Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2)

by Victoria Paige

  He opened the door and was surprised to see Abbi Mena sitting up, taking a sip of water, with Lettie beside her.

  “My prodigal grandson shows up.”

  Lettie leaned in and kissed their grandmother’s forehead. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She looked at Migs. “Mamá went to get coffee.” His sister walked into him and gave him a tight hug, whispering in his ear. “She doesn’t know Ari is missing.” Lettie gave his arm a squeeze, letting him know that she cared. Then stepping back, she said loudly. “Don’t leave until Mamá comes back. She wants to talk to you.”

  “Miguelito, where is your wife?” Abbi Mena asked.

  Scrambling for something to say, he said, “She wasn’t sure she should come here.”

  A resigned look crossed her face. “I am sad she feels that way. If anyone in our family blames her, send them to me.”

  Migs had to smile at this. “Oh, and what would you say?”

  “I’d threaten to disinherit them.” She said, her eyes drooping.

  “You need your rest, abuelita.” Migs bent over to kiss her temple.

  “Mijo.” Her eyes widened a fraction. “Let go of your guilt.”

  Startled, he didn’t know what to say.

  “I know everyone is expecting you to take charge of the hacienda, but Joaquín is happy doing it. Don’t stay away again. Okay …?” Her eyes fluttered closed again.

  He let out a sigh of relief because he’d kill his cousin if he burdened their grandmother with the pictures on his phone.

  “Bring Ariana next time,” she mumbled. “And look for Hector …”

  He backed away slowly, glad he was able to talk to his grandmother before he embarked on the most important mission of his life. The next time he saw abuelita, Ariana would definitely be right beside him. He just wasn’t sure what mental or physical state she would be in. Migs viciously squashed those despairing thoughts. That was not what he needed right now. That poison of negativity.

  The door opened and he turned. It was Mamá.

  She motioned for him to come out and Lettie went in to stay with their grandmother.

  They walked the hallway in awkward silence. Migs didn’t know what to say, and it appeared his mother was at a loss for words for how to start too.

  When they reached a window at the end of the hallway, Delia sat at the bench below it and motioned for him to sit beside her.

  “I don’t know how to start this conversation, Miguel,” she said softly, canting her head to look at him. Her eyes were rife with sorrow and he was angry at himself for causing it. “Drew and I had a fight. He said you had to do what you had to do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I just want to know why my brother was killed. And how my son could keep the truth from me for four years. You were there when Pepito died. That’s why you avoided the family. Drew assured me you weren’t cartel, but that would mean … were you with the government?”

  “How much are you ready to hear?”

  Garrison had told him what he could say to his family when he was ready to unburden his role in his uncle’s death.

  “Everything.”

  “I can’t tell you everything and the reason I didn’t want to tell you any is … I didn’t want to taint your memory of Tio Pepito.”

  “He was killed in Tamaulipas during the time the Carillo cartel fell. That’s all I know. He was there for a town fiesta.”

  “Tell me, Mamá, why would Tio Pepito go to a fiesta in a place that’s a stronghold of a cartel not friendly to the Alcantaras?”

  “That’s what the family never understood!”

  Migs exhaled in frustration. “Because he was doing business with Carillo. At that time, they were dealing heroin and not cocaine.”

  “But why? The farms were doing so well.”

  “Gambling debts. And he found it was easy to launder money for the Carillos in addition to offering routes a few times a year.”

  “I still don’t understand …”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Mamá, I’ll explain more, okay? Just know in the end, Tio Pepito did the right thing, but it cost him his life.” The words backed up in his throat, but he pushed them through. “He gave us information that took down the Carillo cartel.”

  “Us? So, you are federal? DEA?”

  He kissed the top of his mother’s head. “I am anyone who would want to keep the Alcantaras safe.”

  Migs stood and left his mother to mull over his words and hopefully accept that he did what was best for the family.

  After leaving the hospital Migs went straight home to gather his things. Thankfully no one was there. His footfalls were like lead on the wooden floors, echoing in the empty house. He thought of Leon, how he was a casualty in all this. There would be a time to mourn his friend, and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around how Hector got involved in this.

  Did Hector know that Migs caused his father’s death?

  An eye for an eye.

  He kept his eyes averted from the bed he’d shared with Ariana. Finally getting a grip on his emotions, any reminder of the happiness of the past few weeks would send him spiraling into a useless mess again. So he called upon his training as a CIA operative because the person who would save his wife was the soldier, not the husband. It was the killer, not the man who’d fallen in love with her.

  Emotions had no place in dealing with men like Benito Carillo.

  Migs changed into jeans, a black tee, and biker boots. He slipped the ring out from the suit jacket pocket and carefully hid it in a compartment in his duffle. The second he got Ariana back, that ring was going on her finger.

  Ariana was his and he was getting her back.

  And with renewed determination, he left the Alcantara-Walker ranch.

  23

  Her body was paralyzed, her mind numb. Bright light in a haze of orange flickered behind her eyelids, but they were stuck together, refusing to open. Ariana floated in and out of consciousness. Every time she thought she could drag herself out of the quicksand of her darkest dreams, she’d get sucked in again.

