Desire & Deception

by Sahara Roberts

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Kris stood in the makeshift office of the taskforce headquarters with Ida ripping him a new ass via video conference. He exhaled in a rush, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for jeopardizing the plan to have ICE, DEA, and the Marina-Armada de Mexico swarm the cartel meeting.

  A rumble burst in the distance then the ground shook under their feet. Kris braced himself against a table as the barren warehouse shivered. The overhead lights flickered, revealing a fine curtain of debris drifting from the rafters. The explosion was too close. Had their location been compromised? His grip tightened on his weapon, not that it would do much compared to the arsenal surrounding him.

  “What happened?” Ida’s voice came through his earpiece.

  Dozens of men in assault gear pointed weapons at every corner of the building as they searched for a possible threat.

  “Kris!” Her strident demand reverberated in his ear. “Answer me.”

  “I’m not sure.” He glanced around the teams to see if anyone looked like they had information coming in. “Something exploded. Not here, but close by.”

  “Hang on…” Ida went silent.

  The group’s leader, Andres Rivera, codename Rio, called the area clear and secure before he strode across the loading dock with steely determination. “Any ideas?”

  Kris shook his head, straining to hear what Ida was doing in the background.

  He didn’t want to consider that it could have been a plane exploding. Much less have it be the plane the girls were on. Fate couldn’t be so cruel. He couldn’t lose the two most important people in his life—again.

  “Oh God, please.” He dropped his head into his hand, putting pressure at each temple with him thumb and fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked the Almighty for any favors. This would be it for his lifetime.

  One of Rio’s men called out, “There’s a tower of black smoke coming from the road to the airport. Looks like some kind of vehicle blew up.”

  Ida exhaled into Kris’s earpiece. “Scout reports the Governor’s SUV exploded en route to the airport. I confirmed. The tracker went off the grid at the same time.”

  “Fuck.” Kris went numb. He cupped the back of his neck as Death’s icy fingers brushed along his spine. Had one of the other cartels decided to take the lead?

  “Lucky break, kid,” Ida murmured. “Second time today,” added Rio. “My sentries almost took him out when he showed up unannounced.”

  He’d had nowhere else to go once he’d deviated from his part of the plan. If he’d shown up at the hangar, he’d likely have been shot once Felipe showed up—not that he didn’t almost get shot anyway. After that, he’d figured his best course of action was to join the rest of the group on the raid.

  Kris grimaced. “Tessa?”

  “The plane she’s on is already in U.S. airspace. She’ll be landing in Detroit this afternoon.”

  The clamp around his neck loosened.

  “I’m getting a status on everyone else.” Ida’s voice muted as she touched base with other contacts.

  Rio looked over at his men and cursed in colorful Spanish. “We’re due to hit the airport hangar in less than thirty. How the hell are we supposed to make a quiet entrance after this shit?”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The airport would be swarming with emergency vehicles and police within the next few minutes. They’d come too far and invested too much to have it all go to hell now. Kris straightened, his mind racing ahead, refitting the puzzle pieces using the Mexican Marine force he had on hand. “We may not need to.”

  Rio’s head snapped back, his brow furrowed. “What are you thinking?”

  “Mobilize your men. Set up a roadblock, nobody in or out. We shut down the entire airport. Claim the explosion was an act of terrorism.”

  A huge grin split Rio’s face. “Hell, we’d be able to hold all passengers until we check their background.”

  “I’m back,” Ida interrupted. “Caught the ending. Rio, don’t go yourself. Send a smaller group first to avoid suspicion. The rest will move on schedule. Meanwhile, I’ll send you the flight numbers our friends will be on.”

  “Got it.” Rio turned on his heel, barking out orders to restructure the raid.

  “I’m putting out a report advising of the governor’s death. Kristobal was supposed to be driving, so you’re officially dead, kiddo. Keep your head down. I’ll have you out once everything dies down.”

  “Understood. But first, there’s something I have to do.” He wasn’t about to miss Cruz’s arrest.

