Temptation and Treachery (Dangerous Desires)

by Sahara Roberts

  “You okay back there? You looked a little unsteady.”

  “Did you see his driving?” They lurched forward. Celeste braced herself for another wild ride.

  “The driving around here takes nerves of steel.”

  To say the least.

  “Sending the message,” he said with finality.

  She crossed her fingers, replaying the text to herself. I’m safe. Checked into La Caverna to shower and rest. Please bring me some clothes when you come by.

  “’Kay, done. Keep your head down. I’ll let you know when we’re clear.” He shifted gears and they continued at a normal pace for several miles.

  “You can sit up now.”

  “Okay.” Pushing herself up, she watched the Saltillo suburb rush by. Most of the storefronts and the passing city buses screamed last century. Some quaint and old-fashioned while others just looked old.

  Gatlin slowed the car as they neared a roundabout with one of those huge statues of some important person in Mexico’s history. To the right sat the Flamenco, a Spanish-style, two-story hotel resembling a villa. They pulled into the drive, going around back to park away from the building. She reached for the door.

  “Stop,” Gatlin barked. Celeste froze, not knowing what was wrong. “Study your surroundings before you put yourself in danger.”

  Her eyes went huge. “You think I might still be in danger?”

  “Consider that the person we’re hunting might have a hired gun.”

  “Someone else could be out there,” she whispered. The weight of possibility landed squarely on her shoulders. The world felt huge around her, leaving her to sit there like a little speck with a giant red X on her chest.

  Gatlin waited while she glanced around. “What do you see?”

  This was like a scene out of a movie. The seasoned cop training a rookie to find the thing that didn’t belong. She straightened, feeling the pressure to succeed. “Um, a half-empty parking lot. Mostly cars, two SUVs, and a delivery truck. Heavy traffic on the main street. A man selling fruit.” She peered through a line of trees planted down the center of a boulevard. “There’s a couple on a bench by the bus stop.”

  “And?”

  What had she missed?

  “Did you see anyone sitting nearby?”

  “I didn’t—” She craned her neck, looking at the vehicles to her right.

  “Too obvious, Snow White.”

  Celeste cringed, shrinking back against the seat. Amateur move, she had to live up to her role. She tried again, twisting in place. “I’m going to pretend to talk to you, and look around.” Nothing next to them. One more, then another. Yes! “There’s someone in a bronze car, on the phone.”

  “Be specific. Male or female? Give a description. Even a general description is better than nothing.”

  “Four spots to the left. Older bronze Taurus, I think, parked away from the building. Person with short hair, possible male, on a phone.”

  “Better.” Gatlin gave her a thumbs-up. “The call could be a cover while sending information or checking the surroundings.”

  She nodded. It made sense. How many times had she seen characters on a TV show do the same thing?

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  She clutched the door handle. “Shouldn’t we wait until he’s gone?”

  “What if he’s calling for reinforcements?”

  Now she wanted to puke. “Then what should I do?”

  “If you don’t feel safe, you don’t stop. In our case, we go inside, with our reinforcements.” He opened the door. “And because we’re not sure about Mr. Cell Phone Guy, I’m going to be on your left so he’s in my line of sight while we walk.” They crossed the parking lot while Gatlin pretended to listen to her intently. “Looking good. He’s backing out of the space.”

  “How do you know he’s not a threat?”

  “I’ve had people monitoring every call from this area.” He swiped the card to get in the side door, putting a hand behind her shoulder to lead her inside. “Stairs. Second floor.”

  “Every call?” How was that even possible?

  “Every call. He was arguing with his wife. She thinks he’s messing around with his secretary?” She raised her brows as she rounded onto the next flight. “She’s wrong. He brought one of her friends.”

  They emerged to find a familiar-looking handyman working on a nearby window. He nodded, pulling a key to let them in.

  “Got a reply.” Gatlin drew the phone from his pocket.

  “Oh.” Wide-eyed, she leaned in, reading the response. Good girl. I’ll see you shortly. Whoever it was sounded just like her father—short, sweet, and to the point. Gatlin typed out Let me know when you’re here. I’ll meet you in the plaza behind the hotel. He hit send as they went in the room.

  Inside, a dozen men were in a rush of activity around the large suite. Rio looked up from loading his bag when the door opened.

  “We got a reply.” Gatlin held up the cell then shoved it in his pocket.

  “Yeah, Damian reports the phone’s on the move.”

  Gatlin acknowledged with a nod, yanking his shirt over his head. “I’ll clear the room.”

  Celeste sidestepped as men filed past her on the way out, each of them wearing a dark uniform and bulletproof vest covered by a button-up shirt, their head gear and weapon in the bags they carried. This was how they moved around town without calling attention to themselves.

  “You’ll be safe here,” Rio assured her. “Holiday will be outside as a precaution.”

  Celeste nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Why don’t you try and get some rest.” His eyes shot to a bedroom door. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Seriously? You expect me to just stretch out and nap?”

  “It’s a stressful situation, you’re pregnant, and you didn’t exactly get a good night’s sleep.” She couldn’t argue with any of it. Rio dropped a kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back.”

