Relentless (Benson's Boys Book 2)

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Plus—Julia shuddered—that was too close to going on a double date with her gran, and that was far too disturbing to contemplate.

  They strode up the crowded street, mixing with locals and tourists alike.

  “Does everything in this city have to be uphill?” Julia complained.

  “You’ll feel better soon and you won’t even notice the incline,” Joe said.

  “I doubt it.” Julia’s idea of a workout was walking up the three flights of stairs from her office to her tiny apartment. “I don’t work out like you do. I’m not fit.”

  “You look good to me.”

  She felt the blush heat her cheeks and snapped her attention away from the man holding her hand, to the market stalls against the buildings. Some of them were set up for the day, while others seemed to be an extension of the small shops behind the outdoor tables. She saw colourful woven ponchos, shawls and bags. Woollen sweaters and knitted hats with earflaps. Large woven blankets with hot pink stripes, hung from poles. Table tops were crowded with all kinds of clay work, from copies of Incan pots to the round-bellied figure of a woman.

  Joe noticed where she was looking. “Pachamama. Earth mother. She’s worshipped here.”

  “I thought Bolivia was Roman Catholic.”

  He shrugged. “They mix it up. There’s a church where the old friars commissioned a painting of Mary done in the local style. They didn’t realise the image could be read in two different ways—Mary or Pachamama. The locals knew they were looking at Mother Earth; the Spaniards knew they were looking at Mary. They both won.”

  Julia eyed him with admiration. “You know a lot about this place.”

  “Like I said last night, I spent some time here when I was in the Marines.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Secret stuff.” His grin was wicked, but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. Julia could only guess at the minefield of memories he had from his time in the service.

  “This way.” Patricia consulted the map in her hand. “I’ve only been here once before, but I’m fairly certain De Santos has a shop around this corner.”

  They turned into an even narrower street. The buildings rose above them, balconies poking out into the street over their heads. There was graffiti scrawled on the walls, and the stalls seemed smaller and darker somehow.

  “Mercado de las Brujas,” Joe told her. “Witches’ market.”

  Julia ogled the stalls and felt her eyes bug out. Hanging from the awnings were hundreds of dried creatures.

  “Llama foetuses,” Joe said. “They bury them in the foundation of buildings as an offering to Pachamama. For protection.”

  Julia jerked when she spotted jars of dried frogs.

  “For Aymara rituals,” Joe said. “The regional tribe.”

  There were dried snakes and turtles. Jars with strange concoctions. Statues that looked a lot like voodoo dolls. There were long pieces of string holding hundreds of feathers. Small packets of various powders. And bundles of cheap beaded necklaces, like the ones they handed out for Mardi Gras.

  “See the things that look like toys or key rings?” Joe pointed at the kitsch objects. There was everything from baby dolls to fake money. “They’re buried along with the foetus offering. They represent what people want Pachamama to bless them with.”

  “This is all very dark,” Julia said.

  “This is the tourist part, babe. People use this stuff, but it’s the milder version of what’s available up some of these alleys. Trust me, that you don’t want to see.”

  Julia took a step closer to Joe. She was equal parts fascinated and frightened.

  “It’s so unhygienic,” she told Joe. “All those dead, dried things. The bacteria alone must be shocking.”

  Joe burst out laughing and let go of her hand long enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

  “What’s so funny?” Julia was torn between removing his arm and letting it stay where it was. She hated that she felt a whole lot safer while plastered against him.

  “Nothing, nothing’s funny.”

  Julia frowned up at him, about to call him on his obvious lie when her gran stopped dead in front of them.

  “That way.” She pointed into a dark alley that was so narrow they would have to walk single file.

  “You sure?” Joe said.

  “Yes, I recognise the alley. And the stink.” She scrunched her nose. “I’m fairly certain that smell is from the dried animals they grind into powder.”

  Julia stared at her grandmother in horror before looking up at Joe. “I need a mask.”

  She was grateful he didn’t mock her. “Pull the neck of your shirt up over your mouth.”

