by Donna Young
It was then he realized his other talent. And killing had become his new line of work.
For the first fifteen years, he drifted from country to country, hiring his skills out to those who could pay for them, learning his trade, building his fortune.
Then he met Cristo Delgado.
In the years he worked for Cristo, Solaris’s bank account had quadrupled. He even managed a few deals on the side.
Though he had never returned home, he continued sending money to his mother and sisters through untraceable means.
A limousine pulled up near the gangway. Solaris pitched his cigarette into the water and stepped from the railing.
Cristo’s lieutenant, Jorgie, got out of the front passenger seat and stood next to the limo. A bandage crossed his nose and connected two swollen black eyes. Another wrapped around his right hand and wrist.
A moment later, four additional homegrown thugs emerged from a nearby black sedan and flanked the limousine.
Once his men appeared in place, Cristo emerged from the limo, said something to Jorgie while he buttoned his Armani suit coat, and slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
Despite his age, Cristo managed to stay trim and fit. Driven by vanity, he worked out regularly in the villa’s indoor pool. But besides a mistress or two, Solaris’s boss had no other vices.
Cristo glanced up and smiled, revealing a row of white teeth that flashed against the tanned face and well-groomed silver hair.
Even from a distance, it was evident that Cristo’s smile didn’t quite mask the tight features, nor the stiff, determined gait.
Solaris assumed something had gone amiss with the Cutting woman.
It was time for him to get to work.
“Your boss seems happy enough, eh?”
Captain Damien Stravos appeared beside Solaris. The man stroked his overgrown beard with his knuckles and squinted into the sun.
He was short for a Greek, his head not quite meeting Solaris’s shoulder, with a rotund stomach that hung over bowed legs.
“And why not?” Solaris agreed without qualm. Deliberately, he studied the horizon where the blue sky merged with the deeper blue of the ocean. “It is a beautiful day today.”
“Somehow, I do not think it is the weather that has put Cristo in a good mood,” Stravos commented, wheezing, but from his excitement or his girth, Solaris wasn’t sure. “We have made a good deal.”
Solaris did not correct the captain. It was a good deal. The transportation of thirty tons of cocaine to the United States—a street value of millions—with the promise of more if all went well.
The risks were high, but that was the nature of their business. Solaris didn’t agree with Delgado’s plans for freighting the merchandise over the Caribbean Sea when smaller boats, while less profitable, were easier to keep under the DEA’s radar.
But Solaris kept his opinion to himself. He had no stake in that side of Cristo’s business, so the risk was not his.
Captain Stravos met Cristo at the top of the gangway. The latter ordered his men to stand guard by the rail several feet away.
“Good day, Damien.”
“Yes, yes. A good day.” The captain glanced at Solaris. “Were we not just talking about that?”
After Solaris shrugged, the men shook hands. “You are ready to finalize our plans?” Cristo asked.
“Yes, yes,” Stravos responded once again, his voice more eager.
Something Solaris had thought impossible.
“How is your lovely wife, Cristo?”
“She is doing well. In fact, she insists on your dining with us the day after tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine,” he said, barely masking his joy.
Cristo Delgado bit back the irritation and widened his smile. It was no secret that Stravos lusted after his wife. But Cristo chose to ignore the fact. For now.
Stravos was annoying certainly, but he was an excellent captain. And he asked very few questions. Besides, it wasn’t Stravos that sparked Cristo’s impatience, it was the Cutting woman. And now, Calvin West.
“Allow me a moment with my man, here.” Cristo nodded toward Solaris. “Then I will join you, Damien. For some brandy, maybe?”
“Of course.” Stravos tipped his hat briefly, and then made his way to the bridge of the ship. “I will have someone return and escort you to my quarters.”
Cristo waited a moment, his gaze settled on the sky just beyond Solaris’s left shoulder. “You have the opportunity to take care of some unfinished business for me.”
“What business?”
Cristo handed him the business card. “Calvin West has returned.”
