“Miss Ortega.” The way the Irish-Samoan man said her name, with pity and regret, tightened the bow-string tension holding her emotions together.
She entered her house and that tension broke.
Drawers on the floor, cabinet doors flung open. Her lungs expanded as she struggled to contain the sob rising up her throat.
The gilded antique sofa set she’d won at a charity auction was torn into shreds, its upholstery and pillows ripped open, feathers and foam scattered on the accent rug. She walked over to the bureau, her eyes taking in the overturned oriental jar at the corner.
Everything that could be torn was shredded. And anything that could be broken was smashed, including her photo with Raul and Jose. The last photo taken when Jose was alive.
“Fuck.” Miguel’s curse vaguely registered in her ears.
The world receded and a tunnel engulfed her. All she could see was the faded photograph that lay among the shards of glass. She bent over and reached for it, shaking the chips off, and then straightened.
A finger traced the outline of Jose and then Raul. She was fifteen in the photo. Jose was twenty and Raul was twenty-six, already a second-in-command of the cartel in Tijuana.
“Ari …”
“I know you guys didn’t do this,” she whispered, still staring at the photo. “Will this ever end? Is it my life they want?”
“Don’t say that!” Migs said fiercely. She could feel the heat of his body against her back, but her body shuddered with a chill radiating deep within her. It was as if she was standing on a precipice of a cliff, waiting for someone to push her over and end her misery.
She was raised Catholic. It had been ingrained in her that suicide would lead her straight to hell, but there were times she believed that getting hunted down by the cartel was even worse. Their brutality was legendary and falling into their hands would indeed be the worst kind of hell.
Ariana turned and faced Migs and was taken aback by his feral eyes, the hard set of his jaw. If Ariana wasn’t able to express anger, he was doing it double-time on her behalf.
“Can you honestly say, Leah wouldn’t be in this predicament if I’d died with my brother?” she asked.
Migs flinched at the mention of her dying. Ariana admitted she could be dramatic. It had been the story of her life from the start—full of drama. She didn’t know how to live without the chaos. She tried, even shunning Raul after Jose died. But her surviving brother worried about her and reeled Ariana back into his world, whether unwittingly or not, in his attempt to shield her.
Resentment bubbled up inside her. If Raul took a different path and didn’t get caught up with the gangs, where would she be now? Ariana shook her head in self-deprecation. “I’m blaming Raul. See what a bad sister I am? He’s dead and here I am wishing he was alive so I could yell at him for days.”
“You’re very forgiving,” Migs clipped.
She canted her head in question.
“I’d be wishing he were alive so I could kill him all over again.”
“Oh,” Ariana said. “But why do you hate him? He was just a job for you.”
“Why do I hate him?” His hands grabbed her shoulders, giving her a slight shake. “You have to ask?”
“Migs—”
“Because of his selfish ambition, he put you in danger! Because of his greed, he put you in the cartel’s crosshairs,” he gritted. “Now even in death, you’re still a target because of him. And you ask me why?”
“But—”
“No buts. I’d drag your fucking brother from his damned grave, just to kill him again. And fuckin-again.”
Ariana crossed her forehead and chest. “It’s bad to speak ill of the dead.”
His eyes lightened and a slight smile curved his mouth. “You started it.”
“Not to the extent you did. I just wanted to scream at him.”
The back of his hand caressed her face. She didn’t shy away. In fact, she wanted to lean into the comfort of it, but she remembered she wasn’t supposed to trust him. Migs came back because his people needed something from her. As if deciphering the conflict in her features, he lowered both arms and took a step back. Just then, movement from the door drew their attention.
Ariana could feel the waves of displeasure roll off Miguel as she lifted her gaze and was shocked to see Garrison and Antonio. Migs invaded her personal space again, and she felt like a lone fire hydrant in the dog park, judging by how the man beside her and Antonio traded scathing looks across the room.