  She would always hear music, whistling, and it would be followed by a prick on her neck.

  And she was helpless to stop it.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been under, but the voices talking around her were no longer muffled.

  “We should wake her up,” a female voice said.

  “When are you going to give it to her?” said a voice that she knew belonged to Benito.

  “I’m still establishing a baseline.”

  The malicious laugh curled her gut. “Oh, come now, doctor, my men are looking to have fun with this one.”

  “Rein in your men. No one is touching her.”

  Silence, and then there was a scuffle, metal things clattering to the floor. What followed was a woman’s strangled cry.

  “Perra. You don’t give me any orders!”

  “Let me go!” the woman choked.

  There was a shuffling of footsteps, a straightening of furniture.

  “Your buyers would want to have data. What if you’re wrong and she doesn’t have the antibodies?” The woman wheezed. “The virus will kill her.”

  “You think I care?” There was a grunt of displeasure. “You have three days. My buyers are impatient.”

  Footfalls faded and Ariana breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I know you’re awake,” the woman said.

  Ariana opened her eyes, astonished to see a female in full medical protection gear including a face-shield. The walls looked strange, uneven.

  “Where am I?”

  “In the lion’s den,” the woman said. “In Venustiano.”

  “I’m … I’m in Mexico?”

  “I’m Charly. Or you can call me Doc.”

  “You work for Benito?”

  “Work for is a stretch. You can say I’m here under duress.”

  “Wait. Are you the virologist who escaped with my brother?” Ariana struggled to get the wo
rds out clearly, her tongue felt alien in her mouth.

  Charly’s mouth tightened.

  Her mind was hazy, but all she could remember was this person also created another version of the virus. “How could you?”

  The virologist turned away. “How could I what? Study the virus? I’m a scientist.”

  “Science shouldn’t mess with nature.”

  Charly scoffed. “And you mess with the natural selection when you infuse your clients with much needed nutrients that their bodies couldn’t digest. So, how are we different?”

  Ariana’s head was throbbing. She was at a disadvantage in this argument. “I don’t weaponize viruses that could kill people … sell it to the highest bidder.”

  “I’m not the one selling anything. And you’re jumping to conclusions that I created this virus, but you can be sure I’m finding a cure. Which is exactly what I’m doing now.” She held up a syringe.

  Ariana tried to move, but realized she was secured to the bedrail of a hospital bed. “Let me go. Don’t do this.”

  The other woman lowered her head by Ariana’s ear. “You have to play along. I’m injecting you with a placebo.” She paused. “Not the real virus.”

  “Why does Benito think I have the antibodies in the first place?”

  Charly straightened and spoke in a normal voice. “Because when your brother escaped the CDC, he stole my work, and gave it to your nurse.”

  “Connie?”

  “Yes.”

  “So how can I have the antibodies?”

  Charly exhaled an irritated breath. “I checked and you do have the antibodies. You’re full of them. Connie must have given them to you with a shot of your vitamin infusion.”

  Ariana thought back to the last time she’d had the infusions. She’d had them twice since Raul’s death. Twice administered by Connie.

  “Well, then Connie must have taken them for herself.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I’ve tested her blood. She’s negative for antibodies. She said she wanted to be sure it worked on you and carried no side effects, before injecting herself with a drug that had no trials.” Charly’s mouth twisted. “Except when they threatened her daughter to get to you, she knew she picked the wrong side.”

  Ariana eyed the needle in Charly’s hand. It was a very large needle.

  The virologist’s gaze slid to her briefly. “The sooner you cooperate, the sooner Benito will let you go.”

  Even though she knew the virologist said it for the surveillance camera’s benefit, Ariana laughed sarcastically. “You believe that? And I heard my brother suffered badly.”

  “Then better hope the antibodies work.”

  “Didn’t John say he was coming in this morning?” Migs asked. “We’ve wasted an entire day waiting for him.”

  “He’s left LA. Flying in. Should be here any minute.” Bristow was cleaning his weapons. Migs probably should be doing the same.

  Ariana had been gone for forty-eight hours and it felt like a lifetime. Nadia had been keeping them busy with data from NSA’s satellite feed in addition to intel from the ground. The compound in Venustiano Carranza was fully functional. His asset fed them enough recon details to decide infiltration and exit points. Nadia also sent them a brief dossier on Benito’s trusted men—his sicarios. At the top of the list of hitmen was The Whistler. Not much was known about him except for several grainy photographs and that Benito called him “Silba.”

  They were landing in an area controlled by the Ponce-Neto Organization, next to Tampico. It made his stomach turn having to negotiate with the narcos, but the agency had historically been known to do this in the name of the greater good. A sneer wanted to form at the corners of his mouth. Sometimes ‘the greater good’ was in the interest of the lobbyists in Washington. But John was one of the good guys, he didn’t give a shit about who was pulling the strings in DC. He was concerned for the greater good of the country and not the benefit of the few. Which was probably why his handler was frequently demoted and reinstated because although he excelled at his job, John didn’t care who he pissed off.

