Deadly Intent Page 3

  “Your security could use a reboot,” Nelson said. He pocketed the cuffs. “If I’d been Guido’s assassin—which he did try to hire me, by the way—I could have killed her with ease. And if I could get on the grounds without much trouble, that means you’re not safe either.”

  Rodrigo crossed his arms, his suit’s silk sleeves making a shushing sound. He tapped a slender finger against his lips as he considered Nelson’s words, all the while studying him from top to bottom.

  Sweat trickled down Sophia’s spine. If there was one thing she knew about Rodrigo Morales, he didn’t like looking foolish.

  “Come with me,” he said, turning on the heel of his expensive leather dress shoes. “We’ll discuss this in my office.”

  “But…but,” Sophia rushed after him. “There’s nothing to discuss. Nico’s being ridiculous. Your compound is completely safe.”

  Rodrigo stopped and glared at her. “I wish to talk to Señor Raines alone.”

  With that, he stalked away.

  As she stood speechless, Nelson walked past her, grinning, and tossed her the ice bag as he followed.

  Chapter Three

  “Tell me again how you met Maria-Sophia,” Morales said. He poured whiskey from a crystal decanter into two squat glasses.

  His study was office-like with a large desk, leather chairs, and doublewide wooden doors. A guard stood by the doors, face blank, legs wide, a black gun on display. The floor-length windows revealed the orange and peach rays of the dying sun. Bookcases lined the north wall. A three-by-five section of one bookcase held a display of colored rocks.

  On the opposite wall was an aquarium of sorts. A blanket covered most of the glass, but Nelson could see it didn’t contain water or fish. Maybe the guy had a lizard or something.

  Morales handed him a glass and the leather chair complained with a soft squeak as Nelson sank into it with the whiskey.

  Backstories were tricky lies and he had no idea what Sophia had used for hers. “Maria-Sophia and I were moving in some of the same circles a few years ago.” Best to stick to the facts and keep his answer general. “She has a thing for bikers.” Truth. “She got on my radar.”

  Morales sat behind the desk, removing a box of cigars from a drawer and choosing one to his liking. “Bikers, huh?”

  He did not offer Nelson one, but that was to be expected. Nelson tapped his Savages’ leather vest. “It’s the bad boy thing.”

  “My little Maria-Sophia pursued you?”

  This was said as if Nelson were dog shit, and Nelson didn’t particularly care for the possessive tone. “From the first time we met.” Another truth. “And believe me, she’s impossible to ignore when she wants your attention.”

  Morales gave him a half smile, as if humoring him.

  So far, so good. He was piling up truths. The fewer lies he told, the better.

  A cigar cutter sat on the top of the desk. Single blade. Morales grabbed it, lined up his cigar, and brought the blade to touch the wrapper, a large diamond ring on his finger twinkling in the light. Then, like a skilled surgeon, he slammed the blade home swiftly and confidently, making a slick wedge cut.

  The second cut was equally impressive, and Nelson had the distinct feeling as the man stared at him over the tip of the cigar that that was exactly what Morales wanted to do to his dick.

  Morales used a cigar lighter, then sat quietly enjoying his smoke and studying Nelson with empty eyes. He put his feet up on the desk, taking another puff and slowly letting the smoke escape his lips. “A brief affair, she said. Si?”

  He really needed to change the direction of the conversation. Morales obviously had a thing for his little Maria-Sophia and this discussion was sure to endanger both Sophie and him. “Yes, very brief, but I care for her even though she wants nothing to do with me.”

  “Some encounters are quite powerful, but it seems a bit extreme that you should track her down after all this time because of idle gossip.”

  Idle gossip? What had Morales been smoking with his premium cigars? “She’s hard to forget, and even though I tried, when I heard about the threat against her life and that she was working for you, I had to see her. As I mentioned, Guido offered me money to kill her—I have a reputation for being good at that kind of dirty work—so I’d say that’s more than idle gossip.”

