by Kaylea Cross
“Do you think we were quiet enough?” she whispered in the silence.
The question surprised him so much he huffed out a laugh, amazed that he could laugh at all after such a horrific day. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Because I don’t know how I’d ever face your grandma again if we weren’t.”
Grinning, he kissed the back of her neck. “Nah, she likes you. And if she did hear, she’d just be glad that you’re here with me right now.”
“I’m glad I’m here for you too.”
He kissed the back of her head and snuggled her closer, grateful for her presence and comfort. I’m falling in love with you, shortcake.
He didn’t dare say it. Abby had been through the ringer where men were concerned. If he told her his true feelings now, it might freak her out, or she might dismiss them out of hand. More time. He’d give her more time, wait until things settled down and they found their footing once they got back home.
He just hoped he wasn’t falling in love alone.
One minute he was breathing in the scent of Abby’s perfume. The next, he was blinking against the bright morning sunshine streaming through the edges of the plantation-style shutters covering the guest bedroom windows.
Abby was curled into him, half-sprawled across his chest, her breathing slow and even in her sleep. As soon as that registered, images of Hani’s last moments flashed through his head. The pain of it stopped his breath, a giant fist twisting his heart in a cruel grip.
Before he could move, his cell rang on the bedside table. He grabbed it as Abby shifted off him and onto her side, watching him with sleepy blue eyes, tugging the covers over her bare breasts.
Kai glanced at the screen. It was still early, not even six. “Maka here,” he murmured.
“Detective Carruthers,” the man announced, his voice crisp, alert. “We’ve just got results back from the ballistics folks.”
The words made him even more alert. That was fast. “Find anything?”
“Yeah. Ballistic fingerprints on the bullets taken from your cousin match the ones from a murder a few days ago. A doctor Bradshaw.”
“I know about him.” His murder had been all over the local news and papers. Now the same gun that had killed him had also killed Hani?
“Seems like our murderess has been busy.”
Shit. Did the Venenos have female enforcers now? It was the only explanation Kai could think of. “So she’s working on a hit list?”
Abby sat up, an alarmed expression on her face. Kai reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze and didn’t let go, awaiting the detective’s response.
“Looks that way. We’ve released her description and the composite sketch you helped us with to the media. It’s a small island. Someone will know her. And then we’ll find her and bring her in.”
“Good. Thanks for the update.” As soon as Kai got off the phone with the detective, he called Taggart, back home in Virginia. “Hey, it’s me. Got an update about the situation here.”
“I’m glad you called,” his commander said. “We’ve got a bit of a situation here ourselves.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rowan Stewart paused a moment to tug on the bottom of her suit blazer and smooth her hands down the front of her matching pencil skirt before knocking on the closed office door. Malcolm might be here. His text early this morning had come as a complete shock.
Something important has come up at work. Can you make an early meeting at HQ this morning?
It was the first time she’d heard from him in almost a year, since the day she’d put an end to their budding relationship.
Doing that had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, and seeing him again wouldn’t be much easier, no matter what he might think to the contrary. She’d hated hurting him, but there’d been no other option. Better to end things early on than later, when it would have been even more painful. Hopefully by now he could admit that they were just too different to make a relationship possible.
A tall, well-muscled man with a strawberry-blond buzz cut and an intense aquamarine gaze opened the door. “Ms. Stewart?” He radiated an authority she instantly recognized as former military.
“Yes.”
His expression warmed slightly. “I’m Commander Jared Taggart,” he said, offering his hand. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
She shook with him. His hand was huge, his grip firm, but not overbearing. Handshakes, eye contact and body language told her so much about a person. This man was tough, but not a bully. She was more than familiar with the latter. “My pleasure. Nice to meet you.”
“You as well. Come on in.”
She stepped inside, her heart jolting when her gaze landed on Malcolm, seated in a chair opposite his commander’s desk. He was every bit as fit as he’d been the last time she’d seen him, wearing cargo pants and a black T-shirt that molded to his muscular torso.
He was pure, latent power curled up deceptively in that chair, like a resting panther. A few days’ worth of black scruff covered his jaw, cheeks and upper lip, accentuating his luscious mouth. His skin was a beautiful deep brown, his eyes a few shades darker, like melted dark chocolate. They pinned her in place for a moment, unreadable, the penetrating intensity of them making her stomach flutter.
No fluttering. You’re an Assistant U.S. Attorney, for Christ’s sake, and you’re here in an official capacity. Get it together. “Malcolm,” she said politely, giving him a nod that was a little stiff because her neck muscles were so tense.
“Rowan.” His deep, dark voice slid over her like rich, molten chocolate over ice cream. Not good for her, but tempting as hell. Exactly like the man.
Trying her best to pretend he had no effect on her, she took the chair next to his and faced Taggart as he seated himself behind his desk. “So the woman in question is here somewhere?” she asked.
“She’s in the boardroom right now with her attorney and some other agents. She’s refused to talk anymore to us about her situation without someone from your office being present.”
