Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1)

by N. A. Alcorn

  The morning went by at a lightning-quick pace. Sloan kept busy and didn’t have to deal with a certain devious physician breathing down her neck. Luckily for her, Dr. Mendez was out of the office—busy with “meetings” across town. The CIA agent in her speculates what exactly those “meetings” entailed. A man like that doesn’t waste his precious time unless he’s getting some sort of monetary reward in return. She prays that Agent Sims was smart enough to follow the deceitful physician to whatever kept Dr. Mendez too occupied to show face at his office.

  Sloan assists a few of the volunteers from Project Smiles in packing up medical equipment. They are getting ready to head to the “small community”—otherwise known as the Arturo compound—that Dr. Mendez updated her about yesterday. She busies herself with taking inventory of the immunizations they have left and ensuring that there are enough supplies—vaccinations, syringes, needles, alcohol swabs—to properly serve the women and children they will come across at Hector Arturo’s compound.

  She can’t stop the nagging sense that Dr. Mendez’s willingness to let her come along seemed too easy…

  Something just feels terribly wrong with this entire scenario.

  Despite her overwhelming feeling of unease, she continues to pack up the equipment and carry it out to one of the volunteers’ SUV. As she sets a few boxes in the trunk, her eyes notice a sleek, silver Jag pull into the parking lot. The car stops and the tinted-black window rolls down.

  Dr. Mendez.

  “How was your morning, Dr. Santora?” he questions, his untrustworthy eyes covered by aviator sunglasses.

  Her hand shields the blinding Mexican sun from her eyes as she peers into his vehicle. “Everything went really well,” she tells him. “We had a great turnout.”

  “Wonderful.” His answering smile is too big, too fake. “Hop in.” He gestures towards the passenger’s side door. “I’ll drive you to your next stop.”

  No fucking way will I risk being alone with him.

  Sloan plasters a mild smile on her otherwise skeptical face. “That is very generous of you, Dr. Mendez, but I’ve already made arrangements with a few of the volunteers.”

  His fingers snake across his chin, brushing over his freshly shaved jaw. He glances in the direction of the rusted-out, older SUV behind her, and then his focus moves back towards Sloan. The expression in his eyes is still hidden by sunglasses.

  “But I think you’d be more comfortable riding with me,” he insinuates. Devious lips crest into a smug grin. Dr. Mendez’s statement, only proving that he is a man motivated by the materialistic things in life.

  His expensive choice in transportation has her wondering where he is receiving his real income. A small-town physician whose patient population is made up of mostly lower-income families wouldn’t be able to afford a brand-new Jag. Does his career as a family practice physician serve as a cover for something else? Something involving Hector Arturo?

  If that’s the case, he would be the complete opposite of Sloan—his cover serving for dishonest and evil plans, whereas hers only revolve around good intentions.

  She brushes off his insistence with a small laugh. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll stick with my staff.”

  His mouth sets into a firm line in response. “Have it your way,” he tosses out before the window is closed.

  Sloan sees her reflection in the dark, tinted glass pass by at a swift pace as the Jag pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main road. She releases a held breath from her lungs, mentally trying to focus on the task at hand.

  Her gut instinct is still screaming that everything isn’t as it seems…

  Sloan continues to ignore it. She knows she has to do this. The immunizations are the key. They are the one thing that will give the CIA all of the information they need to put an end to Hector Arturo.

  Just breathe. Relax. You can do this. Go to the compound, give the immunizations, and then you’ll be one step closer to going home…to Nix.

  SLOAN AND HER STAFF SET up in a small room tucked away inside the Arturo compound. She can’t believe how much this place has changed since she was last in Guadalajara. There are more occupants milling about the now much larger grounds. And there’s a hell of a lot more security. Every doorway, hallway, entrance, and exit has at least one of Arturo’s men posted up—serving as watch dogs.