“West?” Solaris glanced at the card, surprised. His mind processed the implications. “Here?”
“He accompanied the Cutting woman.”
“So your inside source was right.” Solaris nodded, satisfied. “She came. Did she bring the MONGREL prototype?”
“We’ll see soon enough.”
“West was MI6 until last year. Now, I believe, he is some sort of diplomatic liaison between London and Washington, D.C. Why is he involved?”
“It does not matter. He is an unexpected opportunity,” Cristo answered. “You’ve been given another chance at West. Don’t screw it up again. Understand?”
“I will take care of it,” Solaris replied, pleased. “What about Jason Marsh?”
“Marsh is not your concern,” Delgado retorted. “Find West. When you’re done, bring the woman to me. If she’s decided to visit her ex-husband, I will find out why, and how I can use her presence to my advantage. Then I’ll dispose of her. You can do what you please to West. Just make sure of the impact. On both of them.”
“I will.” Solaris pocketed the card. “But if West let you know he was here, there’s a good chance he has already set a plan in motion.”
“You act as if I should care,” Cristo said arrogantly, then walked away with a wave of his hand. “Just do your job this time, Solaris. I won’t tolerate another failure.”
Chapter Six
Shacks rose above the city of Caracas. Some burrowed into the hillsides while most balanced precariously on toothpick stilts. Painted in a rainbow of dingy pastels, they turned the slant of land into an eerie chessboard of light and shadows.
“Your sense of fashion and mine are quite different, Cal. But I’m learning to appreciate your style.”
Julia stepped from the rented Jeep. She wore a black Lycra top and matching pants. Both fit like a second skin and were surprisingly comfortable.
Flecks of broken glass and torn papers flashed dimly in the spattering of yellow streetlights.
“Just stay focused. This isn’t a place where you want to get distracted.” Cal cast a sideways glance, his eyes resting a few moments on her freshly scrubbed features, the short ponytail, before skimming over the soft curve of her backside. “Or be distracting.”
“Dutifully noted.” Ignoring the flash of heat in her belly, she sidestepped the path of one particularly erratic rat that scampered across the narrow dirt road. A scurry of shadows burst from a nearby garbage pile. Revulsion slid up her back, worked the knot between her shoulders. “Who are we meeting?”
“A friend of Jason’s.” Cal took her elbow and steered her to the nearest shanty. A lime-green dwelling stood half buried in the hillside behind, its two small windows covered with newspaper.
“Charming,” she murmured.
The front door swung open.
“Bloody hell, man. Did you have to leave my car in one of the worst areas in town?” Renalto demanded in a low, harsh voice. The man’s black eyes darted up and down the road. “It was stripped almost to nothing by the time I got to it.”
Julia stopped midstep, not sure what surprised her more, Renalto at the door or the British accent that tumbled from his mouth.
“It couldn’t be helped. You’ll get reimbursed.” Cal grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shack.
“From who? Cain?” The operative snorted. “Not bloo
dy likely. Especially after he hears that it was you, my friend, who messed up,” Renalto complained and shut the door behind the couple. “You’re not exactly on his top-agent list right now.”
“Cain doesn’t have a top-agent list,” Cal commented dryly. “Only a ‘those who owe me a favor’ list.”
Ignoring him, Renalto locked the door and punched in a code before placing a false wall over the keypad. “Besides, how would it look? I’m supposed to be a drug-addicted supplier. I never have enough money to repair my cab.”
“Maybe as suspicious as a drug-addicted supplier with a state-of-the-art alarm system,” Julia inserted mildly.
“You got me there.” As Renalto smiled, his dark eyes swept over Julia in one lengthy, interested gaze. “Ms. Cutting, I apologize for the abrupt ending to our meeting earlier today.”
“No more sorry than I am about your head. Is it better?”
“Much better.”
Before Julia could stop him, Renalto took her fingers and brought them to his lips for a light kiss. “Now.”
