“Oh boy, now Diego’s pissed,” Michael whispered, his eyes wide and still a bit unfocused. “Get behind me.” That was pretty impossible, seeing as he was leaning against the wall. I stayed put with my hands in the air while my dad gingerly crept back inside and shut the window. The frigid air hung in the room and goosebumps prickled on my skin.
Diego began muttering to himself. His finger hovered just above the trigger—a lot closer than I was comfortable with in his current state. He was half drunk, in not much better shape than Michael right now. Had Michael been fully sober and alert, I had no doubt the four of us could have taken charge of the situation and disarmed a drunk Diego. But with Michael and Fritz both compromised and my dad half frozen, that left me, and only me. I didn’t like those odds. A wave of nausea swept over me as I stood there, afraid to move. His eyes looked us over wildly. I could see comprehension dawn on his face as he realized Darcy was no longer with us.
“¡Cabrónes!” he said, his boots stomping on the floor. “Where’s the other girl? The loud one? There were two of you before.”
I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what I was going to say, but my dad cut me off.
“She’s long gone by now, Diego. And there’s no use trying to find her.” Diego’s face turned red and splotchy as he realized one of his hostages had escaped. He ran over to the window. “She’s a well-trained survivalist, an EMT, and part of the local avalanche search and rescue,” my dad continued. Where was he coming up with this? Darcy’s only survivalist skills were navigating her suburban neighborhood streets as a teen driver in Ohio. “She’s probably halfway down the mountain by now. The cops are going to be swarming this place any minute.”
Diego gripped the gun in anger, a vein popping out on his forehead. He stomped over to my dad and hit him across the face with the butt of the gun. I cried out and reached for him, but Michael caught my arm and held me back. An evil grin spread across Diego’s face, and his chest heaved with every breath. Blood trickled from my dad’s cheek, but his gaze remained level.
“Take me to Izzy,” he said, spitting blood. “I’m the one you want. Let these people go. They have nothing to do with this.”
Diego’s eyes glistened. “Oh, I take you to see Izzy, all right. All in good time, amigo. All in good time.” Hefting his gun up, he motioned Fritz, Michael, and my dad to go out in the hall. As I began to join them, he stepped in front of me.
“Ah, not you, amiga. Not yet. El jefe wants to talk to you. Alone.
“Marco!” he yelled down the hall. “¡Ven aquí!” After a minute, Marco appeared and the two of them whispered while Diego kept the gun unsteadily trained on my dad. Marco disappeared but came back shortly, he and Diego resuming their animated, hushed discussion.
I could see Michael’s eyes beginning to come back into focus as we waited, and he appeared to be standing taller, unassisted. Perhaps his high was finally wearing off. I hoped so, for all of their sakes. He was the best hope they had of escaping. He caught my eye and began mouthing something. I couldn’t make out what he was trying to say, but I saw the anguish in his eyes.
Diego, unfortunately, saw his efforts at communication, pushed Marco into the room with me, and slammed the door. I was now alone in the game room with Marco. I could hear Michael arguing with Diego, and then I heard the sound of the gun barrel hitting flesh, followed by a loud grunt. Tears sprang to my eyes. What was he doing to my husband? I rushed to the door, but Marco stopped me. His eyes held a slight look of compassion, and he slowly shook his head. Fear and rage overtook me, and I began to shake. While I wasn’t afraid of Marco, Diego was still just beyond the door. If I tried to force my way out of the room now, it would only end badly.
“Sit down,” Marco urged, nodding at the couch. “You listen, everything be okay.” I could see the doubt in his eyes, and a wave of nausea overtook me. What was going to happen to us? How could I possibly sit in here and wait, as if everything were going to be okay?
Marco reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two small bottles of water. He looked at them briefly, as if considering whether to give me one, and finally handed it to me, avoiding my gaze.
I could hear Diego yelling at the guys to move, and their footsteps quickly retreated down the hall. My mind raced as I thought of ways to overtake Marco. He was old, sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t strong. And he had a gun. I had a…Maglite. Not really a fair match. Not for the first time, I was wishing I still had the Ruger. But could I use it against this old man? He didn’t seem like a hardened criminal. He seemed like someone who was resigned to his fate.
