by Mia Zachary
As the door opened, she dropped her head and concentrated on looking despondent. It wasn’t hard with her heart pounding against her ribs and a light sweat breaking out on her skin.
Braga came back into the room with his two thugs. He waved a hand at Weston’s body. “Wrap that garbage in the drop cloths and dispose of it. Help him, Felipe.”
Stevie kept her head down. She couldn’t let on that anything about the situation had changed. Braga had to believe she was still under his control. But she wasn’t, and she never would be again.
THE LOWER LEVEL OF THE HOTEL was dark; only minimal lighting pierced the quiet shadows along the main corridor. In the stillness, Emelio’s pulse ticked away the minutes left in Stevie’s life.
At the bottom of the stairs, he ducked into an empty meeting room to hide. Where was she? Which room? He wanted to kick in every door until he found her, but knew that losing the element of surprise would get her killed.
From down the hall, the sounds of heavy, arrhythmic footfalls were punctuated by soft grunts. He took a chance and peered around the doorway to see two men come into sight, balancing a long canvas painter’s drop cloth between them.
Part of him mourned Weston’s death. Jack was an avaricious traitor who had betrayed everything Emelio believed about honor and justice. But he should have rotted in a federal prison, not in a shallow grave by the side of a back road.
The two men came near enough for Emelio to make out their words. “It will have to wait, Felipe.”
“But el jefe said to get rid of—”
“There are too many people around, estupido. Weston has to stay in the trunk.”
Emelio flattened himself against the wall until he heard them go past. Peering through the crack of the door frame, he watched Jason and Heintz step out of the dark alcove near the parking-garage entrance. Guns at the ready, they moved as one to stop Carlos and Felipe before they could raise an alarm.
Once the SOD had the two henchmen safely in custody, Emelio hurried down the corridor in the direction they had come. Stevie was in one of the rooms next to the freight elevator, he was sure of it. But which one? He pressed the redial button on Alex’s cell phone, letting it ring only once.
HOW LONG DID IT TAKE to get rid of a body? Stevie had no idea, but figured it wouldn’t take long enough. She turned her head away and tried to block out the sounds of the late Jack Weston being lifted and carried out of the room. She had to figure out what to do next.
She tried to remember the lessons from her Hostage Survival class. Stevie drew a shallow breath, determined to make Braga see her as a person and not another liability. “So, what’s next? I have friends, family. People will be looking for me.”
“Let them look.” Braga pulled back the sleeve of his tuxedo and looked at his watch. “As soon as Carlos and Felipe return, we will leave for the warehouse. I do hope Sanchez is able to find that videotape.”
“Why are we going to Overtown?”
Braga’s features darkened and his mouth twisted into a frown. He answered almost to himself, muttering, “It seemed appropriate to return to the scene of Sanchez’s crime.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did he—”
“Enough questions, Ms. Madison. I have no intention of explaining myself to you.”
“No small talk? No chitchat?” Stevie shook her head. “No one takes the time to do a really sinister interrogation anymore.”
Braga’s smile was arctic. “There will be time enough to find out what little you know. You’re quite clever, for a woman. But I doubt that Sanchez would trust you with any real knowledge of my business.”
His assumption was too close to the argument she’d had with Emelio that morning. But Stevie resented the hell out of being dismissed and felt the welcome spark of temper. “You can’t be sure of that. Maybe I’ve already turned everything I have over to the authorities.”
“I hope not. For your sake.” Braga reached down to pat her cheek. “However, I do not anticipate any problems escaping prosecution, just as I have in the past.”
“Your arrogance will be your downfall. How do you know Weston wasn’t playing both sides, too? You were a fool to trust a rat like him.”
He frowned and his eyes flashed like black diamonds, though she wasn’t sure whether it was in reaction to being called a fool or to the idea of Weston double-crossing him. “It does not matter. With both of you dead, there will be no one to corroborate any accusations.”
