Dangerous Choice KO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  There were no images for the fifty-seven-year-old widow, but he hoped to see her in person tomorrow.

  He entered Michael Salazar into the search engine, and more than a dozen listings popped up. But skimming through them, he realized that both Michael and Salazar were very common names. He tried adding in other filters like Colombia and cartel as well as Tomas and Irina and Camilla, but there was nothing.

  Why was his brother so difficult to find?

  He was missing something.

  His phone buzzed, and a text from Lucas popped up.

  Sorry for the delay. Couldn't get a phone number for Irina Salazar Garcia, but your address matches her government records. Let me know what you find out.

  He typed in a thank-you and said he'd check in tomorrow after he spoke to Irina.

  Setting down his phone, he stared up at the ceiling, feeling his own exhaustion beginning to catch up to him. The day had been brutal, but they'd made it to Cartagena, and hopefully tomorrow would bring more answers and fewer questions.

  Tara padded back into the room with her clothes in her arms. She was barefoot, clad only in the extra-large T-shirt she'd bought downstairs that skimmed the top of her knees. Her hair was damp, and she smelled like oranges.

  Her scent brought his energy level immediately back, and he couldn't help thinking about the kiss they'd shared in the plane. But she was tired and so was he, and the last thing they should do was kiss again, no matter how much he wanted to.

  She dropped her clothes on the table and crawled into the bed next to him.

  "That was fast," he said.

  "I was actually afraid I would fall asleep and drown in the bathtub, and after everything we've been through, that is not how I want to go."

  He smiled, appreciating her humor. "That would be tragically ironic."

  "Did you find anything on the internet about Irina?"

  "No. And Lucas texted that he couldn't come up with a phone number, but her address looked good. We'll find out tomorrow."

  "Hopefully it's a better day than today."

  "Any day we survive is a good day."

  "I do like your positive attitude, Diego. Anyway, the shower or tub is all yours. I might not be awake when you get back."

  "Don't even try." He forced himself to swing his legs off the bed and stand up. As his gaze swept her pretty form, he told himself to be happy she was exhausted and that her eyes were already closing, because that drove all of his bad ideas out of his head. Although, as he headed into the bathroom, he decided to make it a cold shower instead of a warm bath.

  Eleven

  After two cups of coffee and a big breakfast composed of huevos pericos, otherwise known as eggs with tomato and onion, arepo con quesito, corn cakes with cheese, as well as rice and beans, which seemed to appear with most meals in Colombia, Diego felt ready to take on the day and Tara had a spark in her blue eyes as well.

  They took a cab to Irina's home around eleven, hoping she'd be home since it was Saturday. When Tara put her hand on his leg, he realized he was tapping his foot on the floor of the cab.

  She gave him a smile. "Are you nervous? Because I think that might be a first."

  "More like impatient. I hope Irina is home and can tell me what happened to Michael."

  "I hope so, too."

  "We'll get back to Bethany after this."

  "I know. I'm not worried. Your brother is important, too."

  The taxi pulled up in front of a one-story house in a modest neighborhood. There was a small, overgrown grassy area in front, and the building could have used another coat of paint, making Diego wonder what connection Irina had to her wealthy cousins. She certainly wasn't living a big life.

  He paid the driver in cash and as they got out of the cab, he paused on the sidewalk, looking up and down the block.

  "What's wrong?" Tara asked.

  "I'm hoping we aren’t walking into a trap. We don't know if Hector gave us this address to set us up."

  "We don't. But why would he?"

  "I don't know."

  "We've come this far, Diego. Let's ring the bell."

  He nodded and headed up to the porch to do just that.

  A moment later, he heard footsteps. Then the door opened.

  A short woman, barely five feet tall, with pepper-gray hair and a round face gazed back at Diego. She appeared to be in her late fifties. "Hola?" she said somewhat warily.

  "Irina Garcia?" he asked

  "Yes. Who are you?"

  "Diego Rivera. This is Tara Powell. Hector Pilacio suggested we talk to you."

  "Hector? I haven't spoken to Hector since my brother Tomas died. They were partners in a law firm. What's this about?"

  "It's about Tomas's stepson, Michael. Hector said you took him in after Tomas died."

  "What has Michael done?" she asked quickly.

  "He hasn't done anything that I know of. I just want to find him."

  "Why? Who is Michael to you?"

  His pulse sped up. Irina knew something about Mateo. "He's my half brother. Camilla was my mother."

  Irina's face paled as her eyes grew dark and wide. "No. That can't be true."

  "It is true. My parents divorced when I was thirteen and Mateo was eight."

  "Mateo?"

  "I guess my mother changed his name to Michael after she and my brother disappeared. I never saw either one of them again. That was eighteen years ago."

  Irina's eyes filled with shadows. "Your mother…you spoke to Hector, so you must know…"

  "That she passed away. Yes, I do know that. But I'm eager to find Michael. Can you tell me where he is?"

  She hesitated, her gaze darting around the neighborhood, as if she was afraid someone might be watching. "Perhaps you should come inside." She stepped back, waving them into a small living room with a couch, an armchair, and an old TV sitting on a weathered bookcase. Off the living room was a hallway leading to what appeared to be a bedroom with a kitchen beyond.