I hesitantly looked up at his face. His eyes were downcast, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. He looked exhausted. Were middle-of-the-night hostage situations a common thing for him here in the Rockies surrounding Elkston, Colorado? Likely not. He looked like a rancher, not a criminal.
I twisted the lid off my water bottle and gulped it down eagerly. The stress of the evening had made me completely parched. I reached into my pocket and pulled out another protein bar. Chocolate chunk. Normally a flavor I would love. But my stomach protested and I put it away.
Sitting down on the couch, I leaned back and closed my eyes. I wasn’t afraid of Marco, and I needed to think. My breathing slowed steadily, and I felt my body quickly begin to relax. Opening my eyes, I noticed Marco staring at me, watching me carefully. Only, after a second, there were two Marcos. Maybe three. Wait. Why was my vision blurry? I tried to say something to him, but speaking felt like a monumental task. Attempting to sit up, I realized I could only move my head, and even then, barely at all. They had drugged me! They’d put something in the water.
Marco put his gun down, slowly walked over, and gently took my wrist, presumably checking my pulse.
“Rest now, niñita,” he said as he lifted my legs onto the couch. Very soon he walked out of my line of sight. The last thing I heard was the click of the door as I was helpless to do anything but fall into the depths of sleep.
●CHAPTER 29●
ANOTHER SMALL CLICK OF THE DOOR HANDLE awoke me and I sat up startled. How long had I been asleep? Minutes? Hours? I wiped a bit of drool from my chin. Man, I was sexy. I blinked my dry eyes, reaching for the water but then remembered the sedative it contained. What had Diego done to the guys? Were they okay? What about Darcy? My pulse raced as I struggled to shake the fog from my brain.
I slowly turned toward the door and was stunned to see Caty from the resort walk in wearing a long, luscious fur coat. She took off her gloves and hat and carefully laid them on a table just inside the door. Omigod, I thought. Why is she here? Does she know Izzy personally?
“Caty, what are you doing here?” I looked around, panicked. “It’s not safe here! How did you get in?”
“I’m sorry?” she said, tilting her head like she didn’t understand.
“¿El jefe está aquí?” I heard Marco say, walking up to the door. The boss is here? Someone grunted, “Sí.” He then stuck his head inside and spoke to Caty. “Grita si me necesitas, Señora.” Holler if you need me.
“Make yourself useful and go find the other girl,” she hissed before turning away from him.
Wait a second. What? Caty? I shook my head in confusion. Marco had addressed her as if she were el jefe. There’s no way Caty was el jefe. Wasn’t Izzy el jefe? But where was Izzy? What the heck was going on?
“Oh, poor Emily. You look confused,” she said, drawing out the last word as she stroked her fur coat. “What can I clear up for you?” Her round brown eyes stared at me imploringly. “Hmmm?”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t stop staring at her and trying to sort out everything in my head.
“Jorge—oops, sorry, your dad—is just fine, by the way. Well, for now.” She lifted one eyebrow and a grin played at her lips. “And those other two?” She laughed. “Tank and Diego are taking care of them.” Tank? Who’s Tank? Her giant boyfriend? “They won’t cause any trouble until it’s time to dispose of their bodies. I mea
n really, Emily, they’re both quite large, don’t you think? Though I bet that husband of yours is a lot fun in the sack,” she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin.
My nostrils flared but I managed to keep my temper in check. What the hell was going on? I was shocked that Caty was apparently one of the bad guys. Bad enough to be called el jefe. She must be someone very close to Izzy, who could be anywhere at this moment.
I silently reminded myself that Caty’s use of the present tense when referring to Michael and Fritz was a good thing. And I resolved to not fall prey to her sexual remarks about Michael. She was right, after all.
“I’ve been following you for a while, Emily.” She took off her coat and laid it carefully over the sofa. Her eyes sparkled. “Did you ever wonder just how you were so fortunate as to win your honeymoon trip?” I slowly stood up, turned to her, and kept silent. She walked closer to me. “Why, you were the only one to receive an entry form.” She laughed at her cleverness.
