Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1)
Page 24
“That is a very generous offer, but I have a late surgery to attend at San Salvador,” she politely declines. She doesn’t normally schedule surgeries after four in the afternoon, but today was an exception. Her gut instinct told her to formulate a plan to extract herself from the compound without raising suspicion—hence the reason for a six-o’clock surgery.
“I don’t take no for an answer, Dr. Santora.” Hector’s eyes dance with determination laced with an underlying tone of deceit. “If not tonight, then another day. Have dinner here. Or we can meet in town for coffee. I know how much you physicians love your caffeine fixes.” He flashes a full-toothed grin in her direction before his eyes turn down at the corners in a knowing way. “There’s a wonderful café downtown—El Gato.”
The familiar name of that café urges an uncomfortable shiver to shoot up her spine. Of all cafés in Guadalajara…why would he mention that one?
Sloan forces a small laugh from her throat. “You’re one hundred percent right, Mr. Arturo. We physicians do love our coffee. I can’t start my day without it.”
“Please—call me Hector,” he insists.
The audacity of this demanding man combined with the significance of the café he mentioned hurls a wealth of emotions to scatter across her nerves. Each tiny nerve ending threatens to stand at attention and plaster her internal feelings across her otherwise composed face.
“Well, Hector, I’ve actually had the pleasure of visiting El Gato a few times for Project Smiles meetings,” she lies, trying to explain why she would have been at that café a few weeks ago. “I’ll have to check my surgery schedule before I can commit to anything. I’m sure you understand. Not only do we physicians love our coffee, but we also love being prompt in our prior obligations,” she claims with another lie. She has zero intention of spending any more time with this man. All of the information that is needed for this mission has been obtained, and she’s hoping that she’ll be leaving Guadalajara very, very soon.
Dr. Mendez inserts himself into the conversation. “Please include me in your little rendezvous, Hector.”
Hector laughs, making eye contact with the cunning male physician. Their eyes dance with dishonesty, conveying something else to one other.
Self-preservation and safety are strongly urging Sloan to delicately extricate herself from this situation—from this tension-filled room inside the Arturo compound.
She makes a show of glancing at her watch. “Oh my. If you’ll excuse me, I must head out,” she announces. “Dr. Mendez, thank you for helping me set this up. And, Hector, it’s truly been a pleasure. Thank you again for your hospitality.” The lies continue to flow from her mouth. There is absolutely nothing about being in Hector Arturo’s presence that is deemed pleasurable. Nothing.
“The pleasure is all mine, Felicia.” He kisses the top of her hand, his eyes boring into hers. “Until next time,” he voices with grit. His shadowy gaze is unrelenting on her body, running across every inch of skin—taking in every curve.
As Sloan assists the volunteers in packing up their supplies, her entire body is rigid with stress. That strain and tension stay with her the rest of the day. She can feel it hovering within her shoulder blades during her evening surgery. She can feel it as she makes the short drive home from San Salvador to the house she’s staying at in Guadalajara. And she can still feel it as she steps inside the safe confines of her residence.
That unrelenting anxiety just won’t leave.
She should be celebrating the fact that she just accomplished something huge—basically finishing the job in Guadalajara—but she can’t stop thinking, processing the events.
Something isn’t right.
A gut instinct of everything not being as it seems sticks at the forefront of her mind…
To: Caveman@FSNW.net
From: Meli@FSNW.net
Subject: SOON
I miss you.
I love you.
I’ll be home soon.
Your, Meli
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: Relieved
This is the best news I’ve heard all day.
I miss you more. I love you always.
Be safe, pretty girl. And get your sexy ass on a plane as soon as you possibly can.
X
To: Caveman@FSNW.net
From: Meli@FSNW.net
Subject: Bossy…
Are you bossin’ me?
God, you’re so demanding. Reel in your caveman ways or else I might have to plot my revenge. I can also dish out the punishments.
Love,
Your Annoyed & Eye-Rolling Meli
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: Sassy
Are you sassin’ me, sweetheart? You know what that does to me…
My caveman ways are only reserved for you and that mouth full of sass.
Love,
Your Growling Caveman
To: Caveman@FSNW.net
From: Meli@FSNW.net
Subject: Mmmmm
I love when the Caveman gets his growl on. It makes me wet and tingly in all the right places.
X
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: HARD AS A MOTHERFUCKER
Just the idea of you wet has my cock at full attention.
Stop teasing me, baby. My right hand is a poor substitute for that perfect pussy of yours and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
I demand less sass and… more get-on-a-fucking-plane-and-come-home-to-me!
X
Sloan giggles at the last email from Nix in the back seat of the nondescript town car heading towards San Salvador. The driver curiously glances in the rearview mirror.
“Just ignore me,” she announces with amusement. “I’m practically delirious from this grueling surgery schedule for Project Smiles,” she adds for good measure.
The driver chuckles in her direction, keeping his eyes locked on the road.