  The grounds have been renovated. Every room appears freshly updated. New flooring, furniture, discreetly hidden cameras—the list is endless. It would seem that nothing is too expensive for Hector Arturo, only proving one thing—he is benefitting immensely from his criminal entrepreneurial ways.

  The room is ready for patients in record-fast time. Sloan waits patiently, making small talk with some of the volunteers from Project Smiles. These are a few of the people she has grown close with, men and women who offer up their time for the better good. These wonderful volunteers stand beside Dr. Felicia Santora in some of the roughest, most dangerous parts of the world and do it with a smile. They do it because they want to help others; they want to make a difference in the world. To say that they are an inspiration would be putting it mildly. And Sloan considers the opportunity to meet and work alongside people like this a true blessing. Consider this another small part of Dr. Felicia Santora’s life that brings her happiness.

  Sloan tries to focus on the task at hand—administering as many immunizations as possible to the women and children of the compound. The more residents who receive them, the closer the CIA will get to dismantling one of the biggest drug cartels in the world.

  Two hours later…

  Her heart pounds loudly in her chest from the mere thought of what she has done. It all seems simple to everyone around her, but this is the first time something like this has ever been accomplished. It’s truly a first in the history of the CIA, and only a handful of people know the real goal of her top-secret mission in Guadalajara…

  Yes, Dr. Felicia Santora has successfully administered injections to at least one hundred members of the compound, but they aren’t just vaccinations. The syringes are filled with more than just antibodies to protect against disease. They are also constructed with human microchip implants—also known as identifying integrated circuit devices or RFIDs.

  The general public is under the impression that these types of microchips must be inserted surgically, but with the help of some of the most intelligent scientists and physicians in the world, the United States government has created a microchip implant that can be inserted via a simple intramuscular injection. The implants had to go through rigorous testing before their first attempted use. They are encased in silicate glass, and it’s been proven that they are one hundred percent safe to be injected into human tissue. The implants are practically microscopic, so anyone looking closely at the pre-filled syringes wouldn’t have the slightest idea they even exist.

  And now, Agent L-55 is the first person on record to use these human microchip implants as a defensive weapon against international criminals.

  The CIA has verified that La Familia Arturo frequently uses women and children as runners for their drug cartel operations. They’ve also found that some of the women are a part of an ongoing sex trafficking circuit. The microchips will now become one of the CIA’s strongest allies in stopping this infamous drug cartel because they allow two very important things: GPS tracking and identification. In other words, the United States government will be able to track these devices, putting a stop to La Familia Arturo’s attempts at drug and sex trafficking across the American border.

  Yes, it’s unfortunate that innocent women and children had to be unknowingly injected, but it will serve as a means to an end. The final nail in the coffin for Hector Arturo.

  A very familiar face walks into the small room and Sloan identifies her immediately—Alejandra Arturo. She’s undeniably beautiful, but her eyes are cloaked in fear. As the woman makes hesitant steps towards the makeshift exam room, Sloan’s eyes take in her appearance. She has enchanting, brown eyes
and long, brunette hair. Her makeup nearly hides the bruising that mars the right side of her face. Her slender shape is covered by a simple tank top and shorts, and a few reddened welts are visible on the woman’s exposed shoulder blades

  What asshole laid his hands on her? Sloan can’t help but wonder.

  It’s a known fact that Alejandra is Hector’s sister. And if Hector Arturo can kill off his own brother, it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch that he’d put his hands on his only remaining sibling. A man like him has no boundaries, no sense of morals, and it’s highly unlikely that he would think twice about physically hurting a woman. Hell, half of his criminal activity currently revolves around kidnapping women to be a part of his sex trafficking operation.

  The only other culprit would be Nico Delgado—Hector’s right-hand man and Alejandra’s fiancé.

  Alejandra stands before Sloan, her brown eyes staring at her, her lips parted in a way that demonstrates a need to say something. But nothing comes out. The woman just stands there, staring and visibly uncomfortable.