  “If you had no intention of hurting her, and you are…friends…why sneak onto my property, rather than using the front door?”

  At least he’d diverted Morales from their backstory. “Rude and improper behavior and I apologize for that. Just ask Maria-Sophia. She’ll tell you I’m an expert at both. I knew she would turn me away and refuse to hear me out if I showed up at the front door. I had hoped to check on her in secrecy, make sure she was safe, and leave her be. Your men caught me before I had the chance.”

  Morales wanted to protect himself at all costs. His assets as well. Another drag on his cigar, and Nelson saw the change from jealous male to astute businessman. “You were caught, si, but you still managed to evade my security cameras, bypass my fence, and elude my security patrol to gain access to the grounds. I wish to know how.”

  Bingo. The cat was too curious for his own good. Nelson stood and set the whiskey on the man’s desk. “How about I show you.”

  The living and dining area inside the apartment was exactly ten paces each direction. Sophia had paced it over a hundred times as the sun sank in the west.

  Her fingers tingled. A dull throb had set up shop in her temples. Where was Nelson?

  He’s going to blow my case.

  What to do? Sit tight until Morales’s men came for her and end up in el nido de serpientes—the snake pit—where Rodrigo’s men did their dirty work, or go on the offensive and see if there was anything of her operation she could still salvage?

  The pit held a collection of snakes. Rodrigo had a thing for them. She certainly didn’t want to be “interviewed” as he liked to call it when people went in alive and came out dead, or didn’t come out at all.

  One of the snakes in the collection, Medusa, was a 20-foot anaconda. Another, Goliath, was some type of rare albino python from Asia that gave Sophie nightmares. She’d barely kept Nelson from ending up snake food earlier that day.

  There were few things that could break her—she’d had extensive training in resisting threat manipulation and torture; in fact, she’d scored the highest in her graduating class for being the last to break during interrogation training—but snakes might just be the thing to do it.

  Goose bumps raced over her skin. What if Chavez already had Nelson there, torturing him? From the look in Rodrigo’s eyes, she knew that was a real possibility. The cartel leader was as paranoid as they came and too young and inexperienced to be an effective leader of such an extensive operation. He was more modern than his predecessors, but relied on violence just as much, if not more, to assert his control. No one dared question him. No one crossed him either.

  And Nelson has gone off with him to be “interviewed.”

  She stopped pacing and rubbed her arms. Enough. Even though she hadn’t asked for Nelson’s interference, and found his appearance more than annoying, she couldn’t leave him dangling in the wind. One false move, one slip of his tongue, and everything she’d worked so hard for would go up in smoke.

  Or down a snake’s throat.

  The last thing I need is his death on my conscious.

  Snatching up her shawl, she left the apartment, nearly snagging her heel on the fringed edge in her haste to run down the stairs.

  House or the pit?

  Rodrigo and Nelson had been heading for the house when they’d left. Sophie took off in that direction, keeping to the stone path that glowed a pale gray in the moonlight.

  Her kitten heels clicked on the stones as frogs and other nocturnal creatures called to each other. Still thinking about snakes, she kept a close eye on the palm-fringed walkway. The compound stretched over several acres, most of it filled with vegetation. Occasionally, a snake left th
e cover of the trees and bushes to soak up the last of the heat from the stones.

  A light was on in the office window. The heavy drapes were drawn and she couldn’t see any shadows moving behind them. But it was a start. Hopefully, he and Nelson were still there.

  The house was a two-story, Moorish-style white stucco adobe with a copper roof, beautiful arched doorways, and immaculate gardens on both sides. It had been in the Morales family for several decades and had fallen into disrepair after Rodrigo’s mother had passed from a blood cancer. When his father died two years later from a heart attack, Rodrigo had stormed in and repaired it to its original beauty. Probably for his mother’s sake and to relieve his guilt that he hadn’t been there when she died.

  Rodrigo Morales. A family man who didn’t want the family business, but was now a cut-throat businessman, even in the world of international drug cartels.

  Quite a conundrum.