“And what does she want from me?”
“To find out what deal the government can offer her.” He leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the surface of the desk, the muscles in his shoulders and chest bunching with the movement. “She showed up this morning with her lawyer right as the building opened and marched in here demanding to see me. Says she’s got intel we need about the Veneno cartel. This is off the record, but one of my guys is in Maui and we just learned last night that the cartel has reissued a bounty on his head. They’re looking for him there, already gunned down his cousin, and took shots at my agent. If this woman knows anything about the current situation or insider information about the cartel, I need to know it fast. You get what I’m saying?”
“Yes. Can I see her now?”
Taggart shared a look with Malcolm for a moment, then nodded. “Right this way.”
She followed him down the hall and up an elevator to the top floor, where the conference room was located. With every step she was conscious of Malcolm behind her, a silent, magnetic presence that was impossible to ignore. Was he still angry with her for breaking things off? Surely now he could see she’d done them both a favor by ending things when she had.
At the conference room, two middle-aged male agents stood flanking the door. “She won’t talk,” one of them said to Taggart. “Hopefully you can get something out of her.”
“We’ll take it from here.” Taggart pushed open the door for her.
A slender woman somewhere in her mid or late-twenties sat at one end of the long table, dressed in jeans and an expensive-looking top, her long, chocolate-brown curls drawn back from her face in a sophisticated knot. Her makeup was classy and flawless, and Rowan noted the trademark red soles on her stilettos. Louboutins.
Whoever this woman was, she was polished and had money. Her middle-aged male attorney sat beside her, dressed in a business suit.
Rowan walked up to them with a pro
fessional smile in place. “I’m Rowan Stewart, with the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
They shook her hand, the woman’s gaze darting suspiciously to Taggart and Freeman, who stood behind Rowan. “Hi.” She didn’t offer her name.
Rowan sat two chairs down from her while Taggart and Freeman sat on the opposite side of the table. “How can I help you, Miss…”
“My client needs protection,” the lawyer said.
She focused on him. “Protection from what?”
The lawyer nodded at the woman, who then answered. “From people within the Veneno cartel. You give me and my mother protection, and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Her English was flawless, but spoken with a marked Spanish accent.
“Your mother?”
The woman nodded, swung her gaze to Taggart. “Can you do that?”
“Are you talking WITSEC?”
“I don’t…I’m not sure.” She glanced at her lawyer uncertainly.
“That’s handled by the U.S. Marshal Service, not us. And whether or not they’d be willing to take you into the program will depend on who you are and whether you have anything useful to give us. So who are you?”
She set her jaw, her blue-gray eyes flashing with annoyance. “I’m Oceane Nieto.”
Stunned silence met her words.
Surprised, Rowan glanced at Taggart and Malcolm for some guidance. The name meant something to them, because they were both staring at Oceane intently now.
“As in, Manny Nieto?” Taggart said.
Rowan didn’t know that name either, but clearly something big was going on here.
Oceane’s chin came up, quiet defiance written on her face. “He’s my father.”
Taggart sat back, never breaking eye contact with her. “Why are you here?”
“I told you, I need—”
“Why would you need protection if Manny’s your father?”
She lowered her gaze, swallowed. “Because it’s not safe for us at home now. It’s not safe for us anywhere.”
Taggart stared at her. “Is that right.”
A flash of anger crossed her face. “Would I have fled to the States, risked coming here to your headquarters otherwise? Given who my father is?”
Taggart crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hard. “Keep talking.”
Oceane flicked a glance at Rowan before facing him again. “He can’t protect us now.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I…” She cleared her throat, drew a deep breath. “I was unaware of the full extent of my father’s true business until a week ago.”
Taggart’s expression said he didn’t believe a single word of that. “Uh huh.”
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “My parents made sure to keep me removed from all of that my whole life. I lived with my mother near Veracruz, rarely even saw my father. As far as I knew he was a businessman involved with a few shady dealings, but never anything on this scale. Never with that kind of violent criminal association.” She shifted in her seat, swallowed. “Then last week, everything changed. My mother came to me in the middle of the night, terrified. Your agency arrested someone within the…organization a few weeks ago, a lieutenant named—”
“Ruiz,” Taggart said.
“Yes. It created a power vacuum, and my family was sucked into it. I didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. Our personal security barely got us out of our house alive. A rival member attacked. There were…” She swallowed, drew in a breath. “People were killed. My mother finally told me everything while we were on the run, and we decided to escape here.”
“So your father doesn’t know where you are?”
“He will by now. We flew to Dallas and then connected here to Virginia late last night.” She looked at Rowan. “I found a lawyer and came here to ask for your help.”
“As Commander Taggart said, that will depend on a number of things,” Rowan told her.
“Wait,” Malcolm said, bringing everyone’s eyes to him. He stared at Oceane, his expression full of suspicion. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“You’re twenty-four, and yet you claim to know nothing about his involvement with the cartel your whole life?”
