Havana Hustle (Coastal Fury Book 6)

by Matt Lincoln

  By the end of the second song, Yoani lagged. González guided her toward the side, where Marston and Holm waited. He stopped her before they were within earshot of the Americans.

  “I get clients who would enjoy learning to salsa while they visit,” he told her. “Consider working for me. All you would have to do is dance.” He flashed that megawatt smile. “Or more, if you wanted.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said, even though she was anything but. “I will have to think about it.”

  González put his hand on her back and led her to the Americans. He ran his hand down the rest of the way and over the curve of her bottom. She pressed lips into a thin smile and gritted her teeth to keep from kneeing him in the groin. As it was, she yanked her hand away when González tried to hand her off to Holm as if she were a slice of meat. If he was offended, he didn’t let on.

  “I hope we have another opportunity to dance,” González told her. He nodded to Holm and Marston. “Tomorrow, my friends.”

  “Totally,” Holm said. “Looking forward to it.”

  Marston gave a sharp nod. When González returned to the dance floor, Marston glared after the smuggler. The agent raised his hand like he wanted to hold Yoani’s, but he let it drop. Holm noticed and stepped in to do the honors.

  Yoani kept her jaw clenched, but she passed the men and pushed through the crowd as though it was a great night. She headed out to the street for fresh air. At that point, she didn’t care whether the agents stayed inside or not.

  Now that González thought Holm had a claim on her, she had a feeling they were going to play it that way. Sanchez had to know something like this would happen. He liked putting her into the pretty-girl role. So far, she hadn’t been hurt, but before each assignment, she wondered if that would be the one.

  “Yoani.”

  She sniffed and looked up. Philippe approached from the club’s exit. He was one of the few people who listened to her frustrations and fears. Like her, he didn’t get a say in what assignments they were given. Lucky for him, he was one of their best security men and one of the kindest. That didn’t prevent the spike of irritation that rose in her chest.

  “Where did you go when we got here?” she demanded. “And why didn’t you come over when you came back?”

  He leaned against the pockmarked wall and lit a cigarette.

  “We knew each other once,” he told her. “It’s better if he doesn’t see me with you three.”

  Yoani stepped back. “Were you… Did you work together?”

  “What? No.” Philippe laughed. “I mean, not in the way you’re thinking. Remember that little shop I worked in before they hired me at the office?”

  “A little. I never went in there.”

  “That’s where I know him from.” Philippe shrugged. “I saw past his act and reported him for taking money. He hasn’t liked me since.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” she asked with a laugh.

  Marston emerged from the club’s exit, looked around, and then saw her. Holm followed a few paces back.

  “Why didn’t you wait for us?” Marston’s stormy gaze washed over her. “We got worried.”

  Yoani narrowed her eyes at Marston. His imperial manner, like he owned her, wasn’t much better than how González tried to put a claim on her. She was not anyone’s property, no matter how attractive they were.

  “I do not have to explain myself to you,” she snapped. That brought the Americans up short. “It is my job to watch you. We’re done for tonight. If you are finished, we’ll go now.”

  She spun on her aching foot, grabbed Philippe by the elbow, and led the motley group back to where they’d parked the Emgrand. Not even the chatterbox Holm spoke on the way back to the house, and Yoani felt a stab of guilt for killing the mood. In the next breath, she pushed the feeling aside. She was not responsible for protecting the agents’ machismo.

  They returned to the safe house an hour past midnight. A light was on in the family room, and the car Arturo had driven earlier in the day was parked out front.

  “This noon to midnight schedule is not going to work,” Yoani told Philippe in Spanish. “Not if we’re going to be out late for the investigation. Did you call to let him know where we were?”

  Philippe nodded. “I did when I realized we would be at Los Lobos Locos for a while.”

  “I want to check the perimeter before we go inside,” Marston announced. His pale face appeared in the rearview mirror. “We’ll make it quick.”

