by I. T. Lucas
Sandoval waved a hand. “I don’t trust anyone. There isn’t a single person who can’t be either bought or blackmailed or threatened.”
He should know. Sandoval probably did all three on a regular basis.
“Then you have to do it yourself. Which, frankly, I would’ve made my standard operating protocol. Choose one room to conduct business from and check it every morning like you do now.”
“What about my staff?”
“Instruct them to watch what they are saying and to whom. Most of what they do is legit.” Turner smiled coldly. “The rest gets outsourced.”
“True.” Sandoval smoothed his hand over his beard again. “Not that I know what you’re talking about.” He winked.
“Of course. I’ll come back tomorrow morning, and we will clean up this office.”
Arturo chuckled. “I haven’t done any cleaning up since my college days. I have maids to do that.”
“You need to screen them too, and not based on how hot they look in the uniforms you make them wear.”
The man didn’t go as far as cladding his service staff in naughty French maid costumes, but the uniforms weren’t the standard issue either. They were formfitting in a way that must’ve made working in them uncomfortable, but the length was modest, coming to just above the knee, and there was no cleavage showing. After all, Sandoval had a wife and three teenage daughters living in the house, and a reputation to keep up. Not that fidelity was valued in these parts, the opposite was true, but keeping appearances did matter.
“Why not now?” Sandoval waved a hand at his sprawling office.
The place was bug heaven, with almost limitless potential for concealment. The plush couch with matching armchairs, the heavy drapery bordered with tassels, the elaborately carved frames, the tapestries. It would take an entire day to go over every inch of wall, fabric, and furniture.
Turner wasn’t looking forward to it.
It was a tedious job that should have been relegated to underlings. Except, he’d already committed himself and couldn’t back down.
“It will take several hours. Are you sure you don’t want to assign it to someone who has proven trustworthy? I’m sure there must be more than one staff member who qualifies.”
Sandoval shook his head. “Maybe for the other rooms, but not this one. Knowledge is power, my friend, and the more I can learn the better. I have no aptitude for computers and no time to become an expert, but I can dedicate one day to learning how to exterminate bugs, and I can’t think of anyone more qualified to teach me than you.”
Chapter 54: Robert
“Tell me what happened,” Bridget said, or rather commanded.
Sitting on the other side of her desk, Robert felt like he was in a disciplinary hearing. The consequences of that wouldn’t be as severe as they had been in the Doomer camp, but the anxiety was the same.
“She complained about seeing colorful bubbles dancing in front of her eyes, then we ate dinner, and she went to sit on the couch. At some point, she fainted.”
Bridget shook her head. “I heard all of that from Julian already. What I need to know is how likely it is that she is transitioning. Did you have unprotected sex?”
He nodded.
“Didn’t Julian tell you to wait until you were sure about Sharon?”
“I’m sure. She is the one for me.”
“Once you were sure, you were supposed to tell her and give her a choice. The condom wasn’t supposed to come off until then.”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want her to be locked up in here until she transitioned. Sharon loves her job, and she can’t do it from an office. She is the one who goes out and collects intel for Eva.” Robert was doing his best to be truthful without revealing his transgression.
Bridget narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not happy about this. I need to collect blood samples before and after.”
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t. He’d done what was right by Sharon, and that was his number one priority.
"No, you’re not. But what’s done is done. I’m going to stay down here and watch her. This is Julian’s first transition, and he is not ready for that. This is a good learning opportunity for him.”
“Thank you.” As much as Robert liked Julian, he didn’t trust the young, inexperienced doctor with Sharon’s life.
Bridget's eyes softened. “Would you like to stay here with her?”
“Yes, please. Very much so. But I have to ask Kian if it’s okay for me to take time off from work.”
“I’m sure it is.”
They all kept forgetting that he wasn’t one of them. It was nice to feel accepted, but it wasn’t his reality. “I need to ask.”
“Of course. Would you like to use my phone?”
He shook his head. “I’ll go over to his office. Sharon will be okay for a few minutes without me, right?”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’m here, and I’m watching the monitors. See?” She turned her laptop around so he could see the screen. “All of Sharon’s vitals are on display here. I even take it with me to the bathroom.”
He pushed to his feet. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”
Unless Kian refused his request.
There was no reason for the regent to do so, but in Robert’s experience leaders didn’t always do what made sense. Sometimes it was more about power play than about actual work that needed to be done.
Kian might get angry for the same reason Bridget had and retaliate by not letting Robert watch over Sharon through her transition. It would be a cruel punishment, but not undeserved.
After all, Robert had deliberately broken the rules.
“Come in,” Kian said as Robert was about to knock on his door.
He walked in and stood in front of Kian’s desk. “I have a favor to ask. I need a day off.”
Kian arched a brow. “Because?”
“Sharon is transitioning.”
A wide grin, full of white gleaming teeth, split Kian’s face. “Congratulations.” He rose to his feet and pulled Robert into what Anandur called a bro hug.