Caty was behind our honeymoon getaway? I thought a local travel agency in California had put on that contest? No wonder the winning notification was so quick. It was no contest at all. Ugh. I should have known it was too good to be true. Silently, I cursed myself for filling it out in the first place. We should have just stayed at the B&B in La Jolla.
“Oh, I would have gotten you here one way or another,” she said, as if reading my mind. “You see, just a few months ago, I got wind that your dad might not actually be dead. Cabrón, he should have been taken by the gators, just like your mom.”
My hand involuntarily shot up to strike her, and she grabbed my arm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Her eyes flickered toward the door. “I’ve got a loyal staff armed with semiautomatics, and they might be tempted to use them on you and your sweet dad sooner than later.”
We locked eyes and I weighed my options, my chest heaving with anger. I knew there was no way I’d get out of this place alive on my own with armed guards lurking around the house. I stopped resisting, and she let go of my arm. I dropped my hand and bit my lip. The physical pain distracted me long enough to calm my urge to smack her…for now. How dare she speak of my mom’s death like that.
She walked to the couch, motioning me to join her. I stood where I was, arms crossed.
“Suit yourself. Anyway, as I was saying, I found out your dad was alive, but I was unable to get an idea of his exact location. He kept moving from one place to another.” She sat down, stretched her legs out on the couch, and sighed. “It’s so very annoying to have to tie up loose ends. But I knew if he was really alive, he’d try to come to your rescue if he thought you were in danger.”
I’m not so sure he would have. I had been in danger before in the past year, and he hadn’t so much as shown his face.
Caty continued. “So I had to get you here. I figured I’d let you and your hubs enjoy a few days of wedded bliss, then suddenly, you both inexplicably, disappear.” Her eyes brightened as if she were describing a fairytale. “News of your shocking disappearance would make it back to your secret agent dad somehow, and he’d come running.” She took a piece of candy out of a dish on the coffee table and popped it into her mouth. “Problem solved! Right?”
How ironic that my dad had blown up a building to get Izzy’s attention, and at the same time, one of Izzy’s henchmen—er, henchwomen—had been going to great lengths to get his.
“I see you’re still confused.” She tilted her head to one side. “That’s okay. I’ve got time.
“Mmmm, you really should try this chocolate.” She lifted the dish toward me and I shook my head. “No? You sure? Okay then.”
I wanted to take the dish and shove it down her throat. If only I still had the Ruger on me. I’d get myself out of this place one way or another. My mind raced. Where was Darcy? Was she safe? Had she found a way to get out of here? She was our only hope, and the thought wasn’t very comforting.
Caty had continued talking, and I forced myself to focus on what she was saying.
“…so I knew your dad would be none the wiser. I’d put Fernando in charge of the search party. After all, you and your beefcake husband would go missing on one of our trails at the resort. Probably fall off the side of the mountain in the end.” She rolled her eyes like all of this was so very trivial. “Details, details,” she said. I glared at her.
“I don’t like to come to the US often,” she turned and looked at me. “It’s quite dangerous for someone of my…position. But I had to get him here and personally finish the job.” She laughed. “But little did I know you’d take care of the logistics for me.” A devious smile formed on her face. “We didn’t have to do a thing. You all came straight here.”
“Just explain something to me first,” I said, staring her in the eye. “I don’t understand. Why did Izzy hire you to kill my dad? Why couldn’t he just do it himself?” The thought of tiny little Caty—who I had thought was just a front desk person at a luxury resort—being a hired assassin was ludicrous. Her scary looking boyfriend, maybe, but not her.
“Oh, Emily.” She shook her head, stood up and took my hands. “Catriona Isaguirre at your service.” She gave me a wicked smile and then looked at me with disdain. “Don’t you get it? I’m the new Izzy.”