  …

  The cruiser turned into the driveway of the safe-house, sending rocks skidding at its abrupt stop. Cruz slid out of the seat and yanked his belt in place.

  The radio operator’s hollow voice came over the air as the chatter continued. “…confirmed. Former Governor Sanchez Guevara was in the vehicle that exploded by the airport. His driver and body guard were consumed in the blaze along with him. We’re trying to identify the two men so we can notify the families. Officers are arriving on site to check on any other casualties.”

  Jaime came to meet him. “What’s wrong?”

  “The shit hit the fan! I need to make sure nothing here will lead anyone back to me, then I’m gone.”

  “Wh-what happened?” He stepped away.

  “The truck blew up. Kris and the big Boss, they’re dead.” Cruz slammed his fist into his hand. “Double-crossing bastards. Never should have trusted a single one of them.”

  Jaime went pale. “Kris?” He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. “No…but Feli—”

  “Grab your shit and get the hell out.” He caught the kid by the front of his faded T-shirt. “Remember, you don’t know anything about anything.”

  Jaime nodded nervously before turning and running across the street. He stopped at the store, grabbing a bulging, insulated lunch bag before he bolted. What the hell did the kid do, throw some Cokes in there so he wouldn’t leave empty-handed? Cruz lost the mask of anxiety. He waited until Jaime got to the end of the block and jumped on a passing bus.

  “Imagine that, taking the bus to get away when there’s enough money in the house to buy anything you wanted.” He laughed out loud as he headed into the vault without a care in the world.

  He tossed up the bedspread and wrung his hands in glee. Stacks of U.S. dollars overflowed from the hollowed-out mattress frame and box spring. He wanted to jump on top and roll back and forth until he pissed himself in joy.

  A sobering thought stopped him. Kris, his biggest worry, was out of the picture. The plan called for Felipe to be at the hangar when the other bosses arrived. What if he heard the news? He might get the idea to come clean up.

  The possibility spurred him into action. Reaching into the closet, he pulled out a bundle of duffle bags. He filled the first one haphazardly then reconsidered. If he didn’t arrange the money carefully, he’d lose a lot of space.

  I can wrap some in the bedspread. Yeah, that’s brilliant!

  He dropped off two large bags in the pickup bed and headed back, struggling for breath. Damn, I should have had the kid help me pack. But then he would have wanted a cut. He grimaced. Bah, I could’ve always put a bullet in his head once we finished.

  An idea struck, stopping him mid-step. I’ll back the truck up to the house. After rearranging the vehicle, he jumped down without bothering to close the door.

  He methodically filled the bags then dropped them off. The last bag went out, the frame wasn’t empty, and he hadn’t even touched the money in the closet and drawers. Maybe he’d leave that for Felipe or whoever decided to come by. Two other safe houses waited for him across town. None of them held this kind of prize, but they offered drugs and Heather. She’d be a good addition to his retirement plan. Both women would’ve been better.

  He went back to the room and extended the bedspread on the floor. He started tossing bundles into the center with glee. Once he had enough, he brought the ends together and knotted
them up. He tried lifting the makeshift sack, but it was too bulky. He stopped, wiping his brow while he tried to catch his breath.

  Time to try a different approach. He squatted and pulled the knot over his shoulder, moving forward like a gift-laden Santa Claus. Much better.

  He dropped his burden and bent over, trying to catch his breath. Something was wrong. After a few seconds, he figured out the truck leaned forward and to one side. He ran over to investigate.

  “Son of a bitch!” The front left tire was flat. He slammed his beefy fists on the hood. Why does this shit always happen to me? What else could possibly go wrong?

  “Cruz Delgado.” A disembodied voice on a bullhorn intruded in his rant. “Put your arms up and step away from the vehicle.” The words, although impersonal, sent a chill down his spine.

  Damn it to hell and back. Two men in tactical gear pointed automatic weapons from behind an SUV. They were dressed in black from head to foot, their faces covered to protect their identity. “Shit!”