  Migs hadn’t heard much about what the Carillo cartel was after, but it wasn’t hard to deduce that the weaponized Ebola virus had reared its ugly head. The original Z-91 had been manufactured unknowingly in one of Antonio Andrade’s labs and had been self-injected by Raul in a whole elaborate scheme to create a deadlier strain. This was completed inside the CDC when a rogue virologist used the mutated virus in Raul’s system to sequence its DNA and the Z-92 was born.

  But why Ariana? He thought about the vials and the buccal swabs in the house in the Valley where she went in exchange for Connie’s daughter. Did they need a close DNA match to duplicate the success of the strain that was in Raul? Carillo went to a lot of trouble to get to her.

  He’d been itching to ride his motorcycle again to burn off the agitation of waiting when he heard a vehicle pull up the driveway. He stalked to the window and took a peek.

  A Jeep Gladiator was idling before it shut off and Levi got out from the driver’s seat. Garrison slammed out from the passenger side. Migs frowned when the door behind the driver opened. More reinforcements? They could use more men.

  What he wasn’t prepared for—or rather who—was Antonio Andrade.

  What the fuck?

  It was a miracle Migs didn’t rip the hinges from the door when he stormed out to meet the newcomers.

  He glared at Andrade. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  “Worried I might steal Ariana?” Andrade raised a brow. “You married her to protect her. How’s that working for you?”

  Migs barely heard the shouting when, with a roar, he tackled the other man to the ground. He hammered him left and then right, but the Brazilian got one hard hit in. It felt like a wallop from a bat. Migs, being fueled with rage, didn’t care. They rolled on the ground until several arms restrained him, and he struggled to break free. The behemoth that was Levi finally managed an armlock around Migs, and with palms pressed against the back of his neck, immobilized him.

  John got in his face. “Get a grip, Walker, or we’re leaving you behind.”

  “The fuck you are! Just try, just fucking try.”

  Bristow gave Andrade a hand up. The Brazilian dusted off his stupid suit, got a handkerchief from the breast pocket and patted the blood from his nose, his cut lip. “I believe you have to direct that challenge to me.”

  John spun on Andrade and stabbed a finger in his direction. “Shut up.”

  Andrade raised a brow. “It’s my plane.”

  “And we can get another,” Garrison pointed out.

  “Are you sure? The reason you came to me was because I can make it happen quickly. You’re lucky I was still in LA.”

  “What the fuck, John?” Migs growled.

  The spook gave him a look. “You said I could make a deal with the devil.”

  “That’s not very flattering,” Andrade deadpanned.

  “Why are you helping?” Migs snarled, fighting to get out of the armlock. Finally, Levi let him go. Migs shook off his frustration before he launched himself at Andrade again. “You think you can get Ariana back for yourself?”

  “I may be many things, but I do respect the sanctity of marriage.” Antonio’s blue eyes gleamed. “Even though Ariana was supposed to be my bride and you gave her a quickie Vegas wedding.” He flicked an imaginary lint off his suit. “I would have given her a wedding fit for a queen.

  “Stop goading him,” John censured. “Can we take this inside?”

  “Connie did what?” Migs said incredulously.

  “We have Andrade to thank for this lead and we finally got Connie to confess,” John said. “He was able to track down one of Benito’s associates who was a member of Águila.”

  “Ariana was given a test vaccine for Z-92? Why did Raul give her this?” He paused. “Was he planning on releasing the virus in LA?”

  “Probably,” Andra
de said. “He still had his delusions about terrorizing the city to show his superiority. But in the end, he still cared for his sister.”

  Despite Ariana’s estrangement from Raul over the years, Migs knew she loved her brother, and apparently, Raul loved her too in his own twisted way. He did everything to draw his sister back into his orbit, even fake a cancer diagnosis.

  “So what does Carillo want with Ariana?” Migs asked.

  “Give her the virus,” Garrison said. “Test the efficacy.”

  “But why Ariana? Benito doesn’t have any other test samples of this vaccine?”

  “There were two missing vials from what were retrieved from Raul’s property. Connie said she’d dosed Ariana with one. She was keeping the other one for her daughter, but Carillo took it from her.”

  So Carillo was hanging on to that one vaccine, probably didn’t have the facility to produce it and would need a partner, but to do that he had to prove its efficacy. Migs surged to his feet and began to pace. “This is fucked up.” Then he glared at Andrade. “When did you suspect she’d been inoculated?”

  Andrade’s own eyes gleamed dangerously. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I wanted Ariana because of what her blood could offer.”

  Migs glanced at Garrison and noticed that John was staring at the billionaire thoughtfully and knew it wasn’t his own jealousy that had arrived at the same conclusion.

  “What then?” John asked quietly.

  “My interest is what has become of the virologist,” Andrade said. “He is the link to the traitor in our organization.”

  “Charles Bennett,” Migs said and noticed John give a start, but settled down and compressed his mouth in a thin line. “Right?”

  “Yes,” John clipped.

  “You’re not thinking of handing him over, are you?” Bristow asked their handler.

  He seemed to consider his answer carefully. “Mr. Andrade is fully cooperating with the CIA and we agreed it will be done under the agency’s supervision.”