  Sophie nodded at the guard on duty by the west entrance. “Hello, Sanny.”

  She knew every one of them by name, including the ones like Sanchez who went by a nickname. Most of them were loyal to the Morales family, and even those who didn’t like Rodrigo respected his ability to keep them well paid.

  Sanny’s only response was a subtle nod in return, but like most of Morales’s men, he liked her because she went out of her way to show him respect.

  And maybe a little because she flirted with him just enough to appeal to his very male ego when she brought him homemade treats. No one could resist something made from Little Gran’s recipes.

  Inside, the house was mostly dark, a few lights here and there on in the expansive living room and coming from the kitchen down the hall. Sophie heard a soft noise; the maid and part-time nanny to Rodrigo’s little sister hummed along to the radio as she cleaned up the dinner dishes.

  Sophie’s heels were now soundless as she climbed the carpeted stairs past a portrait of Ciro Morales and photographs of his family. Many were in black and white and sepia tones dating back to the 1800s. The original family had been cattle ranchers in South America. Their sons had migrated to Central America, starting large families of their own. Successive generations had continued the climb north, ending in Tijuana.

  Upstairs, outside Rodrigo’s office, there was no guard. Which meant Rodrigo wasn’t there.

  Too late!

  Double-checking, she knocked. No answer. Rodrigo always locked his door when he was out, but she tested the knob anyway.

  The door opened.

  Had he fallen asleep at his desk? It happened on occasion, but the bodyguard would be there if Rodrigo were inside.

  She inched the door open. “Señor Morales?”

  The study was empty, a single light on the desk lit, throwing a yellow glow on the highly polished wood top. One wall was a library. The other held the snake tank.

  Sophie shivered. God, I hate snakes. She steeled her nerves and refused to look at the tank, even though the draped cloth over the top hid the reptile from view. She crossed the floor to the windows.

  Parting the curtains, she scanned the yard and gardens from Rodrigo’s favorite vantage point. The shadows were plentiful and she saw no movement anywhere.

  There was only one other place he would have taken Nelson.

  Laying her forehead against the cool glass, she considered her options. Maybe she could still save the operation, but how would she save Nelson?

  “Maria-Sophia?” A soft voice behind her made her jump. “Is that you?”

  Alexa, Rodrigo’s eleven-year-old sister, stood in the doorway, her service dog by her side.

  “Hi Lexie.”

  The girl came in, stopping at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Where’s Rigo?”

  Feeding my arch nemesis to Medusa. “I’m not sure. I thought he was here, and the door was unlocked, but apparently, he went out.” Sophie went to her and touched Lexie’s shoulder, letting the blind girl know where she was standing. “I see you had spaghetti for dinner. Are you saving some for later?”

  “I spilled again?” The girl’s braids danced on her shoulders as she shook her head. “How bad is it?”

  Sophie scraped a lone noodle with a touch of sauce on it off the collar of Lexie’s blouse and dropped it in the wastebasket under Rodrigo’s desk. “I’ve seen worse, but we should get that stain in some cold water or it won’t wash out.”

  “Why doesn’t Kristine tell me when I have food on my shirt?”

  Sophie needed to find Nelson, but staying with Lexie held more appeal than heading to the snake pit. “She knows you don’t want anyone to call attention to your blindness. It’s her way of respecting that.”

  Which was a lie. Kristine only cared about her paycheck and fooling around with Xavier, Rodrigo’s favorite guard.

  “And she doesn’t think me walking around with food on my shirt calls attention to the fact I can’t see it?” the indignant girl asked.

  “Believe it or not, it is not uncommon for eleven-year-olds to spill their food, regardless of their eyesight. You’re not the first, and certainly not the only one of us to walk around with spaghetti sauce on her collar.”

  Lexie set her lips and squeezed her brows together, considering Sophie’s words. “Is that true?”