Standing stiffly as a telephone pole, Robert didn’t know how to react. Was he supposed to slap Kian’s back in return? But what if he did it too hard? Not hard enough? What was the protocol for those manly embraces?
Kian let go with a chuckle. “I guess Doomers don’t go around embracing each other.”
“No, sir.”
“You’ll get used to that. I'm not a big fan either, but some of life’s events are important enough to merit them. And yes, of course you can take a day off, even two or three if needed. Your place is by your woman.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Drop the sir, Robert. You’re not in the military camp anymore.”
Damn, why did he have to say the same thing Sebastian had? Robert wanted no reminder of his former commander. Especially not coming out of Kian’s mouth. He respected the guy too much.
“I’ll do my best.”
Kian patted his shoulder. “Old habits are hard to break, and they have a tendency to reemerge in times of stress. They provide reassurance and stability in an unstable world. Once the crisis is over, I know you’ll loosen up.”
This was very unlike Sebastian, and the reason Robert held Kian in such high regard. This man loved his people. He was a strong leader and a demanding one, but he was also fair.
“Thank you. I appreciate your patience with me.”
Kian arched a brow. “Patience has nothing to do with it. If you’re more comfortable calling me sir than using my name, I don’t have a problem with that. I don’t care either way. I just want you to feel safe here.”
“I do.”
“You still walk on eggshells around me.”
“Out of respect.”
Kian arched a brow again.
“And a little fear. After all, my future is in your hands.”
Chapter 55: Turner
“Come on, Turner, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” Alfred whined.
“This strip club is so famous it’s a tourist attraction.”
“That’s why we shouldn’t go. A tourist attraction is a perfect target for thieves and thugs and muggers and every other conceivable scum. I stay away from places like that on principle.”
Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and pouted like a toddler. “I can go by myself.”
Right. As if he would let the guy out at night in a city where tourists were advised not to venture out after dark. Alfred was going to get robbed or kidnapped or worse.
“No.”
The toddler attitude continued. “You can’t tell me what to do. We are not in the army, and you’re not my commanding officer. You’re not my wife or mother either.”
That gave Turner an idea. “Does your wife know where you want to go?”
Alfred put his hands on his love handles and leaned forward. “Yes, she does. I told her it’s on my bucket list of things I want to do before I die. I promised not to touch anyone or anything.”
“Since when is it on your list? If it were, I’m sure you would have mentioned it before.”
“Since I found it last night on the internet and added it to my list. I sent a link to Janet, and she told me to go for it.”
The guy’s wife must’ve been the most understanding woman ever. Either that or she was so sick of his whining that she agreed to him going to the famous strip club just to shut him up.
But that was beside the point.
The club was on Alfred’s bloody bucket list, and it didn’t matter that it was a later addition. What were the guy’s chances of ever revisiting Cochabamba?
“Take your gun.”
Alfred dropped to his knees. “Thank you!”
“Stop the theatrics. And don’t forget the silencer.”
The guy pushed up and saluted. “Yes, sir.”
As Turner got dressed, he debated whether he should call Bridget and tell her that he was going to a strip club. But that was too much like asking her permission. It wasn’t as if he was going to do something morally wrong. After all, he was only going as a favor to Alfred.
Besides, he couldn’t risk her telling him not to go and look like an idiot in front of Alfred, or conversely go anyway and deal with Bridget’s temper later.
Not a good idea.
He’d tell her later tonight when he called her, and they would have a good laugh about Alfred and his bucket list.
After a quick phone call to the transport service he used while staying in the city, the two of them headed to the hotel’s small lobby and waited for the car to arrive.
It was a reputable establishment he’d vetted extensively the first time he’d done work for Sandoval, but that only meant that it was better than the alternatives. He’d been using it safely for years, so perhaps there was nothing to worry about.
Right. He was alive today because he always worried, always searched for potential threats, and always took precautions.
Except, none of his carefully planned and executed evasive maneuvers had prevented the ambush in his own hometown. The only thing that had saved him was luck, or fate as Bridget called it. That event could’ve ended much differently.
As the transport dropped them off in front of the club, Turner relaxed. It was located on one of the city’s better streets, and the crowd outside was mainly comprised of tourists, and not all of them were men. To his great surprise, Turner saw couples standing in line. Not what he’d expected, but then as someone who’d never been to a strip club he hadn’t known what to expect. It just seemed logical that men would want to watch pretty women dance naked on stage. Weren't there strip clubs that catered to women?
“I’m so excited,” Alfred said, bouncing on his feet.
“Let’s see that we are getting in first.”
If he wanted to ensure that Alfred got to put a check mark next to this item on his bucket list, he’d better bribe the bouncer to let them in.
“Come on, Alfred.”
A folded Benjamin in the bouncer’s hand put a toothy smile on the big guy’s face, and they were let in through the VIP entrance.
“Sweet,” Alfred said. “I owe you for this.”
“Dangerous words to say to someone like me. I’ll collect.”
