by Kaylea Cross
“Perfect. See you then.”
Back in her office, she gave up trying to sway the women to enter WITSEC and tried instead to get more information about Ruiz from Oceane, who translated for her mother. Anya had detailed her account of the attack on her home in Veracruz, as well as given some information on Nieto’s finances that the FBI was looking into as a means of tracking him. But nothing else about his operations, what she knew of his criminal activity, and nothing on the cartel itself.
Rowan wasn’t yet sure if either of the women would be needed to testify against Ruiz, since their contact with him had been minimal, but they were the investigators’ best chance of cracking the Veneno cartel wide open.
A knock at the door stopped their conversation. All three of them looked over as it opened, and the sight of Malcolm standing there in the doorway was a punch to Rowan’s senses.
He wore a pair of dark jeans that hugged his powerful thighs, and a pale blue button down that stretched across his chest and shoulders. He’d worn it on their first date, when he’d taken her out to a fancy restaurant on the waterfront. The echo of excited butterflies stirred in her belly at the memory of that night.
“I’m here for Anya,” he said, then looked at Oceane and pushed the door open wider, revealing another big, fit man beside him with dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. One of his teammates. “This is Special Agent Gabe Lockhart. He’s been assigned to you.”
Oceane cast an uncertain glance at Rowan before speaking to her mother in Spanish and standing. “You’re our bodyguards?” she asked Malcolm.
Rowan was surprised as well. Why had two FAST Bravo members been tasked with this assignment? And did Malcolm even speak Spanish?
He nodded, his expression grave. “For now. Are you finished in here?” he asked Rowan.
“Yes, for the moment,” she said quickly, covering a wince as she pushed her chair back and got to her feet.
He gestured for Anya to follow him. “This way.”
Rowan trailed after them into the hall, overcome by the strangest sense of abandonment as Malcolm walked away from her. Part of her wanted to call him back.
The thought came out of nowhere, taking her completely off guard. Why did she feel such a strong desire to hold on to him now, when she’d been the one to let him go?
“What about our things?” Oceane asked him as she walked beside her mother. Agent Lockhart followed them, and Rowan behind him.
“Another agent will bring them to your safe house later.” Malcolm stopped and addressed Oceane, ignoring Rowan. For some reason that hurt, though she understood why he didn’t want anything to do with her, and he was here in a professional capacity, not a social one. Except it confused her, his apparent one-eighty after being so concerned and caring after the accident. Now she had two kinds of whiplash. “We’ll give you a minute to say goodbye,” he said, looking between Oceane and her mother.
Oceane’s blue-gray eyes went wide and she gasped as his meaning sank in. “Goodbye?”
He nodded once. “Protocol dictates you’ll be transported to the secure location separately for your own safety.”
Uh oh… Rowan glanced at Oceane, already knowing how that would be received.
“No.” Oceane darted forward to grab her mother’s upper arm and step in front of her, raising her chin. “We will not be separated.”
“Yes, you will.”
At that hard voice they all looked to the left as Commander Taggart strode toward them from the direction of the elevator, his expression set. “My men have been tasked with your protection. For everyone’s safety, you and your mother will be taken in different vehicles.” There was absolute steel in his tone.
Oceane shook her head, panic bleeding through in her expression, clearly believing this was a trick. That she and her mother would be separated for good. “No.” She spoke in rapid Spanish to her mother, whose eyes filled with horror at the news, then launched into her own tirade.
Taggart put up a hand to stop her. “I realize it’s not what you want. But it’s the way it is. It’s all documented right here.” He pulled out a letter from his back pocket and handed it to her. Oceane scanned it, her brows knitted together.
Malcolm finally looked over at Rowan as the two women continued arguing and pleading with Taggart, one in English and the other in Spanish, and she could tell by the resigned look on his face that he hadn’t volunteered for this assignment. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him, but as far as Anya’s safety was concerned, the woman couldn’t be placed in better hands.
“I want to speak to the agent in charge of our case,” Oceane said.
“You can speak to him on the way to your safe house,” Taggart answered, “but right now, you’re going. Individually.”
“My mother doesn’t speak English.”
“That won’t affect Agent Freeman’s ability to protect her.”
When Oceane opened her mouth to argue again, Rowan stepped in. “If it helps, I can guarantee these men’s word. You’ll both be taken to the same location, I promise, and you’ll both get there safely. Agent Freeman served in the military before joining the DEA, and with all his training and experience, he’s well qualified to be your mother’s security detail,” she said, without giving too much about his background away.
She could feel Malcolm’s dark stare boring into her, didn’t have the guts to meet his gaze as she continued. “Agent Lockhart works with him and is also former military,” she added, not wanting to come right out and say they were teammates, or in what capacity they worked together.
Most of what FAST Bravo did was classified. Oceane and her mother didn’t have the security clearance necessary to know more. The only reason Rowan knew what she did was because of her history with Malcolm and her involvement with the Ruiz case, and even her knowledge was limited. “You and your mother will both be in good hands with these men until other arrangements can be made.”