  “You’re surrounded, Officer Delgado. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  Weapons aimed at him from atop the cinder block fence. He rubbed his chest as he gathered his thoughts. They must be standing on trucks to be that high off the ground.

  His perfidious nature pushed him to find a way out. I can tell them I got a tip…but didn’t call in. Or I could offer to share. There’s more than enough. Besides, I should be able to make up most of the difference when I hit the other houses.

  “Put your hands up, Delgado.” A new man issued the order with authority. Although tinny, the steely voice struck a familiar chord. “We’ve blocked all exits and you don’t have a vehicle. There’s no chance of escape.”

  Cruz ran his hand down his face as he berated himself. Why did I come back? The bundle behind him answered his question. Okay, why didn’t I check before coming out? I could have handcuffed myself and said I was being held hostage by the bombers. Idiot, son of a bitch!

  “Your charges include organized crime, narcotics trafficking, illegal arms, money laundering, and the murder of Margarita and Kristopher Harmon.”

  Kris. The rat bastard. Kris was the last one he expected to be hiding a badge.

  All these men with automatic weapons sent to bring me in.

  Cruz knew, only too well, what things would be like for him. A Federal Officer caught working for the cartel would pay dearly. If Kris was in on it, then every location they had would be compromised. Who could help him? Who could provide money to buy his way out? His shoulders slumped. He would have been better off getting on that bus with Jaime.

  To think, he finally had a truckload of money, and it would end up sinking him instead of giving him the future he’d worked so hard for.

  With a heavy heart, he made his decision. Hands at his sides, he moved forward and squinted into the sun. He breathed deep, enjoying the scent of freshly made flour tortillas drifting in from the neighbor’s kitchen.

  Acid burned up his esophagus as anxious seconds ticked by. Fuck it. It was time to check out. And after all the shit he’d done in his life, St. Peter wouldn’t be throwing open the Pearly Gates for him. He guffawed then grabbed his service weapon and drew it, Old West style.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  God, I hate cinder blocks.

  This time the wall was painted a sandy color, but it still managed to annoy her, almost as much as the man interrogating her.

  They’d been met by three FBI agents when they landed in Detroit. She and Monica were loaded into separate vehicles that were waiting on the tarmac. Funny how much the FBI’s tactics reminded her of the cartel.

  “Miss Marshal, let’s start from the top.”

  Tessa’s jaw clenched. Without a clock, there was no way to tell how long this senseless interrogation had been going on. Did Agent Reynolds realize how his nasally voice grated on the nerves after he’d asked the same question for the umpteenth time?

  “Miss Marshal?”

  Tessa’s breath rattled out. How many different times did she have to go over this?

  “Miss Marshal, I need your full attention,” he said, tapping his mechanical pencil against a legal pad. “Now, when you and Miss Tucker—”

  “Mr. Reynolds,” she stated, exhausted. “We’re going around in a circle. I’ve already told you, I have no idea where they took me. I don’t know how many people were at this unknown location. And the last time I saw Heather, she was trying to get away from her kidnapper. What else can I possibly tell you?”

  The older man blew out a breath as he tossed down the pencil and leaned forward in his chair. “Miss Marshal, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. You can be held in custody until the Federal Government is satisfied I have your full cooperation in any and all matters.”

  She’d been relieved to come home, yet when she arrived, she’d been met with threats from the FBI and Homeland Security. So much for innocent until proven guilty. “Cooperation?” Tessa stared at the mirrored panel on the wall, knowing someone stood on the other side. “You wanted details on my kidnappers. I’ve told you everything I know.” She clenched her jaw and cleared her expression, fully intending to give herself to the count of ten to calm down.

  “Miss Marshal, may I remind you the Secretary of Homeland Security is travel—”

  She only managed to get to five before her temper got the best of her. “Over the past week, I’ve been run off the road, kidnapped, beaten, tied up, and blindfolded while wondering if my corpse would ever be found. Do you really think being held by the U.S. Government sounds like a threat to me?”

  He turned red all the way up his receding hairline. He got as far as opening his mouth before a tapping on the glass stopped him. Gathering his things, he gave her a withering glare before he stomped out and slammed the door shut.

