Devil in a Black Suit

by Colleen Helme

  “Oooo…he’s got the look down,” Amara teased. “So full of himself.”

  “Amara, stop it,” Rosalyn said, but her voice was soft.

  “Well, ladies,” Ramos began. “I can see that it’s time to go.” They began to protest, but he stood anyway. “Thank you for the food. It was delicious.”

  Rosalyn sighed and stood as well. “I hate to see you go, but I’m so happy you came.” She followed him to the door. “Will you be back?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m happy I met you, and I’m glad you’re doing well here.” He turned to Amara. “You too.”

  Amara shook her head and pulled him into a big hug. “Take care, cousin. Come back any time.” Giving him a sweet smile, she nodded at her mother and left the room.

  Rosalyn studied Ramos’s face, but didn’t find what she was looking for. “You won’t be back, will you?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  She nodded with resignation. “Stay away from Vincente. He’s not someone you want to cross.”

  Ramos’s gaze hardened. If Vincente was the reason his father was dead, then he’d make no such promises.

  Rosalyn shivered and pulled Ramos into a tight hug. She held him close, just like he supposed a mother would, and it caught at his heart. After a moment, he hugged her back, taking a deep breath and catching the familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine. He hadn’t smelled that since he’d left home and his mother behind.

  Rosalyn patted his back before stepping away. “I think you’ve had a hard life, Alejandro. I wish I could have been there for you. But remember this…you are loved, and you are always welcome here.”

  The ice around his heart began to melt, but he strengthened his resolve, knowing he could never let anyone he cared about into his world. “Thanks Rosalyn.” He sent her a nod and opened the door.

  She moved to stand in the doorway and watched him walk away. “A word of advice,” she called. He turned to glance back at her. She let out a breath and glanced away, unsure of her words. Coming to a decision, she caught his gaze. “Don’t sell your soul for a lost cause. Your father wouldn’t want that for you, and neither do I.”

  As a trained killer, it was already too late for that, but he was grateful that she didn’t know the truth. It was better to let her think the best of him, so she could remember him in a good light. He sent her an appreciative nod and hurried down the stairs.

  He didn’t look back.

  Chapter 11

  Out on the street, Ramos meandered back the way he’d come. It was full dark, but there were enough lights to see where he was headed. On impulse, he headed toward Vincente’s home again. As he neared the house, he stopped across the street and watched from the shadow of a big palm tree.

  It was hard to believe he had ever lived there, but it had to be true. If it had once belonged to his mother’s family, he had no idea how to look for them now. The home was large enough to house two or three families, but Vincente had it all to himself.

  A car turned the corner and drove toward him. Ramos ducked behind the tree so he wouldn’t get caught in the headlights. It pulled over to stop right in front of Vincente’s house. A man in a police officer’s uniform climbed out. Holding something in his hand, he opened the gate and strode to the front door.

  A few minutes after knocking, Vincente opened the door. He stepped onto the broad porch and they spoke for a minute. From Ramos’s spot, he couldn’t hear what they said, but the police officer held up a folder and handed it to Vincente.

  Vincente opened the folder, then nodded and clapped the officer on the back. After a few more words, the officer left, and Vincente went back inside and closed the door. Ramos hid again from the car’s lights and, once it had gone, he glanced back at the house.

  A light switched on in a corner room on the second story. The drapes weren’t closed all the way, and Ramos caught a glimpse of Vincente inside, reading the information that had just been delivered. Then he moved out of sight and the light switched off.

  Ramos watched for a few more minutes but, with nothing more to see, he decided to head back to the hotel. Did this late-night rendezvous have something to do with his visit? Vincente had told Ramos that he had something of his father’s to show him. After talking to Rosalyn, he wasn’t sure if it was true, or just a ruse to lure him back.

  He walked purposefully toward old town Havana. Coming to an intersection bustling with people, he hailed a taxi and rode the rest of the way back to the hotel. Once inside, he climbed the stairs rather than taking the elevator. Outside his door, he pulled out his key card. As he pushed it inside the slot, the door gave way, signaling that it hadn’t shut properly.

  Alarm prickled at the back of his neck. Had someone broken into his room? Anger poured over him, and he pushed the door open, then cautiously stepped inside. Nothing seemed out of place, and he was grateful he’d taken the time to hide the file on his father.

  After tightly shutting and locking his door, he checked the bathroom and closets to make sure he was alone. Next, he checked behind the headboard where he’d left the file. Finding it safe, his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath.

  Then he noticed that his duffel bag had been moved, and the clothes in the drawers weren’t as tidy as he’d left them. But nothing was missing. Good thing he’d kept his passport with him, along with all the cash he’d brought.

  So who had broken into his room? Did it have something to do with the police officer at Vincente’s house? The officer had given Vincente some papers, but that didn’t mean it had anything to do with Ramos.

  He wished he knew what job Vincente held. His wife had said he had been in the military but now worked at a desk job. Did Vincente have the resources to look into Ramos’s visit? Ramos had given Vincente his name, so it was possible.

