“It’s some misplaced sense of chivalry.” He dropped beside her, propping on an elbow. “I deliberately didn’t bring a condom so I wouldn’t be tempted to fuck you.”
“Miguel, I hope you know I’m not a virgin. You don’t have to prepare me for a wedding night.”
His eyes flashed. “I hope you’re joking.”
“Uhm, okay, but I don’t understand. You’re being so vague..”
His eyes darkened. “I don’t fucking care if you’re a virgin or not. But I don’t want to discuss the men you’ve been with either.”
She sighed, trying not to get aggravated with her husband. “Then …”
“If I had a condom, I’d be fucking you now and wouldn’t have cleared the air between us.”
Ariana reared back. “You have that little self-control?”
“Where you’re concerned—yes.” He glanced at her ruefully. “My control is hanging by a very thin thread. A frayed fucking thread. You’re not the one with images of us this morning in bed.”
She giggled. She rarely giggled. “I’m sorry.”
“But …” he caught his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes roamed her body. “Tonight. You better be ready for tonight.” He glanced at the food spread that had been knocked almost past the borders of the blanket. “You better eat a lot. You’ll be needing it.”
14
“Joaquín should give a speech.”
“What about Miguel?”
“Let all the grandchildren give speeches.”
“I don’t like sitting in the center spotlight for too long,” Abbi Mena said, looking up briefly from crocheting.
The Alcantara-Walker family was gathered in the family room. Joaquín and several of his other relatives were in a web-session on the TV screen, finalizing the program for Abbi Mena’s eightieth birthday. Hector wasn’t on, which wasn’t surprising, as he was probably partying it up somewhere in Vegas.
Migs sat on a couch with Ariana tucked into his side. After their hot encounter by the stream this afternoon, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. As it was, he was playing with a curl of her hair, and he couldn’t resist kissing the top of her head randomly. He and Ariana hadn’t been contributing much to the flurry of conversation bouncing around the room. He felt as much like an outsider as his wife right now. His mind was occupied with filthy things he wanted to do to her after this meeting was over, and he didn’t give a flying fuck whether Joaquín wanted to make the speech. Migs would rather honor abuelita in private, not show off in front of a crowd.
His older cousin didn’t acknowledge him or his marriage either, unlike his other relatives who immediately welcomed Ariana to the family. He knew Tessa wanted to call out their cousin on this blatant snub. His sister was always ready to fight for her younger brother, but it also wasn’t unusual to ignore the elephant in the room when the whole clan was involved. Abbi Mena had six children. Many of them had formed their own families, drifted away, and only gatherings such as this brought them together.
“Okay, not everyone will give speeches,” Tessa said. “I say we give them before dinner. If we give them after, some will leave.”
“They won’t leave,” Joaquín scoffed. “Who wouldn’t take advantage of an open bar?”
If it wasn’t for the family’s avocado business, he doubted Joaquín would be a constant in his parents’ everyday lives. Migs and Hector, though, were as thick as thieves. Or they used to be. Hector was the little brother he never had, and, apparently, his younger cousin shared his lack of enthusiasm for these clan meetings. Observing his older cousin now, Migs derided that Joaquín had never changed much since he was a boy. Hair slicked back, button-down shirts always starched, and Migs would bet they were spotless. It must be Tio Pepito’s influence—the desire to mold his son into the head of the clan. At the thought of his uncle, the familiar guilt pinched his chest.
“Our guests are not like that,” Tessa shot back.
“You make it sound like your friends are better than mine?” Joaquín said. “It would have made more sense to have this gathering in Michoacán.”
“She had her seventy-fifth there and invited the whole town of Cayetano,” Delia interceded because Tessa looked as if she was about to reach through the screen and tear Joaquín a new one. “She wants a cozier gathering now. Not a thousand, but two hundred. Friends and family, of which the majority is living in the U.S. and Canada anyway. No politicians.”
