she should say over the phone.
There was a brief pause. “Right now?”
“As soon as we’re done talking. I’m not going without backup.” Again, this was apparently her new James Bond dialogue. For her, backup had only ever meant a wing-woman when headed out for drinks with a friend. Someone to save her when an annoying guy was chatting her up. Not someone with a gun waiting nearby to infiltrate Mercado’s house in case he wanted to kidnap her.
“You’ll have it. Think you can stay an hour?” His voice was clipped.
“Probably longer.” It was afternoon. She could stretch out a few drinks with him and then beg off with a headache. The thought absolutely exhausted her, but she’d be potentially helping find Danita and a lot of other women. Being tired was nothing compared to what they could be going through.
“Do it. We’ve got your back.”
She desperately wanted to ask if Nathan would be part of the backup, but she still had some pride left. Instead she said, “I’m trusting you because Nathan does.”
“I know.”
And that was that. Because it was absolutely the truth. She was trusting that they’d have her back if she got tossed into a dangerous situation, because Nathan did. And that was good enough for her.
The comm van slowed to a stop and after a moment’s pause for Elliott to check out the surrounding neighborhood via their exterior cameras, Freeman, one of Burkhart’s field agents, slipped out the back door. He closed it behind him with barely a sound.
Their command center today looked like an electrical company truck. Everything on the exterior was authentic, as were Freeman’s uniform and credentials. They didn’t belong to him, but they were real. Not that anyone would question them anyway. Not in a ritzy neighborhood like this. Freeman was part of the working class, which basically made him invisible to the wealthy who might be curious enough to check out the electric company van.
Burkhart slipped his earpiece in and stepped behind Elliott and another analyst he’d pulled in for this backup op. There were also two other agents in the van, including Dax, who joined him behind Elliott.
“She’s in,” Elliott said, clacking away at the keyboard, even though they could all hear Amelia’s conversation with Mercado.
“She was a fucking champ today,” Dax said quietly, his comment directed at Burkhart.
He simply nodded. “I read the report.” The way she’d reacted to being attacked had no doubt saved her life and her employee’s life. Instead of running or panicking, she’d full-on attacked, taking that psycho off guard.
“Any news from Nieto about her attacker?”
“Not yet. Guy’s got a lawyer, but I think they’ll get him to talk.”
“We’re in!” Elliott’s voice was excited as code started streaming across his computer screen and the two above his main one.
“Thanks again for having me over. Today’s been rough,” Amelia said to Mercado, her voice clear. The connection they had to the microphone in her cell was strong.
“She left her purse in the kitchen like we instructed.” Elliott was talking more to himself than anyone else at this point. “The phone’s stopped moving.”
Burkhart had worked with him long enough to know when he was in the zone.
“She seems to be a natural at this. Maybe we should recruit her.” Dax’s voice was only partially joking.
Her voice grew fainter, as did Mercado’s. They were moving to somewhere else on his property, which meant there wouldn’t be any audio for her right now.
Burkhart just laughed even though he was worried that she was a naturally good liar. It was good for the op, only he couldn’t help worrying about Ortiz. His man was very adept at covering his emotions, as were most of his agents, but Amelia Rios meant something to Ortiz.
Burkhart had noticed it the first time Ortiz talked about her, even though he’d covered it well. She’d been more than a friend to Ortiz. A lot more. Burkhart still wasn’t certain what to make of their relationship.
“You tell Ortiz about this?” Dax asked quietly.
“No. Didn’t want to distract him.” Ortiz was in a potentially important meeting right now, and if he knew Amelia was inside Mercado’s house—or had been attacked earlier—it could screw with his concentration. Especially since they didn’t currently have audio on her.
Burkhart didn’t like it, but it was the way it had to be. They had eyes on the house too, so if anyone left, they’d know. “How’re you coming along?”
“Much faster this time since I
already got a crack at his system once. There are still a few layers of encryption to slide through.”
Good. The sooner the better.
“Come on, he’ll never know. Don’t be such a baby,” a female voice streamed over the line.
“Who is that?” Burkhart demanded. He guessed it was Mercado’s daughter, since she lived at the palatial estate.
Eugene, the other analyst, pulled up another program on one of his screens. “Voice recognition says . . . Collette Mercado.”