“You won’t get away with—”
“Please, my dear, do not resort to clichés.”
Stevie blinked while he laughed at her. So much for getting a confession on her pen recorder. She was just about to ask another question when her cell phone rang. It chimed once and then lay quiet. Was that some kind of signal?
EMELIO STOOD OUTSIDE the door to the right of the elevators, heart racing. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream. He shrugged his shoulders to make sure the shirt was loose enough to reach beneath it. Then he lifted his fist to knock.
Just then, Braga’s voice came from the inside. “Mierda! Where are those two?”
Emelio rapped his knuckles against the wood. A startled, electric silence greeted the sound. He knocked again, louder. Finally Braga replied, “Carlos, you imbecile, get in here.”
He raised one arm behind his head then turned the knob just enough to open the door. Behind him, he heard Jason whisper, “What the hell are you doing?”
Emelio ignored him, except to give a gesture ordering the team to stay back for now. He nudged the door wider with his foot and stepped into the room, raising his other arm and lacing the fingers together. His eyes scanned the thirty-by-thirty-foot meeting space, assessing the situation.
His gaze settled on Stephanie. She was on her knees in the center of the room, head bowed over her hands. Even at a distance, he could see that her pale cheeks were wet with tears, her features set in a forlorn expression.
An almost uncontrollable rage choked him, burning away all other emotion. It infuriated him to see her subjugated this way, bereft of her usual vitality and sass. His fingers itched to reach for his gun. Damned if he would let Braga have the satisfaction of breaking her spirit.
“Sanchez!”
At the startled exclamation, Emelio turned his attention to his nemesis. Braga’s face registered shock and recognition before yielding to anger. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he realized he’d been caught in his own trap.
Braga brought the Glock 29 up and pointed it at Stevie’s head. His resonant voice oozed frigid sarcasm. “You must be one hell of a fast driver, Sanchez. You’ve arrived just in time to watch her die.”
Emelio’s heart stopped, trapping his breath in his throat. He risked breaking eye contact long enough to glance at Stevie. She looked scared, but in her eyes he saw hope, and then she had the audacity to wink at him.
It threw him off for a second but he refocused. He took several steps farther into the room, talking fast to keep Braga from pulling the trigger. “Don’t do it. There’s only one way out of this room and the hallway is filled with cops. It’s over.”
Braga’s eyes darted toward the door, but his aim never wavered. His gun was still trained on Stevie.
“It’s over. Carlos and Felipe are under arrest. We have Weston’s death on audiotape and Stevie is an eyewitness.” He walked closer still, moving to his left to hold Braga’s attention. “We’ve got you for jury tampering, conspiracy, kidnapping and murder. No way are you going to skate on the charges this time.”
Braga stared him down. “In that case, I have nothing more to lose. I may go to jail but I will have my revenge.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Emelio saw Stevie reach under her dress and draw out a pistol. Dios mio, what a woman. She was constantly surprising him. He struggled not to betray her with his reaction.
“Let Stevie go. She has nothing to do with this. Let her go and take me in her place.”
Braga’s laugh was devoid of
humor. “She has everything to do with this. You are lovers. You care for her. I want you to have to watch as she dies, just as I had to watch Carolína.”
“Lina never would have been in that warehouse if you hadn’t involved her in your criminal activity. You gave her that travel business, with everything in her name, so that she would take the fall if anything went wrong.”
“No! I protected her. Nothing would have happened to her if you had not interfered. It was you who made her betray her family. You are responsible for her death!”
Emelio flinched under the weight of the accusation. “God knows, I never meant for her to get hurt. I didn’t directly involve her in the investigation until the very end.”
Braga scoffed contemptuously. “She was part of it long before you knew. You thought you were so smart, Sanchez. But I was one step ahead of you all the time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My cousin came to me. She confessed.” Braga’s smile was terrible to see. “Any information she gave you after that was only what I wanted you to know.”
Emelio’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “I don’t believe it.”
