Dangerous Choice KO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  She made a good point. "All right. You go first."

  Tara walked across the room and slipped on to the stool next to Enrique, giving him a charming smile.

  He had to admit he was impressed at how good she was at putting her fear aside to do what she needed to do. Looking at her now, flirting with Enrique, he could hardly believe she was the same woman he had dragged halfway up a mountain as they ran for their lives.

  He moved into position on the other side of Enrique. There was plenty of room at this end of the bar, and Enrique didn't even give him a glance, his gaze locked on Tara's pretty face.

  "I can't believe what happened today," she said to Enrique. "I'm still shocked and scared. I was almost afraid to leave the hotel. But I felt like I needed to be with people."

  "You were at the church?" Enrique asked.

  "Yes. It was terrifying. I've never seen anyone killed before. That poor man. I don't understand why someone would want to kill a priest."

  "I know," Enrique said heavily.

  Tara looked up as the bartender came over to take her order. "I'll have a glass of chardonnay," she said.

  "Tequila is better," Enrique said. "Let me buy you a shot."

  "Well, all right. That does sound good."

  The bartender hit Diego up next. He ordered a beer and looked at his phone, just in case Enrique glanced in his direction.

  "Have you heard any reason behind the shooting, Enrique?" Tara asked. "Do you know if the police have a suspect?"

  "I've heard a couple of theories."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't know if I should say."

  "Oh, please tell me. I really want to understand what happened."

  "Well, one suggestion is that it was someone from the Pedroza organization. They're a drug cartel that operates mainly out of Cartagena and Medellin, but they've been looking to take over this region from the Salazar family. The Salazars were at the church, and Father Manuel has been a very close friend of the family."

  "So the shooting was between rival cartels?"

  "Possibly. The second theory is that the attacker came from inside the Salazar family. There has been some rumored dissension in the ranks. But that seems less likely. The Salazars have been here for decades. They have a couple of large estates outside of town. They take good care of the community. They built a new hospital two years ago. They repaired the church after an earthquake last year, and Father Manuel has baptized every Salazar from the oldest to the youngest for the last fifty years. So why would anyone in the family want to kill him? Although…" Enrique dropped his voice, as he leaned forward. "The priest has heard every confession every Salazar has ever made. It's possible he heard one too many, and that got him killed."

  "By someone in the family?"

  "Who knows? It's not uncommon for brother to go against brother when power and money are at stake." Enrique paused. "This country—it is beautiful, but it is also deadly. I love my homeland, but sometimes it breaks my heart. Today is one of those days. Father Manuel married my parents. He baptized me. He was a good man."

  "I'm so sorry, Enrique," Tara said.

  "Did you speak to him about your friend as I suggested?"

  "I did. He had asked me to come back today, but when I spoke to him, he didn't seem to have any new information. We were going to talk again after the Mass."

  "Now I am the one who is sorry for you. I know you are very worried."

  "I am."

  "You should go home. Back to America. Someday I would like to go there. Where are you from, beautiful Tara?"

  As Enrique's words slurred, Diego thought the young desk clerk had already had a few too many drinks. But when the bartender delivered their shots, Enrique slammed his down before Tara could even raise her glass.

  "I'm from California," Tara said. "You would like it."

  "I think I would." He tipped his head to her glass. "You are not drinking?"

  She raised the shot glass to her lips and drained it down. Then she shivered. "That was strong. But I needed it. There's something else I want to ask you, Enrique."

  "No." He shook his head. "No more questions. They will lead us both into trouble. You must leave here. Your friend is not in this village. You should go home before you end up like Father Manuel." Enrique slid off the stool. "I must go. Take my advice before it's too late." As he moved to leave, his gaze fell on Diego. "Senor Rivera?" he said in surprise. "I didn't see you there."

  "Enrique," he said, with a tip of his head.

  "I am glad to see you are well. I wasn't sure if you got caught up in the shooting. I know you were headed to the church."

  "Fortunately, I wasn't hit."

  “I'm sorry you had such a rough start to your visit. Perhaps tomorrow you can go to the waterfall. It will be crowded. Many will seek its healing powers after today. But it will be worth the trek."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  "Adios," Enrique said, as he took his leave.

  Diego took the stool Enrique had left vacant.

  "Why didn't you ask him about your mother?" she inquired. "You had the perfect chance."

  "Because of the conversation you just had with him."

  She gave him a quizzical look. "What does that mean?"

  "I saw the name Salazar earlier today—on my mother's headstone. Camilla Lopez Salazar. She married into a drug cartel."

  Tara's eyes widened. "Well, maybe not all of them are criminals. Enrique said they also built the hospital and have done good things here. Your mother could have been involved in that. Her husband—I guess it would be her husband who gave her the name—he might be a farmer or a builder or something else."

  He appreciated her effort to defend a woman she'd never known. He swigged down a few long draughts of his beer. "I'd like to think that, but who knows?"

  "Maybe you need a tequila shot."