“She has many close friends from the UC-Berkeley,” Pat added. “My professor knows the great Filomena Alcantara.”
Abuelita put down the crochet piece she was working on. “All right. Enough.” She turned to her daughter. “Reservations have been finalized, sí?”
“Sí, Mamá.” Delia said. “We already paid.”
“Why are we wasting time arguing about the venue and speeches. It’s my birthday. There are appetizers, right?”
“Yes, there’s a cocktail hour.”
“Have the speeches before dinner. I care more about my grandchildren being nervous about giving speeches and not being able to eat, than people who just come to eat and can’t wait fifteen minutes for their food.” She glanced at Tessa. “Is the menu finalized?”
“Yes, we just need a final headcount.”
Transferring her gaze to Bella, she asked. “After the food, there’ll be dancing, sí?”
“Sí, Abbi Mena.”
“Then we talk about entertainment. Who will be dancing?” Abbi Mena glanced over at Migs.
He froze.
“You danced the tango with me before. You did it very well.”
Ariana pulled away from him, an impish grin on her face. “You dance?”
“Last time was at your birthday five years ago,” he reminded his grandmother.
“You have three weeks to prepare. I see no problem.” Abuelita tipped her chin at Ariana. “You know how to dance?”
“I do,” Ariana replied instantly and Migs would even say … eagerly.
“Dance with Miguel.” Her gaze swept across the room. “I want everyone to dance. No excuses.”
“Migs and Ari should dance the Cubana Salsa,” Bella declared.
“Hell, no,” he muttered at the sister who seemed to be the bane of his existence.
That same sister now plopped down beside them. “Convince him, Ari. He’s really good at it too. He used to make the girls swoon in high school.”
“Seriously, how would you know this?” Migs shot back. “You were what? Five?”
“Six,” Bella said. “I used to answer the phone all the time”
“He really did,” Tessa laughed. “Mamá would be so annoyed with all the girls calling the house—”
“I’m sorry. Are we done now?” Joaquín cut through their conversation and stared at his watch. “Because I have to wake up early tomorrow.”
“We’re done,” Tessa clipped. “I’ll just send your part of the bill. How about that?”
“See you in a few weeks.” Joaquín signed off.
When the last of the relatives clicked off, Tessa threw up her hands. “What’s his problem?”
“I knew having a big celebration would be a problem,” Abbi Mena sighed.
“Don’t say that, Mamá,” Drew, who’d been quiet through the whole meeting, said. “Joaquín is just stressed, Tessa.” He addressed his oldest daughter. “You shouldn’t be too hard on him. He handles the day-to-day operations of our farms and there are slight problems.” Pops’ eyes cut briefly to Migs, pulling him out of his Ari haze and smacking him with the problem his father brought up yesterday.
Tessa turned to Cesar, who’d been holding their daughter. “Is that why you’ve been distracted these past few weeks? Is my cousin giving you grief?
“No, he’s not. There are problems, but it’s nothing new.”
“Problems like what?”
“One of the trucks broke down.” Cesar stood and handed Gigi to her. “Which is why I said I might be working late tonight.” He s
lipped out his phone and looked at it. “Yeah, truck driver is saying he’s almost at the warehouse. I’m going to go let him in.”
Miguel’s focus sharpened, watching his brother-in-law’s actions and words carefully. Ari’s hand trailed on his thigh and he grabbed it to stop its upward path.
“Why do you have to be the one?” Tessa asked. “You have several supervisors under you?”
Cesar’s jaw tightened. “It’s the weekend, Tessa.”
Drew stood. “I’ll go with you.”
Migs kissed the top of Ari’s head in resignation and stood as well. “No. I’ll go, Pops.”
“You?” Delia asked. “Why you? You have a wife to take care of.”
His conscience wrestled inside him. His father’s face was neutral, and Cesar seemed like he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.
A calming hand interlaced with his fingers as he felt Ariana stand up beside him.
