Escape from Danger

by Linsey Lanier

  “Simon!”

  As if he were about to draw a weapon and come rescue her, he leapt from the chair where he’d been staring at his laptop and hurried over to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear to the party tonight.”

  Letting out a breath of relief, he gave her a look of warning. “I thought you had hurt yourself.”

  “I am capable of taking a shower, you know.”

  He scowled, hiding a tad of embarrassment at his overreaction. “Most accidents happen in the bathroom.”

  Trying not to laugh, she narrowed an eye at him. “What about the dress?”

  He thought a moment. “Not a problem. I don’t have a tux, either. We’ll go shopping after breakfast. I know a few places in the Pacifico district.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t know what else to say to that. It would probably just about drain the fake bank account Tiziano had set up for the fictitious Mateo Rodriguez, but maybe that was for the best. Still, she wished she could pay for her own clothes.

  Note to self, she thought as she dried her hair. When running away with a spy, bring lots of cash.

  She dressed quickly, choosing a pale blue casual Boho top with a V-neck bordered in lacy white flowers, and matching jeans skirt with the fashionable tears in it. Boldly she opted for her dress sandals with a bit of heel, even though she might wish for her running shoes later. There was bound to be a lot of walking.

  Tired of hiding her hair, she used a bit of darkening gel Simon had, pulled it back into a ponytail and wrapped it with a large flowing scarf that matched her outfit.

  Simon wore his usual dark clothes with a black blazer.

  He treated her to an American style breakfast with scrambled eggs, cappuccino, and yogurt—which she was surprised he remembered.

  Then they drove to a part of the city where the buildings were taller and even more European looking than the ones around their hotel.

  He took her to a nice boutique with iron filigree doors and banners fluttering in the wind high above. After drooling over the selections and wishing she had a giant bank account, she selected a multi-colored gown of silver, champagne, and bronze with a flowing chiffon skirt, a sequined lace top, and a plunging neckline—which she caught Simon eyeing when she tried it on.

  If only this were a normal party, she would have been excited to wear it. As things stood, she had a mixture of joy and trepidation in the pit of her stomach as she watched Simon pay for the dress.

  They hit the tux shop next, and she helped Simon pick out a black single-breasted jacket with classic notch lapels, slacks with a silk stripe down the side, a cummerbund, a black tie, and black patent leather shoes.

  By then it was almost three, and she needed refreshment.

  He took her to an outdoor cafe in the Barrio San Telmo, and they ate queso sandwiches, drank coffee, and indulged in more of that delicious dulce de leche.

  She caught him watching her spoon the decadent pudding into her mouth and thought about his words last night.

  This would all be over soon. And when it was, could they really have a normal life? Could they go somewhere like this fascinating city and just enjoy themselves? She found herself longing for that.

  And then music caught her ear.

  She turned her head and saw people gathering on the square around the corner. “What is that?”

  Simon grinned slyly. “I’ll show you.” He took her hand and led her along the sidewalk.

  As they turned the corner, she caught sight of a small band. There was a guitar, a double bass, a flute, and a small instrument that looked like an accordion.

  “It’s called a bandoneon,” Simon said as he saw her gazing at it. “The tango originated here in Buenos Aires. The Argentine style, anyway.”

  “I like it.”

  “You’ll like this, then.” He nodded toward the center of the crowd.

  The people in front of her moved, and in a clear space under the trees she saw a wooden platform had been placed on the sidewalk.

  Atop the platform, a man in loose slacks and a silver shirt took a dark haired woman in his arms as the band played an evocative intro. She wore a lovely deep plum dress with gold embroidered trim, and her long dark hair was pulled back in a decorative clasp that let it fall in waves to her neckline.

  The man held her close, and they danced along the walkway to the sensual nostalgic notes of the band.

  “I think this song is a lament for a lost love,” Simon said, with a sentimental sound in his voice that was unusual for him.

  “It’s beautiful,” Janelle sighed, watching the couple take long dramatic steps, tap their feet, and turn with effortless movement.

  The music turned peppy, and the woman danced around the man, still holding onto him. They went around the floor several more times, legs flying, spinning round and round in time to the sultry music.

  And then the song and dance ended with a flourish and a backward dip.

  The crowd applauded, and Janelle found herself wanting more.

  Grinning with pride the woman turned to her audience. “Bailar con nosotros,” she said beckoning with her arm. “Come join us.”

  Janelle turned to Simon. “Do you want to?”

  He smiled at her, looking a little surprised. “Can you tango?”

  “I took lessons once when I was dating a dancer in LA.”

  His brows rose. Whether at surprise that she’d had lessons or that she’d mentioned someone she used to date, she couldn’t tell.

  But he took her hand. “Well then. Let’s give it a try.”

  He led her out to the spot designated as a dance floor, held her at arm’s length, and the music began again.

  There were only a few other couples who had had the nerve to join the professionals. One was an elderly man and woman who seemed to know exactly what they were doing. They had probably been dancing the tango for years.

