Bambi nodded, her head still on Peyton’s shoulder. “Show me.”
Peyton showed her the picture of Jake with the others. Bambi grabbed the phone from her hands, laughing.
“Oh my God, look at Jakey,” she gushed. “He’s so funny. He knows how to have a good time.”
Peyton smiled at the silly photo.
Bambi’s expression sobered and she handed it back. “Thanks for showing me.”
Peyton shifted and looked at her friend. “Okay, dish. What’s going on with you? You’ve been mopey and down this entire trip.”
“It’s stressful. And gruesome.”
“Bull shit. You love gruesome. Why are you all like this?” She motioned at Bambi. “I’ve seen men flirting with you, but you ignore them. What gives?”
Bambi grabbed Peyton’s free hand. “You know me so well. We really have become best friends.”
Don’t tell Maria that, Peyton thought. “Uh un, you’re not getting off that easy. Spill.”
Bambi looked away. “We don’t have time for this. We still need to get showers and get dressed. By the way, the maid left us more towels. I put a tip under the pillow every morning and we get twice as many towels as we should.”
Peyton knew she was trying to change the subject, so she rose and tugged Bambi to her feet. “You can do my makeup and dish. Come on.” She dragged Bambi into the bathroom where there was an entire case holding pallets of eyeshadow, vials of mascara, even false eyelashes. There were hair baubles and powders and brushes and lipsticks, nail polishes and eyeliners and eyelash curlers.
“Do you ever wonder what’s the point of everything?” asked Bambi, rifling through her case and pulling out the colors that she felt went best with Peyton’s skin tone. “I mean, I date so many men. So many, and for what? What do I get out of it?”
The obvious answer to Peyton was sex, but she figured Bambi might not appreciate it.
She clasped Peyton’s hand again. “Don’t get mad at me, Peyton, please.”
“Get mad at you? Why would I get mad at you?”
Bambi sighed. “Because I know how protective you are of him.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Bambi went back to rummaging in her case, but Peyton stopped her.
“Tell me.” Peyton reached over and closed the case.
Bambi stared at her a moment, then she sighed. “Since I met Jake, I started wondering if I’d ever find a man as fun or as great as he is.”
Peyton blinked, tilting her head. “Jake? Jake Ryder?”
Bambi nodded.
Peyton held up her phone, showing Jake striking a warrior’s pose in leather pants and a leather vest, no shirt, his white arms glowing. “This Jake Ryder?”
Bambi smiled, looking at the picture, then she looked Peyton in the eyes. “Have you ever seen a more perfect man in your life?”
Peyton’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t know what to say. Bambi was supermodel pretty, Stanford educated, a weapons and explosives expert, and Jake was…well, she loved him dearly, but Jake was Jake, doofy and silly and smart as hell, but so very different from Bambi.
She blinked a few times, then she cleared her throat. “What now?” she asked.
* * *
After she and Bambi had primped and polished themselves, they dressed in summer dresses with halter tops and long skirts so they could both hide a small gun strapped to a holster on their inner thighs. Peyton had worn the same type of rig in L.A. when she went undercover in the sex-club sting.
Bambi had done both of their hair in a fish-tail braid, so the comlink wouldn’t show in their ears, while Tank had fashioned a second hair scrunchy for Peyton to wear on her wrist to hide the microphone.
Radar pulled them both aside, while Rosa and Bass discussed technical issues with Tank. “Don’t get in a car. If either mark tries to force you into a car, start screaming.” He glared at Peyton. “I mean this mostly for you, Sparky. You may be on the street and you won’t have one of us at your back like usual.”
For the first time, she realized that her team would be elsewhere. She’d never operated without her team before, but Bass and Vega would be there. And she could take care of herself. Before she could think more about it, Bambi threw her arms around her neck and hugged her.
“Be careful, Peyton, please. Keep your eyes open. Radar’s right. We won’t be there.”
She patted Bambi’s back and looked up at Radar. “I’ll be fine. I have backup and I’ll be vigilant.”
When Bambi released her, Radar shook a finger in her face. “You think Joe Miller wasn’t vigilant?”
She swallowed hard, then she went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine, old man, I promise you.”
He gave her another stern look, then Bass approached.
“You ready?”
She nodded.
“There are two main ways out of the lobby at the Excelencia – through the back to the beach or through the front to the street. Make sure you signal us which door you’re leaving out of. Federico will be at one and I’ll be at the other. Federico’s already in place, sitting at the bar beachside.”
“Got it.” She took a deep breath, then squeezed Bambi’s hand. “You be careful.”
“I will,” said Bambi, squeezing back.
Peyton smiled for Rosa’s benefit and the other woman came over, staring her down.
“Listen to me, Brooks,” she said. “I want Miller’s killer, but not at your expense. Do you hear me. Anything feels off, anything feels hinky, you abort immediately.”
“Got it.”
“Be careful,” she warned.
Peyton nodded, then gave Tank a small wave. Before they could give her anymore warnings, she turned and left the room, walking down the hall to the elevator.
