by Melissa Jane
“How does this correlate back to me?”
“For the most part, it won’t. But it will, at least, give you some insight into what you’re dealing with. The turning point of relationships occurred when the Florez cartel manipulated a deal with producers and took the business off the Baja cartel. In the scheme of things the Baja were small time. An almost nothing cartel that did most of its dealings through the Tijuana border, so scoring this deal was a massive hit for them. The narcotics were to be moved from Cancun to Cuba. Easy. That was until the Florez party took the deal. Pissed off, the Baja allied with Los Santos. Too small to seek retribution themselves the Baja cut a deal with their new friends. If Los Santos intercepted the deal before the changeover in Cuba, they would split the profits.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“Luis Santos Rodriguez, head of Los Santos cartel, sent his only son Xavier to do the job. He never made it back.”
“What happened?”
“Xavier wasn’t like his father. He wasn’t cruel or vindictive and he most definitely did not possess a violent streak in him. He was educated and charismatic and everything his father didn’t need. He wanted Xavier to take over the family business, and this was his way of getting his son to prove his worth. As it turned out, Xavier had grown up with the courier, Alec, who worked for the Florez cartel. Unaware of who Xavier truly was, Alec invited Xavier on a cruise on board the Florez yacht to deliver the drugs. What Alec didn’t know was that the recipients in Cuba had already been killed by Los Santos men. That’s when all hell broke loose. When the Florez family found out about the deception, Juan found them off the coast of Cuba. Rumour has it Juan killed everyone on board. A massacre. Except for one person. For whatever reason she survived but was taken as Hector’s whore who would help him with grooming the girls for sale. Four years later, the Florez cartel was brought to its knees by someone they didn’t see coming. Hector had another son. Not blood related, adopted. In an hour, this Aiden destroyed an empire killing Juan, Hector and every mogul who attended the purchase party. Thirty people were reported dead, his mansion bombed and half burned to the ground.”
“So with them dead, what happened?”
“Los Santos and Baja cartels both saw an opportunity they had missed almost five years ago.” He shot me a look which told me this was pinnacle to the story. “To get their money that was owed to them. The money from the botched delivery went straight into the Florez account and the drugs were redistributed. The Florez family profited twice, leaving the Baja licking their wounds and Los Santos attending the funeral of their only son. Now the war exists between the once-allied cartels, Baja and Santos, and who will be the first to get their hands on the account details. Problem being the account is frozen. When the US authorities announced the Hector and Juan’s death as well as finding out there was corrupt high ranking agents in the FBI and DEA, they put a hold on all accounts including those off-shore.”
“Is this where I come into it?” I dreaded the answer.
“Perhaps.”
After all, he had just told me, he gives a one-word response to the answer my life depends upon.
Chapter 11
We were still a day out from LA when we pulled to a stop. After what we’d just been through, and Jair seeing how tired I was, he checked us into a hotel in Tucson.
“You don’t do anything by halves,” I said observing the step up in our luxury accommodation. Jair rewarded me with an amused half smile as he slid his credit card back in his wallet.
“Cariña…” His voice struck an even lower cord than usual until it was practically a growl. Oh, the things it did to me. “There’s a time and place for rough.” I shivered as his gaze traveled the length of my body. My tongue darted out to moisten my dry lips, his eyes narrowing at the movement. “There’s also a time and place to indulge in a little of both.” He gestured for me to start toward the elevator. Placing his hand on the small of my back I relished in his touch. When the thick heavy doors closed he stood behind me, his chest barely grazing my back with every breath. There was a very real current passing between us, an unexplainable force as we remained silent, the green number of every floor ticking over. We stopped on the fifteenth floor and just as he had earlier, when the metal doors slid open, he guided me out and down to the hotel room. It was a drastic step up from where I’d been staying and I had no doubt I’d thoroughly enjoy a good night’s rest here. Walking in, I came to a standstill.
One bed.
No sofa.
Did this make me nervous?
Yes! Both in a good and bad way.
“Something wrong?” He shrugged off his jacket and hooked it over the back of the small study chair.
“No, not at all.” My voice deceived me and came out high pitched.
A smile slowly formed on his beautiful lips and his look devoured me. There was a raw mix of excess and restraint about this man. Excess in sex appeal, quiet confidence never revealing too much and sexual restraint in a sense that his eyes and voice were foreplay alone.
“You should get some rest,” he suggested, unhooked his utility belt. Jair Ruiz was well-trained, a soldier, a fighter. Handling guns suited him more than anyone I’d ever seen.
Perhaps I was biased.
Perhaps I was too caught up in wonder and lust.
“You’re not tact force,” I began, deciding to bring reality back. He looked through his lashes at me in silent question. “If you were, there’s no way you’d be allowed to be on my tail. For some reason, the FBI is distancing itself from me. The last thing I believe they’d do is allow someone like yourself to cover my ass. If you work for Evan Jacobs, you’re no longer a Government employee.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so. So tell me…” I took a few step toward him, closing the space. He stilled, absorbing my presence. “Did you get suspended also along with Jacobs?”
