Dangerous Choice

by Barbara Freethy

  "When we get back. I'm not quite ready to see my brother and my mom with Tomas. It's still strange to think my mom had another family."

  "Well, she had another husband, not really another family."

  He shrugged. "It's just weird."

  "I get it. It would be strange for me to think of my parents with anyone else."

  "Enough about me. Let's get back to Bethany. We'll go to El Toro tonight and talk to Bethany's friend Rosa."

  "If she's working."

  "It's a Saturday night; I'm guessing most of the staff will be on duty."

  "True. It's a very popular club—kind of dressy, too, at least for the women. I'll need to pick up a cocktail dress."

  "No problem. Let's head back and we'll do some shopping. We can pick up some other clothes as well. My credit card has a very high limit."

  "I can pay for myself."

  "Not now. This card can't be traced, unlike your cards."

  "Oh, well, then I saw some really expensive boutiques near the hotel that might have the perfect dress." She paused. "I am spending the bureau's money, not yours, right?"

  He smiled. "We'll get it all sorted out. Let's go buy you something sexy."

  She shivered at his words, at the promise in his eyes. It was a dangerous dance they were doing, but it was exciting, too. She was feeling very alive these days. Escaping death had made her appreciate the fact that she was still breathing and still had a life to lead. What kind of life that would be was up to her.

  Twelve

  Diego had never really enjoyed shopping. He usually found it boring as hell, and when he did it for himself, he was in and out of stores as fast as possible. But with Tara, the experience was a lot more enjoyable, especially when he got her to try on different potential dresses and model them for him. And damn if she hadn't looked amazing in everything she put on. But he didn't think she had any idea how beautiful she really was.

  Tara had an image of herself in her head that was not the image he saw. He didn't know why she didn't see herself for who she was, and he was probably too interested in showing her. That interest was another reason he kept the shopping excursion going. They had a bunch of hours to fill before they hit up the El Toro nightclub and filling those hours in their hotel room seemed like a bad idea.

  When Tara finally decided on a slinky red dress that was sure to put his blood pressure through the roof, he focused on picking up a few items of clothing for himself to get through the next few days. Then they stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch/early dinner.

  For the first time since they'd met, their conversation was light, less personal, not intense or emotional. Tara told stories about some of her students, and it was clear she cared very deeply about the kids, even the ones who gave her a difficult time. He told her about one of his favorite teachers at West Point, a man who had inspired him to do better, reach higher, work harder.

  And then they talked about books they'd read, movies they'd seen, places that they'd gone on vacation, all the little pieces of information that filled in the pictures of their lives. While Tara hadn't traveled at all really, she knew a lot about the world. Clearly, she'd been an armchair traveler all her life. And he found himself wanting to show her some of his favorite sights in the world like the glaciers in Patagonia and the Iguazú Falls in Brazil.

  But the reality of them spending a lot of time together after all this was resolved seemed doubtful. His job required him to travel, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. He had to become another person. He couldn't communicate with people outside of his circle. The only way he could do it well was not to have emotional attachments. He had to be 100 percent into whatever he was doing. It was why he'd lost so many friendships outside his FBI circle. It was why the people he most counted on now were the friends he'd made at Quantico, who understood his life.

  The one thing that had been easier for him was the fact that he had no family pulling him in different directions. There was no one waiting for him or worrying about him, which was both freeing and a little depressing. But he'd chosen this life, and it had worked for him for a long time. Whether it would work forever, who knew?

  After their meal, they'd gone back to the hotel to shower and change for the evening. He'd spent a brief time looking through the photos that Irina had given him. Seeing his mother with Mateo and Tomas had been shockingly upsetting. It was one thing to know that his mother had moved on with her life and another thing to see it. He'd decided to leave a longer perusal of those pictures for another day.

  He'd also checked in with Wyatt, sharing the information he'd received from Irina. If Michael Winters was in Santa Monica, then Wyatt should be able to find him easily. Hopefully he'd know more within a few hours.