“Face it, Sanchez. A young woman’s lust may have been easy for you to manipulate, but her guilt was even easier. She owed me her loyalty and she paid for her betrayal.”
He stared at Braga, unnerved, as the truth hit him full force. “Overtown was an ambush. You cold-blooded son of a bitch. You didn’t just trap Lina in the middle of your deal. You set her up for execution.”
A kind of madness gleamed in Braga’s eyes, his expression one of barely leashed fury. “She was pure until she began a relationship with you! You took a sweet young girl and corrupted her for your own pleasure. Once you had her, she was forever tainted. She was never the same!”
Emelio’s mouth twisted into a sad smile as the weight of failure lifted from his shoulders. He’d thought that Lina offered to help him out of love, but she had only been working for her cousin. Perhaps he’d broken the rules and lost sight of his responsibility. Maybe Braga had used and manipulated her. But, in the end, the truth was that Lina made her own choices.
For the past two years he’d been seeking forgiveness, trying to regain his lost honor. He realized now that the only person he needed to forgive him was himself.
“Lina knew what she was doing.”
“She did not! Carolína was my angel, she was everything good and pure. You ruined her!”
Emelio noticed Stevie shift her position on the floor and glanced over at her. She lifted her hand just enough for him to see the Walther, then nodded once. Whatever happened next, she was ready. He had to be, also.
He bent his right elbow toward the Ruger, then made certain Braga’s anger and attention stayed focused on him. “You were jealous, is that it? You planned to have her to yourself. But then she chose me. You lied to and controlled and exploited Lina because she slept with me.”
“Cálle te! Shut your mouth.”
“She gave herself to me, not to you. That’s it, isn’t it? You wanted her in your bed and she refused you.”
Braga’s face turned purple with rage as he swung the Glock 29 in his direction. “May you rot in hell, Sanchez.”
EMELIO WAS GOING TO DIE unless she saved him.
Once upon a lifetime ago, Stevie had begged, she’d pleaded until she had no self-esteem left, no confidence and no faith. Just as she had pleaded with Braga a short while ago. She’d felt so helpless, so lost and alone that she didn’t believe she could save herself.
But now it was Emelio in danger, Emelio who needed to be saved. This time she wasn’t going to cower or crawl. This time she’d stand up to her abuser—it was the only way to truly be free. And, in doing so, she could regain the control she’d finally achieved over her life. She couldn’t go down without a fight, not when she had the power to save the man she loved.
The Walther weighed more heavily on her mind than in her hand. She’d never be able to callously murder someone, not after seeing Weston meet such a violent end. But she could sure as hell pop a cap into Braga’s left shoulder.
Stevie levered up on her knees and brought her pistol up, flexing her thighs for balance. She pulled the bolt back in order to load the first round. The harsh metallic click of the bullet sliding into the chamber echoed loudly in the empty room.
At the sound, Braga swung his head in her direction, stunned disbelief evident on his face. Bracing her wrist, Stevie narrowed her eyes and sighted down the barrel. Looking right into Braga’s cold black eyes, she squeezed the trigger.
Emelio arced his right arm over his shoulder, a gun appearing suddenly in his hand. He fired at the same time she did, the double blast deafening in the small room. Braga cried out, dropping his gun and falling backward under the impact of the two bullets striking his upper body.
“Shots fired! Move! Move! Who’s hit?” The Double O Team rushed through the door, quickly filling the meeting room with more guns and a lot of testosterone.
Emelio kicked Braga’s gun out of reach then he offered his hand, pulling Stevie to her feet. She continued to stare at Braga as he writhed on the floor, bleeding and in pain. She tossed her own gun aside, sickened by what she’d had to do.
IT WAS FINALLY OVER.
No more running. No more hiding. No more fear.