SLOAN CHATS WITH A YOUNG mother in the small waiting room located near the lobby doors of San Salvador Hospital. She is in full physician mode as Dr. Felicia Santora provides discharge information regarding the mother’s three-year-old son who just underwent surgery to fix a facial deformity. The mother is visibly relieved that her child is in recovery and had no issues during the procedure. Everything went as planned.
As Sloan heads back towards the restricted operating room area, she is shocked to find Alejandra hesitantly waiting for her. Their eyes lock immediately as the young woman heads in her direction.
“Dr. Santora, are you busy right now?” she asks. Her eyes glance back and forth, scanning the lobby area in an anxious way.
“I’m heading back to the OR to scrub into another surgery. Are you okay?” Sloan questions with concern.
“Uh…I was…” she stammers, visibly uncomfortable. Her brown eyes stare down at her feet as she searches for the strength to talk to the American physician. “When are you leaving Guadalajara?” she blurts out.
Sloan’s brow rises in surprise, the question taking her off guard. “I’m not really sure. Probably in the next week or two,” she says, skirting around the truth. “Why do you ask? Is there something I can help you with?”
“I need to leave,” Alejandra responds in a small voice. “I really need to leave.”
“You need to leave? I don’t quite understand what you’re asking me.”
Before Alejandra can respond, the lobby door is shoved open with brute force. Both women look in the direction of the intimidating presence striding towards them—Nico Delgado.
Alejandra’s eyes go wide in visible fear.
“Alejandra,” he spits with venomous force. He scans both women’s faces with an edgy expression filling his eyes. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks, unleashing his dark gaze onto Sloan.
Sloan’s guard is immediately up as she takes in the fearful demeanor of Alejandra. The woman st
ares into her eyes with a pleading expression. Sloan is more than concerned for this woman’s well-being, nearly certain that this is the horrible man whose hands have left marks all over Alejandra’s body.
“Hi. I’m Dr. Felicia Santora.” She knows exactly who Nico is, but they’ve never been formally introduced. “And you are?” she asks with a straight face—revealing nothing.
“I’m her fiancé, Nico,” he voices with a stern tone as he hand grasps the back of his fiancée’s neck in a controlling hold.
Alejandra winces from his tight grip.
“Oh, it’s very nice to meet you, Nico. I had the pleasure of meeting your beautiful fiancée yesterday. We had a lovely conversation about the importance of yearly checkups in regards to a woman’s health. I tend to be a little insistent when it comes to ensuring that all women see not only their primary physician, but also their gynecologist,” she informs him. Her voice lowers in a secretive way. “Yearly breast exams and Pap smears are very important, and being the nosy physician that I am, I all but demanded that Alejandra visit me today at the hospital so we could make sure she was up to date on her yearly physicals.” Sloan unleashes full physician mode on him, refusing to play into his obvious suspicions.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay…” Alejandra adds to the conversation as relief fills her eyes. “I know you want to start trying to have babies as soon as we get married,” she whispers towards Nico.
“Sometimes, it can be a little embarrassing for women to talk about their reproductive health,” Sloan states in a joking way, trying to relieve the visible tension that is radiating off Nico. “Most men don’t want to hear about those kinds of things,” she adds to bring her fake point home.
Sloan watches as the grip on Alejandra’s neck slackens, Nico’s demeanor changing ever so slightly.
“Shall I take you back to an exam room?” she asks in the woman’s direction. “I promise I won’t keep her too long,” she voices towards Nico.
His grip on Alejandra’s neck tightens again. “She doesn’t have time for that today. We have somewhere to be,” he insists. “Get in the car,” Nico demands as he turns her body in the direction of the lobby doors.
Alejandra glances one last time in Sloan’s direction. “Thank you, Dr. Santora.” Her voice is quiet as her brown eyes appear downcast, staring intently at the ground.
He stops mid-step, glancing back towards Sloan. “I suggest you make time out of your busy schedule for Hector. He doesn’t take too kindly when his generous offers are declined.”
Sloan plasters a phony smile across her face. “Please tell Mr. Arturo that I’ll be in touch very soon. I should have some time freed up in the next few days,” she responds in a friendly tone despite the rush of adrenaline that’s causing her heart to pound inside her ears.
And with that, Nico hurries his fiancée out of the hospital doors, all but shoving her inside the SUV that waits outside for them.
Fear and dread fill every cell inside of Sloan’s body. She is more than worried for Alejandra. The woman was visibly scared and trying to convey something to her. It’s almost like she is trying to find a way out of Guadalajara—to a place far, far away from her tyrannical brother and violently controlling fiancé.
Nico’s timing couldn’t have been any worse. He all but threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the hospital. It’s apparent that he makes it very difficult for Alejandra to go anywhere without him…
If La Famlia Arturo are watching Alejandra that closely, who else are they watching?
Sloan watches the SUV pull away from the hospital and desperately wishes she could do something—anything—to help Alejandra. She is torn for her, mentally racking her brain to find a way to help this scared woman out, but she knows deep down that she isn’t the right person for the job. Her connections with the CIA would only put Alejandra at risk.