  The agents got out of the vehicle before Yoani had a chance to respond. They closed the doors so softly she barely heard the clicks, and they disappeared into the darkness on either side of the house.

  “They tell us what to do and don’t ask,” Philippe complained. “Whose country is this?”

  Yoani sighed. “This is their job. I watch over them, you watch over me, we work together.” She slouched in her seat. “I would rather watch from a distance, my friend. That González, he is trouble.”

  “What did you expect?” Philippe shook his head. “We are going after criminals. They are all trouble.”

  “Maybe, but—”

  The light in the window flared and went dark. Several flashes accompanied muted bangs. Yoani reached for her door handle, but Philippe pulled her back.

  “Get down,” he hissed. “Stay here until we come to get you.”

  Yoani glared at the silhouette made by his profile against a working street lamp several meters away from the window. He turned, and she made out the furrowed brow and slight frown. There would be no arguing with Philippe, and she knew he was right. In the two years since he joined her office, he’d proven to be a smart, reliable security agent.

  While Yoani crouched in the Emgrand’s front seat, she listened to shouting and sounds of struggle from the house, followed by a louder crack. The scene went silent. Yoani itched to see what had happened. The silence stretched, and her calves cramped.

  Someone knocked on her window, and she let out a yelp.

  “It’s safe.” Marston’s voice sounded heavy. “You can come inside. Don’t go into the kitchen or upstairs. Hell, just stay in the family room..”

  When Yoani got out of the Emgrand, she found that every window had a light on, except the kitchen. Holm and Philippe were in the main room when Yoani entered, as was Arturo, who held a blood-soaked cloth to his forehead.

  Yoani looked toward the kitchen, but the room was dark beyond the doorway. All four men had grim looks on their faces, but Marston most of all. Yoani turned and faced him.

  “Tell me everything.”

  CHAPTER 14

  After the tense ride to the house, I looked forward to a little planning and then hitting the bunk for the night. Instead, we got a surprise.

  “I want to check the perimeter before we go inside,” I told Nuñez and Philippe. “We’ll make it quick.”

  Holm raised a brow but followed suit. Once out of the Emgrand, I held him back for a moment.

  “Everything’s probably fine,” I whispered. “When we get inside, I want to plan in my room. We’ll give Nuñez point-by-point in the morning.”

  “You’re sore because she danced with that creep,” Holm said. “I don’t think she enjoyed it.”

  “No shit.” I started toward the west side of the house, and Holm toward the right. “She didn’t need to bite my head off for being worried.”

  Holm kept his opinion to himself and went around his side of the house. There was an unlocked gate on my side, and I winced as it creaked. If Mike or Arturo heard that from inside, it might not play well. Fortunately, there were no signs of movement in the windows.

  The back yard was dimly lit by lamps from the city’s glow against a low cloud deck, which allowed me to turn off the flashlight. I followed the line of the house to the patio where Holm waited. He crouched next to the back door and put a finger to his lips. I saw why when I pressed up to the wall.

  Three of the four patio chairs lay scattered from the table to halfway to
the rear fence, and the back door was open several inches. I drew my Sig and pointed it toward the door. Holm did the same, and we crept toward the door. We paused at the opening and listened. The inside of the house was silent, at least in the kitchen which the door entered into.

  I nudged the door open and smelled garlic and other savories from our dinner earlier. The lights were out in the kitchen, but light from the other room bled in. Nothing moved in the kitchen, and I slipped inside to the left. Behind me, Holm took the other side of the space to help me clear the room.

  A heavy thump and then grunt came from the family room ahead. Holm and I moved to the entrance from the family room and stood on either side. I stole a quick look and saw a flurry of two men tumbling next to the couch we’d sat on only hours earlier.

  I tapped Holm on the shoulder and pointed to the family room. He nodded. I did a finger countdown from three to one. Holm and I burst into the room with weapons ready.

  “Quietos!” I bellowed.

  They did not quietos.