  Moving counterclockwise around the edge of the floor, she and Simon performed the long steps in time to the sultry Latin rhythm. Janelle remembered to point her toe and pause at the end of each step.

  They did a contra-step on the beat, and Simon spun her around.

  They were close to each other now, her back against his chest. She could feel his breath on her neck.

  Her heart began to beat.

  He turned her around and she faced him, their gazes locking as she moved backward, repeating the slow and then the quick steps she’d done before.

  They did another spin, and he bent her backward, her spine arching, her hair nearly touching the dance floor.

  Where in the world had he learned to do that?

  He let her up, they took another turn around the floor, and ended face to face again.

  As the music grew intense, Simon’s steady blue-eyed gaze seemed to go straight through her, peering into her soul. She felt the heat of his body. She felt chills go up and down hers. And suddenly, she knew she would do anything for this man, would go anywhere with him.

  It was more than the dance. It was a connection that went bone deep. They had the same purpose. The same calling.

  The calling they would answer tonight.

  And then this nightmare would be over. What would life with Simon Sloan be like then?

  Beautiful beyond belief. She was sure of it.

  The dance ended, and the people who had been watching them began to applaud.

  Simon snapped out of his reverie and glanced around as if realizing what a bad idea it was to display themselves so publicly.

  Again he took her hand, this time with the air of command.

  He murmured in her ear. “C’mon. We have to get back to the hotel.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  They took a nap to make sure they would be fresh tonight, then Janelle showered and started to dress while Simon sat at the desk with his laptop, working on his phone.

  Final preparations, she surmised, butterflies starting to rouse in her stomach.

&nbs
p; She sprayed herself with a bit of rose and mandarin orange perfume, then donned the wig Simon had produced from his bags of goodies. It was a light brown pixie cut with champagne highlights, and it went well with her silver, champagne, and bronze dress, especially when she added a bit of glitter to her hair and makeup.

  As she slipped into her silver slingback heels, she caught him staring at her. “What?”

  “You’re gorgeous, even without your red hair.”

  Her cheeks going hot, she cleared her throat. “Do you think I’ll call too much attention to myself?”

  He smiled lustily. “That can’t be helped. We’ll just have to deal with it. But I have something for you.”

  “What?”

  He rose, moved to the dresser, and opened a drawer. Slowly he drew out a piece of jewelry. It was a beautiful silver necklace shaped like tiny climbing vines and studded with pearls and diamonds. He stepped behind her and slipped it around her neck.

  Chill bumps burst out on her neck and back as he fastened it.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed.

  “It’s not real.”

  “Oh.” She should have guessed that.

  “And these go with it.” He dipped into the drawer again, took out a pair of matching earrings, and handed them to her. “You better put these on.”

  She took them from his palm and examined the setting. “This isn’t just jewelry, is it?”

  “Of course, not. They work with this.” He held up a diamond stick pin. “I’ll be wearing it in my lapel. You’ll be able to hear me and the conversation around me in your right earring.”

  “And how will you be able to hear me?”

  “With this.” Out of his pocket he pulled out a tiny flesh colored bud no bigger than his fingertip.

  “You’ll be wearing that in your ear?”

  He nodded. “And I’ll hear everything you say.”

  “And Torres?”

  “He’ll hear it, too. And see it with those.” He pointed to a pair of sleek dark rimmed glasses on the dresser.

  “There’s a camera in them?”

  “One of the best.”

  Of course. “So Torres and his ‘army of policemen’ will capture everything.”

  “Torres and whoever he’s managed to bring along tonight will.” He glanced at the time. “I need to get ready. I won’t be long.” And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom.

  Wondering what had happened to the romantic tango dancer she’d been with that afternoon, Janelle sank down at the desk and gave Simon’s mouse a shove.

  The photo of his old teammates in front of the cabin in Patagonia appeared. He must have been thinking about the men in the helicopter.

  Taking in the faces one by one, she recalled the names she’d memorized. The smiling joker, Luke Kirby. Leo Aldrich with the nice biceps. The serious looking Jax Breaker with his arched brows and square chin. The shorter guy with the blond buzzcut, dark-rimmed glasses and attitude. What was his name? Flint Hooper. The one Tiziano had once had to dress down. If one of these guys was after them, she’d bet it was him.

  Then her breath caught. Could one of these men be at the party tonight?

  “Can you hear me?”

  Janelle’s back shot straight up at the sound of Simon’s voice in her ear.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. And at Simon’s test. “Yes. I can hear you just fine.”

  “I can hear you as well.” He stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed in tuxedo, cummerbund, bowtie, and stickpin.

  Wow.

  She felt a little dizzy at the sight of him, he was so good looking. For a moment, she imagined herself going to a Hollywood premiere with the handsome leading man.

  But Simon wasn’t a movie star. He was, at his core, still an FBI agent, and he wasn’t about to let that movie star fantasy linger.

  He moved to the dresser and donned his camera glasses. “We need to get going.”

  She got to her feet and picked up the sequined clutch purse she’d be carrying. “I’m ready.”

  He closed down the laptop and stuffed it in the closet. Then he turned to her, hand extended.

