by Tawny Weber
Chapter 13
As dives went, Desperados was about average: dirty, rank and full of lowlifes. The perfect place to meet a potential snitch.
Considering himself on duty, Travis sauntered into the rickety building with only one thing on his mind. Completing the mission at hand.
Everything else—everyone else—was locked away in a separate compartment in his mind.
He examined the bar, noting the exits first, threats second.
Front door, six windows, walls flimsy enough to walk through. Check.
Four refrigerator-sized goons, twelve armed thugs and a couple dozen drunks with attitudes. The bartender’s hand twitched under the bar for just a second, so he was likely hiding a small arsenal.
Travis had a Glock and a pocketknife.
Seemed fair.
For just one second, he let the thought of Lila into his head and gave silent thanks for her little pep talk. She was right. He could handle anything.
He threaded through the bodies until he reached the bar.
“What you want to drink?” the stocky man behind the bar asked after giving him an assessing once-over.
“Beer.” Resting one elbow on the bar, Travis turned to face the crowd. Dregs, losers and scum sprawled on barstools and in the rickety chairs.
It wasn’t hard to pick out his target in the crowd. A short, round guy with pockmarked skin and a head like a peanut, he sat alone in a corner nursing a whiskey.
Travis waited for his beer before weaving through the bodies, hooked one foot around the leg of the chair opposite the guy and sat.
“You’re gonna want to find somewhere else to sit,” the peanut-headed guy said.
“I like it here just fine.”
With the flip of his wrist, Peanut had a knife in his hand. With a flick of his hand, Travis had it in his.
“What you—”
“Pulling a knife on me is not only a mistake, it’s downright rude.”
“Who are you?”
Travis leaned back in the creaking chair and waited for the guy to figure that out for himself. The little man’s eyes dashed from one side of the room to the other as if searching for clues. Brow creased, he gave Travis a long look.
“You’re that bird guy? The Hawk, right?”
“Manny told you I’d be around.” And had paid a hefty advance for the information this guy was supposed to be skilled at gathering. Other than teammates, Travis didn’t like relying on anyone else to be his eyes. But his first duty had been to protect Lila, which meant using rats instead of reliable recon.
“You’re a friend of Manny’s, yes? One of the American SEALs?”
Travis shrugged. Former, ex. Semantics. Either way, he wasn’t serving as a SEAL now. Which meant he wasn’t hindered by any team ethics, if things got ugly.
“Rodriguez, Garcia, Montoya, Parker.” Travis reeled off the names of the people involved, the ones he’d been observing, and watched the little man’s eyes. “What’ve you got?”
“Lots of names. Not much reason.” The guy tapped one finger on the table.
Travis tapped his own fingers on the table, a twenty tucked between them.
“Details,” he said. “Details on each and every one.”
“Rodriguez is roadkill, all gone splat. Montoya is square. No jive there.”
“And before he was roadkill?”
“Snitches get stitches. Word is, Rodriguez was over his head. He got nervous and twitchy.”
Travis was conversant in three languages, but that statement took him two run-throughs to translate.
“So someone shot Rodriguez because he ratted out his dirty pals? Who’d he rat to? What was he into? And who else is involved?”
The peanut-head guy tapped his finger on the bill and slid it out of Travis’s hand. Apparently, that’s all twenty would buy. Travis debated pulling out more, but he didn’t like paying for intel. Especially not when he’d already paid in advance.
So he smiled instead.
The guy’s finger stopped tapping.
“You know what I like? I like being able to depend on the people hired to work for me. Is my intel wrong? Were you not hired?”
Grinding his teeth Peanut just shrugged. Smart man. Because Travis wasn’t finished talking.
“Now, what I don’t like is being dicked around. Dicking me around would include doing things like withholding agreed upon information in the hopes of extorting more money.” He tipped back the beer, finishing the tepid liquid in a couple of swallows. “So what’s the deal? You dicking me around?”
“Maybe I just think we should renegotiate, you know what I mean?”
“You’re sure you want to do that?”
Triumph flashed stupidly in the guy’s beady eyes, and he gave an eager nod.
All it took was a twist of a wrist, a thumb against a pressure point, and the dude went down with a scream. He panted from the floor, clawing at his chair in an attempt to gain traction. Bent at the waist, still gripping the guy and breathing through his teeth, since proximity proved the man didn’t believe in regular bathing, Travis waited.
Peanut’s cussing threats were a keening whine over the noise of the crowd. A few people looked, but nobody bothered coming over.
“Now,” Travis continued as if they hadn’t been interrupted by a poor attempt at renegotiating. “Who is dirty? And how are Garcia and Parker involved?”
The Peanut sucked air through his teeth for a few seconds, then seemed to realize he was out of options.
“Garcia, he’s got his fingers in every pie worth tasting. Girls, games, blow. He runs them all. Has for years,” Peanut said, the words falling over themselves as his eyes darted around the room in case someone was listening. Both hands wrapped around his empty glass, he leaned closer. “Word on the street is he’s got something new, now. Something big.”