  The door opened again. This time, an older woman with short, blonde hair entered. She closed the door, dropping her chin to her chest for a moment before meeting Tessa’s eyes.

  “Hello, Tessa.” She held a manila folder against her dark suit. “May I call you Tessa?” she asked.

  Tessa nodded.

  The woman hauled the empty chair closer.

  “My name is Sofia Johnson. I’m with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.” She gave a tight smile. “On behalf of the Secretary of Homeland Security, I’d like to apologize to you for the way you’ve been treated thus far.” The woman’s gravelly voice was oddly calming. “Monica is down the hall, waiting for you. The dinner I ordered for you should be here shortly.”

  “Thank you.” Tessa tried rubbing some of the tension from the back of her neck.

  “The reason Agent Reynolds questioned you so insistently is because of what happened in Monterrey this morning.” Sofia placed the folder on the table and waited.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” She eyed Sofia Johnson with confusion. All she knew was that she’d have to be very careful in order to keep Kris out of the reports.

  Sofia smiled, amused. “Twenty minutes after your flight left the airport, a vehicle exploded in front of the main terminal.” She paused to let that sink in. “Meanwhile, branches of Mexico’s military executed a coordinated operation that severely crippled various cartels in Northern Mexico. We’re trying to figure out if the two occurrences are connected.”

  “I’m afraid my only experience with the cartel is being kidnapped. This is the first I’ve heard of the explosion, ma’am.” Dread seeped into her. “We barely made it to the terminal as the plane was leaving. I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you to help.”

  “I want you to look at some pictures for me. Can you do that?” Sofia spread out about two dozen eight by tens.

  Tessa swallowed hard and nodded. She ran her clammy hands over her dusty jeans. They were candid shots of various men and a couple of women—none of them Kris. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I recognize three of them.” She said to Sofia, who stood over her shoulder.

 
“Point them out for me,” she encouraged with a smile.

  Tessa reached out and pointed to a picture. “He was there.” She moved to several other pictures. “These two are the kidnappers. This is the guy that had Heather. This one pulled me from the car.”

  “We’ve verified Cruz Delgado is dead,” Sofia said, picking up his picture. “A body, believed to be Oscar Navarro, was pulled from a mangled vehicle earlier this morning. Mexican authorities are currently working on identification.” The screech and grind of crushed metal echoed in Tessa’s mind. “Felipe Mondragon is reported to be in custody.”

  Tessa tried her best to squelch the anxiety eating at her. What about Kris? Was he sitting in a Mexican jail or another casualty? No, she couldn’t think of that.

  “This is important, Tessa. The Secretary of Homeland Security will be traveling to Monterrey in a few days. We need to ascertain this was a cartel vs. cartel incident, not an act of terrorism as its being billed by Mexican sources. Are you sure you don’t recognize anyone else?”

  Tessa reviewed each picture again. “No ma’am. Only the three I pointed out.”

  “Okay.” Sofia gathered the pictures and made an observation. “You seemed relieved. Am I right?”

  Tessa froze but decided to be honest. “Yes. I suppose so.”

  “May I ask why?” Sofia sat down and studied her.

  Tessa curled her toes, trying to keep from fidgeting under the scrutiny. “You mentioned an explosion. I half-expected gore.” She shrugged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve seen the pictures they print in some of the Mexican newspapers.” She shuddered for emphasis.

  Sofia’s gaze lingered on her. “I came in late, so I didn’t get all the details. Do you mind going over it for me one more time?” She pulled out a pen and prepared to write on the file folder she’d brought the pictures in.

  Tessa bit her lip, ashamed of her earlier outburst. Sofia probably caught her last remarks to Agent Reynolds and not the frustrating circles he’d taken her in. “Of course.”

  She recapped being run off the road, the ensuing fight, waking up at the safe house, and Oscar attacking her. Then she jumped straight to blacking out. Her edited version had her coming to in a room by herself, bound and blindfolded.