  Having been blind since the age of five, Lexie had worked hard to overcome her disability. She was astute for eleven, and definitely mature under the circumstances, but she didn’t always know what “normal” constituted for kids her age. While she’d been around other children at the school for the blind, she had little experience with non-blind children. “We all spill, grown-ups included. My nemesis is salsa. No matter how careful I am, I end up with it on my shirt or in my lap. Little Gran used to make me wear red all the time to hide the stains.”

  Lexie giggled. “Will you help me wash the stain out? I don’t want Rigo to be mad.”

  She didn’t have time for this, yet she hated leaving the girl in a lurch. “I’m on an errand. Why don’t you change for bed, and after my errand, I’ll come back and take care of your shirt.”

  “Is it an errand for Rigo?”

  “Yes,” she lied.

  Lexie stroked her dog’s ear. “Will it take long?”

  Sophie looked out the window again. Not if Nelson and I both end up dead. “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Will you read more of that book to me when you come back? The one about the woman who had the farm in Africa?”

  Lexie loved books and Rodrigo had a whole section of books for her in braille, but the girl preferred stories well above her age range and about daring women who traveled and explored the world. Sophia had already read Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s complete works to the girl, even though Rodrigo frowned on the adult nature of some of the stories.

  Movement on the grounds caught Sophie’s eye. She moved to the window again, spotting two figures walking toward the house. A small glowing ring cut through the shadows, growing brighter for a second and illuminating Rodrigo’s face.

  He took the cigar away, returning his face to shadows. The small light had not captured the other man’s features. Was it Chavez? Had they already disposed of Nelson?

  The second man broke off from Rodrigo and headed toward Sophie’s apartment. Yep, Chavez was going after her now. He didn’t know she was in the main house.

  God, Nelson. She made the sign of the cross, grateful Lexie couldn’t see her. I’m so sorry.

  Should she run or she should she stay and see if there was any way to save the operation? Maybe Nelson wasn’t dead yet. She could sneak into the pit and save him.

  First, she had to deal with Lexie. “If I return before you’re asleep,” Sophie told her, hustling her back through the study door, “we’ll read, okay?”

  “Okay.” The girl stopped. “I want to know what happens to the woman now that her coffee bean crop is ruined.”

  If only life were as simple as reading to a child before bed. Sophie tugged on one of Lexie’s braids, hoping to make good on her promise. “You
r brother’s coming. If you don’t want him to see that shirt, you better head to your room.”

  Downstairs, the door rattled as Rodrigo entered the west wing. The girl and dog started walking. “See you later, alligator,” Lexie stage whispered.

  “After a while, crocodile,” Sophie whispered back.

  And then she waited for her fate, and that of Operation Gangs Without Borders, as Rodrigo Morales climbed the stairs.

  Chapter Four

  “Maria-Sophia?” Rodrigo’s gaze took her in and then the open door behind her. “Is there a problem?”

  There’s a problem all right. Or was there?

  Rodrigo’s demeanor seemed relaxed, at ease.

  “I’m sorry to barge in.” Sophie moved so he could enter the study. “I wanted to talk to you about Nico and the door was unlocked.”

  “Nico, yes.” He brushed past her. “Unusual man.”

  Nelson was arrogant, determined to undermine her, and sexy as hell, but she’d never considered him unusual. “I wanted to apologize again for his rude manners. He’s really not a bad guy, just…unpredictable.”

  Rodrigo sat in his chair, leaned back, and motioned for her to enter.

  She did, but didn’t sit. Better to stay on her feet in case this went downhill.

  “I like him and the fact he didn’t ask me to top Guido’s price on your head. He seems to truly care for you.” Rodrigo’s cigar was nearly gone. He stubbed out the end. “He knows security like the back of his hand.”

  Wait. Was Rodrigo complimenting Nelson?

  Sophie gripped the back of the chair she stood behind. Had the ICE agent kept their covers intact?

  I will kiss him if he did.

  Kiss him back, actually. She hadn’t even had time to analyze what he’d done to her earlier. She’d tucked that memory, the feel of his lips, into a safe place to think about later. Much later.