  The only interesting and beautiful thing about the home was the art hanging on the walls, beautiful oil and watercolor paintings.

  "Please, sit down," Irina said. "Do you want coffee?"

  "I'm good," he said, as Tara also gave a negative shake of her head. They sat down together on the couch, while Irina perched on the edge of the armchair. "Did you take Michael in after Tomas passed away?"

  "I did. He was a lost little boy. He was still hurting from his mother's death when Tomas had a heart attack. He was twelve years old, and he didn't feel like he belonged anywhere. I knew that Tomas had not wanted Michael to grow up with our family in Cascada, because Camilla had hated it up there. She'd disliked the fact that Tomas did work for our cousins."

  "The Salazar cartel," he said.

  "Yes."

  "So, you raised Michael?"

  "No. He only stayed here for six months. He was unhappy the whole time. He missed his friends in Medellin. He missed his cousins in Cascada. Even though his mother hadn't liked their trips to the compound, Michael had enjoyed them quite a bit. He'd made friends with the kids who lived there. Here, he had no one. He had trouble making friends at the new school. I had to work, so I wasn't home until late. Michael was lonely and bored. When summer came, he begged me to allow him to go to Cascada for a few weeks. He was close to one of Juan Felipe's sons, Rico, and he wanted to hike and fish and do boy things." Guilt flashed through Irina's eyes. "I knew it was wrong to let him go, but he was so eager to leave, and I was tired. I couldn't fight him. He never came back."

  "He stayed in Cascada?"

  "Mostly, yes. He went to a private boarding school in Medellin with the other Salazar children. But in the summers, he was in Cascada."

  "Is he there now?"

  "No. He went to a university in California. The family wanted him to go back to the States. He was an American citizen. And he was the perfect person to become embedded in the US."

  "And embedded in the organization," he said grimly.

  The truth was writ
ten all over Irina's face. "Sí. It was not what Camilla would have wanted for her son. I am sorry I let her down. She was a kind woman. She made Tomas happy. But Michael is strong-willed, and he was too much for me."

  "Do you know where Michael lives now?"

  "It's near Los Angeles. It's Santa…something. I can't remember. It's on the beach. Michael always liked the ocean. It was the only part of Cartagena he enjoyed."

  "That’s probably Santa Monica," Tara put in. "Did Michael go to UCLA?"

  "I think the letters were different."

  "USC?" Tara pressed.

  "Yes, that sounds right," Irina answered.

  "What is Michael doing now?" he asked. "Is he running drugs through the US?" It seemed unbelievable that he could be asking whether his innocent, goofy little brother, who liked PB&J sandwiches and riding his bike in the park was running drugs for the Salazar cartel.

  "My sister told me recently that he's more involved in the money side of things, but I don't know. I try to keep my distance from that side of the family. My father didn't want anything to do with the business. He thought Caleb and his brothers were ruthless and immoral, which they are. I was able to stay out of things, because, frankly, they don't much care what the girls in the family do. It's another story for the boys. Tomas got roped into helping the family with legal problems. Our uncle had paid for Tomas's education, so he was obligated to pay him back." She paused. "I suspect this is not what you wanted to hear."

  "Actually, I just wanted to hear something. My brother has been a ghost haunting my life. Did my mother talk about her divorce to my father? Did she tell you about the son she'd left behind?"

  "She said that she cheated on your father and that Michael was born of her unfaithfulness. She told me that she deserved to be punished, but her greatest regret was that her oldest son had gotten caught up in her husband's desire for revenge."

  "Did she say if he kept her away from me?"

  "She told me that he forced her to leave the country and to cut off all contact with you, but I don't know how he did it." Irina paused. "She was working as a nurse in Medellin when she met Tomas. He had broken his finger, and she treated him at the medical center. They fell in love very fast. Tomas had never been so happy. And I think your mother was happy, too."

  "I'm glad she went back to nursing. She loved it."

  "She was such a caring person. I know her patients were very lucky."

  "I just don't understand why she changed my brother's name to Michael?" he muttered.

  "She never told me she had changed his name, and he never mentioned it."

  "Did Michael ever talk about me, his brother in the US?"

  "No, never. But, as I said, he didn't talk to me about much."

  Maybe Mateo had forgotten all about him, but he still needed to see his brother face-to-face, to let him know that he'd been looking for him for a very long time. "So, he goes by Michael Salazar and you think he lives in Santa Monica. He went to USC. What else?"

  "He doesn't use the name Salazar. He uses Winters. Michael Winters. It was the name your mother gave him."

  "Michael Winters," he echoed, surprised once more. "His last name is Winters? Why?"

  "I don't know. That was his name when he lived with Tomas."

  "But his last name was Rivera."

  "Diego," Tara said, drawing his attention to her. "Mateo's real father. His last name was probably Winters."

  She made a good point. "That's possible," he murmured.

  "Your mother also did not want Michael to be a Salazar," Irina said. "Tomas wanted to adopt Michael, but your mother refused because of the name."

  "Well, now I know why I couldn't find Michael or Mateo Salazar in any database."