  “That would look stupid.”

  “And wearing a mask wouldn’t?” her grandmother said.

  “Stop,” Joe told Patricia. “You have your worries, Julia has hers. Keep your opinion to yourself.”

  Patricia’s eyes went wide, but she nodded once at Joe. Patricia reached into her handbag and came out with a silk scarf. “Wrap this around your neck and you can pull it up to cover your mouth.”

  “Thanks, Gran.” Julia gratefully took the scarf and did exactly that. All the while, her cheeks were burning at how stupid she was to do it. Nobody else seemed bothered that they’d be breathing in the dust of ground-up dead things.

  “You good?” Joe said.

  She nodded, but couldn’t look at him.

  “That’s better than a mask.” Joe leaned in until his mouth was at her ear. “Although that silk scarf is giving me all sorts of ideas on other ways we could use it later. Private ways.”

  “Joe!” Her eyes sprang up to his and saw they were heated and amused.

  “You ready?” he said without a hint of impatience.

  She nodded. Joe kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s my girl,” he said before tugging her into the dark alley.

  Chapter 10

  Joe didn’t like their situation one bit. The alley was only wide enough for them to walk in single file. Joe put Julia in front of him and brought up the rear. One look at Ed and he saw his friend was on the same page. Much to Patricia’s disgust, Ed insisted on leading the way, which put the women firmly between the men, where they could best protect them.

  Joe kept one hand on Julia’s shoulder as he scanned their surroundings. There were no other access points in the alley, only straight walls on either side of them. This meant no one could come at them from the side, but it also meant that there were no clear escape routes if they needed one.

  At the end of the long, dark corridor, the alley opened out into a tiny courtyard. And at the rear of the courtyard was a shop. The interior was black and unwelcoming, the wares spilled out into the space around it, with displays attached to the walls. Baskets filled with assorted dead things sat on the ground at the bottom of the three steps that led up and into the crooked little building.

  “Will you let me pass?” Patricia demanded as she smacked Ed’s shoulder.

  He looked back at her, his face stony. “No. Not until we know what we’re walking into here.”

  “And what are you going to do if we’re walking into trouble? Sue somebody?”

  Ed’s eyes hardened, taking years off him and bringing Joe back to the first time they’d met—on a naval vessel off the coast of Yemen. Joe had just started his career and Ed was on the flipside. He’d had a reputation as a smart guy who could get the job done—no matter what it took.

  “Before I was ever a lawyer, I was a marine,” Ed said. “Believe me when I tell you there’s a whole lot I can do if need be.”

  “God save us from Neanderthal men,” Patricia said. “I know Juan Pablo. Move out the way so I can talk to him.”

  “No.” Ed shut the conversation down with one word as he strode forward, clearly on alert.

  As they approached the front of the store, three figures emerged from the doorway. Two of the men moved to either side of the shop, leaning against the walls, but clearly acting as sentries for Juan Pablo
. The artefact smuggler came with his own little army. Marcus had failed to mention that.

  Juan Pablo stood at the entrance to his shop. He was average height for a Bolivian, which put him a full head shorter than Joe. He was stocky, with a square face to match. His black hair was neat and parted to the left. He wore black dress trousers and a white dress shirt that was open at the collar. His arms were folded and his face was drawn into a scowl.

  “This isn’t a tourist shop,” he said in heavily accented English. “Go back the way you came. There is nothing for you here.”

  “Juan Pablo,” Patricia called. “We’ve met before. I’m Patricia Matthews. I’ve been to your shop and we talked at the mummy convention.”

  Joe couldn’t see the black-market dealer’s reaction to Patricia’s words, but he did see Ed’s. The ex-marine had tensed for a fight. Joe tugged on Julia’s shoulder, pulling her against his body.

  The hairs on Joe’s neck were standing to attention. He wrapped his hand around the gun that was in the holster fitted to his belt, hidden under his shirt. He unsnapped the latch, ready to free the weapon.