“Cut it out, Ren. The Don Juan act—”
“I’ll bet Cal hasn’t fed you anything,” Renalto interrupted. His dark eyes flickered over her.
“No, he hasn’t,” she agreed slowly. “But we’ve been a little busy.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.
“See what I mean?” After another quick kiss, he let go of her fingers. “You’ve come to the right place. I’ll take care of you.”
Julia glanced over the dimly lit room. Newspapers and clothes littered a broken-down sofa. Sweat and dirt stains tattooed the back cushions, darkening the dull beige upholstery. More magazines, papers and old food cartons lay strewn across liberally gouged black and white linoleum. The checkered floor slapped up against a set of shabby cabinets with only a microwave on top to serve as his kitchen.
When her eyes found Renalto’s, he chuckled. “Don’t let the looks of this sty deceive you.”
He reached under the counter and flipped a toggle switch. Suddenly, the tiles of the floor lifted, then slid back revealing a four-foot-square opening.
“My true living quarters.” Renalto indicated with a bow.
“Gracias.” Charmed, she grinned. A broad grin that flashed an attractive dimple on one cheek.
Renalto’s eyes widened. He placed his hand over his heart and staggered back. “Dulce Jesús. Un ángel en la tierra.” Sweet Jesus. An angel on earth.
“Mía, Renalto,” Cal snapped. Immediately he regretted his outburst. Julia’s eyes shot to his.
Renalto whistled through his teeth, then he spoke again in English. “I did not understand, amigo. You have my apologies.”
“Did not understand what?” Julia kept her expression curious while her heart picked up its beat.
Mine, Cal had said. She crossed her arms over her chest to stop her heart from knocking against her ribs.
She was fluent in several languages, including French, Mandarin and Spanish. A fact that had never come up in a conversation between her and Cal during their brief affair.
“I did not understand that this case was personal for him, too.” Renalto laughed, a deep chuckle that did little to ease the tension. “Too bad. I make a rather good Valentino.”
“Valentino?” Julia asked, her curiosity real now.
“The actor who was famous for his love for women,” Renalto explained, then added without qualm. “I have an addiction to old movies.”
Julia shook her head, amazed.
Renalto shot her a wolfish smile. “Maybe you’d be interested in seeing my collection sometime, eh?”
Julia laughed. “Maybe.”
“Are you done?” Cal asked, his tone terse.
“Almost.” With slow deliberation, Renalto winked at Julia before he turned back to Cal. “Now I’m done.”
“Did you follow Jorgie?”
“Yes. Leopold’s car was nearby,” Renalto answered, his tone much lighter than his friend’s. “I used it to follow them.”
“Leopold?” Julia frowned, remembering. “The sky cap?”
“Leo’s more of an associate. He just borrowed the uniform to help me when Cal notified me of your flight in.”
“How did you know Delgado’s men were going to jump us?” Julia asked Cal.
“A hunch,” Cal answered, then turned to Renalto, dismissing her harshly enough to set her teeth on edge. “Where did they go?”
“Delgado keeps a hacienda on the other side of the city. They returned there,” Renalto said, his eyebrow cocked just a bit at Cal’s attitude. “But I saw nothing unusual. After a few hours, I left rather than chance being discovered. I don’t know what you put on that card, but Jorgie hauled butt back to his master.”
“I gave Delgado something to think about besides Julia and Jason.”
“What?”
“Me,” Cal said solemnly.
“No offense, West, but as much as Delgado has reason to hate you, it’s nothing compared to how much he hates Jason,” Renalto pointed out.
“What do you mean?” Julia asked. “Why does Delgado hate Jason? And you, Cal?”
“Jason has spent the last eight years of his life making Delgado miserable.” Renalto considered his words. “I’ve only joined in the fun a year ago, but it didn’t take more than an hour to understand this is a grudge match.”
“What grudge?”
Renalto shrugged. “Whatever it was, Jason kept it from me.”
“He kept it from everyone it seems,” Cal commented; his eyes caught Julia’s.