  I quickly recognized one of the fighters as Arturo. He tried to pull free from his opponent, but the goon wouldn’t let go. With the two of them tangled up, there was no way for us to draw a bead on the bad guy of the situation. I holstered my gun.

  “Keep us covered,” I ordered Holm.

  The second attacker had his back to me, so I grabbed him around the neck in a stranglehold. He launched backward into the couch. It was a soft landing, but we kicked a lamp over, and the room went dark.

  Arturo did something to the man that drove the back of that bastard’s head into my face. My nose crunched, and my eyes smarted. Great. Despite the dancing lights from the pain explosion in my face, I squeezed harder. The fighter slowed and bucked as Arturo punched him in the stomach.

  The goon went limp, and I dumped him on the floor as I tasted blood on my upper lip as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Arturo put his knee into the guy’s neck and went to cuff him when the guy pushed up to his knees and drove his elbow into Arturo’s sternum. He spun as he stood and grabbed the startled Arturo’s gun.

  “Don’t do it,” Holm yelled. “Stop!”

  The goon did not stop. The attacker fired once at Holm, but his balance was still off from twisting to get to his feet. He missed, and Holm returned fire. The man grunted and doubled over but did not go down. He found an opening and barrelled through toward the kitchen which left his backside open.

  I charged him and slammed into his back. The guy had remarkable footing and stayed upright. He panted as he turned in my direction and waved the gun at me. He yelled in rapid Spanish I couldn’t follow, but Arturo yelled back in answer. The goon yelled a series of profanity that I absolutely understood. He leveled the gun and switched to English.

  “Go home, or you die,” he spat as he backed to the door outside.

  “Stay here. We’ll get you to a hospital,” I told him in a calm voice. Arturo translated for me. “Make a deal with us.”

  “Estas loco.” The man held his off arm to his belly and pressed against the door. “Adios.”

  The door was no longer ajar, thanks to us, and he was brought up short by the unexpected resistance. He whipped the gun up and fired. Holm returned it, and this time, the man went down.

  “Get the light,” I told Arturo.

  He flipped the switch, and nothing happened. A few more tries had no better results, and I turned on my flashlight. Our suspect remained on the floor with a spreading blood pool. He didn’t move. I swung the light around and found the kitchen’s overhead light had shattered. Arturo hurried back into the living room and turned that lamp back on.

  “Watch this guy,” I said to Holm. “I’ll help him clear the floor.” I narrowed my eyes. “I want to find Mike and the grunt who’s supposed to be keeping an eye out for him.”

  “Copy that,” Holm answered.

  I unholstered my Sig and followed Arturo through the house’s first floor, which didn’t take long. We trudged upstairs with the guard ahead of me. It was silent, and that worried me more than anything. Mike wouldn’t have let a little gunfire on the first floor keep him from sticking his nose in to save someone’s ass.

  The second floor’s short hall had a thin blood trail that led straight to the room I’d claimed with Mike. I motioned for Arturo to stand behind me. The door was closed, and the wooden knob creaked in the silence. No noise came from the bedroom, and I pushed further in with my flashlight and handgun held out front.

  Our bags were on the floor next to the dressers, right where we’d left them. The beds were still made, although one looked rustled, as though someone had sat or napped on the covers rather than beneath. In the nighttime heat, I wouldn't have blamed them.

  I switched on the overhead light. No one moved in the room, especially not the man at my feet. I checked his pulse. He was gone.

  “It’s not Mike,” I announced. Anyone who knew the bartender would have known it wasn’t him. I turned to Arturo. “This is the guy who was supposed to be guarding Mr. Birch, correct?”

  Arturo nodded. “Yes, this was him.”

  He looked away, and I didn’t blame him. This victim had been gutted. It was amazing that Mike’s guard had found the fortitude to make it up to the room where his American charge should have been. Only… Mike wasn’t there.

  “Where’s Mike?” I barked at Arturo.

  “He was here at last check.” The stocky guard breathed heavily through his nose as he looked around his room. “The intruder never got upstairs.”