“We shouldn’t disrespect him in his house,” a deep male voice said.
“It’s my house too. You used to be fun,” she snapped.
“Collette—”
There was a groan. Then another, longer one. Definitely sexual in nature.
Oh hell, they were having sex in the kitchen. Just great.
“Voice recognition says that’s Santino Luna, Iker’s head of security.”
Burkhart raised his eyebrows but didn’t respond. That was interesting and he made a mental note of it. If Mercado was involved in the kidnapping of all these women, maybe they’d be able to get to him through his daughter. Or his head of security. Burkhart had done thorough checks of all of Mercado’s people, so if Collette and Luna were having an affair, they were very secretive about it. Maybe he could use that against Luna. Burkhart never ruled out any option when it came to saving the innocent.
“I’m fully in,” Elliot announced quietly.
Burkhart’s heart rate increased a fraction, but he remained immobile. Years in the Navy had taught him to always remain calm and in control on the outside. His job now demanded it. “How long will it take to copy everything?”
“Few minutes, max.”
“Good work.” He glanced at the screen with the video feed of Freeman “working” on a light pole a few houses down from Mercado’s place. Everything looked clear on his end too.
Soon they’d have the information they needed. If Mercado was involved in any way, they were going to go after him fast and hard. And rip his life apart.
Chapter 17
Solid intelligence: the gold standard of information gathered from data processing.
Nathan let his hands drop to his sides as Alexander Lopez’s guard finished searching him for weapons.
Next to him, Selene did the same. Her real name was Selene Lazaro, but Lopez knew her as Selene Silva, a high-priced assassin.
They’d already had their vehicle searched and had been scanned with a metal-detecting wand. Nathan was surprised, since Selene and Lopez had a good relationship—the arms dealer had invited her alias to his wedding. The precaution was likely because she was bringing a stranger to his home—well, one of his homes.
“They’re clear,” one of the guards said quietly into a communicator Nathan couldn’t see.
Moments later Lopez strode out into the marbled entryway wearing flip-flops, green cargo pants, and a T-shirt that said FBI: FEMALE BODY INSPECTOR on the front.
Next to Nathan, Selene started laughing. “I can’t believe Allison let you wear that!”
Lopez just grinned. “She bought it for me.”
Selene laughed harder, shaking her head once. “At least she made you get rid of that awful statue out here.”
“You didn’t like it either?” Lopez sounded truly surprised.
Selene’s eyebrows lifted. “It was of a naked woman obscenely cupping herself between her legs and groping her breasts.” What do you think? was the implied, silent question.
Lopez shrugged, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “What’s not to love?”
Selene simply sighed and held out a hand to Nathan. “Miguel, this is Alexander. Alexander, Miguel. We appreciate you meeting with us today.”
After brief greetings were made, Lopez tilted his head toward a hallway. “Come on, let’s talk in my office.”
Two guards flanked them but stopped when Lopez opened a polished wooden door. Selene went ahead of Nathan, her heels making an insistent click-click sound as she moved. She’d dressed in all black today and looked sleek. Like an operator. Snug pants, strappy fitted top with a black custom-made jacket over it. No jewelry except for small earrings and a watch he knew turned into a garrote wire. She’d pulled her pale blond hair back into a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck so that it spilled down her back.
“Would either of you like something to drink?” Lopez motioned to a Chesterfield.
When Selene sat, so did Nathan. And when she declined a drink, he did too. Today he was following her lead. This was his first meet with Lopez and potentially the start of a relationship with the gunrunner who was always good for information.
Lopez poured a glass of scotch for himself before perching on the edge of his desk. In his early forties, the man was fit and muscular. His clothes were on the goofy side, but Nathan could see the man was prepared for an attack. It was likely a subconscious thing, but even as he sat, seemingly casual, all the lines of his body were pulled tight. “As usual, you were annoyingly vague,” he said to Selene. “So talk. And explain why you brought a friend.”
Selene crossed one long leg over the other and leaned back against the couch, the picture of casual elegance. “I brought Miguel because he’s in the same business as me. I simply wanted you two to meet, since I thought you could potentially be beneficial to each other in the future.”