As the Double O Team waited for an ambulance to take Braga away, Stevie squeezed Emelio’s hand and turned to look at him. Her gaze drank in the sight of his devastatingly handsome face. His golden skin was still pale and stretched tightly over his regal cheekbones. Everything he felt for her showed in the depths of his hazel eyes.
God, how she loved him. She loved him for his sensitivity and his dedication to his job, his loyalty and even his protectiveness. She loved his ever-present sex appeal and his creative spirit. Through the power of love, she had survived and she had triumphed. She had a future in which she’d never be a victim again, a future she hoped to share with the man who’d made it possible.
The aftermath of an adrenaline high slammed into her like a freight train. First came relief and then a weariness like she’d never known before. Then came the tears. Stevie gladly collapsed into the safety of Emelio’s embrace, sobbing as he rocked her in his strong arms.
“Tranquila, mi querida. Tranquila.” She felt his lips brush her temples as he whispered into her hair. The words were in Spanish, but she understood the soothing comfort. A few moments later, Stevie stepped back and wiped her eyes, while Alex grinned at her and Jason made kissy noises.
Warm color flooded her cheeks. “Shut up, you guys.”
Emelio offered her one of his rare smiles. “Get used to it, Stephanie. They’ll have to.”
“What? This from the guy who was worried about how it would look back at the office?”
“It’ll look like this.”
He gathered her back into his arms and captured her lips in a kiss that set her hair on fire. It was hot and sweet and full of promise. Stevie wound her arms behind his neck, pulling him closer as desire sang through her blood.
The sound of applause had her stepping back, flustered. “Wow. That was Bond worthy.”
“You earned it, Jayne.”
“That reminds me. Nice trick with the gun behind your back.” Stevie cocked her head to one side. “Maybe next time, though, you could put it somewhere more convenient so I don’t have to save your ass.”
Emelio crossed his arms over his chest, one eyebrow arched in amused protest. “What are you talking about? You couldn’t have saved me—I got off the first shot.”
She scoffed. “You’re dreaming. I shot first.”
“No way, lady. You were still practicing your regulation combat stance when I took Braga out.”
“Oh, please. I had him—”
“Yes, you did, Stephanie.” Emelio’s gaze echoed the soft, enchanting tone of his voice. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
Her heart swelled, choking her with emotion. Tears shimmered in her eyes, thr
eatening to set off another torrent of sobs. Her fingers trembled in his grasp and her voice broke. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. I’ve waited my whole life to hear someone say those words.”
“I only say it because it’s true. You’re an incredible woman, Stephanie. Strong, intelligent, passionate.” He reached out to cup her face in his palm. “All joking aside, you did save my life. In more ways than one.”
Stevie returned his quiet smile. “We saved each other.”
15
ONCE THE PARAMEDICS ARRIVED, there wasn’t enough space in the meeting room for Emelio, Alex and six other agents, Braga’s animosity, Oscar Solis’s egotistical gloating and Stevie, too. So when Emelio suggested she go upstairs to the hotel manager’s office and wait for him, she gratefully fled the scene.
She sat down in the upholstered chair and braced her elbows on the desktop. She sighed, resting her forehead in her palms. Fatigue settled onto her shoulders, weighing her down. Stevie leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
Braga smiled menacingly and then his features melted into Tom’s. She screamed, but the sound was muffled as she shot the men who’d threatened her.
“It’s over, Stephanie.”
She must have dozed off because she startled when Emelio gently shook her arm. She dragged in a shuddering breath and sat up. He crouched down beside the chair and wiped the dampness from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“It’s all right now. You’re safe.”
Her throat felt tight with the residue of the horrific images in her mind. “I was dreaming.”
Emelio soothed her, his voice calm and understanding. “I know, querida. And I won’t lie to you—there will be other dreams. But in time, it won’t be as bad.”
For the rest of her days, Stevie knew she would remember what it was like to point a gun at another living soul and pull the trigger because she had no choice. She only hoped he was right about the healing power of time. She swiped the last tears away and offered Emelio a smile of thanks.