“It’s okay,” Ariana said, with teasing in her voice. “Maybe it’ll give me a chance to catch up on my sleep.”
Everyone laughed, his younger sisters making gagging noises. He turned his head to Ariana, the understanding in her eyes made his heart lurch, and he couldn’t resist grabbing her face and planting a deep searing kiss.
More gagging noises from the peanut gallery, but he didn’t care.
“I’ll wait for you in the driveway, bro,” Cesar said.
Migs waved him off without breaking his kiss, but when he finally did, he was staring deeply into her eyes, searching.
“Wait for me?” he murmured.
“I’ll try.” Her lips—swollen from all their kisses during the day—tipped up at the corners.
He planted another kiss on her forehead before following Cesar.
Cesar was waiting for him in an old Bronco. Migs knew his brother-in-law loved the pickup his old man had left him. Tessa’s husband was half-Mexican, half-American like the Alcantara-Walker children. His mother was the daughter of a rancher near Laredo on the Texas-Mexico border and his father was the foreman at the ranch. After their ranch had been overtaken by the cartel and his father was killed, Cesar’s mother took him to San Diego. Tessa’s husband was no stranger to the violence south of the border, which was why Migs couldn’t believe he’d be involved in cocaine smuggling.
Unless someone was threatening Tessa or Cesar’s mother.
Or even the Alcantara-Walker family.
Migs was here now. He’d be damned before he let his family handle this mess alone.
“So, how’s it been going?” Migs probed. “We haven’t had time to catch up.”
Cesar started the Bronco and pulled away from the driveway. “Been busy. Business is good. Pain in the ass. Gigi keeps us awake at night, but I can’t complain.” He glanced at Migs briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Between my mom and the Alcantara-Walker family, I have it really good.”
There was silence for a few minutes, then Cesar said, “I know Drew suspects something. I have a feeling he pulled you into this.” The Bronco decelerated, and Migs stiffened. Despite his trust in his brother-in-law, he was still thankful he’d grabbed the Beretta from his room.
Cesar parked on the street, three blocks before the warehouse and turned to him. “The truck may be carrying cocaine. Leon and I will be interrogating the driver when he comes in.” He exhaled a frustrated breath. “I hoped I’d have more information before I broke it to Drew. How did he find out?”
“Joaquín knew. He suspected when someone at a party tipped him off about it.”
Cesar cursed and punched the steering wheel.
“How long has this been going on?” Migs asked.
“Two months. I don’t know if it’s been going on longer than that. The shipment with the cocaine happens every other week. This is the first time the truck broke down.”
“How did you find out the first time?”
“A worker noticed the avocados in one of the boxes seemed off and called my attention to it.”
“Avocados?” Migs was confused. “What are you talking about? The cocaine was in a modified wheel well.”
In the darkness of the Bronco cab, he could see the flash of Cesar’s smile. “No, my brother. That’s too amateur for whoever’s running this operation. If the custom’s officer or dogs didn’t find it, Leon certainly would have.”
“But that’s where Joaquín’s man found the cocaine.”
Cesar shrugged. “Then we’ll check there too.” He glanced at the dashboard clock. “We need to get moving. Leon should already be there.”
Ramon was tied to a chair in the office overlooking the warehouse. He was the driver of the tractor-trailer.
He denied knowledge of the mastermind of the cocaine shipment in the Alcantara truck. He could be telling the truth as drug mules were frequently kept in the dark as to who hired them. There was always a middleman, and the mules were a conduit, bringing the goods through the border, no questions asked. They were paid handsomely, too. Leon found ten thousand dollars in the driver’s overnight bag.
They were speaking in Spanish.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Ramon,” Leon asked. “Who hired you?”
Finally, Ramon said he didn’t know, but his contact was a man only known as El Silbador—the whistler—because that was how he made himself known as he emerged from the darkness with his cohorts hauling boxes of the drug.