  “Hi,” Sloan greets. “I’m Felicia Santora, a physician for Project Smiles. Are you here for immunizations?” she asks with a friendly smile.

  “N-no…I mean, yes…” Alejandra trails off, appearing anxious and uncertain. Her hands fidget with the edges of her white tank top as her brown eyes remain hesitant and unsure.

  Sloan tries to put her at ease. “Don’t worry. It’s completely normal to be a little nervous about getting shots,” she announces, leaning in towards Alejandra. Her hand cups around her mouth in an obvious secret gesture. “I’m completely terrified of needles,” Sloan whispers as the corners of her mouth turn up into a smirk. “But don’t tell anyone. That’s gotta be our little secret.”

  A nervous laugh escapes Alejandra’s mouth.

  “What’s your name?” Sloan asks, her focus honing in on makeup-covered bruises.

  Alejandra’s hands move towards her hair, sliding the locks towards her face in an effort to veil her right cheek. “Alejandra.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Sloan holds out her hand in a welcoming gesture, taking the woman’s petite palm into hers. Trembling fingers are noted within the soft grasp.

  Alejandra’s eyes peer into Sloan’s, appearing desperate—trying to convey something without words. These eyes hold secrets. They showcase fear. They are the eyes of a woman who fears for her life, frantically trying to find safety.

  The two women unwillingly avert their eyes from one another when three large, intimidating presences enter the room. Sloan swallows the anxiety that threatens to leak from her pores when she identifies the men who are now standing before her. She’d know these men anywhere. She could pinpoint them in a lineup; she could pick them out of a crowd. Sloan has studied these men in great detail—knowing every aspect of their shady lives.

  Dr. Mendez. Hector Arturo. Nico Delgado.

  All three men are dressed to impress, their bodies donned in tailored suits and their presences demanding the attention of everyone in the room.

  Even the blissfully unaware volunteers are looking in the direction of these dangerous men, Sloan thinks to herself, silently hating that they have such a powerful, controlling hold over everything. They’re fucking criminals for Christ’s sake…three of the worst human beings to ever walk this Earth.

  Nico stands tall, his shoulders rigid and his dark eyes glaring in Alejandra’s direction as he gestures for her. His scowling gaze never leaves her petite form as she walks towards him. Sloan notes the possessive gleam in his eyes as his hand roughly wraps around Alejandra’s neck, pulling her body closer to his. His lips whisper something into her ear. The woman’s eyes fall closed, her mouth showcasing a visible wince. The one-sided conversation is tense as Nico’s dark-as-night eyes blaze with fury.

  All three men have the same eyes—dark, cunning and covetous. They are picture-perfect predators. The kind of men that women should run from…

  But Sloan cannot run. She has to stand tall, appear confident and unaffected. She cannot show any signs of uncertainty or fear. This is the hardest part of her job as a CIA agent—appearing fearless, completely unfettered when, deep down, she knows that shit could go horribly wrong in the blink of an eye.

  Hector and Dr. Mendez meander across the room, shaking hands and giving their best running-for-office smiles to some of the Project Smiles volunteers.

  Both of their faces appear impassive and unconcerned once they close the distance towards Sloan. Hector analyzes the makeshift exam room, his eyes taking inventory of everything that is lying across the tables. His long fingers grasp one of the pre-filled syringes, pulling it closer to his line of sight. He scrutinizes the syringe without remorse.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Mendez,” Sloan says, attempting to interrupt Hector’s current focus. “Hello. I’m Dr. Santora, the lead physician for Project Smiles.” Her voice is calm and collected, her eyes staring straight at Hector. She pulls the syringe from his grasp and holds out her hand in a friendly gesture.

  “Hector, my friend.” Dr. Mendez pats him on the back. “This is the woman I was just telling you about.” His shadowy gaze glances in Sloan’s direction. “This is the lovely Felicia Santora,” he says, introducing the two, his words laced with meaning—one that Sloan can’t quite discern.