Oceane stared at her in uncertainty, a worried frown pulling her brows together. “You know Agent Freeman personally?”
“Yes.” At least, I used to.
The frown didn’t ease. “And if you were in my place, you would trust him to guard your mother, and not take us away from each other?”
“I would trust him with my life,” she answered without hesitation.
It was true. In Oceane or Anya’s shoes, Rowan absolutely would trust him to keep her safe. Malcolm was not only a former SEAL, he was a man of integrity and strength. He was a professional, and highly skilled at what he did. None of that had any bearing on why she’d chosen to end things between them. She’d had her reasons. Solid, practical reasons she didn’t want to think about right now.
While Oceane continued to study her, Rowan felt the continued weight of Malcolm’s stare pressing on her. Again, she didn’t look at him, not willing to risk it because she couldn’t bear to see coldness or anger in his eyes.
“And remember, this is only temporary,” she added, trying to sell this solution to her skeptical witnesses. “Maybe even as little as a few days until this all gets sorted out.” Until you give us something good on Ruiz and Nieto, or come to your senses and enter WITSEC.
Oceane exhaled a ragged breath, cast a worried look at her mother, then gave in with a nod, her shoulders relaxing a little. “All right.” She pulled her mother into a fierce, protective hug, murmured something soothing to her in Spanish.
During the lull, Rowan could no longer ignore the force of that magnetic stare locked on her. Steeling herself, she met Malcolm’s gaze and the breath stopped in her lungs at the mix of raw emotion burning there. Surprise. Frustration. Maybe even a measure of gratitude.
But he masked it quickly, breaking eye contact as he switched his attention to Anya and raised his eyebrows. “Ready?”
The woman nodded, cast a tearful glance at her daughter, as though afraid it might be the last time she laid eyes on Oceane, and followed Malcolm. Lockhart and Oceane went next, with Taggar
t on their heels.
Standing alone in the hallway when they disappeared around the corner, Rowan blew out a deep breath and rolled her head from side to side. Now her chest ached as much as her head. Why couldn’t she stop the longing Malcolm generated inside her? Why did watching him walk away hurt so damn much when it’s exactly what she’d wanted a year ago?
“You are a magician,” Val said as he stepped up beside her. “Thought for a minute there we were going to have a screaming match. How’d you smooth everything over?”
Rowan shrugged, her sore shoulder muscle screaming in protest. “Just told them the truth.”
But not all of it. Because the whole truth was, she missed Malcolm like hell.
Chapter Five
Manny set his cell phone down on the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the polished antique wood surface. Almost a week now since the attack on Oceane and Anya, and no word yet on their location. As far as anyone could tell, they were somewhere in the States. He’d barely slept since, worry and fear eating at him from the inside out.
He knew who the culprit was, however. Ruiz. That fucking bastard.
Manny should have had him killed years ago and taken over his territory, saved everyone in the organization a lot of embarrassment and spared Oceane and Anya suffering. Instead he’d bided his time, playing it safe and living his double life until Ruiz’s capture by U.S. officials had made it impossible to sit back any longer.
His cell rang, the familiar ringtone alerting him that it was his accountant calling. He stared at it for a few seconds, wasn’t going to answer at all, but a niggling in his gut made him pick up. “Yes?” He sounded every bit as tired as he felt.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No.” He always projected a calm front. It was absolutely necessary for a man of his position in this deadly business. He was surrounded by power hungry men and rivals who would love to do the same to him as he’d done to Ruiz. No matter what, he had to appear to be calm and in control at all times. Make everyone believe he was unshakable. All while letting his enforcers do the dirty work they so enjoyed. “What is it?”
“I’ve just been alerted by our contact at the international bank. Some of your offshore accounts have been frozen.”
“What? By who?”
“The FBI. Just this morning.”
Fuck. “The FBI froze my accounts.”
“Yes.”
He sat up, dragged a hand over his face. They’d been so careful with his finances. Burying them so deep it should have taken years for anyone to trace them back to him. “Which accounts?”
When the man told him, Manny’s stomach dropped. The accounts he used for sending money to Anya and Oceane. All three were compromised. “They’ve been talking to the Americans,” he murmured, feeling ill.
“It would appear so. Or…someone’s forced the information out of them.”
God. “Of course.” He stood, paced aimlessly across the kitchen, not even noticing the beautiful mountain vista out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the house he’d paid a fortune for.
Of course someone must have forced Anya and their daughter to tell them about the money. They would never betray him willingly. They had fled to the States for safety, out of desperation, but instead of finding temporary refuge there, the Americans must have taken them. The thought of them imprisoned in some American prison while investigators interrogated them day and night about him and his activities was more than he could bear.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Create new accounts in Switzerland under a new company and sell whatever shares you need to make up the amount lost. When they return home, they’ll need the money.”
“All right.” The accountant paused. “Are you going to stay in Mexico?”