  “He got to this buddy of yours.” I backed out of the room and turned to where Clyde and Holm shared their room. “Have you seen Joe?”

  “Joe?”

  “Clime, Clyde.” I shook my head. Silly names suddenly weren’t funny, and I lowered my voice. “Let’s get a look in the other rooms.”

  Arturo nodded but frowned. “Those stairs are the only way up here. Nobody got past.”

  I moved next to Clyde’s door. “We don’t know that for sure.”

  Together, we entered the room and switched on the light. Like my and Mike’s bedroom, Holm and Clyde’s bags were undisturbed. There was no sign of life. Nothing visible, anyway.

  “Joe, are you here?”

  Something rustled in the closet, and I lowered my gun. A muffled voice that sounded like Clyde came through the door crack. I holstered my Sig.

  “It’s me, Ethan,” I told him. “It’s safe to come out now.”

  The doorknob rattled but didn’t open. I couldn’t help a slight chuckle when I saw that it had locked from the outside. With a slight turn of the knob, the door popped open, and Clyde tumbled out amidst a pile of cases that I recognized as belonging to the mobile lab.

  “You okay?” I asked him.

  Clyde nodded, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked to the door and Arturo and then back to me.

  “I heard shouts and gunshots,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Is everyone… is everyone okay?”

  I grimaced. “Get the lab out and collect evidence.” I gestured toward the other room, and Clyde paled. “It’s not Mike. It’s that Pablo guy who was here to keep an eye on Mike.” Out of respect, I didn’t say anything about the guy’s failure. The guard hadn’t taken his job seriously enough, and now, he was dead, and Mike was gone.

  Clyde gathered his equipment as I examined the floor, beds, and then over to the window.

  “Mike knows how to handle himself,” I told Arturo. “He wouldn’t let what happened downstairs go without getting involved.”

  Arturo’s brows rose. “Did someone take him?”

  I shook my head. “There would’ve been a hell of a mess in this room if they’d tried.” I pointed to the organized layout and clean quarters. “Our bags would’ve been kicked everywhere, and the window would’ve been broken.”

  A suspicion nagged at me, but it was the exact opposite of what I wanted from Mike. I couldn’t say that it wasn’t unexpected, though. With an annoyed sigh, I walked over to the window and found it loc
ked. I tried the lock, and it slid open easily enough that someone could slip a credit card in just right to unlock it from the outside. Some security for the ‘safe’ house.

  Damn it, Mike.

  I growled and stalked downstairs to where Holm lingered at the kitchen door. When we entered the living room, Holm gestured toward Arturo.

  “Hey, you got a hell of a cut there, man.” Holm disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a wet rag for Arturo to place over the wound. “There was a nasty knife on our perp’s body. You’re lucky he didn’t cut you open.”

  “Mike’s guard wasn’t so lucky,” I said with a nod toward the stairs. “Guy bled out on the bedroom floor.” I clenched my teeth. “Mike’s not there.”

  Holm’s line of thought was cut short when Philippe entered the house from the front door. He took in the broken and tossed furniture, and his eyes widened.

  “What happened here?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you after I get Nuñez,” I told him. I needed fresh air, and bringing her inside was as good an excuse as any to get out of the house.

  I found her crouched in the passenger leg area of the Emgrand and knocked on the window. She looked up into the window with the look of a wounded, scared girl. For the briefest moment, I saw her as a vulnerable young woman, unlike the confident liaison we’d met in the early morning.

  “It’s safe.” I wanted to say something to reassure her, but I had nothing. “Come inside, but don’t go into the kitchen or upstairs. Hell, just stay in the family room.”

  I brought Nuñez in through the front door. She scanned the room, and her officious frown returned.

  “Tell me everything.”

  I helped set the couch back to rights, and she sat and folded her hands on her knees. Holm grabbed chairs for himself and me, but Arturo stood like a gargoyle next to the kitchen. Philippe lingered by the stairway.