Oceane huffed out an irritated breath, her cheeks flushing. “I realize how that must sound to you, but it’s the truth. I’d heard stories when I was younger. Then rumors, back when I was at college. But I never believed them. Never believed my father was capable of those things. Not the man I knew. My father is…he’s a complicated man, and so was our relationship. I never lived with him. I didn’t see him much or spend a lot of time with him over the years because he was always traveling.”
“You mean living with his wife and moving around from place to place to avoid any assassination attempts,” Taggart put in.
She dropped her gaze again. “Most likely.” She seemed to gather her strength a moment, then raised her chin and squared her shoulders, meeting Taggart’s gaze head on, and Rowan had to give her points, because his stare was intimidating as hell. “In light of everything that’s happened, I can’t go home, and I can no longer afford to be ignorant. My mother and I have no involvement with my father’s business. We want to start a new life away from all of that. So I’m willing to give you whatever information I have in exchange for protection.”
Rowan glanced at Taggart in astonishment. That was a hell of an offer, tossed right in their laps. Oceane seemed really damn naïve for someone in her mid-twenties. Did she realize what she was doing? Her so-called lawyer had been useless so far.
Taggart studied Oceane in silence for a long moment, then sat up straight. “You got any ID on you, Miss Nieto? Passport? Driver’s license?”
She flushed, shook her head. “Not legal ones,” she admitted.
“Figured not,” he murmured, his tone dripping sarcasm. “This meeting is over until I can verify who you are.”
Oceane’s brave front faltered. A sheen of tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back and answered. “Go ahead and check.”
“Oh, I will,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling out his phone. “I’m going outside to make a call,” he said to Malcolm. “Keep her in that chair and don’t let her out of your sight until I get back.”
****
For over thirty minutes Malcolm stayed silent in his seat, listening carefully as Rowan talked with Ms. Nieto and her lawyer.
This was crazy.
He wasn’t sure how much of her story he could swallow. Her body language and reactions rang true enough. But Manny Nieto’s daughter fleeing a life of luxury in Mexico and running straight to DEA headquarters for protection? And willing to give them insider info against her father in exchange for it?
Excuse him if he was skeptical.
As for Rowan, she was cool and sophisticated as ever in that tailored skirt suit that hugged every line of her trim curves, her silky black hair pulled up into an elegant twist. It was hard as hell to sit here across from her and ignore his awareness of her. He thought he’d shut all his feelings off for her a long time ago, but apparently not. The sight of her still made him ache deep inside, yet she’d barely reacted at all when she’d walked into Taggart’s office and seen him sitting there.
It drove him crazy to think she’d just moved on and gotten over him so fast when he couldn’t do the same with her. Did she ever think about him now? Did she ever regret walking away? Wish she’d given them more of a chance?
The conference room door opened. They all looked over as Taggart strode back into the room.
The team commander took the seat beside Mal and faced Rowan. “So what have I missed?”
Rowan set her pen down and faced him with the cool professionalism that had been drilled into her since she was a little girl. “I’ve advised Ms. Nieto about the legal ramifications regarding her situation,” she said in her southern belle Georgia accent. “She would like protection in exchange for information, but is still undecided about whether W
ITSEC is a good choice for her and her mother.” She looked at Ms. Nieto for clarification.
“I don’t want to be separated from my mother,” the woman said. “We’re really close and she needs me more than ever. I’ve left her in a secure location with our private security members who we know are loyal to us. I don’t trust anyone else.”
Well then WITSEC wasn’t going to be an option, was it? Malcolm felt obligated to educate her a little. “Given who you are, and what you’re proposing, WITSEC is the only way you would both be protected.”
Those blue-gray eyes flashed to his. “I can’t be separated from my mother.”
“If you want to be safe, then you’ll have to be.” Sorry, but there it was.
Taggart folded his arms. “But all that aside,” he said to the woman, “you’re willing to give us intel on your father and his inner circle, in exchange for asylum and protection for you and your mother. Have I got that right?”
She swallowed hard. “Y-yes.” She whispered it and lowered her gaze, almost as if she was ashamed. Or possibly scared. Mal didn’t blame her if it was the latter. The Venenos had a reputation for carrying out hideous killings on those who crossed them.
“Why?” Taggart pressed.
She lifted her gaze from the table to meet his. “Because I love my mother, and I want her to be safe. And because if all the things I’ve heard about my father are true, then…” She drew a deep breath. “Then I want to stop him from doing any more.”
Mal barely kept from raising his eyebrows in surprise. That was noble of her, but a hell of a risk to take considering what she was offering.
“You think your father will just let the two of you go?” Taggart asked.
At that, she paled. “He might have done or ordered terrible things, but he would never harm us.” She sounded certain of that. “His rivals would, though. They’d use us to get to him in an instant.”
Taggart looked unconvinced. “You don’t think he’d come after you even if you were helping us target him?”
She didn’t respond to that. Taggart opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone rang. He checked the screen and stood. “She’s here.”