●CHAPTER 30●
“WERE YOU ASSUMING IZZY WAS A MAN?” She laughed as she let go of my hands. “I’m disappointed in you, Emily. You, of all people, should know that a woman can be just as powerful as a man.” Her brown eyes flashed. “You’ve been abandoned, lost everything, and come back to make something of yourself. I do read the papers, you know. Especially when it concerns the daughter of someone on my payroll. Or, rather, formerly on my payroll.”
She turned to walk away and I wiped my hands on my pants. I couldn’t stand to have one speck of her on me. How was Caty actually Izzy? Caty, who couldn’t even be thirty years old, was head of a Mexican drug cartel?
She whipped back around. “You see, your dad used to be a good, old FBI agent. You knew that, right?” She stared at me, and I forced my face to remain neutral. “Or did he hide that from you?” Her eyebrows shot up and she whispered, “You didn’t know all along? Well, tsk, tsk, tsk. At least it wasn’t only us that he lied to.
“Anyway, he was honest as the day is long, I was told. An upstanding federal agent. And he kept tabs on our family’s business back in the day…before we turned him.” She looked up at me to gauge my reaction. I remained completely still, practicing deep breathing, inhaling through the nose, exhaling out the mouth. In my head, I visualized punching her in the nose.
She continued. “We always managed to play nice when Jorge was around. We doctored communications and drops to his advantage to make him feel useful, like he was doing a good job keeping us under control.” She sighed and smiled. “Stupid feds. They think we don’t know what’s going on, but,” she said, tapping her temple, “we’re smarter than that. We’ve got people on the inside.”
I took a deep breath and wondered just how long she’d stay in here with me. Maybe Darcy and the police were already on their way back up the mountain. I had to stall her to keep all of us alive.
“Who, pray tell,” I said, “was that? Who’s your person on the inside?” I didn’t actually know any FBI agents—well, other than my dad—so any name she gave me would be irrelevant. I was just trying to draw out the conversation.
She fanned her hand across her face. “Oh, no one you’d know. The ex-wife of a now-retired agent. She was good at intercepting encrypted emails and such. We compensated her nicely.
“Anyway,” she continued, “somewhere along the line, my uncle forged a relationship with your dad. Good old Uncle Izzy, God rest his soul.” She made a sign of the cross—hypocrite—and kept on. “Uncle Iz agreed we’d play nice with the locals, and in exchange, your dad would occasionally look the other way when we had altercations with rival cartels.” She sighed as if relishing a sweet memory, but then her face turned ugly. “However, I know this is a tactic they all use to
get us to wipe each other out and do their dirty work for them. Cabrónes.” Then she let loose a string of Spanish words even I couldn’t understand. Her face turned red and I took a small step back.
Suddenly, she stopped and held up her hands in a classic meditation pose, thumb making a circle with her index finger. Her demeanor changed and she slowly relaxed. “And then, Uncle Izzy got your dad to come to our side. To act as a double agent.”
In my head, I was going through the unredacted parts of the FBI file, all of which were in keeping with her story, so far. I was hoping she’d keep talking so I’d learn everything that had been blacked out in Fritz’s documents. Everything the FBI was still trying to keep a secret.
“Your dad even traveled to some of our suppliers in Colombia and Honduras. In a few short years, he learned the network. It was amazing all the information he could retain.” She spoke reverently of him, her words coming faster and faster. “He earned everyone’s respect. He would leak information to us about raids, get drugs easily passed over the border into the US. He was known as ‘El Diablo Blanco,’ The White Devil. I was in awe of him. He was untouchable, a valued asset to us. A member of the family.”
It was painful to hear someone like her speak of my dad like that. Reading about his nefarious activities while supposedly an upstanding federal agent was one thing, but having them relived by a person who had witnessed them was another.
“Then why try to have him killed?” I asked incredulously. “You turned him into a double agent. It sounds like he became pretty indispensable to you.”
“Your dad pulled the wool over our eyes. He became a traidor,” she hissed at my interruption. Huh. Funny that she would call him a traitor. He was betraying his own country, not hers.
“How did he betray you, exactly? You had a corrupt FBI agent on your bankroll.”
The Naked Truth Page 18