Prostitution, gambling and drugs. Nice sidelines for a cop. What about the bartender? From what Travis had seen and heard, she was a woman who liked calling the shots and if gossip was to be believed, she and Garcia had hit the sheets a few times.
“And Parker’s involvement?”
“I dunno.” The man shrugged, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “Garcia is bad. He’s the one you should be worrying about.”
Uh-huh.
“Is he behind Rodriguez’s demise?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he’s the one.”
For a lowlife criminal, Peanut was a lousy liar. And from the way his nose was twitching, he was working for Ms. Dory Parker.
Since a lousy liar didn’t mean stupidity, Travis put a little covert into the rest of this op, leading Peanut through a series of innocuous questions ranging from his fishing habits to his favorite brand of beer to how many times he’d tried to bang Dory. It took buying the guy a couple more beers and three more scary smiles until he felt he got to the meat of it.
“Why is Garcia stalking the blonde?” he asked, his words absent of any interest.
“Do—I mean, Garcia, he thinks Rodriguez gave her something. It’s no biggie, but he’s kinda paranoid, you know.”
“Word is she only ate his food. Did he slip secrets into the shrimp sauce?”
It took a solid heartbeat for that to sink into Peanut’s head. As soon as it did, the guy burst out laughing, complete with a few snorts and a knee slap.
“Not the shrimp sauce, man. I hear she ate ceviche.”
Well, there it was. Another checkmark in the Dory column.
“Still, it’s not like he passed her info along with the bill. So why the suspicion?”
“Dunno. Just know Do—I mean, Garcia is sure she’s got something. He’s making sure she sticks around until he gets it back.”
“And then?”
“And then he don’t need her no more.”
The finality in
those words sent a frisson of fear shooting down Travis’s spine.
* * *
What was taking him so long?
Lila paced from a cozy recliner to a rattan rocker and back again, each time peeking through the crack in the curtains. Nothing, nada, no one.
The enclosed courtyard was filled with colorful plants in vivid pots, an artfully rusted metal table and chair, and a two-wheeled tricycle falling into a begonia.
But no Travis.
“Can I get you a different chair, senorita? Or maybe something else to eat? Chocolate, maybe?”
“No. Thanks. I’m full and the chair is great.” And she couldn’t even think about chocolate without getting hot for Travis.
“Would you like the television? We have videos. Or a book? Glory has stories you could read. Something to help pass the time.”
“No. Thanks, Manny.” She shot the man an absent smile and kept pacing. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
“The Hawk, he’ll be back soon. You shouldn’t worry. He’s a big hero. His reputation, it’s huge, you know. He has medals and awards and those, what do you call them? Commendations? He has lots of them. You’re lucky to have a hero like the Hawk looking out for you.”
He started reeling off facts, mission details—most of which sounded pretty made up—and career information—most of which was straight up impressive—all starring Chief Petty Officer Travis Hawkins, Navy SEAL.
“You know a lot about him,” Lila said, slowing enough to give Manny a real smile this time. “Have you known him long?”
“A few months, yeah. I’ve known his teammate, Senor Paulo, since I was a little boy.” With that, Manny launched into more stories, these all starring Senor Paulo.
Lila let the words roll right over her as she peeked out the window, checked her watch, then peeked again.
Where the hell was Travis?
And how damned typical of the man.
Sure, she’d asked for it. She’d practically insisted on it.
Which made her even more angry.
She’d been the one to insist he go it alone. But he hadn’t given her any information. Not even the courtesy of explaining his grand plan. Just, hey, this is my friend. A pat on the back, an absent, you stay here, I’ve got things to do and a warning that she keep her ass where he put her.
She flexed and unflexed her fists.
Her ass.
Where he put her.
“You sure you don’t want something to eat?” Manny asked, his tone just this side of worried. “Glory, she’s out with her sisters but she left food. Good food, if you’re hungry.”
“No, but thank you again.” Then it clicked. “Glory has been cooking all the delicious meals we’ve enjoyed, hasn’t she?”
“Some of them. Not all.” He listed every meal they’d had, assigning the cook to each one.
“Glory cooked all of my favorites,” Lila said, realization dawning. “Please thank her. Everyone’s gone to a lot of trouble and I appreciate it.”
“The Hawk asked,” Manny said simply. “My family, we do anything he asks.”
The man had pulled strings, used his connections and arranged for a different place for them to stay each night, complete with delicious meals. Just because Travis had asked him to.
Now he was offering her his home, keeping guard so she was safe. Just because Travis had asked him to.
Why?
Before Lila could ask, Manny went into a long recital of all the things Travis had done to make the world a better place, including getting Glory a better job at the hotel, kicking the butt of some guy who’d hit on Manny’s sister and generous payments for every little thing. By the time the man got to a highly imaginative list of Travis’s military missions and accomplishments, Lila was ready to scream.
Then she looked over and saw the hero worship on Manny’s face and realized that she was being rude. Rude and ungrateful.
