While she smiled gently, Elijah firmly removed her hand before those cold lips could touch her skin. "This is my favorite cousin." Again his white teeth flashed and this time they looked a bit sharper. "She is very dear to me." It was a clear warning and any man within hearing distance couldn't mistake the menace.
"Isabeau," Philip whispered. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes from her.
Elijah studied their host closely, inhaling his scent. They had done research on the man. He was greedy and excessive in his decadent lifestyle. There were reports of women carried from his home while he looked on, wrapped in a silken robe and sipping a glass of whiskey with a small smile. Everywhere they looked the signs of his opulent lifestyle were apparent.
Marcos took a drink from a tray, his faded, burnished eyes taking in the server. He shifted his gaze to Conner, who barely nodded. The woman was dressed in dark trousers and a white blouse. There was a faint bruise on the side of her face covered by thick makeup. Her hand trembled slightly as she offered the silver tray.
Rio indicated they move deeper into the house, into one of the rooms Conner had deemed the safest. There were several exits and a more open floor plan. Philip followed them, chattering about the new hotel being built and how much it was needed. The jobs, economy and all the new tourist opportunities it presented. Marcos murmured politely, listening attentively, and Conner retreated back into the shadows, knowing he would appear more mysterious and more dangerous when Imelda Cortez's security people examined the tapes before allowing her inside.
He had studied Imelda's profile carefully, as he did any mark. She wanted a dominant man, one very dangerous, one that would thrill her, scare her a little, but one she could dispose of when she tired of him. No, Elijah had the charisma and danger she sought, but he was too powerful, she would never succumb to the temptation, Conner was certain he was right about her.
Isabeau wandered around the room and stopped in front of a display. Whips, floggers, canes and other various instruments of torture were displayed in a large glass case. Philip came up behind her. Close. Too close. "Do these instruments interest you?"
Isabeau turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her expression one of disdain. "Hardly. I prefer much more pleasurable forms of entertainment."
"Perhaps I could change your mind. Pleasure and pain are often mixed with surprising results."
Isabeau raised an eyebrow. She had only minutes to gather impressions of Philip Sobre, but she doubted she would need much more than that. Elijah's job was to act the overprotective cousin while she was bored and amused and as alluring as possible. Sobre was reputed to have visited Imelda Cortez's compound quite often for several months. The visits continued, but were much less frequent now. She had the feeling Philip and Imelda shared a similar fetish for using whips on others, not on each other.
"The giving or the receiving?" she asked with a small and what she hoped was a mysterious and mildly interested smile. "I think I'd much rather be the giver." Her cat stirred, rebelling at the way the man stood so close, breathing on her with mint-scented breath and his hot eyes. Her skin itched and she felt the movement inside her, a slow extension of claws unfolding.
"I agree with you there. It is exquisite to watch the whip cutting across flesh." He inhaled and the musky scent of arousal reached her nose. "Wielding the whip, gaining control and acquiring that perfect touch is an art form."
"One you've studied?" Isabeau turned to face him, leaning one hip against the wall and looking at him over the glass of wine she was pretending to sip. Philip Sobre was a sadist. He was sexually aroused at the thought of ripping into someone helpless with his whip. The rumors about Imelda Cortez were rampant. Her cruelty was legend, as was her father's before her. They would naturally gravitate toward one another. And Philip was in a position where he would have an endless supply of victims to share with Imelda.
"Of course," Philip said. "Extensively." There was something hot and speculative in his eyes that made her stomach lurch in protest.
She'd lived a great deal of her life in the rain forest. The economic disparity between the rich and the poor was enormous. The smoldering heat of the jungle often brought out the worst in people, and the distance from civilization sometimes attracted the most depraved, who thought themselves above the law and entitled to do whatever they wanted. They believed the natives were beneath them and no one would miss a few if they disappeared. She'd seen the attitude many times in her life, but Philip was blatant about it.
She hung on to her smile and was grateful when Elijah crossed the room to her side and took her elbow. She knew Philip perceived Elijah as a shark, just as he thought of himself. Elijah bent to whisper in her ear, his eyes on Philip.
"Keep it up, you look very cool and calm and just that little bit disdainful. My guess is the feed from the videos is being reviewed right now. She'll be intrigued by Sobre's interest in you. There's no way they'll miss Conner prowling in the shadows."
She smiled up at him and touched his cheek affectionately, looking as loving as possible. It was strange. She knew Elijah's background, what he'd come from, what he'd done in his life, most of it not good, and yet he had a clean scent. Depravity clung to Philip. It was difficult to avoid looking toward Conner as Elijah led her back to Marcos, who greeted her by raising his wineglass and telling her a joke. She was very aware of Philip joining them, standing next to her, which told all of them that despite the clear warning Elijah had given him, he felt very safe under Imelda Cortez's protection.
Cortez definitely ruled here. Signs of her were in the security system and the guns Philip's guards possessed. The weapons were too sophisticated for the men who held them. This was Sobre's personal army, not Imelda's, and Philip was too lazy, or too cheap to employ mercenaries or ex-soldiers. Maybe he didn't believe he needed security in the same way Imelda did. But Imelda and Philip definitely were affiliated, or he wouldn't have the guns and security system. As chief of tourism, he was in a position to help her get her drugs out of the country. And he got a fat paycheck for his services.