Then Antonio turned his attention on her wrecked house and fury darkened the businessman’s usual stoic face.
“Did Carillo do this?” Antonio was looking at Migs.
“You don’t know?” Migs replied. “Didn’t you tip them off that you were coming into the country?”
The other man’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t expect them to do this.” He walked into the house as Garrison followed behind him.
“You told me you wouldn’t negotiate with them until you had my answer,” Ariana said.
“It’s not unusual to make exploratory talks.”
“Do your friends at the Ponce-Neto cartel know this, Andrade?” Migs asked. “Or did Carillo do a pre-emptive strike because they know you’re just stringing them along and planned to double-cross them in the future?”
“They would be suspicious anyway. Once they heard that I was in LA,” Antonio said.
“But you tipped them off,” Migs insisted. “You did that because you knew how they would react. If Ari came home to this, she would have no choice but to accept your fucking proposal. For protection.”
Feeling left out, and especially since it had everything to do with her, she glared at Migs. “You don’t know that.” Then she turned her glare on Antonio. “Is this true? Did you bait them?”
The businessman pressed his mouth together and glowered at Migs.
“Oh my God. All the while that you were indulging me in expensive food and my favorite wine, you were stabbing me in the back.”
“That was not my intent,” Antonio objected. “I did not know they would have the audacity to carry out such a provocative response. Not while we were at dinner.”
“Sure… ” her ex-bodyguard taunted.
“I’ve had enough of your side-comments, Walker.” Antonio slitted his gaze.
“Wanna take this outside, Andrade? Heard you were quite the scrapper back in the day.”
“Again, with this cockfight.” Ariana stomped a foot. “Enough. Both of you are like boys fighting over a toy, and I am sick of being everyone’s punching bag. Tell me what you all are after. I will tell you what I know, so you can all leave me the hell alone.
“Can’t do that, Ari,” Migs said. “From what’s gone down here, I’d say Leah was just a diversion. The new cartel capo wants two things, revenge against your brother, but they’re also looking for something.”
A knot formed in her throat. “Who did you say it was?”
“Benito. He ousted his cousins and now has control of the organization.”
John Garrison who had been quietly—or rather blatantly enjoying this exchange—straightened from his lean near the door and approached their circle. “Has Migs informed you of the missing virologist?”
“The one who helped my brother escape? Yes,” Ari responded.
“Your brother was smart. He knew he could be betrayed. Prior to infecting himself with Ebola, he’d prepared himself to survive it.” Garrison looked at Antonio. “Care to elaborate?”
“My company was one of the frontrunners in producing a vaccine,” Antonio said. “Unbeknownst to me, another lab was weaponizing the virus. Long and short is, the Z-91 and the modified vaccine can be used to produce the ultimate antiserum.”
“So whoever has the virus and the cure …” Ariana started.
“Has a very valuable weapon on his hands,” Antonio finished.
“Valuable,” Ariana scoffed. “How can you let this happen?”
A muscle ticked at And
rade’s jaw. “I’m not shirking responsibility. That is why I need to fix this.”
“In short, you fucked up,” Migs said. “But you’re not using Ari as a pawn.”
“Do you enjoy twisting my words, Walker? You want me to look like the villain of this piece?” Antonio fixed his gaze on her. “Walker wants to turn you against me, but we need to fix this together.”
“Because my brother started this …” she whispered in defeat.
Miguel’s massive body shifted in front of her, blocking her view of Antonio.
“You. Are. Not. Using her.” If Miguel’s fury was an eddy before, it was a tsunami now.
“You have a better answer? The cartel won’t leave her alone.”
“We already know that,” Migs snarled. “We can protect her.”
Ariana laid a placating hand on his arm. Her emotions were as confused as ever, and she was no stranger to manipulation.
“Oh, and after you get what you want, you’ll leave her to the wolves, just like you did when Raul died,” Antonio taunted.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Migs snapped. “I have a plan.”