  With nothing left to be done, he made sure the door was secure in case he had any more visitors, and got ready for bed. He read through the file more thoroughly, hoping to find something he’d missed. When nothing came of that, he turned out the light, more determined than ever to meet with Vincente the next day. He needed to know more about him and his connection to his father. If Vincente knew what had happened to Rafael, Ramos was determined to find out.

  But what would he do about it? That was the question that kept him awake most of the night. What if it was Vincente who’d turned his father in? Was Ramos ready to kill him for it? If his father was dead, did it matter?

  But if his father was alive…no, it didn’t seem possible. How could he be alive after so long? But if he was, Ramos had to do everything in his power to find him, even if it meant beating it out of Vincente. Then he’d decide what to do.

  Early the next morning his phone rang. He pulled himself out of a half-slumber and answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey Ramos,” Sloan said. “I just thought I’d check in with you. You want to get breakfast?”

  “Sure.”

  “Meet me in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay,” Ramos agreed and disconnected. He jumped in the shower and got ready for the day. In the lobby, he only waited a few minutes before Sloan appeared. Looking casual with her dark, wavy hair flowing around her face, and wearing straight-leg jeans and a tightly-fitted shirt, she caught the attention of every man in the lobby.

  She came by herself, and it relieved him that he didn’t have to face her partner. Still, he wouldn’t mind knowing a bit more about him. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Noah’s busy,” she said, lifting her shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “There’s a great place to grab some breakfast about a block away. We can talk more there.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He walked beside her to a café down the street, keeping an eye out for anyone following them. Of course, that was a little difficult, since more than one man gave Sloan a second glance. It was beginning to irritate him. As an agent, wasn’t she supposed to try and blend in?

  With only a few patrons
inside the café, Ramos asked for a table in a corner for some privacy. After sitting down, they were given menus to look over. Since Ramos wasn’t real hungry after the big dinner he’d eaten the night before, he ordered the traditional Cuban breakfast of Café con Leche with tostada bread and some fruit.

  Sloan smiled at him and did the same. “This is my favorite breakfast. It’s one of the things I love about being here.”

  “I vaguely remember having it while I was growing up.”

  The server brought a mug of warm milk and a small metal carafe of strong, Cuban coffee. The server also set a bowl of fruit in front of each of them, along with the flat, buttered bread, and then left them to eat in privacy.

  Pouring the coffee into the milk, Ramos created his own latte and added a spoonful of sugar. Without thinking, he took a piece of the bread and dipped it into his coffee, only realizing afterward that he hadn’t eaten his bread dipped in coffee like that since he’d lived at home with his mother.

  It sent a powerful wave of nostalgia through him that nearly took his breath away. Needing to suppress those unwanted feelings, he glanced at Sloan, grateful for the distraction of a beautiful woman. He took in her lovely face, and found that her easy smile relieved his melancholy.

  “So how did things go last night?” he asked Sloan. She bit her lip, a sure sign that she needed something from Ramos, and he tensed.

  “Good. My contact gave us some great information. But…uh…I might need your help.”

  He huffed out a breath and raised his right brow. “How’s that?”

  Sloan leaned forward and spoke quietly. “From the little I gathered, he has a pretty good idea about what’s going on. After we negotiated his price, we set up a dead drop. That’s where Noah is right now. If our contact comes through with good intel, I might need your help with the follow-up.”

  “What about Noah? Why isn’t he the one helping you?”

  “Oh, he is, but he’s obviously not Cuban. He might stand out. I could do this without you, but I think you and I would have a better chance of succeeding than I would by myself. You don’t have to help me, but I was hoping you’d at least think about it.”

  He sipped his coffee and caught her gaze. He didn’t like the idea of her going it alone, but he didn’t want to get involved. “If I agreed, you’d have to let me in on what’s going on. That means everything. No secrets this time.”

  She flinched with guilt. “You’ll know everything that I know. I promise.”

  Ramos nodded, but he had his doubts that Noah was on board. Still, Sloan had a way of getting what she wanted. “What would I have to do?”

  She let out a relieved breath and smiled. “Not much. From what we know so far, it’s more of a reconnaissance mission.” She glanced around the café. “We’ll go over everything back at the hotel.”

  He nodded, understanding that she could only say so much in public. He hoped she realized that he hadn’t said he’d do it. And he wasn’t about to get pushed into something, no matter how easy she said it was.

  “So, how about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “What did you do last night?”

  “I went to the addresses in the file.”

  Her eyes widened with interest. “Did you find anything?”

  “Yes. I found out I have an aunt. She’s my father’s sister, and I met my cousin and her family.”

  “Wow, that’s great. What was it like?”

  “It was good,” he said. “She had no idea my father had disappeared, but she’d always wondered why she hadn’t heard from us for so long. It was nice, but kind of hard, too.” Not wanting to go into any more details, he continued. “I found an older couple living at the other address. I spoke with the man, and he told me that he knew Rafael.”

  “Did you tell him who you were?”

  “Not exactly,” Ramos said. “I decided to tell him that Rafael was my father’s cousin. He told me that he and Rafael were old friends who went their separate ways before my father came to the states. He didn’t give away anything, but I think he knows more than he would say.”

  “What’s his name?” Sloan asked.

  “Vincente Garcia.”