For a second, Jair looked like he was searching for the right words. Then, he took the final step forward until I was forced to move, my back now against the wall. Placing an arm either side of my head, Jair trapped me, his blackened eyes drilling deep into mine.
“Very inquisitive aren’t you, cariña.” His voice was a slow rumble.
“It’s my job to be,” I replied, shakily. Even though this man saved me, shot for me, he still rattled my soul.
“You’re already a scared little lamb surrounded by foxes. You don’t want to become an even tastier target.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You’re trembling.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
“But I’m exactly like them.”
It sounded like a threat and my heart stopped beating.
“How can you be like them if you’re helping me?”
“The curious lamb. Sweetheart, some questions are better left unanswered.”
“Am I safe with you?”
He considered me for a moment. “You’ve asked me that before.”
“Am I?”
Jair grazed his fingers over my cheek and I leaned into his touch.
“You’re becoming vulnerable, cariña,” he murmured, ill-disguised lust in his gravelly voice.
“You make me this way.”
Jair leaned forward, lips grazing mine, teasing.
“I told you not to.”
“Then stop—”
I was cut off as his tongue licked into my mouth, gently stroking my own. With weak knees, I gripped his broad shoulders to save myself from falling, his firm bulk of a body pressing me against the wall.
A knock on the door sounded, surprising us both. While I wore a nervous look, Jair’s eyes narrowed, his hand pulling his Glock from the holster on the table.
“Go to the bathroom,” he ordered in a low stern tone.
Doing as he said, my feet touched the cold tiles as I hid behind the wall. I was only a yard away from the entry and could hear everything.
“Who is it?” Jair asked, his accent thick. With a ha
nd on the door handle, his gun already positioned, I held my breath
“Room service,” replied the muffled voice from the other side.
He threw me a cautious glance before opening the door, his finger already poised on the trigger.
“We didn’t order room service,” he stated flatly.
“Compliments of the house,” the man replied with a cheery voice. “Would you like me to come in and pour you a glass?”
“I’ll take it from here.”
“Very well.”
Seconds later the door was closed, the security chain latched. Jair walked past the bathroom carrying a bottle of champagne and a note that was quickly pocketed seemingly without being read.
“What did it say?” I asked, keeping my suspicion at bay.
With his back to me, he responded. “With compliments. Rubbish.”
“Why would they send it to us?”
This time, he turned so we stood face to face. “I don’t know.”
“Do they know we’re here?”
I was referring to the relentless cartel that just would not leave me alone.
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m not.”
His lips morphed into a smile, and while it confused me, I could feel my shoulders relax to a degree.
“Are you teasing me?”
He took a few steps forward closing the tension loaded space between us. His hands slid up my arms and circled high on my neck effectively tilting my face.
“I’d like very much to tease you,” his voice rumbled. “But first we need to talk.”
“Talk?” That one word tore me from my reverie.
Jair’s hands fell away and I watched him put on his jacket he had only taken off ten minutes earlier. “Yes, I have some plans we need to discuss.” He eyed me seriously. “Rather pressing plans.”
“Ah, okay. Can’t we just discuss them here, in the room?”
“Cariña, I have a weakness… that’s you being close to a bed. I can’t and I won’t concentrate on a word I say if all I’m thinking about is having you under me.”
My cheeks flushed bright red, that familiar pang between my legs returning with a vengeance. “Well… when you say it like that,” I stumbled.
“Let’s go. I’ve made a reservation downstairs.”
***
“Mr. Ruiz.” The maître d' greeted with a tight smile. He looked me up and down and I could feel judgment, but why?
Jair simply nodded and placed a hand on my back as he guided us through the maze of tables belonging to the hotel restaurant. Considering the late hour, the place was still buzzing. Jair pulled out my seat in a gentlemanly gesture and I gratefully accepted. Silently, we waited as the maître d' flicked out the napkins and laid them over our laps. I could feel his heated stare but I refused to meet it. There was something particularly off about the man and he set me at unease.
“Do you know him?” I asked once he’d walked away to fetch a water jug.
“Should I?” Jair didn’t glance from his menu.
“He knew your name before you even said anything.”
Still no look. “I did book when I checked us in. He would have my name on the reservations.”
Plausible.
But still I wasn’t convinced. First champagne compliments of the hotel, and now the maître d' greeting like he knew Jair.
“Relax,” he demanded, placing the menu to the side. “What are you having?”
“I’m… I’m not feeling that well. After everything—”
“Are you ready to place your order,” the waiter’s voice intercepted.
“Yes,” Jair began. “I’ll have the steak, medium rare with a side of greens, no sauce. And Ms. Cross will have the gnocchi.”
“Very well,” the waiter acknowledged before collecting the menus.
“That was a gamble.”
Jair’s amused eyes met mine and I felt my resolve crumble. “How so?”
“I may not like gnocchi.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, arms crossing as he stared deep into my soul. “I have a feeling that it’s your favorite.”