As Leon continued to try different tactics to extract information, Migs picked up the fake avocado. The skin appeared to be made from truck bed liner and the cocaine was in a condom coated with paraffin and shaped into the seed. It weighed twenty-eight grams. Street price of each avocado was twenty-eight hundred dollars. Twenty-four avocados in each box and fifty boxes?
Over three point three million dollars.
Was he surprised? No. This was one reason why cocaine was big business.
“What were you planning to do, Cesar?” Migs asked.
“This is the biggest shipment yet, and I’m thinking about not letting this through, except …” Cesar’s exhaled deeply. “I don’t want to start shit, brother, when Abbi Mena’s birthday is coming up.”
Migs would agree. Without knowing who hired Ramon, it was risky to throw a gauntlet when a gathering was planned by the family in a public place—the San Diego Country Club to be precise.
“So, in answer to your question …” Cesar paused as if still figuring out what to do. “We’re replacing the avocado box we muddled with a real one. It’s what we did before when we first discovered it.”
“They won’t suspect?”
“They might, but it would be better than no shipment.”
“Where is this batch going to?”
“Las Vegas,” Leon answered.
“Always?”
“No. Most of the time it’s LA.”
“Do you know if—” Migs canted his head, hearing scraping on the roof, creaking.
Cesar and Leon glanced up too.
“Who’s guarding the gate?” Migs demanded.
“Per—” Leon started.
A blast rocked the entrance of the warehouse.
“Fuck!” Migs hastened to the window overlooking the facility. Figures in black assault gear emerged from a cloud of smoke and were moving toward the stairs. He glanced at Cesar and Leon, who’d drawn their guns. “Don’t.”
“Get the hell behind us, Migs,” Leon growled.
The words barely left the older man’s mouth when two dark figures crashed through the office windows, knocking Cesar and Leon down.
Migs had his arms up when he saw the patches on the men’s uniform.
“DEA! Don’t move.”
It was a raid.
15
“On your knees!” A DEA agent barked. The newcomers’ faces were streaked with camouflage paint.
Migs complied while keeping his arms raised and his mouth shut.
Cesar and Leon were shoved to their knees. Ramon, who was still tied to the chair, was so close to tears t
hat Migs felt a twinge of pity in his chest because he knew without a doubt that the man’s life was screwed.
The second agent walked over to Migs, checked him for weapons, and found his Beretta. Cesar’s eyes widened when it was held up, but Migs kept an impassive face.
Footsteps stormed up the staircase and, with a show of force, the rest of the DEA team flooded into the room.
One of them broke away and stalked over to the mess of avocados on the table.
“Fuck me,” he said. “These traffickers are getting more creative by the day.”
“We were handling it,” Cesar gritted out. “We were questioning our truck driver when you guys swooped in.”
Don’t antagonize the man, Cesar, he thought. Migs didn’t want to blow his cover if he didn’t have to.
“Yeah. So you knew he was muling the drugs in.” The agent who inspected the fake avocados said.
Cesar clamped his mouth shut.
“Not talking, huh?” The agent taunted. “Guess you’ll need a lawyer.” He turned to Migs “And who are you?”
“Miguel Walker.”
“You’re Drew Walker’s son.” The whites of the man’s eyes all but disappeared as he approached him. “I’ve heard all about you. Aren’t you supposed to be in LA?”
“Visiting my parents.”
“And you just happened to be on this drug bust?”
Silence.
The man brought his nose within inches of Miguel’s. “What exactly are you doing here, Walker? Heard you’ve been thuggin’ it out on the streets of LA.”
Fuck. Maybe his reputation wasn’t helping him at the moment, and he’d be needing his get-out-of-jail free card sooner, except he doubted he’d be able to use his phone any time soon.
The agent gave him a smug smile before glancing over to the man who’d confiscated Migs’ weapon. “I hope you guys have licenses to carry those weapons.”
Addressing the room at large, the presumptive lead DEA agent said. “Cuff them and get them to the station. Let’s see how they get out of this mess.”
Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 14