  “Patricia.” Juan Pablo’s tone was ingratiating, oozing fake warmth and friendship. “It is good to have you visit my small business again. A fellow mummy enthusiast is always welcome here.”

  The man stepped out of the dark recesses of his shop interior and into the subdued light of the alleyway. His gaze was calculating, setting off every single one of Joe’s alarms.

  “But where is your friend?” Juan Pablo studied each of them in turn. “I see you have brought new customers for me to meet.” He inclined his head as though expecting an introduction.

  “Oh, this is—” Patricia said, but Ed cut her off.

  “We aren’t enthusiasts like Patricia here, just some friends visiting with her for a while.”

  “Indeed.” Juan Pablo’s eyes narrowed before he smiled at Patricia. “What can I do for you, lovely señora?”

  “We’re here about the mummy Marcus Delaney sold to you. It was stolen and we need to return it. Of course, seeing as you had no way of knowing that, we’re more than happy to reimburse any losses you suffer.”

  Juan Pablo stiffened slightly and then caught the eye of one of his sentries. The other man nodded. It was a slight movement, barely noticeable. And it set Joe’s nerves on edge. Every instinct he possessed told him to get out of the alley.

  “Ah.” Juan Pablo spread his hands wide, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I don’t have this mummy any longer. There was a buyer waiting to take it from me.”

  Patricia let out an exasperated little huff. “Who did you sell it to?”

  His eyes flickered to Joe and Ed, assessing, but the smile stayed in place. “I cannot remember, but I will look up the information for you.” He paused. “For a price.”

  “Of course,” Patricia said.

  Joe’s back was tingling now. He glanced behind him, but the alley was clear. He noticed that Ed was staring at the skyline above them, checking for any sign of trouble. One of the sentries pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and tapped out a short text. Then he went back to lazing against the wall. If Joe hadn’t been trained, if his instincts weren’t screaming at him, he would have thought nothing of the act. But he was trained and his instincts were screaming—they were telling him to get out of there. Fast.

  “One moment, please.” Juan Pablo disappeared into the shop.

  “I don’t like this,” Joe said to Ed. “We need to get out of here. This is a bottleneck. We’re trapped and there isn’t even any cover.”

  A slight scuffling noise behind him made Joe turn. Men. Coming up the alley. Ed followed his gaze. The men were acting casual. Sauntering, almost.

  “Into the store,” Ed said.

  It was their only option. “Go. Now.” Joe urged them forward.

  One of the sentries blocked their path.

  “No persons in store.” He held up a hand to stop them.

  The other sentry leaned off the wall, suddenly alert.

  Decision time. Adrenalin raced through Joe. Trust his instincts or do as he was told. At lightning speed, he assessed the smaller man. No weapon. Joe shot out a punch and caught the man before he fell to the ground.

  “Inside!” Joe barked low. “Now!”

  The men behind them hadn’t yet realised what had happened, and Ed was blocking the other sentry’s view.

  Patricia gasped as the women rushed into the shop.

  “They’re still at the end of the alley,” Ed said. “I can take out the other sentry.”

  “Do it.”

  Ed turned to the other guy, still blocking his view of Joe, allowing him to lower the man in his hold to the steps, arranging him as though he was sitting. It would buy him seconds at best. There was a grunt. Joe looked over to see Ed lowering his sentry to a spot behind the baskets. It was the best they could do.

  “Inside,” Joe ordered, and they hurried into the shop.

  Juan Pablo was pretending to go through a handwritten ledger, line by line, when there was a laptop sitting on his desk. He was killing time, stalling them until his men made it to the shop. Joe felt a white-hot rage rush through him, focusing his mind, honing his actions. He grabbed the man around his throat and held him against the counter, bending him back until he lost his balance and the edge bit into him.

  “Call off your men.” He squeezed his throat. “Now.”

  “¡No es posible!” Juan Pablo croaked.

  “Yeah, it’s possible. You called them. You can call them off.” Joe shook him hard, making him splutter and choke. Juan Pablo clawed at Joe’s grip, trying to prise it from his throat.