Isabeau was aware of Philip working his supposed charm on Marcos. Marcos was an older man and Cortez probably thought she could seduce him or blackmail him into going into business with her if her business offer wasn't as sweet as he'd like. Elijah was a different matter. Young. Virile. His reputation was that of a ruthless dictator in his cartel. His men were loyal to a fault and his enemies tended to die fast. None of them had expected him to be with Marcos.
In another hour Imelda would be there and the tension would skyrocket. In the meantime, the team would try to get as much information out of Sobre as they could without ever asking about Cortez. He had to bring her up and Isabeau was certain he would. He was already dropping the names of celebrities who he'd had to dinner or one of his parties. He was a vain, pompous man, but she wasn't going to underestimate him. He hadn't gotten where he was by being stupid.
"You have a lovely home, Mr. Sobre," she said. "It was . . . unexpected."
He preened and strutted a little. "We're quite fashionable even here in this place." His eyes held hers. "We make our own rules here and live the way we choose."
She gave him her sweet, empty smile over the rim of her crystal glass. "Well you seem to be doing a fine job. Where in the world did you find all these servants?"
Deliberately she used the word servant, making her tone a little dismissive when she indicated the uniformed women. Almost all of them were women, but she noticed a few men moving throughout the room. She was certain they weren't part of his security. Their eyes were downcast as they replenished the trays of food and moved through the guests. A few of the expensively dressed women ran hands over the men, touching them inappropriately. She would bet that the men and women going upstairs were taking advantage of other services his servants were required to give--and most likely the guests were being filmed secretly while they enjoyed themselves.
She knew the team believed they only had an hour or two befo
re Imelda arrived. Everything Isabeau knew about the woman pointed to someone who would deliberately make those around her feel small. Imelda would be cold and cutting and even cruel to those she believed less than she was. If Imelda really was the one giving orders to Philip, he had only until the woman showed up to convince Isabeau he was someone important. After that, Imelda would undercut him.
Because he thought she was Elijah's cousin, Sobre banked on her knowing what Elijah did for a living. As head of a dangerous family-owned cartel, Elijah would be regarded in the same vein as Imelda. They all had to wonder if Marcos was related to him and part of that cartel or whether they were coming together to work out an alliance.
Marcos patted one server's butt and the woman averted her eyes and allowed him a closer inspection. Isabeau kept her expression the same when she wanted to throw her glass at the older man. What did she know about him? What were the others doing allowing him to behave like that? She forced herself to inhale, to take in the scents around her for her cat to process.
Fear was uppermost. Hatred. Rage. All boiled beneath the surface. She certainly smelled lust, but not coming from Marcos. He was playing a part. Just as she was. Just as Conner would be doing. She had to believe that.
She looked at Elijah. He had known. They'd all known. This was more than drugs and kidnapping. They hadn't told her the things they'd expected to run into. She would never have been able to smile at Sobre had she known coming in. She was made deliberately to look like the innocent in the middle of a jungle full of predators. She'd bet her life that they'd discovered some of the precious tourists Sobre lured to his part of the rain forest disappeared without a trace. It would be so easy.
What was she thinking? That the suave man handing her another glass of wine was really a serial killer of young men and woman? That he used his position for his own sadistic pleasure? To cover her frightening thoughts, she lifted the glass to her lips. She actually took a sip before the scent hit her. It was drugged. She moistened her lips and looked again at Elijah. This time he reacted, smiling back at her and taking the drink from her hand, bringing the contents to his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly shouted at him to stop.
The server knocked hard into Elijah, sending the drink flying. The glass shattered all over the floor and the contents ended up on his immaculate shirt. The tray clattered to the floor, food scattering everywhere.
"Teresa!" Philip roared, his fist missing Isabeau by a mere inch as it shot toward the woman's horrified face.
The crack of flesh hitting flesh was loud. All conversation ceased and the room went eerily quiet. Conner stood in front of the woman, Philip's hand in his fist. No one had seen him move. He looked hard. Dangerous. His golden eyes burned into the smaller man.
"Perhaps you didn't notice, but you bumped the woman and knocked her into Mr. Lospostos." His voice was so quiet, Isabeau doubted anyone other than their small group could hear his words. "And you nearly struck Miss Chandler."
Philip Sobre looked murderous and then the dark promise was gone from his eyes and he was smiling. "I guess I didn't."
Conner let go of Philip's fist, his arm dropping back to his side. Isabeau knew the cameras had recorded every moment and Imelda would be intrigued with that interesting move on the bodyguard's part. He'd stood up for a servant. And he'd moved so fast he'd be a blur on the camera. She'd be more than intrigued. She'd want to get up close to such a daring, dangerous man. Not once had he looked at Philip's bodyguards, as if they were beneath his notice and no threat to him.
Isabeau's heart began to pound, and she could taste fear in her mouth. Conner was setting himself up, and these people were all killers. She even suspected the weasel Philip--who was smooth and charming all over again and ordering his servers to help Teresa clean up the mess--of being a killer. He appeared to ignore Conner, but she saw him glance several times toward the shadowed wall where Conner had once more disappeared.