  “Be careful.” Celeste’s stomach tightened as he followed Gatlin out the door. Oh God. How could women watch their men go out into danger every day and stay sane. What was she going to do until they came back? And who would they find? Some faceless person Oz employed? Someone who’d obviously turned against him without him realizing it. What if they didn’t catch him? She wrapped her arms around herself, her nails dragging across her elbows. Oz would end up paying for the atrocities this man had committed in his name. The courts would surely crucify him. And she, the only one in contact with the imposter, the only one that could have figured out something was wrong, had missed any possible clue. Did Mexican courts have due process? Did he have any rights? What he needed was a lawyer.

  She turned to the desk. Leonard. As much as her conscience rebelled at the thought, she’d have to call her brother. But when she picked up the receiver, she got no dial tone. Pressing and releasing the button a couple of times didn’t help. Then she checked behind the phone, where the wire should be plugged in. Nothing. “What?” Bastards. They left her with no way to call out.

  Dashing into the bedroom, she found another dead phone. Anger pinched at her stomach. The world was revolving around her, and all she could do was watch things happen. The sheer helplessness made her want to scream, break something against the wall, or pitch it out a window. With a headache building behind her eyes, she went to the bathroom, hoping to find a pain reliever. Instead, she sped up when she spotted a phone built into the cabinet beside the toilet.

  Relief coursed through her as she reached for the receiver. Don’t do it. She paused. What she was about to do was a step from treasonous. She bit her lip, curling her fingers into her palms. But for her father to have any chance of making it through this, he needed a lawyer. And the only person she knew who could make that happen in Mexico was Leonard. Don’t do it. She picked up the receiver and d
ialed his number, waiting while the line beeped. Don’t do it. “Come on. Come oooon.”

  “Bueno?”

  “Leonard,” she said, relieved. “It’s Celeste.”

  “Victoria? Where are you?” he asked, switching to English.

  She didn’t have time to explain everything. “I’m at a hotel. Father’s been arrested. Can you get him an attorney?” Then it occurred to her, considering their father’s tendency to be prepared. “Or does he keep someone on retainer?”

  “Arrested? Where?”

  “Yes. I don’t know where.” For all she knew he could have been in the same camp, in the middle of nowhere.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, incredulous. “It hasn’t hit the news.” And something as huge as Victor Ayala being arrested would surely hit the news in several countries.

  “Yes. I’m sure.” Was it too much to ask that he take her word on this?

  “Hold on a minute.” Leonard was quiet for a few heart-stopping seconds. They had to hurry. No telling when and if someone would come check on her. “We’ll need to come up with a plan. I was heading to the ranch—”

  “We need to find him a lawyer.”

  “Okay. Let me make some phone calls and I’ll come get you.”

  Come get her? She couldn’t exactly take off with him. Especially not while she was trying to help clear her father’s name.

  “Or don’t you want to see him?” Leonard asked, with a note of censure.

  Guilt needled its way through her. She paused, searching for the right words. He’s your father. How could you not realize it wasn’t him on the phone? He’s facing the death penalty. Death penalty. You missed the clues and let him walk into an ambush. Oz didn’t text. Oz didn’t check on her at random. Oz didn’t ask if she needed money. Why didn’t she question what happened? And why would this person reach out to her? Why not Leonard? Should she ask him? In the back of her mind, Vix shook her head vigorously. “Of course I do,” she finally answered. Doubt whispered in her conscience. What would Rio say? Well, she’d been let off her leash to a certain point. The guy sitting outside was to keep people out. Should she go? She’d never expected to have the opportunity to see Oz. “Okay, I’m at the Flamenco Hotel in Saltillo. Come around back.”

  “Perfect. I’m not far. Give me an hour or so. I’ve got a guy that can get him out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “The phone pinged off the next tower.” Damian swiveled around, his dark eyes a mixture of confusion and concern. “So what, he missed the turn?”

  “Don’t worry.” Rio looked over his shoulder in the confines of the van. “Don’t let this mess with your head. The guy might actually be picking up clothes for Celeste.” But in his gut he knew that wasn’t the case. “Just keep an eye on him and try to figure out where he’s going.”

  Normally an undercover agent, Damian wasn’t used to overseeing an op. Recovering from a bullet wound he’d gotten while working within the Guerrero organization left him sitting behind a desk. And he still needed to learn patience. These older phones, without GPS, only gave a ping off the nearest tower. At best they could use cell tower triangulation to narrow down the search. If the signal hit two or, if they were lucky, three towers, the overlapping areas shrank the zone. However, they’d chosen a less-populated suburb by the highway leading to the house where they arrested Ayala. So likely that wasn’t going to happen.

  “He’s still going.” Damian’s brows pushed together forming ripples on his forehead to the base of his widow’s peak. “Dude, is this guy heading to the jail?”

  No. It couldn’t be. But Damian’s assessment made sense. His mind raced to come up with a different scenario. Nothing fit quite as well as the holding facility. Nothing. “Damn it.” Rio dropped his headset beside his laptop, replacing it with a smaller comm unit. Then he pulled a camera from the front of the van, shoving it in his duffel bag. “I’m going to check on Ayala.” If nothing else, he might be able to see who came in and out of the building.