  A soft hand curled around Joe’s forearm. He glanced down to see Julia peering up at him, and was relieved to see she wasn’t afraid of him—or his actions.

  “Maybe he’d be able to talk if you loosened your grip.”

  “Maybe,” Joe said. “But I’d like to deprive him of air a little longer. In my experience, that motivates a man. Take his laptop, phone, any other records you can find. We don’t have long before someone arrives.”

  She nodded and rushed to do what he said.

  “Joe,” Ed said from his position at the door, “they’re getting closer.”

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  Joe looked back at the man writhing in his grip. “Call them off!”

  Joe let go of Juan Pablo’s throat, grabbed his shirt and shoved him forward so he could see through the door and down the alley. Joe dug the barrel of his gun into the guy’s kidney. He whimpered and arched up onto his toes to avoid it. But Joe kept Juan Pablo in place with an arm wrapped around his neck. “Tell them now. Give the order.”

  “¡No puedo!”

  “Why can’t you?”

  Juan’s eyes rolled up to meet Joe’s. “We work for the same boss. They are his men. Not mine. We were warned that Americans were coming to take over our operation. They are here to stop you.”

  “We don’t want your smuggling business. Who the hell told you this?”

  “Marcus Delaney.”

  Joe wanted to roar, but kept control. He should have killed that spineless bastard when he’d had the chance.

  “He lied. Who did you sell the mummy to? This is the last time I ask.”

  “No lo sé. Por favor. Es la verdad. Es un inglés pero no sé su nombre.”

  “An Englishman with no name.” Like Joe believed that. Unfortunately, his time for wringing the information out of the dealer was over. “Bet you have contact details or bank details or something on the guy.”

  “Sí, sí, todo está en la computadora.”

  “You got his computer?” Joe asked Julia. “He says the info is on there.”

  “I have everything,” Julia said.

  “Is there a back way out of this place?” Joe shook Juan Pablo.

  “No, señor, sólo la puerta principal.” He pointed a shaky hand to the store’s only door.

  Joe cur
sed as he lifted his gun hand. With a sharp downward strike, he knocked the Bolivian out. He didn’t bother to soften his fall. As soon as Juan Pablo crumpled to the floor, Joe stepped over him and went to stand with Ed.

  “We’ve got two minutes at best,” Ed whispered. “Less when they spot their colleagues.”

  “There’s no back way out.”

  Ed stiffened. “Then we’re gonna have to hit first.”

  Joe felt a tug at his shirt and turned to find Julia staring at him. “What is it, baby?”

  “We can go up.” She pointed to the rusted ladder halfway up the wall at the end of the alley beside the cluttered exterior of the shop. It was bolted to the brick. An abandoned fire escape for the buildings crowding in on them.

  “Four men,” Ed said from the doorway. “Make that five. Seven when the guys we knocked out come around.”

  Joe ran a hand through his hair. He’d never get the women past that many men. He looked at the ladder. He wasn’t even sure it would hold their weight.

  A voice rang out. The unconscious men had been spotted.

  “Time’s up.” Joe scoured the store. They needed a diversion and they needed it fast.

  Joe’s eyes hit on some supplies near the door.

  “Ed,” he called. “It’s time to go MacGyver on their asses.” He pointed at the stock. Ed followed his gaze and smiled.

  “Set it up, then get the women out of here. I’ll cover you.”

  “We go together,” Joe said.

  “Sure, kid.” Ed turned his attention back to the advancing men. “You’ve got a minute. Now get to work.”

  Chapter 11

  Julia pulled her gran out of the way as Joe rushed around the dark little shop. He read labels and tossed items into a large basket.

  “Don’t fire unless you have to,” Joe ordered Ed.

  “They’re almost on us,” Ed said.

  “Nearly there.” Joe lifted the heavy basket he’d filled and dropped it in front of the open doorway.

  “What can we do?” Julia asked him.