Sloan’s instincts scream that Hector’s sister isn’t the only person the La Familia Arturo are watching closely.
Are they watching me too?
AS SHE GETS INSIDE THE town car after a long day of surgery, her Blackberry pings with a text message notification. She’s been waiting all day for a response from Chief Dubois.
Chief: I haven’t heard from him. And I did NOT approve that meeting over coffee.
Sloan’s heart starts pounding furiously in her chest. Chief is referring to Agent Sims and their impromptu meeting over coffee at El Gato a few weeks ago. He inferred that their superior had okayed that meeting, and now, it’s extremely disconcerting to find out that the approval never occurred. Fear clenches her gut as she begins to recount the past few weeks—the way everything fell into place so easily.
It’s all felt too easy…almost too good to be true.
The entire mission feels as if it was handed to her on a silver platter. It never works like that. Ever. And after the surprise run-in with Alejandra and Nico today, she is more than concerned for her safety in Guadalajara.
Chief updates her that Sims hasn’t been checking in with him over the past few days and he’s unsure of what additional intel has been gained on La Familia Arturo.
That information is the final straw for her.
Agent L-55: I want out of here by morning.
Sloan is convinced that she has to get the hell out of Guadalajara as fast as physically possible. She finishes her text conversation with Dubois, informing him that she refuses to stay in Mexico any longer. She’s packing. She’s going to get on the first flight out of Guadalajara and she doesn’t give a shit about his take on the matter. Deep down, she fears that, somewhere along the line, she’s been set up. The only saving grace of the mission is that almost no one knows about the microchip implants—especially not Agent Sims.
The goal of the mission has been accomplished, and now, it’s time to go.
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: Come Home
Any news on when you’re leaving?
I need you and all of that sass home safe.
Come home, sweetheart.
X
“WHAT IN THE FUCK DO you mean she’s not there?” Dubois shouts into the phone. The answer he receives on the other line is not what he wants to hear.
Not at fucking all.
He quickly texts Agent L-55 to figure out what in the hell is going on down there in Mexico.
Chief: Where are you? Matthews just called from the San Diego airport and said you weren’t on the red-eye from Guadalajara. I FedEx’d a package to you with all of the information for your departure twenty-four hours ago. You demanded that flight. I made it happen. So what the fuck happened?
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: Crickets…
Wake up, woman! I’m about to head out for a day full of guys stuff and I’d love to hear from you before I start my day.
I love you, you crazy-sassy-adorable-sexy-beautiful woman.
Always yours,
X
CHIEF DUBOIS SITS BEHIND HIS desk. One of his hands holds the phone to his ear while the other worries through his hair at a frantic pace.
“I haven’t heard from her in over twenty-four hours,” he spits into the phone.
A heavy sigh escapes his lungs as his eyes close shut with frustration. The responses he is getting from the other end of the line are infuriating him.
“If I knew where the fuck she was, do you think I’d be calling you?” he rhetorically shouts to his superior on the other line. “Sims is AWOL and my best fucking agent has gone missing. I need a team down there immediately!” He slams the phone done with brute force, the receiver all but smashing into pieces against his desk. “FUCK!” he shouts into the quiet room.
Chief knows that something terribly bad has happened in Guadalajara, and he has a sick feeling in his gut that Agent L-55’s life is in danger...
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: H
ello?
Please let me know that you’re okay.
You’re usually so quick to respond to my demanding emails…
To: Meli@FSNW.net
From: Caveman@FSNW.net
Subject: WORRIED
I’m sick with worry over here, baby. I hope to God that you’re just busy and haven’t had a chance to check your email. Fuck, I miss you so much and love you even more.
Please respond to my emails and let me know that you’re okay, and then hurry your sexy ass home.
X
IF SOMETHING SEEMS TOO GOOD to be true, it usually is.
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.
Her eyelids flutter faintly from the disturbance.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She blinks once, twice, three times—all in synchrony with the noise and the lukewarm liquid splattering against her brow.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sloan’s eyes open hesitantly. Her vision is blurred and everything is magnified underneath a kaleidoscope lens. She fights against the incessant throb radiating from her skull to open her eyelids all of the way. The entire right side of her face is aching and sharp pain emits down her cheekbone. A deep, relentless pain exudes from her right shoulder and left thigh. Her memory is foggy at best, merely nonexistent.
So much time is missing…
She recounts her steps, frantically searching for clues…for memories…for anything to bring her to the present. Her hands endeavor to touch her face, to wipe away the persistent drops of water crashing against her brow, but she can’t move. Her fingertips brush against the thick, coarse material wrapped around her wrists. Rigid material is secured tightly, keeping her arms restrained behind her back. Blood oozes from the open abrasions along her delicate skin as the rope cuts into her wrists with each severe movement of her arms. A constant burning sensation resonates across her skin.