  Sloan’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath, nearly choking on her food. “You actually spoke with him?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  She gaped at Ramos with undisguised alarm. “I’ve heard of him. He’s the head of the Cuban police, only…it’s the part of the police that’s more like the KGB. He has a lot of power. We think he’s probably been involved with the arrests of any Cubans who have spoken out against the regime.”

  Dread washed over Ramos. That meant he was more involved with Rafael than he let on. “Now it makes sense. Last night someone looked through my things while I was gone, but nothing was taken.”

  Sloan gasped. “Did they see the file?”

  “No. I hid it before I left, and it hadn’t been touched.”

  “That’s a relief.” Sloan chewed on her bottom lip. “It must have been Vincente checking up on you.”

  Ramos nodded. “My aunt thinks he might have had something to do with my father’s disappearance. She told me to stay away from him.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Ramos shrugged. “Maybe…but he invited me to come back today at noon.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He said he might have something that belonged to Rafael that he wanted to give me.”

  Sloan’s brows drew together, and she shook her head. “I don’t like it. I mean…why would he do that? Is there a chance he knows who you are?”

  “Maybe.” Ramos shrugged. “But what can he do? Besides, I need to find out what he knows about my father. So I’m going.” He leveled a hard stare her way so she’d know he couldn’t be talked out of it. “Do you think it might ruin your plans?”

  “Uh…” she shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’ll know more after I talk to Noah.”

  Ramos nodded, then finished off his tostada and checked his watch. He had nearly two hours before his meeting with Vincente, and he needed a break from all the drama. “Do you want to help me get some Cuban cigars for Manetto?”

  Sloan’s mouth widened in surprise, then she chuckled. “Sure. They only sell the good ones in the Casa del Habana store, but it’s not far.”

  After they settled the bill, Sloan took Ramos by the arm. As they strolled down the street, Sloan’s light touch wasn’t overbearing or possessive, allowing Ramos to relax and enjoy the attention. She took him to the store where he purchased a box of cigars for Manetto, along with a special lighter.

  From there they took their time, acting just like regular tourists. He enjoyed the reprieve and found it easy to slip into the role of a couple. They stopped to listen to a street performer playing his guitar. When he started playing the chorus they both chimed in, surprising each other that they both knew the words.

  Sloan spoke of her parents and her life in Miami and Little Havana, and how she grew up on those songs and many of the foods and traditions of Cuba. Hearing that, Ramos wondered if he would have met her if he’d stayed there instead of moving to Orlando. His life might have been so different if his father had been in the picture.

  Ramos relaxed his guard, finding that their easy banter and talk of the past brought back the companionship they’d shared when they’d first met. At a tourist shop, Sloan laughed to find a nunchuck pen set which reminded her of the time she’d used something very similar on Ramos, and laid him out flat. She couldn’t resist teasing him about it, and ended up buying it for him.

  Leaving the shop, she wrapped her arm around his waist and he pulled her against his side. Smiling, they turned down the street and ducked into the next shop. While Sloan glanced through a display of scarves, Ramos found a monkey made out of coconut shells sitting on a shelf with a tiny cigarette hanging out of its mouth. It was so typical of Cuba that it brought a smile to his lips. He thought of getting it for Shelby, then shook his head. Why was he thinking o
f Shelby when he had a beautiful woman right in front of him?

  He glanced at Sloan, admiring her quick smile and flashing eyes. Her hair cascaded in waves over her shoulders, and she presented an alluring picture that enchanted him. She caught him staring at her and sent him a slow smile. It brought him up short, and he shook his head. What was he doing?

  Sloan came to his side and took his arm. “What’s that?” she asked, picking up the monkey. She grinned up at him. “He’s kind of cute. Are you going to get him for me?”

  “What? No way. Total waste of money.”

  She chuckled, and set it back down. “You’re probably right.” Taking in his sullen expression, she tugged at his arm. “Hey, let’s walk down to the beach. I haven’t been there yet and I want to see it.”

  Ramos let her tug him out of the shop, and pushed his misgivings away. They strolled down the street toward the beach and he enjoyed the fresh breezes coming off the ocean.

  “It’s peaceful here,” Sloan said, slipping her arm around his waist. Ramos let out a sigh, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Sure, he didn’t want to admit how much he liked her company, but it would never be more than that, so why not enjoy it while he could?

  They came to the end of the path with the stone wall overlooking the ocean. Ramos let her go and leaned against the wall, taking in the blue sky and ocean. Sloan did the same, closing her eyes to enjoy the breeze.

  She turned toward him. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened between us if things had been different?”

  He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “You mean if I wasn’t a hitman for a mob-boss?”

  She shrugged and shook her head. “I mean if you’d stayed here, or if we’d met in Miami. I don’t know, it seems like we might have crossed paths somehow.”

  “It doesn’t do any good to think like that.”

  “I know. But sometimes I wonder. Do you think that maybe there’s…” Sloan’s phone began to ring, stopping her in mid-sentence.

  Ramos let out a relieved breath, grateful for the interruption. Sloan’s lips twisted with annoyance, but she dutifully dug her phone out of her bag and answered it. From her tone, Ramos knew she was talking to Noah.