“You need me, you just call,” whispered Tank’s voice in her com.
She smiled and pressed the button for the elevator. She took it to the first floor and headed for the beach. A short walk brought her to the Excelencia. Vega sat at a table in the corner and nodded at her as she passed. She nodded back. As she headed for the door leading to the lobby, a group of three young men stepped in front of her. One of them stopped the other two and motioned for her to go ahead of them. She found herself face to face with the kid from the beach earlier today, the one with the large beauty mark on his cheek. He was with two of his buddies, who all smiled at her. She stepped inside, wondering if she should try to make contact with them.
Before she could find an opening, they moved past her toward the front desk.
The lobby of the Excelencia had palm trees in large terracotta pots arranged around the perimeter. The floor was terracotta tile and each wall was painted a different color. Directly behind the front desk, the paint was a deep purple, to the left a burnt orange, to the right, navy blue and behind her, leading to the beach, brick red. The reception desk itself stretched the length of the purple wall and was made from zebrawood.
Miguel stood at a computer on the far left side and another young man stood at a computer on the far right, checking in a couple. Birthmark boy and his friends went immediately to Miguel, so Peyton hung back. Miguel looked up, smiling at them, then his eyes went beyond them to Peyton and he smiled wider.
“Buenas noches,” he said.
“Buenas noches,” the boys said in unison.
One of the boys, an African American with a short afro, nudged birthmark boy.
Peyton tensed, wondering if they were going to request something for a night of partying. Birthmark boy took some American money from his wallet and laid it on the counter.
“Um,” he said.
Peyton was close enough to notice his hands were shaking.
“I’m in position,” came Bass’s voice in her ear.
She didn’t reply, holding her breath. The kid sure did seem nervous.
“Um,” he said again.
The other kid nudged him and gave him a significant look. He looked like he might be mixed
blood – Asian and white. Miguel arched an eyebrow in waiting, then he smiled at Peyton again, shrugging his shoulder. Peyton shrugged her shoulders in return.
“Tengo que cambiar dinero.” Birthmark boy said it with the most distinct American accent she’d ever heard.
“You need to exchange money?” asked Miguel.
“Sí,” said the boy, nodding quickly. “Necesito billetes pequeños, muy pequeños. Monedas.”
“¿Monedas?” asked Miguel.
“Monedas,” said the boy firmly.
Peyton narrowed her eyes, but Miguel just made change for the boys. Birthmark boy quickly pocketed it and they turned, headed toward the beach exit. Miguel beamed at Peyton as she approached the desk.
“Hola, chica. You ready to go.”
She leaned on the desk, smiling back at him. “Where are we going?”
“It is a surprise.” He held up a hand and she noticed the Mayan calendar tattooed on his inner wrist, then he walked over to the other young man and said something to him. The young man nodded and went back to helping his customers. Miguel grabbed a button up shirt from beneath the counter and swung it over his lime-green t-shirt, then he came around the counter to meet her. “You look very nice.”
“Thank you.” She lifted the hand with the hidden microphone and smoothed down her braid. “Which way are we going?”
“Out the front to the street. I want to take you to a club where the locals go.”
“Out the front, huh?” she said.
“Got it,” came Bass’ response. “We’ll be behind you.”
Miguel smiled again and leaned close to her. “You need to get away from the tourist spots to really appreciate Cancun.”
A frisson of anxiety went through her, but she reminded herself that Bass and Vega were right behind her. She smoothed her hair again as they walked toward the front doors. “Is this place far?”
“No,” said Miguel, placing a hand in the small of her back and directing her through the door. “We can walk to it.”
“We can walk,” she repeated. “Good. I need some exercise. I spent too much time sitting today.”
Miguel laughed. “You are on vacation. It is what you are supposed to do.” He kept his hand in the small of her back as he directed her across the front courtyard to the street, where they turned right toward town.
“Your English is as good as mine,” she remarked.
He laughed. “I went to high school in Texas, but I came home when I graduated. I lived with my aunt in the states, but I always wanted to come home to the Caribbean.”
“Do you have dual citizenship?”
“I do. Where are you from, chica?”
“San Francisco.”
“Ah, I have been there many times. It is a beautiful city.”
“It is.”
“You have not told me your name.”
“Paige,” she said, using her cover from Hollywood. “Paige Sparks.”
He leaned closer, his hand snaking around her waist. “Paige Sparks, beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
She laughed. She half-expected some comment from Bass. Radar would never have let something like that go without comment, but Bass was silent. She hoped the link was still working. Suddenly she felt alone on the street.
Cars buzzed past, and they’d reached a part of the street where the nightclubs began, but Miguel didn’t seem intent to turn into any of them. For the first time, she worried. What if he wanted her to go into a crowded nightclub? How was she going to do that? Her PTSD might be better, but it wasn’t gone.