“The best thing for her is to come with me to Brazil,” Antonio said. “Wait for things to calm down. Think, Ariana. I’ll have a security team to protect you. You want to open a beauty business, Brazil is the place to do it. People from all over the world flock there to have world-class plastic surgery.”
Ariana couldn’t argue with him there, thinking of the words ‘Brazilian butt lift.’ Not that she needed assistance with her posterior. A corner of her mouth lifted.
“You’re not seriously thinking about this, are you?” Migs exploded, clasping her arm and spinning her around to face him, the thundercloud in his face immediately chased away all thoughts of frolicking in skimpy bikinis on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro.
“Calm down, Walker,” Garrison warned.
“Of course not,” she snapped.
“Unhand her,” Antonio snarled.
“Ari …” With his face backlit, Migs eyes were dark and more sinister, and yet she wasn’t afraid of him. She was, however, infuriated at his bossiness.
“Stop, Miguel. Just stop! Can’t a woman just stop and think?”
“You can’t stay here,” Antonio said. “I have the penthouse at the Westin. It has several—”
“I don’t think so, pal. Who do you have with you? Quasimodo?” Migs said.
“I have contacts in security companies. I can hire more to protect her. They can have men for me within the hour.”
“Don’t waste your time. I’ve got her.”
The scream inside her was growing louder and louder. She had to pick one of them. As it was, she was a sitting duck, and she changed her mind about being better off dead. This whole deal with the cartel was pissing her off. But in order to thwart those pendejos, she needed to survive first. And she knew her chances were better with Migs. She didn’t know Antonio that well, and she still wasn’t sure if he deliberately set her up.
“Migs is right. I’m going with him,” she said.
“Ariana …” Antonio’s jaw slackened, and for the first time, vulnerability flashed in his eyes.
“I can’t marry you, Antonio.”
The man’s mouth flattened. “Don’t make rash decisions. I can still make you untouchable from Carillo.”
“How about—” the tattooed biker started.
Ariana planted herself in front of Migs, glaring up at him. “Enough. I’m handling this.”
She grabbed Antonio by his arm and led him to a corner, all too aware of Miguel’s eyes on them. Fuck that bossy man. He could give her this.
When she was sure they were out of earshot, she tilted her chin up to Antonio. “I don’t think we’re right for each other.”
“I see,” he said, before flicking his eyes over her shoulder. “And this has nothing to do with Walker showing up?”
“No.” That was the truth. Well, partly.
Antonio’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something between the two of you. I’m not blind, Ariana.”
“He was my bodyguard …”
“And nothing else?”
“I’m more comfortable with him. This is such a confusing time for me. I don’t want to regret marrying you.”
“If you don’t want marriage, would you agree to be my mistress?”
Ariana had to laugh at that. His bluntness. “No.”
“I don’t give up easily,” he said. “You don’t see our union the way I do. We’ll be good for each other. We understand how the world works behind the walls of the perfect Latino family.”
He raised his hand and brushed her cheek the way Migs did earlier, but although he didn’t make her flinch, she didn’t want to lean into him. How interesting. Two attractive men and yet totally different responses.
“No, we don’t. You don’t require love—I do.”
His face shuttered. “And you think you’ll find that with Walker?”
“Migs is just a friend. I’m not sure we’re even that right now.” Ariana didn’t know if she could ever trust him with her emotions, but deep inside, she knew she could trust him with her life. “I have no expectations of him. I have no expectations of my life except to survive this mess my brother left me.”
Antonio nodded. “Don’t forget, I’m a phone call away. Anything you need, Ariana.” He stepped back and, without saying another word, turned around and headed for the door.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Garrison called as the businessman passed him.
Ariana only released a sigh of relief when Antonio was out the door. Now they had to focus on getting Leah back, and then as though the universe heard her, Bristow appeared at the entrance with Connie.