  "You should be able to find him now," Tara said, excitement in her voice, a gleam in her eyes. "You have his name and a city."

  "Yes. It's a lot more to go on than I had before."

  "But perhaps you should not try to find him," Irina cautioned.

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "Because he's not the brother you remember. My cousins are criminals. Michael is one of them now."

  "He has my blood, not theirs."

  "I don't think Michael will see it that way," Irina said. "He identified very strongly with the Salazars. He is part of the family. And he is part of the business. Anyone who threatens to expose the Salazar network will pay a heavy price. You should let him go, because he is already gone."

  He understood what Irina was saying. If he was an objective third party, he'd say the same thing, but he wasn't a third party. He was Mateo's brother. And he would see him. He would talk to him. "Thank you for telling me everything. Do you have a photo of Michael?"

  "Yes, I do. One moment." She got up from her chair and walked into the other room.

  He glanced at Tara. There was a mix of emotion in her eyes, everything from relief to worry to fear. And all of those emotions were running through him, too.

  "Michael Winters," he said. "I never would have guessed that was his name."

  "Does the name Winters ring a bell? Do you know the man your mother had an affair with?"

  "No, but he sounds American. She must have met him in DC where we were living. Maybe at the hospital where she worked part-time." He shook his head in bemusement. "The life Mateo has lived…is so different from mine. He had to bury our mother and then his stepfather. I can understand why he latched on to the Salazars."

  "So can I, and I think Irina might be right. Michael may not be happy to see you, Diego."

  "I don't care," he said flatly.

  "You do care. I know you do."

  "Fine, I care, but it doesn't matter. I have to play this out. I have to see him."

  "And if he's a criminal, a drug dealer, a killer? What then? You're an FBI agent. You're his enemy."

  "I'm his blood."

  "Will that matter?"

  "Only one way to find out."

  Irina came back into the room with a large envelope in her hand. "I found a dozen or so photos from when Michael was with Tomas and your mother. I'm sorry I don't have anything more recent."

  He took the envelope but didn't open it. He needed to do that somewhere else. "Thank you."

  "If you find Michael, I hope you'll tell him that I think of him often, and I wish him well."

  "I'll do that. I'm going to call for a cab. Would you mind if we wait inside until it arrives?"

  "Do the Salazars know you're looking for Michael?"

  "Honestly, I'm not sure what they know. But I do hope we haven't put you in any danger."

  "I will drive you where you need to go. That will be safer." She led them down the hallway and through the kitchen door into the attached garage. "I have errands to run anyway."

  Tara squeezed into the backseat of a small coupe, while he took the front seat. As they left the garage and drove down the block, he looked for any sign of a tail, but the street was empty.

  Hopefully they were still one step ahead of the Salazars or whoever was after them.

  * * *

  Diego was very quiet, Tara thought, wondering why he wasn't peppering Irina with more questions but clearly, he was still thinking about what she'd told them so far. It had to be a blow finding out that his brother was a member of one of the most powerful cartels in South America and in the US. She couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to come to grips with that, and she questioned the wisdom of him meeting Michael face-to-face.

  He needed to at least think about that for longer than five minutes. And while he didn't want to do that, practically speaking they were in Colombia and Michael was in the US, so he was going to have some time whether he wanted it or not.

  Irina dropped them off at the side entrance to the hotel, and they slipped into the lobby without any problem, but then Diego paused.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "I need to walk. I need to burn off some energy."

  She smiled. She could solve one problem. "Okay. Let's walk."

&n
bsp; "I don't know if it's safe."

  "We're in a crowded area. We're probably as safe here as we are anywhere."

  "I don't want to put you in danger, Tara."

  "You've been thinking about me a lot. And I appreciate that. Let's do this for you. Besides, we need to go shopping for nightclub clothes, remember?"

  "Good point."

  "And if you want to talk, I'll listen. If you don't want to talk, I'm okay with silence."

  He smiled. "You might be the perfect woman."

  "I might be," she said lightly. "But I am serious."

  "I don't know what I want to say right now."

  "Then let's walk. But you're going to have to hold my hand."

  "I think I can manage that," he replied, slipping his hand into hers.

  They walked back out into the sunshine and strolled down the street. There were plenty of shops in the first block, but she knew Diego still needed to burn off energy and emotion, so they kept walking. They ended up at the harbor and stood at a rail watching the fishermen coming back from their morning runs.

  "It is beautiful here," she murmured.

  "It is," he agreed.

  "Are you feeling any better?"

  "Yes. Thanks for letting me process."

  "No problem."

  "I'm still going to find him, Tara."

  She wasn't at all surprised. "I know. You have to see him."

  "I do. I don't know what happens after that."

  "Well, as a wise man has been telling me for the past few days, that's a problem to worry about later."

  He smiled. "Very true. What have you been thinking about?"

  "A lot of different things. Or people, I should say. You, your brother, Bethany, me…I'm happy you know where Michael is, and I think you'll be able to find him now that you have his last name and the state where he's living."

  "I agree. I need to text Wyatt. I had to wrap my head around everything first."

  "Completely understandable. Are you going to look at the photos Irina gave you?" she asked, tipping her head toward the envelope in his hand.