  "I'm good. I've heard enough. Let's get out of here."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes." Knowing that the Salazars operated a criminal organization, and his mother clearly had some tie to the family, made him cautious. It was possible Mateo was also tied up in the cartel. He needed to get more information and then he would come back.

  He followed Tara across the room, watching a few men take notice of her. He quickly caught up, putting a proprietary hand on her arm. She threw him a quick, questioning glance.

  "We need to look like we're together now. Trust me."

  "Okay."

  He moved through the door first, wanting to make sure there was no hidden danger.

  But he'd only taken a few steps outside when a man rushed him, a fist coming at his face too fast to dodge.

  He stumbled backward from the force of the blow, hearing Tara scream as she wrestled with another man.

  As his attacker came at him once more, he sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm and twisted up behind his back in a way that drew forth an agonized scream of pain. Then he smashed the guy's head into the wall.

  The man fell to the ground, and he turned toward Tara's attacker.

  As he moved forward, Tara landed a solid kick to the man's groin, and he followed up with a series of blows to his face, until the man sank to the ground. He looked up and saw several people watching them, but no one seemed eager to call for help or get in the middle of their fight.

  He and Tara ran down the street to his rental car. They'd stashed their bags there on the way to the bar, and, thankfully, it was less than a hundred yards away. They jumped inside, and he peeled away from the curb as Tara fastened her seat belt. He drove as fast as he could toward the main highway, hoping they wouldn't get stopped by the local police, who would probably be on the Salazar payroll.

  "Is anyone following us?" Tara asked, as she turned her head to look out the window.

  "I don't think so, but I'll feel better when we get farther away from here. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

  "No. I'll probably have a few bruises tomorrow, but that's all. What about you?"

&n
bsp; He could feel his eye swelling, but it could have been a lot worse. "I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine. You're going to have a shiner."

  "That will make me look sexier, right?"

  She shook her head in bewilderment. "How can you joke at a time like this?"

  "Because we got away." He shot her an admiring glance. "You did well, Tara. You held your own. Where did you learn how to fight like that?"

  "A self-defense class at the community center. The guy always said go for the groin, so I did."

  "Good call."

  "I just never thought I'd actually have to fight like that. I've never hit anyone in my life. Oh, God, I can't believe what happened."

  "You're okay." He put a comforting hand on her leg, sensing she was now about to fall apart. "Breathe."

  "I'm trying. I—I don't know what to think. What if those guys had had guns or knives? We could have been shot or stabbed. We wouldn't have been able to escape."

  "They did have guns. They weren't ordered to use them. They wanted us alive."

  "They were going to kidnap us? Why? What would they want from us? I'm not rich. No one can pay ransom. Is your family wealthy?"

  "I don't believe ransom was the focus. They might have just wanted to kill us somewhere less public."

  She gave him a baffled look. "But they killed Father Manuel in front of hundreds of people."

  "Good point. Then they might still think you have something of value. I keep going back to the fact that your room was searched."

  "I don't have anything. And it's hard to believe someone wants to kill me. I'm a high school teacher from San Clemente. I'm a nobody."

  "But you're in Colombia now, looking for your friend, and apparently making someone very nervous with your inquiries."

  "Which means Bethany really is in trouble." She drew in a breath and let it out. "You were right, Diego. It was a mistake to go to the bar."

  "It wasn't a mistake. We found out more about the shooting and the Salazars." His hand tightened on the steering wheel as his thoughts went to his mother and brother. Could his brother possibly be involved in the shootings? God, he hoped not.

  "I think you're the one who needs to breathe now," Tara said, giving him a concerned look.

  He forced himself to do just that and hoped as they sped down the highway that no one was coming after them. He had a feeling they'd already used up whatever luck they had.

  Four

  Tara rode the waves of adrenaline until her pulse slowed down and her breath flowed more naturally. The highway was dark with only the occasional light every few miles and very little traffic. There hadn't been any headlights behind them the past ten minutes, which made her feel better, although the remoteness of the highway did not. It was another fifteen miles to Medellin. A lot could happen between here and there.

  She appreciated Diego's calm confidence. Thank God she'd run into him in the church. He'd saved her life three times already, if she counted the church. If he hadn't decided to come to Cascada to look for his family, she might not have survived. She might be dead or missing…just like Bethany.

  Diego's comments about her having something kept going around in her head. If Bethany had gotten into trouble, if she had wanted to stash something away, where would she have put it? Could it still be in the apartment in Medellin? Would she have left it with anyone else?

  Bethany had made at least six trips to Colombia in the past year. And every time she'd always tacked on vacation days for touring. Who knew where she'd gone or who she'd met during those times? Bethany was a friendly, outgoing woman with an adventurous streak.

  They were certainly different in that regard. She considered herself friendly, but not on Bethany's level. And she certainly wasn't adventurous. The tour guide job had appealed to her, because she'd felt like she was playing her life too safe, too boring. She'd been looking forward to the summer, to expanding her perspective, to getting out of her comfort zone.

  Well, she was definitely out of her comfort zone now. She'd blown that to bits.