“Including me,” she answered, surprised at how easy the lie slid off her tongue.
“Until recently, Jason had been in the States gathering intel,” Renalto continued. “He must have gotten a hold of something big. He contacted me from Washington, said he needed my help. Then he told me he was on his way back here to bring Delgado down.”
“He quit the agency.”
“I know that now. My superiors told me after Jason disappeared.” Renalto’s smile turned cold. “But it doesn’t make sense. Nothing on this earth was more important to Jason than that job.”
“Something was,” Cal answered with an arrogance that slapped at Julia. “Greed. Or a lover. Or maybe even from fear for his life.”
“I don’t believe any of those reasons,” Julia said out loud.
“Doesn’t matter.” Renalto grunted. “Delgado snatched Jason within days after he arrived. The poor bastard didn’t have a chance.”
“How did Delgado know he was coming?”
“Probably the same way he knew Julia was on the morning plane. He’s got someone on the inside. I was told by my superiors to wait until Cal showed up. So here I am.”
“You’ve had no word on Jason, then?” Cal prompted.
“I don’t need it. I know Delgado.” Renalto’s brown eyes softened as they rested on Julia. “Jason disappeared ten days ago. It is better to pray that he is dead, because if he is alive—”
“We’ll find out either way.” Cal cut him off, but not before Julia noticed the grim tightening of his jaw. “Right now, I need intelligence on Esteban Alvarez. I want to meet with him.”
“The ex-cartel partner?” Renalto thought for a moment. “He’s hosting a huge party tomorrow at his villa. Rumor is, he’s trying to go legit. There are quite a few important people on the invite list. People who don’t want their friendship with a drug lord made public.”
Cal’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “That’ll do.”
“What are you planning—”
“Shh.” Renalto cut off Julia. “Listen.”
The crunch of dirt and stone penetrated the shanty.
Within moments both men flanked the window, their pistols in their hands.
“What is it?” Julia whispered.
“Tires on gravel,” Renalto answered. “Lucy, we’ve got company.”
“Stop quoting movies, Ren, or so help me—”
“It’s a television show,” Julia corrected absently, her eyes on
the curtains. Waiting.
“I think I’m in love,” Renalto whispered. “A woman who knows I Love Lucy.”
Headlights flashed through the windows. A moment later, car doors slammed closed.
Renalto moved the curtain aside slightly with the barrel of his gun. “Damn it, West. You were followed.”
“The hell I was.”
“Four headlights. Two cars full of black-suited dudes,” Renalto observed. “They’re not here for a tea party.”
More doors slammed amidst a burst of masculine laughter.
“I knew it,” Renalto bit out. “It’s Jorgie and some more of Delgado’s goons.”
“What do we do?” Julia asked, her voice still a mere whisper. She kept her distance from the window. No use giving Jorgie an open target.
“The first car belongs to Leopold,” Renalto realized aloud. “They’re dumping something from the trunk.”
Cal swore, then shifted closer to see for himself. “What is it?”
“A huge burlap sack.”
Jorgie aimed his machine gun at the sack and fired several rounds into the burlap.
“Son of a bitch!” Renalto dove for the door. A moment later, Cal tackled him, pinning the other man to the floor.
“Let me up, damn it,” Renalto raged.
“No.” Grunting, Cal took an elbow in the gut, but kept his grip tight. If he didn’t, they’d all be dead. “It’s too late, Ren,” he ordered, then said again softly. “If someone was in that bag, they’re dead already.”
Emotion played across Renalto’s face: anger, disbelief, then finally acceptance and grief.
Renalto laid his head against the floor, then hit it with his forehead once, hard. “Bloody hell.”
Julia crossed to the window. Cal heard her sharp intake of breath and was on his feet a moment later.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed out the words. “Cal, hurry. Jorgie just threw a grenade into one of the cars.”
“Get away from the window!” Cal reached for Julia. A split second later, the blast shook the air and filled it with dust and smoke. A huge fire ball burned where the car sat.