  She reached for it, and they headed for the door.

  “I’ll need you to stay alert tonight,” he said, opening it. He was definitely back to commander mode.

  “I’m always alert,” she told him and stepped into the hall.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  They drove to the vicinity of Avenida del Libertador and parked the Beetle along a side street.

  “Are you ready,” Simon asked her?

  Janelle closed her eyes and drew in a breath. She had to be. “Yes.”

  Staring straight ahead, he took a few breaths to steady himself as well, and then spoke quietly. “Pre-entry phase. Do you read?”

  Inspector Torres’s voice crackled through her earring. “Loud and clear. I’m in place. The delivery arrived as expected.”

  Translation—the Castigadores had brought the six boys to the casino and were now inside.

  “Back up?” Simon asked.

  “Some.”

  Janelle tensed. In spite of his saying the transmission was ‘loud and clear,’ Torres suddenly sounded scratchy. And his answer was vague.

  Simon ignored both. “Operation Home Free commencing now,” he said and got out of the car.

  She reached for her sequined clutch purse, did the same, and straightened her skirt as she closed the door and watched Simon lock the car.

  Home Free. The name Simon had dubbed this venture last night. Must be an FBI thing. She thought it sounded presumptuous.

  They strolled down to the corner and climbed into a waiting chauffeured limo. Somehow Simon had managed to have it pick them up here. The ride was a short one. They wouldn’t even have had time to enjoy the champagne if there had been some, but it was a necessary part of their cover. Arriving in a rented Beetle just wouldn’t do.

  The limo dropped them off in front of El Diamante just after nine.

  Janelle got out of the car and stared up at the place in awe.

  Bathed in light, it looked like a glorious French castle. A magnificent white sprawling building with columns and arched windows and classical carvings all over it.

  Taking Simon’s arm, she ascended the wide scalloped steps and moved under the huge doorway of the central rotunda. She would have felt like a princess, if it weren’t for the deadly mission they were about to perform, and the ugliness she knew went on inside here.

  At the door, Simon turned to a uniformed man behind a small podium and handed him a card.

  The man studied it a moment, then handed it back with a tip of his cap. “Good evening, Señor Rodriguez.”

  “Good evening, Juan,” Simon replied, oozing confidence.

  Janelle wondered how he knew the man’s name, but she supposed all that hacking on his phone this afternoon had paid off.

  They stepped inside and she found it hard not to stare at all the grandeur.

  Well dressed men and women wandered across a pale marble floor, while classical music was piped in to give the place a sophisticated air. Ivory leaf moldings formed archways to the gaming rooms that were sprinkled around the perimeter.

  Three stories overhead, a huge dome painted like the sky spanned the ceiling, and in its center a long luxurious chandelier stretched all the way to the first floor.

  But the most opulent part was the double grand staircase. Encased by elaborate black filigree handrails, a matching pair of ivory steps ascended upward, caressing the room in curves like angel wings.

  Though what was going on here was anything but angelic.

  Choosing the one on the left, Simon took her arm and led her up the steps to the second floor. Here the arches led to rooms with roulette wheels and blackjack and Baccarat tables.

  This was where the high rollers played. Where they would find Fischer.

  But first, it was her job to find the boys.

  She scanned the circular hall that opened to the foyer area where t
hey had come from. More black filigree bordered its rim, delicate black lace against a pale creamy backdrop. Along the opposite sides stood another pair of curving staircases that matched the ones below and led to the third floor, just as Torres had shown them on the diagram last night.

  That was where the upper rooms were. And in one of those rooms, the boys were being held.

  Simon gave her hand a squeeze.

  She turned to him with a confident nod, let go, and began to circle around toward the far staircase.

  As she went along, several men smiled and winked at her, while some of the women gave her scowls. She stopped briefly to chat with someone who thought she was a movie star, and told her she would be filming on location in Algiers next month.

  Luckily no one was near the foot of the staircase when she reached it. But there was a velvet rope blocking entrance. Of course, Fischer wouldn’t want stray guests wandering up there. That was by invitation only.

  She picked up her skirt, stepped lightly over the rope and headed up the stairs, glad that her dress blended in with the embossed gold wallpaper.

  At last she reached the balcony. Peering over the elaborate railing, she could see the tops of the guests’ heads down below. It was quiet up here.

  She studied the rows of doors that must have been nine feet tall. Each one was gilded with understated molding and gold handles.

  The boys were behind one of them.

  Silently she moved to the first door and reached for the first handle. It opened easily. She peeked inside and saw a large luxury room with a fireplace, leather chairs, and antique furniture. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a canister on a richly carved coffee table. Next to it was a silver platter laden with fruits and cheeses and chocolates.

  On the opposite side of the room was a large bed with a thick quilt in a shimmering dark blue pattern and lots of matching pillows.

  Prepared for a rendezvous. With one of the boys? Her stomach twisted inside her.

  She closed the door and headed for the rooms that would face the rear of the building. Those were the ones Torres had pointed out on his layout last night.

  Before she reached them, someone came up behind her and touched her arm.