“Anything, man. Other than my first born, that is. But I don’t think you'd want the brat.”
“No, thank you. You can keep him.”
When the show began, the hacker’s jaw dropped and stayed like that until it was over. He only closed it to sip on the soft drink Turner ordered for him, then the thing dropped again.
Ridiculous.
“Let’s go, Alfred.”
“It’s not over.”
“We are not staying for the lap dances. You promised your wife no touching.”
The guy sighed. “Yeah, I did.”
Leaving early meant that there was no crowd in front of the club. The bouncer stood with his back to the street, watching for disturbances inside the club.
Turner pulled out his phone and called the transport.
Alfred tucked his hands into his pockets and sighed again. “They were so beautiful. It’s a shame taking pictures was not allowed.”
“I saw a few guys snapping away with their phones.”
“I should have done the same. Fuck, I need to take a piss.”
For heaven’s sake, the guy was a toddler in an adult male chubby body. He probably wanted to go back and take pictures.
“Go. But do it quickly. I don’t want to have to come and get you.”
“No worries, boss.” Alfred turned around and approached the bouncer. “Can you tell me where the men’s room is?”
Glancing at Turner, the guy smiled. “I show you. Come.”
Turner shook his head. Obviously, the guy remembered the folded hundred dollar bill he’d put in his hand. But if the bouncer was hoping for a juicy tip from Alfred, he was going to be disappointed.
As he watched the two wind their way in between the tightly-packed small tables, the sight of the nearly nude girls rubbing themselves against male crotches was mildly disturbing.
It was a kind of prostitution, and Turner had lost his appetite for it.
He had been with a fair number of beautiful women, and some had even danced naked for him like the beauties on stage had done tonight. Professionals, who knew all the right moves. But none could compare to Bridget’s amateur performance. What made all the difference was that she’d wanted him and not the generous tip.
Preoccupied, and with the loud music blasting through the club’s open doors, Turner hadn’t heard a thing until the barrel of a gun was pressed against his temple. “Don’t make a sound, hombre. Walk.” A hand closed around his bicep, pulling him away from the entrance.
The voice sounded familiar—the barely there Spanish accent mild, the cultured tone bordering on snobbish.
Where had he heard it before? It had the same inflection as Sandoval’s.
The fucking nephew?
The guy he’d rescued from a gang that had kidnapped him for ransom?
Arturo Junior was Sandoval’s only nephew and the one he was grooming as his successor. Not because the kid was exceptional in any way, but because Sandoval had only daughters. In South American culture, Sandoval’s options were his less than spectacular nephew or the husband of one of his daughters. The problem was that none of them was of marrying age yet.
He was stuck with Arturo Junior.
Turner needed to keep the guy talking until Alfred and the bouncer returned. The hacker wasn’t a soldier, but he knew how to handle the handgun he was carrying under his suit jacket.
“Why, Arturo?”
“Why? You ask me why, you fucking idiot? You killed Xavier,” the guy whispered in his ear as he pulled him toward the alley between the club and the next building. “It wasn’t your finger on the trigger, but it was the same thing.”
The kid’s slight accent was the only indication he wasn’t American. Sandoval hadn’t stinted on his nephew’s education,
sending him to the best business school in the States.
Turner resisted. “Who was Xavier to you?”
The grip on his arm tightened. “He was everything to me. And if not for you, we could’ve been living happily together far away from here. You think my uncle would’ve accepted a gay man as his successor? After he killed my lover, he would’ve had me killed to spare himself the shame.”
All the puzzle pieces snapped into place.
Arturo Junior had staged his own abduction to extort money from his uncle, hoping to spend the rest of his life in comfort with his lover by his side. The question was whether Xavier had been in it for Arturo, or for the money. The gang that had staged the kidnapping hadn’t been made up of amateurs. They had been major cocaine distributors.
But that wasn’t what Arturo Junior needed to hear while holding a gun to Turner’s temple.
What the hell was taking Alfred so long?”
Turner was running out of time. He would have to disarm the nephew himself before the kid dragged him into the alley and finished what his hired goons had failed to do in L.A.
It was risky.
All the kid needed to do was pull the trigger, and Turner’s brain would splatter all over the sidewalk.
A split second was all Turner needed. A little acting should confuse the guy and distract him for a moment. He started shaking. “I wish I could tell my wife I loved her one last time.”
The guy shoved him harder. “You don’t have a wife.”
“I was about to get married. I met a wonderful lady, a doctor…” He emitted what sounded like a sob.
The grip on his arm loosened just a fraction. It was all he needed.
Dropping down, Turner grabbed Arturo Junior’s ankles and pulled with all his strength. The guy went flying backward, but the gun was still clutched in his hand, and he fired.
The bullet missed.
From his crouching position, Turner kicked out, sending the weapon clattering to the pavement. The nephew flipped over and reached for it, but by then Turner had released his own from the holster, sat on the guy, and held it to the back of his neck.
“Don’t move.”
“Do it. Shoot me. I have nothing to live for anyway.”