As they walked past the nightclubs, she heard a lot of English being spoken, but the further and further they got from the hotels, the less busy the clubs were. Suddenly, Miguel turned left into a side street. She could hear music coming from a cantina in the middle of the block. The building was made of cinder blocks, painted in bright pinks and blues. A large patio dominated the front of it and a number of people sat on the brightly painted chairs, sipping cervezas or margaritas. A group of young men in the corner jerked their chins at Miguel. He held up a hand, then guided Peyton into the interior.
It wasn’t crowded, but a number of people occupied tables or sat at the bar. A band had set up in the back corner and they were playing and singing in Spanish. Miguel pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. He dropped into the seat across from her.
The band was actually quite good, she decided, as he leaned closer to her so she could hear him over the music. “What do you want to drink?”
“Cerveza,” she said, smiling. She figured that would be safe as long as it came in a bottle. It would be harder for him to slip her something.
Miguel waved to someone beyond her sight. “Dos cervezas,” he called, holding up two fingers.
A beautiful, curvy woman brought the drinks and Miguel paid. After she walked away, he picked up his beer and pointed the neck at the band. “My uncle plays the drums. He’s good, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, picking up her own beer.
“The band is called Las Tortugas and sometimes they play for the hotels. He gets lots of women because he is so handsome.”
“Las Tortugas? The turtles?”
Miguel turned and looked at her. A candle flickered in the middle of the table. “You speak Spanish?”
“Just enough to get me in trouble.”
“Ha!” he said, laughing. “You learn it in high school.”
“And I picked it up here and there. I don’t read very well.” She leaned on the table. “Is your whole family in Cancun?”
He nodded, sipping his beer. “My mother is in Leona Vicario, but my father is here. He works the hotels too.”
“So you have an uncle and your father here. Any other family members?” she said, positioning the microphone so Bass could hear.
“My cousins – one drives a tour bus out to Chichen Itza. The other does diving tours.”
“Your cousin drives a tour bus to Chichen Itza?”
“Interesting,” said Bass.
“Yes, have you been? It is one of the tourist things you should do.”
“I haven’t been, but I’m thinking of going. Maybe you can tell me the name of his tour and I can take that one.”
Miguel laughed. “He likes pretty women. He’ll be happy I sent you to him.”
She smiled. “Do you have a brochure?”
“Yes, at the front desk. I’ll leave one for you.”
“Nice, Brooks,” said Bass in her ear.
“What about your other cousin? Where does he do diving tours?”
“Xel-Há. It’s very touristy. You can snorkel or cliff dive or zip-line. You can even swim with dolphins. My cousin leads the scuba diving expeditions.”
“Four male relatives all in the same location,” said Bass. “I think we’ve got our man. Suggest you want something more exciting.”
Peyton took a sip of her beer. She wished she didn’t have to do this. She actually liked Miguel and she was enjoying listening to the band.
“The blond, older man,” Miguel said suddenly. “He is your boyfriend?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. We hooked up the other night.”
“You didn’t come with him?”
“No, I met him in the club.”
“Who did you come to Cancun with, chica?”
“My friend. We’re on summer break.”
“You go to college?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Keep it as close to reality as you can, she told herself. “San Francisco State.”
“What is it you study?”
“Social work. I want to help people who are having a difficult time.”
“That is good. I do social work too. I help them unwind from their lives.”
Peyton laughed. “You have a point.” She braced her chin on the hand that had the microphone. “So, what other things do you think I should do while I’m here?”
“How long do you have?”
“We�
��re here for two weeks.”
“There’s the underwater museum.”
“The what?”
“An artist…um…” He thought for a moment. “Jason de Caires Taylor made these statues and sank them. They help create a natural sea reef. They’re eerie and beautiful at the same time. You should see those.”
“What else?” she said, enchanted by the tone of his voice. He obviously loved his home, much the way she loved San Francisco.
“Xcaret. You can ride the underground river. Or you can watch a reenactment of the ball games played by the ancient Mayas in Chichen Itza.” His eyes shown in the light from the candle. “Do you like animals?”
“I do.”
“You could go to the Crococun Zoo. They’ll let you touch the animals there.”
“Really?”
“Don’t get caught up in his charm, Brooks,” came Bass’ warning.
She licked her lower lip and Miguel followed it with his eyes. “What if I want nightlife?”
“You mean clubs where the Americanos go?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I want something different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve heard things. I’ve heard you can get things down here.” She leaned closer. “Things that help you have a good time.”
He reached out and ran his index finger down the side of her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Be careful, chica. You can get yourself in trouble looking for things that you shouldn’t. You may be American, but the government does not look kindly on Americans coming to our town to do dangerous things. Drink your tequila and leave it at that.” He leaned closer still. “I don’t want to see you in trouble with the police, or worse. And I won’t be a party to taking you down that path.”
She leaned back. Lost him, she thought. Damn it!
CHAPTER 18
Rosa strolled down the beach next to Radar, her arm through his, pretending they were a couple. She looked at her watch, also a communicator, and marked the time. Midnight.
“It’s Sunday now,” she said, looking out over the water. They walked along the water’s edge, where the surf came in wetting their feet.
Radar looked at his own watch. “So it is. Sometimes I think I’m getting too old for this.”
Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5) Page 30