  And she had no idea what to do next. She was worried about herself and even more worried about Bethany. She could be in terrible trouble. She might even be dead.

  That thought made her suck in air, drawing a concerned look from Diego.

  "Don't think about what is happening to her," he advised.

  "How did you know that's what I was thinking?"

  "Because it's what I'd be thinking."

  That made her feel a little better. In fact, it was a massive relief to speak to someone who wasn't trying to talk her out of her worry. "Thank you, Diego."

  "For what?"

  "For not making me feel like a fool for worrying about a woman who told everyone she was going on vacation and kept that vacation going a little longer than expected."

  "Well, I've had a front-row seat the last several hours, and I think you have every reason to be concerned. But I will say one thing…if Bethany was snatched off the street, I can't see anyone taking the trouble to search your hotel room, or to try to grab you. Why wouldn't they let you find nothing and then go home? Why raise your curiosity? There's some motivation we don't understand, but it's there."

  "You're right. It doesn't make sense."

  "What's Bethany like?"

  "She's a happy person, outgoing, funny. She's also impulsive, free-spirited, and she tends to fall for guys who aren't always that good for her."

  "Like someone working for a drug cartel?"

  "I don't want to think that, but maybe. I did consider the fact that she might be with a guy somewhere. She did mention someone awhile back, but she didn't tell me his name or anything about him. I asked some of her friends who worked for the tour company, but while a few of them thought she had a boyfriend, nobody knew who he was. I know that's not very helpful. I'm completely frustrated by my lack of information. I hope your friend can find something out for us."

  "I hope so, too."

  "I'm curious about something. How did you come to be in Cascada at this particular time? You said you'd been searching for your mother and brother for more than a decade. What changed?"

  "I got a tip from another FBI agent—Tracy Cox. She apparently asked around on my behalf and found a source who suggested I speak to Father Manuel."

  "Who was the source?"

  "She won't tell me. I called her while you were packing. She insists that she must maintain her confidential agreement with this person."

  "Is that unusual?"

  "In this case, it is. We're not working on something for the bureau; this is personal."

  "So why the secrecy?"

  "I don't know, and it's bothering me," he admitted. "The whole situation is a little off."

  "How so?"

  "Tracy and I have had some odd moments in our relationship. We trained in the same class at Quantico, but Tracy was always on an opposing team. We were rivals. And she was driven to win at all costs. She was ruthless and very sly, and I often thought she cut corners. After we graduated, we went our separate ways. I didn't see her for a long time, but then a year ago, she looked me up while she was on vacation in Rio. I was in Brazil at the time for work. I'd had a bad turn on an assignment when she showed up. A fellow agent had been badly injured, and I was worried about him. I was drinking pretty heavily the night Tracy appeared. One thing led to another."

  "You slept with her."

  "Yeah. It was not a good decision. But it was one night. I thought she understood that, but the next morning she made it clear she was looking for more. She said she'd always had a thing for me. Not that I'd ever known that."

  "Well, men can be clueless."

  He shot her a small smile. "True. But honestly, we hadn't talked in years. In fact, I really thought she disliked me. I have a very close group of friends from my Quantico days, and she was jealous of our bond. When she showed up in Rio, flirting and acting like we were good old friends—it was confusing. But I blame myself for not having the sense to stay away from
her."

  "What happened after your awkward morning-after conversation?"

  "She left. We exchanged a few texts about six weeks later. She wanted to smooth things over. I said there was nothing to smooth, and we were good. Many months passed. Then a few days ago, she comes up with this big lead for me. Apparently, while I was drinking in Rio that night, I spilled my guts about my mother, and Tracy decided to see if she could find her. I'm not clear on her motive."

  "Well, I am. She wants you back and figured this was a good step. You're obviously someone she can't forget." Tara wasn't really surprised by that. Diego was a very attractive guy and not easily forgettable. She had a feeling she'd remember him for the rest of her life. Although, their situation was a lot different. As he'd said, getting shot at together was a bonding experience. "What else did you talk about tonight? Did you tell her about me and Bethany?"

  "I did not."

  "Why not?"

  "Lucas is in a better position to help us locate Bethany here in Colombia. I'm going to stick with him for now."

  "I am grateful for any help I can get. I've obviously made a huge mess of things by shooting off my mouth everywhere I went."

  "I don't know what else you could have done, Tara. You had to ask questions. But we are where we are, and there's something else you can do now."

  "What's that?"

  "Go home. I can put you on a plane in Medellin. I can work on this without you."

  She immediately shook her head, not liking that idea at all. "No way. I can't leave yet. I'm not ready. I want to go back to the apartment in Medellin and see if I missed anything. I want to hear what your contact has to say. Then I'll decide if it's time to go home. I know there's danger, but I'm hoping with your help, we can figure out where Bethany is before anyone takes another shot at us."

  "That would be great," he said dryly.

  As they passed another mile marker, her thoughts moved from Bethany and her problems to Diego's story. "Diego, I know it's your business, but will you tell me what happened to your family—why you were separated from your mother and brother?"