And just how the hell did he know that? He was, of course, one hundred percent correct. “How long did Evan Jacobs have you following me?”
His jaw twitched, gaze narrowing slightly. “Not long enough.”
My body heated from the inside.
“Sir, Madame…” The waiter returned balancing a wine bottle in one hand.
“Please,” Jair accepted for the both of us.
“Salud, cariña,” he held his glass up and I raised mine and clinked gently.
“Salud.”
Swallowing the crisp liquid, we held each other’s gaze. Mine wondrous, his hooded and brooding just the way I liked.
“Your accent is thick.”
A small smile played on his lips.
“Where are you from?”
“Colombia. Santa Marta.”
“How did you and Evan meet?”
“Similar interests.”
“Like?”
He sat back in his chair, fingers drumming on the base of his wine glass. “People, things.”
I was transfixed by the movement. “That’s very evasive.”
“It’s safer that way.”
“Why?”
“In my line of work, the fewer people know about me, the better.”
“Are you really Colombian?”
“Tell me about you. Since you are the target, I’d like to know more about who I’m dealing with.”
“I don’t know why I’m a target. I know you rattled something off about having ‘knowledge,’ but in all honesty, I don’t possess anything that would help anyone.”
“Why did you become an agent?”
“What?”
“It doesn’t suit you, so why did you become one?”
I didn’t know what to say. In a way, I was rendered speechless by his observation.
“Nina, it takes a certain mindset to be an agent. While I can see you’re an intelligent woman, you don’t belong on the streets chasing people or investigating the corrupt scum of society. You certainly don’t belong in a world where you’re being hunted down by a drug cartel. So why did you become an FBI agent?”
Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to tell a story that always struck a raw nerve. “I was in my second year of Law when my father was gunned down by three unidentified men. They didn’t just kill him. They mutilated his body until he was unrecognizable. Some say it was a hate crime. I’m part Hispanic although I can’t speak a word of Spanish. Others say it was retribution for a crime he solved that put away some big names. It was then I realized that I didn’t want to wait for cases to be brought to me in court for justice to be served. I wanted to be on the frontline to make sure those bastards who commit these crimes are made to pay. Since I was already studying Law, I had the pre-requisite to become an agent. A year after graduating, here I am. I’m a rookie agent with a dead partner and a cartel hot on my heels and no one can explain to me why. I’ve been unofficially suspended from duty, my boss is suspicious of me and my file has apparently been locked and again, no one can explain to me why this is happening.”
“Your boss… can you trust him?”
“Up until a few days ago, I thought I could.”
He was leaning forward now, listening attentively and contemplating my words. The waiter returned to the table with our meals and refilled our almost empty wine glasses. The conversation continued when he left.
“What makes you question him?” Jair asked, cutting into his steak.
“His behavior over Garcia’s death. It was plain and simple not a home invasion, and the Chief seemed more than happy to brush it under the carpet. I don’t know why, and I probably will never know because it seems he’ll do whatever it takes to stop me from finding out. You appear to be the only one who isn’t deceiving me.”
“Don’t do that,” Jair warned, his tone f
lat.
“Do what?” My fork froze mid-air.
“Don’t put me on a pedestal.”
“I’m sorry, I was just trying to say that I could trust—”
“You don’t know me well enough to trust me, cariña. I’m not above deception.”
His words silenced me.
“That sounded like a warning.”
“Perhaps it is.”
Dropping my fork it clattered into the porcelain bowl, my hands nervously wringing the napkin on my lap.
“I’m a little confused. Maybe it’s the wine. No, it’s not the wine, this is how you always make me feel. Second guessing whose side you’re on—if you’re even on a side. Second guessing whether I’m safe with you.”
“Why would you not be safe?”
“Do you even hear yourself, Jair? Telling me I can’t trust you. That I shouldn’t be vulnerable. That you are just like ‘them.’ And now you’re saying you’re not above the act of deceiving me. Is this a game to you? For some fucked up reason, men from some cartel I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting or even investigating are trying to kill me, abduct me, I don’t even know what the fuck they want from me. My Chief is treating me like I’m quickly becoming the enemy of the state, and you have me analyzing every word you do and don’t say so I know whether you truly have my best interests at heart.”
Jair sat back in his chair and drained the last of his wine, eyes locked on mine. “I understand your apprehension, cariña. I do, honestly. But what I see is a woman who without me is quite easily going to be six foot under as soon as she tells me to walk. What you are choosing to see is a hero who can save you from the men seeking your blood. When in reality they and I, we all stem from the same societies soaked in deceit, violence, drugs and treachery. Fact of the matter is, I’ve killed for precisely the same reasons they’ve killed. My boot has walked through the blood of victims the same amount of times as they’ve strung theirs up from a bridge. I can be your saint for a day, a night, a week, but at the end of our time together just know that even the devil was an angel.”
Licking my dry lips, Jair’s eyes followed. He could see my nerves. For some strange reason, my vulnerability got him off.