Lopez shot him a glance, his expression neutral, before focusing on Selene again. “Okay. Why are you here?”
“Iker Mercado. Is he taking over the skin trade now that Paul Hill’s out of the way?” Her voice was crisp.
Lopez’s dark eyes narrowed. He set his tumbler down on the desk behind him. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m interested in doing business with him but not if he’s in any way like Hill.” Her answer was immediate.
So was Lopez’s relief. It was subtle, but Nathan noticed the way the man’s shoulders relaxed. Lopez was in a serious relationship with a former escort and had a general dislike for anyone who was involved in the sex or slave trade.
Lopez cleared his throat. “It’s not gospel, but as far as I know, he’s clean—as far as human trade goes. He deals mainly in antiquities and art. I didn’t know you were interested in that.”
Illegal antiquities and stolen art. One piece could fetch millions. And Mercado was suspected of heavy-duty smuggling as well.
“I’m not, exactly. Have you seen the news recently?” she asked.
A brief nod. “I’m always tuned in.”
“You saw the piece on the female remains found.”
He pushed out a sigh. “Yeah. Fucking serial killer in Miami.”
Selene was silent for a moment, as if weighing how much she wanted to say. It was all part of her cover, as Nathan knew. “I have a new client who wants me to find who killed those women.” And kill whoever did it, was her unspoken sentiment. “My client had a relationship with one of them.”
Lopez’s eyes narrowed. “Names and identities haven’t been released yet.”
Selene snorted, as if that didn’t matter. To someone like Selene Silva, it wouldn’t. If she wanted the names of the victims, her alias would get them.
Lopez continued before she could. “That’s why you’re here. You think Mercado might be involved? And you think or know those women were part of the skin trade?”
“Yes to the first and I don’t know to the second. My source says the police aren’t certain what happened to the women before they died. They could be victims of the skin trade or one sick fuck. Either way, I don’t care. I want to know who’s in charge.” Apparently she wasn’t going to mention the black-market-babies angle to him.
“I’ll see what I can find out. I don’t think Mercado’s your guy, though. He’s kind of . . . old-fashioned, I guess. A gentleman criminal, I’ve heard him called. We don’t run in the same circles, but I know a lot of people he interacts with.”
“Thanks. I’ll double your normal fee if you can get me solid intel in the next couple d
ays. My client is anxious.”
Lopez stood. “I’ll try.”
They talked for a few more minutes before leaving. Nathan kept his disappointment in check even when he and Selene were alone in the SUV. He’d been hoping for something solid and incriminating against Mercado. The darkly jealous part of him wanted the guy to be involved simply because of the way he looked at Amelia, but Nathan really wanted to find out who the leader of this operation was. And if someone was impregnating women and selling their babies on the black market, it would be more than a one-man show. It would be funded and organized.
If Mercado was their guy, they could stop looking and take him down. If he wasn’t, they still had to pin down a monster. Unfortunately there were a lot of them in the world. Finding one was like finding a needle in a stack of needles.
Once they were on the road—headed to a warehouse where they’d ditch this SUV and pick up another in case Lopez had them tailed—Nathan turned his encrypted cell back on. “Gonna check in with home base,” he murmured.
Selene just nodded and continued driving. She’d be heading out of town in a few days if Lopez didn’t make further contact with her. As far as Nathan knew she’d only come down to Miami because of her relationship with Lopez, but she wasn’t going to be part of this op long-term.
He had a few messages and two texts. The first was from Elliott. Rios got the date and we got the info. Job done.
Amelia had gone on another date with Mercado? When the fuck had that happened? He’d just seen her last night.
Frowning, he scrolled to the next text. From Dax. A attacked but fine. Guy caught. Former employee in custody. Check e-mail for full report.
His blood chilled as he reread the text. Amelia had been attacked again. She had to be okay, because she’d gone on a freaking date with Mercado according to when these texts were sent. He could speculate all he wanted about what had happened, but he decided to call her directly. When she didn’t answer he contacted Burkhart next.
“How’d it go?” Burkhart asked after two rings.
“Potentially good.” He quickly relayed everything, then asked, “So we got the intel from Mercado?” He wanted to find out what had happened to Amelia, but he didn’t want to act too eager.