If Adan had known about Sobre, he would never have allowed her to talk him into bringing in a team to kidnap back the children. So how had Conner gotten his information, because they definitely knew something was wrong with the chief of tourism and had come prepared. What other sources did they have?
"Come with me, Isabeau, while I get a clean shirt," Elijah commanded. With another smoldering look at Philip, he took her arm and walked her toward the entrance. "You're biting your lip."
"Am I?" She felt like she could breathe again, out of the presence of the chief of tourism and his penchant for hurting others.
"You do that when you're upset."
"How did you know about Sobre? He's a sadist, isn't he?"
"He's a killer. He likes to hurt people. He gets off on it. Men and women both from what I understand and he's got a perfect partner in Imelda. She shares his dirty little secret, in fact, she encourages it. As long as he kills his victims, she can control him."
"They sound like a perfect couple."
"They were a couple for a while. I suspect Imelda wants a dominant personality, and Philip would never be that to her. He's too afraid of her." Elijah stepped back to allow Rio to open the SUV door for him. Elijah waved her into the car.
"When we go back inside, I want you to look as if you've received a lecture from your badass cousin. Sobre will expect that I don't want you near him--which I don't. I know exactly the way his mind works. He thinks I have a weakness for my cousin and as he would never stop himself from taking what he wants, he believes neither would I."
"He makes me sick. His smell. His eyes. The way he looks at me. Everything about him. Something was in that drink."
Elijah nodded. "I got a whiff of it." He unbuttoned his shirt. "If the server hadn't bumped me, I would have found a way to drop it. Don't you find it interesting that he didn't want me drugged? Cortez is more anxious to talk to me than I expected."
"How did Rio know about Sobre?"
"Adan gave Rio Marisa's diary as proof of who he was. He needed to establish that he meant us no harm. She was investigating Sobre. She'd been suspicious of him for some time. Apparently . . ." He pulled a black shirt from a small suitcase, flashing her a small grin. " . . . always be prepared."
She rolled her hand in a circle over and over indicating for him to continue. "Apparently what?"
"Several women had disappeared in the area over the past few years, enough that Marisa became suspicious. She was the 'medicine woman' around these parts and many people, both from the tribes and other villages, sought her out, so she heard things more than others."
"And she heard about Sobre?"
Elijah nodded as he buttoned his shirt. "She zeroed in on him after a young woman from England disappeared. The woman had come here with three friends to hike in the rain forest. She somehow got separated from the others and they never found her."
"Why Sobre?"
"Sobre had told them about a particular trail, one little known and he didn't recommend a guide. At least that's what the other two women said. He claims he mentioned the trail in a conversation to them and even handed them cards with the names of tour guides on them."
"What else?" She knew there was more and she didn't know whether to be angry or just sick about walking into Sobre's lair without her team fully disclosing what they knew.
"Sobre came here when he was seventeen years old. He's now fifty-one. Marisa discovered that girls have been disappearing for thirty-four years."
She pressed her fingers to her mouth. "My God, he's a serial killer for real."
"That was the conclusion Marisa came to."
"Do you think Sobre knew she was on to him? Could he have deliberately used Suma and the raid on the village to target her?"
"Maybe, but we'll probably never know. Imelda Cortez has most likely known about this and probably not only encouraged him, but helped him. They have a bond, those two, and it's sick and perverted and definitely unhealthy."
"You already knew it going in," Isabeau said, "and you didn't tell me."
> "Imelda Cortez would never go out into the open unless she completely controlled the situation, which meant, if she was attending this party at Philip Sobre's residence, she had him in her pocket. It wasn't that difficult after reading Marisa's suspicions to know where to start our research. She wasn't far off the mark. Every one of our leopards instinctively despised the man," Elijah pointed out.
"And Conner just set himself up," Isabeau said. "Sobre despises him and will look for any excuse to kill him after that public humiliation, and Imelda will want him because he made Sobre look small. Am I right?"
Elijah nodded. "That's why we came, to get our foot in the door."
"And Conner wanted Sobre's attention off me and onto him," she guessed.
"That too. It was important that you handle Sobre without tipping him off, Isabeau. This is your first time going into a situation like this and none of us knew how you'd handle it."
She raised her chin. "What if I'd gone off with him?"
"No one ever took their eyes off you. That wouldn't have been allowed. I'm the big bad cousin and Rio and Felipe are our personal protectors. If I ordered one of them to cart your ass to the car, they would do so without hesitation and no one would be suspicious." His hand was on the door handle, but he wasn't opening it.
"I can handle it," she assured him.
"You're certain? There can't be any mistakes, Isabeau. Too many lives are at stake and we have no proof of anything. In any case, you can bet any law enforcement around here is either in Imelda's pocket or terrified of her. Hell, most of it is getting paid extra money to guard Sobre's party."
"I said I can handle it. Conner's hung out there on the line," she said. "I've got his back. And don't think I won't do whatever it takes to make certain he gets out of this alive."
Wild Fire Page 21