  “Do I call?”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to show his hand. He had no idea what was happening and who was involved. “And don’t advertise I’m gone.” He shut the door, crossing the street to one of their vehicles. Tossing his bag to the passenger’s seat, he slid in behind the wheel. With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he pulled into the street. They’d funneled traffic around the area with the use of detours and a staged car accident. So if someone was heading in, they’d need to follow a deliberate route.

  Hitting the highway, he started reviewing and discarding scenarios. Was it possible one of the team tipped off Ayala’s people? It was no coincidence to have the very person they were tracking end up getting ahead of them. But this team had been established because of rampant corruption. They operated outside the normal sectors. And with their identities unknown to the locals, they were nearly incorruptible. However, someone at the jail could have figured out who they had in custody, despite their precautions.

  His phone rang, and he cursed under his breath. Damian. “Go,” he said, pushing the speaker button.

  “We’re fucked.”

  “What?”

  “Ayala got busted out of holding.”

  “Fuuuuuck.” Rio pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Years of work gone in an instant.

  “Three dead, two wounded.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” And he’d thought nothing could be worse.

  “This guy couldn’t have done that kind of damage in seconds. So what the hell?”

  “They had an inside man. Okay, we—”

  “Hang on,” Damian interrupted. “He’s hit the previous tower. Maybe he’s heading back here now.”

  Rio changed lanes, stepping on the brake to take the next exit and turn back. The way things were going, he was in danger of missing the mark. He wouldn’t jeopardize the operation by trying to sneak back to the van and end up getting made.

  His gaze shot to a statue towering in the distance before he dragged his attention back to the road. Celeste. His stomach clutched in spite of his attempt to concentrate on the mad traffic surrounding him. What was going on over there? Was she all right? He needed to know she was safe like he needed his next breath. But they’d pulled all the phones in the suite so he couldn’t even call her.

  Heartbeat echoing in his chest, he had no choice but to reach out to Damian. It was the only way to keep the guys from hearing the car engine in the background and knowing he’d left his post. “Check on Holiday for me.”

  There was a second’s delay. Likely Damian trying to figure out what the hell he was up to. “Holiday, radio check.”

  “I’m good, boss,” Holiday replied. “Just checked the wiring in the room. The TV’s working fine, it’s the signal that’s a little shaky.”

  Rio breathed easier, deciphering his message. She was nervous, as expected, and watching television while she waited for them.

  “Good enough?” Damian asked through the cell.

  “Yeah.” Though he would have felt better if he’d heard her voice. He did his best to shake off the nagging doubt and took the turnaround. Foot firmly on the gas, he sped up, needing to get back before everything went down.

  “The unsub is still on the same tower.”

  Fuck my life.

  “It’s longer than normal. Dude was flyin’ when he was on the highway.”

  Rio pulled back on the pedal, his gut instinct telling him something was wrong. “Where is he now?”

  The response took seconds, but it still seemed like a freaking eternity. “Too close to the Flamenco, man.”

  Why else would the unsub head to the hotel where they had Celeste? With no one outside the team knowing their plan, someone on the inside had to have given up her location. Holiday. Anger and doubt roiled inside him. He did background checks on all new members himself. Nothing made him mistrust the man
in the year he’d been onboard. In fact, Gatlin himself chose him to stay behind. Was there anything behind the decision? Fuck. If so, where did that leave Gatlin? Rio clenched his jaw. While he’d put his own life in their hands before, and would do so again. This was about Celeste. Could he trust them with her life?

  …

  The sound of a passing vehicle sent every muscle along the back of her neck screaming for relief. Celeste scurried to the window, checking over her shoulder to make sure the door was still shut. Vix stood on hand, bouncing on her tiptoes in anticipation. Celeste pulled back the curtain, just enough to fit her finger. Through the narrow gap she saw the SUV park in the back, and a man in a business suit exited the driver’s side. Leonard. Thank God.

  She flipped the latch and slid the door open, clenching her teeth as the dull rolling sound screamed in her head. With one last glance toward the entrance, she slipped through and inched the glass door closed on Vix’s disapproving frown. Tiptoeing across the tiled balcony, she called out in a stage whisper, “Leonard.”

  He adjusted his sunglasses as he looked both ways before crossing the drive. She knelt at the corner, holding the intricate rail as she leaned down to speak to him. Leonard chuckled. “Look at you, sitting behind bars, just like your father.”

  She grimaced, then looked at the rails in front of her. Scowling, she shook her head. “You’re such an ass.”

  He raised a brow. In what little time they’d spent together, this was the first time she’d been rude. How could he choose now to make a crack about their father? He had to know the situation, the danger Oz was in after being arrested. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back, sighing heavily. “He’ll be fine, little sister. Our father has friends everywhere.”

  Friends who could save his life? Even if it would be a life spent behind bars? That still had to be better than the alternative. Having no idea what Mexico would use for the death penalty, her mind went to a worst-case scenario. Firing squad. They didn’t actually do that…right? “Does he have a lawyer?”