Ariana rushed over to her friend, anxiety surging at the look on the woman’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Connie handed her a scrap of bloodied fabric. “This was in a package delivered to my apartment. That piece of cloth is from Leah’s blouse.” Her voice trembled. “There’s a note. A demand.”
“What do they want?”
Her friend’s eyes pleaded with hers. “You.”
5
“I’m not liking this.”
Miguel’s voice came into the earpiece they’d outfitted on her. She parked in front of a house in San Fernando Valley. The note with Connie had a phone number instructing Ariana to call. She was given directions to this address that, thankfully, was the same one Miguel’s team was staking out.
“It’s me they want, and they said to come alone.”
“You could’ve bargained.”
“You know they won’t fall for a bodyguard coming with me. They’re going to make you. If Antonio did, then they probably have a file on you already,” she said. “And you have the thermal signatures, you know where everyone is.”
A frustrated breath came out loud and clear in her ear.
“I’ll be careful,” she added. “Besides, Garrison said it’d be good to get a feel for what they want from me.”
“And Garrison also said we’re not sure if the blood on that fabric belongs to Leah.” There wasn’t enough time to run DNA and Ariana wasn’t willing to wait.
“You’ve been overruled, Walker,” the man they were discussing came over the line. “Now stick to the plan. Connie has received proof of life. You can step out of the car, Ariana.”
Showtime.
This wasn’t her first rodeo and, as she opened the SUV door and stepped down, she recalled the time she offered herself in a swap for the teen stars Raul had kidnapped. But this case was different. Back then, she knew her brother would never harm her. She didn’t have those reassurances from the men in the house.
The CIA didn’t know who they were with certainty. The ransacking of her house didn’t prove they were looking for something, it could also be their way of tormenting her. A way to make her life miserable. As if kidnapping Leah wasn’t punishment enough. She could see the fear in Miguel’s eyes, fear he attempted to hide with his grumbli
ngs about being a bad idea, but his unspoken words were clear.
What if they shot her on sight?
She’d changed out of her dinner clothes and wore jeans and a loose blouse. She’d layered a camisole underneath to hold in the wire and wore sneakers. Better to run with just in case. She should be baking in this warm weather, but her fingers were like ice.
“No sniper in sight,” Bristow reported. “She should be fine. Go ahead, Ariana.”
Gulping back the rising nausea in her throat, she made her way to the house. The men were talking in her ear, and as much as she wanted to listen, all she knew was Leah was in the back of the house and Levi was leading a team to get her out. Migs and Garrison were hiding in the shadows, ready to swoop in and grab her in case things went wrong. Nadia Powell, a woman she’d never met but was familiar with, was handling surveillance. Powell also planted an insect drone inside the house.
When Ariana reached the door, it opened without her knocking. They must have been watching her on a camera because Bristow or Powell would have alerted them if someone was at the window.
She didn’t recognize the man before her. He was not that much taller than Ariana with a thick mustache over his mouth. His hand clamped over her biceps and yanked her in, slamming the door.
She could hear Migs cursing in her ear.
“Miss Ortega.”
“Where’s Leah?” she asked.
The man’s fingers squeezed her arm. “You don’t ask the questions. We do.” The man felt her up for weapons or a wire. The one they put on her was like tape and could be hardly sussed out. She still held her breath when Mustache Man paused around her torso and then she gritted her teeth as he squeezed her breasts lingering there, the lecherous look in his eyes made her skin crawl. But she was doing this for Leah. Poor Leah.
“I want to see her. Make sure she’s okay.” They sent Connie a video of her daughter in front of the TV switched to the ZNN news channel to show proof that she was alive and okay. At the man’s glare, she insisted. “Or I’m not saying anything. Your choice.”
“Perra,” the man spat. He dragged her along a narrow hallway, and she noted the number of men with guns in tow. There were four. Ariana wasn’t familiar with the type of weapons but they looked like the high-powered ones that the military used. The cartel was better equipped than most military or police in Mexico.
Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 4