Lila took a cleansing breath, stepped away from the window and sat. She shoved her hair back, folded her hands in her lap and this time offered a real smile.
“So Manny, do you and Glory have children?”
Within a half hour, Lila knew Manny’s entire family tree, had a solid handle on which relative had cooked which meal and was looking through the third photo album. There was so much love packed in those pages.
Lila had never felt that kind of affection. The family kind, where everyone smiled. Real smiles, as if they liked each other. Not social smiles that made for a good photo op. A family tree with branches that crossed and intersected instead of a single trunk with a couple of stunted sticks it tried to control.
Intellectually, she knew family could be loving and fun and happy. But she’d never actually seen it. But here it was, right between the pages. Her eyes were too blurred to even blink when Travis surprised them by walking in through the back of the house.
“Everything five by five?” he asked.
Manny leaped to his feet, jumping into a minute by minute rundown of the last hour and a half. Lila simply flipped, unseeingly, through the rest of the photos.
“Yo, Blondie? You ready to head out?”
She thought she’d been a poor guest once already tonight. So instead of responding, she carefully closed the album, set it aside and stood to give Manny her thanks.
“You want a ride to the boat?”
“We’re good.”
“Here’s dinner. Glory made it for you before she left.” Manny handed Travis a soft-sided thermal bag. “There’s dessert, too. Chocolate, just like you asked, Hawk.”
A tiny part of Lila’s heart melted at hearing that Travis had asked for chocolate. She knew he’d asked because of her. To treat her.
But she’d learned long ago that no amount of chocolate could make up for patronizing dismissal. Nor could jewelry, shopping trips or sternly voiced disapproval. Now she was adding sex to that no-go list. Not even great sex.
So she offered Manny another thank-you, checked that her cell phone was still in her pocket, then silently followed Travis to the door.
She maintained that silence when he strapped the bag across his body and gestured to a moped she’d never seen before. Lila didn’t question where the hell the stunted red wannabe motorcycle had come from. She just climbed on behind Travis, and watched for landmarks on their way to wherever the hell he’d decided they were staying tonight.
He’d decided, she realized, clenching her teeth again.
Just like he’d decided every damned other thing since she’d met him. The man was her father all over again.
She stewed and chewed on that during the bike ride. By the time they reached the boat, she’d added her perfect brother to the mix.
“You okay?” Travis asked as he reached out to help her onto the deck.
Lila shrugged.
Apparently, he took that as her answer.
Typical.
Lila continued to chew and stew, her thoughts taking on a little extra bitterness as Travis expertly piloted the boat off to wherever he’d decided they were going.
When he moored in yet another little cove, she checked the GPS on that handy dandy phone to see where they were this time. And stood, arms crossed, until he got around to paying attention to her.
It took a few minutes.
“Okay, spill it.”
“Spill it?” Lila wasn’t being passive aggressive, although that was something she excelled at. She was simply buying time until she had a solid grip on her temper.
She liked this guy.
Most of the time.
Which meant, according to the rules of her father, the last thing she should do was show her bitchy side. So she tried for reason instead.
“I know I said you should handle the mission alone, but I still didn’t appreciate the choices you made this evening,” she said in her most rea
sonable tone. “Instead of conferring with me and discussing choices and options, you stuffed me in some guy’s house and told me to stay. Like a freaking well-trained dog.”
“Are you indicating that you have a problem with the manner in which I’m performing my duty?”
Could he sound any colder?
“Are you indicating that you don’t believe I’m capable of understanding the basics of your mission? Like how long it would last, when to expect you back, where you were going and what to possibly expect if something happened while you were gone?”
“Sorry.” He threw himself onto the hammock with an ease that Lila might envy if she didn’t want to hit him. “I thought you were bitching about my decision to do recon on your behalf in order to keep you safe, to ascertain the people involved and to nail down the exact nature of the crime.”
“No,” Lila corrected. “I was bitching about your decision to stuff me in a stranger’s house, then put that stranger on guard duty to keep me locked up while you went off and played hero without any input from me.”
Furious that there wasn’t enough room in the boat to pace, she shoved his hip so the hammock went swinging.
“You didn’t explain what you would be doing while I was being babysat by your Manny.” Whom she was pretty sure she could take down if things got ugly. “You simply took over.”
“My job is to protect you.”
In other words, he’d done it for her own good. Lila held her breath until the urge to scream passed. One more breath to cool her burning throat, and she shook her head.
“No,” she corrected coldly. “You were not hired to protect me. You were not even asked to protect me. You chose this little task.”
She didn’t know how he stopped the hammock from swinging by just flexing his leg, but it stopped a half second before he sat upright.
“You brought this task to me.” In one easy move, he planted his feet on the deck and straightened. All the better to loom, threateningly, over her.
“No,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest to show she wasn’t going to be intimidated. “You not only chose this protective detail, you orchestrated it. You engineered every element of it without asking me a damned thing. Not even if I wanted to be protected.”