  “Ah. So this is Felicia,” Hector states as his strong hand grasps hers. “It truly is my pleasure to have such a beautiful woman here, at my home, and for such a charitable cause.” He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin.

  God, all of these men are the same—slimy, creepy, and completely revolting in their own rapacious way.

  If Sloan could crawl out of her skin, she would. Hell, she’d love to be teleported straight out of this situation. Now, that’s something the US government should work on developing—teleportation. It would be real fucking useful right about now.

  “Thank you so much for allowing us to be here. Everyone has been nothing but hospitable, and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate that,” Sloan compliments. Her lips would rather spew off venomous things in this vile man’s direction, but obviously, that wouldn’t be the best approach.

  Hector nods with a stiff smile plastered across his lips as murky-black eyes appraise her. His forceful gaze is unrelenting and practically staring straight into her soul. Secret motives leak through his dusky irises…

  But he definitely wants her uncomfortable; he wants her to feel completely unnerved.

  Sloan is internally tense under his scrutinizing gaze, but her outward appearance remains completely at ease. She cocks her head to the side, watching his appraisal, and continues to stare at Hector as he picks another syringe up.

  He assesses it closely, his obscure eyes squinting slightly and his stark brow furrowing.

  Sloan clears her throat in an attention-seeking gesture. “That is an immunization for measles, mumps, and rubella—otherwise known as MMR.” Sloan goes into physician mode—playing the perfect part of Dr. Felicia Santora. She walks towards the end of the table, grabbing a box of labeled syringes. “And these over here are for varicella, hepatitis A, malaria, and tetanus.” She slides the box in Hector’s direction, showing him that she has nothing to hide.

  Which she doesn’t. All of the syringes filled with the top-secret implants have already been administered.

  He merely smirks and nods his head. His hand goes to his jaw, his fingers rubbing across his sharp chin and bringing Sloan’s focus towards his infamous snake eyes tattoo that peeks out from underneath the collar of his shirt.

  “Are you up to date on your immunizations, Mr. Arturo?” Sloan asks with a joking tone. “It would be my pleasure to ensure that you are properly vaccinated,” she encourages with a wink and a smile. It takes every ounce of her strength to force both of those friendly expressions onto her face. Internally, she feels as rigid as a board. Her spine is stiff, and every nerve ending inside her body has the urge to jump ship.

  A harsh chuckle escapes hi
s mouth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “What about you? “ Sloan questions in Dr. Mendez’s direction, her voice laced with amusement.

  Dr. Mendez smirks and shakes his head in response. “I’m with Hector on this one.”

  “Oh, please don’t tell me that strong, handsome men like yourselves are afraid of a little needle. I promise it won’t hurt. I’ll even let your pick out your favorite Band-Aid and lollipop once it’s done,” she says flirtatiously, her eyelashes batting ever so slightly in their direction.

  Both men laugh in response.

  “You drive a hard bargain, but I think I’ll pass,” Hector responds.

  Her charming ways seem to have caught him slightly off guard, his stern appraisal and unrelenting gaze not having their normal affect.

  At least that’s what he thinks. On the outside, she is composed, but on the inside, her nerves are shot—practically frayed at the ends from the tension that fills the room. Inhaling and exhaling at a steady, relaxed rhythm has never been so hard. Hector Arturo’s intimidating presence threatens to suck all of the oxygen out of the air—leaving her gasping for breath.

  But Sloan continues to stay strong, appearing completely unaffected by these dangerous men. She proves why she is the best at what she does, why she is one of the CIA’s best secret agents.

  Sloan glances around the room, noting that only her volunteers remain. She smiles in Hector’s direction. “Well, unless either of you changes your mind in the next few minutes, it looks like our job here is done.”

  “Heading out so soon? Dr. Santora, you should stay.” Her name rolls off his tongue in a way that makes her want to cringe. “I’d love to further discuss your charitable ways over dinner,” Hector announces.