“For now.” Soon he would slip into Panama and wait there until the immediate threat against him was over. But not until Anya and Oceane were returned safely to Mexico. Until then, he had to pretend everything was as it should be. He had to fool everyone, not let anyone see him sweat.
“All right. You’ll keep me updated?”
“Yes. Call me when you’ve arranged everything.” He ended the call and immediately dialed his lawyer, a man he paid handsomely to be at his beck and call. “The Americans have Anya and Oceane,” he began abruptly.
They were deep into conversation about what needed to happen next, to protect him, the women and his assets, when the front door opened into the grand foyer off the kitchen. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched his wife sail through the door, her hands loaded with boutique shopping bags, a pair of designer sunglasses hiding her eyes.
“I have to go,” he said to the lawyer. “Call me later when you have more details.” He hung up without waiting for a response and put on a smile for Elena as she swept into the kitchen. “Have a nice day?” he asked, taking the bags for her and setting them on the counter.
She seemed happier now, more like her old self. Things had been strained between them recently. Maybe a couple of months. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but she’d been distant and cool to him until maybe a week ago, around the time when this latest crisis had happened.
“I did. You?”
He shrugged, slipping into his acting role as comfortably as if it were a second skin. Over the years, he’d perfected it. “Just some business things I had to deal with.”
She stopped, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head to study him with those miss-nothing brown eyes. “Is there trouble?”
He smiled again. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Elena didn’t know about Oceane. She thought that his trips to Veracruz were business-related only, and out of respect for her as his wife, he’d been careful to keep both Oceane and Anya out of her life and never speak about them in her presence.
Elena had been just eighteen when they married, a naïve, uneducated peasant girl from a neighboring village, and he twenty-three. He’d been a nobody back then. A farmer’s son with work-roughened hands who did the occasional illegal deal to get ahead. She’d been loyal to him from day one, long before he had power and money. He owed her for that. Would give her anything.
But try as they might, they’d never been able to have a child. And after he’d fathered Oceane, the possibility of adopting a child with Elena hadn’t appealed to him in the least, so he’d quashed the idea and they’d made peace with the reality that they would never have children. Elena had let it go as well and now filled her time with travel, volunteer work, and her social circle.
“And that’s why I admire you so much,” she said, her hips swaying as she walked over and wound her slender arms around his neck with a sigh.
It gave him a measure of relief to know things were back to normal between them again.
Lifting one hand, she trailed the backs of her fingers down the side of his face, still as beautiful as the day he’d married her. “Such a handsome man you are, even with this new addition of silver,” she added, stroking the streak of gray at his temple.
He squeezed her waist, leaned in to kiss her gently. “You spoil me with your compliments.”
“I only say the truth,” she whispered, sliding her fingers into his hair as she deepened the kiss. His cock reacted instantly, his blood heating when she pressed that lush, female body to his. Almost thirty years together, and she could still make his body hum with a single touch.
She pulled away, a sultry smile on her lips. “I bought you something.”
“Did you? What?”
Dropping her hands to her sides, she turned away and went over to dig something out of one of the bags. A small black bag, just big enough to hold something the size of an apple. “It’s outside,” she said, a smug gleam in her dark eyes as she held the bag out to him.
He raised an eyebrow and took the offering from her. Opening it, he found a key. He grinned when he saw the logo on it. “A Jaguar?” He’d been eyeing a particular model over the last few months, to add to his collection of sports cars.
“Mmm, you’ll have to see.”
Hooking an arm around her waist, he walked to the front door with her. She paused there a moment, gave him a smile and threw the door wide open. A sleek, silver Jaguar sports car sat parked under the porte-cochere, a huge red bow on the hood.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not even close to my birthday.”
“I know.” She squeezed him once then gave him a push toward the car. “You’ve been working so hard recently, I thought you deserved a present.”
She thought it had to do with business deals or cartel business, not because his daughter and former mistress had been attacked and he’d been frantically trying to find them. Even with all his money and contacts, he hadn’t found them yet.
He gave a sideways nod at the Jag, watching Elena. “You wanna come for its inaugural spin?”
“Already did when I drove it here.” Tossing him a grin, she sauntered back toward the front door. “Have fun.”
Manny took the bow off and climbed into the driver’s seat, the heady scent of rich, new leather filling his nose. He pressed the start button, and the powerful V12 engine roared to life.
A sense of exhilaration pumped through him as he shot down the long, private driveway. The frustration and uncertainty gnawing at him eased somewhat beneath the flood of adrenaline. But even the thrill of racing down the road in his new Jag couldn’t take away the lingering weight of worry in his chest.
Oceane didn’t know much about his business, but Anya did. What had she told the Americans? He’d have to start emergency procedures immediately to limit the damage. Liquidate some of his larger holdings, create new shell companies just to be safe, change locations of his most important operations and switch up the people in his organization.
A call came in as he turned onto the main road a mile from his place. He set it on speaker, both hands busy, one on the wheel and the other on the stick shift. “Yes?”
“It’s Hector. I…I have bad news.”
One of his most trusted business advisers. Manny braced himself. “Tell me.”