  At eight o'clock, they went downstairs and took a taxi to the popular bar known as El Toro. It was still early at the nightclub, so it wasn't as crowded as it would be later in the evening. But there were still plenty of people in the bar, with Latin music wafting down the stairs from a band playing on the rooftop deck.

  There was a U-shaped bar on the main floor, with high and low tables scattered throughout the room. Artwork on the walls celebrated bulls and bullfighting. Apparently, El Toro's owner was a former bullfighter. There was even a display case with bullhorns from legendary fights.

  "Have you ever seen a bullfight?" Tara asked, as they paused in the middle of the room, taking in the scene.

  "I've seen the running of the bulls in Pamplona, where a bunch of idiots think they can outrun a herd of bulls," he said dryly.

  "I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that."

  "I've lost my ability to be surprised at the level of impulsive stupidity in the world."

  "That's rather cynical, Diego. I thought you were an optimist."

  "You think I'm an optimist?" he echoed with a surprised grin.

  "I do. You generally focus on the positive like when the plane was going down. You were so excited to see a canopy of trees. All I could see was the ground about to shatter us into a million pieces."

  "I try to focus on what will work in my favor."

  "It's a good trait. I'm going to have to try that more often."

  "Do you see Rosa?"

  Her gaze swept the room. "No. She's not working at the bar. She might be upstairs. I think that's where she was the last time I came here."

  "That was during your Christmas break?"

  "Yes. Bethany and I came here after the tour. I was about to head home. She was going to stay a few more days before her next tour. We had a great time that night. It had been a long time since we laughed so much. I left here thinking how much fun I would have in the summer when we'd meet up in between tours or sometimes double up with a larger group. That's the last time I saw her in person. Of course, we exchanged texts after that, liked each other's posts online, but we weren't actually together, and we didn't talk on the phone. We couldn't seem to make our schedules line up for a long call. We both kept saying soon—we'd do it soon."

  He heard the sadness in her voice and knew it was time to bring the optimism back out. "You'll do it again, and you'll have plenty of adventures to share with Bethany."

  "That's true. She probably won't believe what I've been up to." Tara paused. "I really want to have that conversation with her, Diego."

  "I know you do. Let's go upstairs and look for Rosa."

  They made their way up to the roof where they found another bar, several grouping of tables and a dance floor in front of a stage where a band was performing.

  "I see her," Tara said excitedly, taking his hand as they moved toward the bar and a tall, thin brunette with her hair pulled up in a ponytail.

  Rosa was serving drinks at one end of the bar, moving with grace and efficiency, and giving her patrons a friendly smile as she poured cocktails.

  "Rosa," Tara said, pushing her way up to the bar. "Do you remember me? Tara Powell?"

  "Oh, sure," Rosa said, recognition in her eyes. "You're Bethany's friend. Is she
back?"

  "Back from where?"

  "She was on her way to California last time I saw her."

  "When was that?" Tara pressed.

  "Uh, let's see. Last Saturday night—a week ago." Rosa's gaze narrowed. "Why? Is something wrong?"

  "Can we talk to you for a minute?" Tara pleaded. "In private?"

  Rosa hesitated. "It's pretty busy."

  "It won't take long, but it's important. Bethany is in trouble."

  "Seriously?"

  "Life or death seriously," Tara said.

  "All right. Hang on." Rosa said something to the other bartender, then stepped out from behind the bar and motioned them over to a quieter area near a low brick wall that looked out upon the city. "What's going on?"

  "We're not sure," Tara replied. "This is my friend—Diego."

  Rosa gave him a quick smile, then turned back to Tara. "So, does Bethany's trouble have to do with her boyfriend?"

  "What boyfriend? Was she here with a man last Saturday night?" Tara asked.

  "Not last Saturday, but about a month ago she brought him in. He was very hot. He had an edge to him, too, like he was some kind of dangerous. Maybe not the good kind," Rosa added with a frown. "Still, he was sexy as hell. He gave Bethany the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl."

  "Her favorite kind," Tara murmured. "Did you catch his name?"

  Rosa thought for a moment. "She called him Mitch or Michael. It started with an M."

  His gut clenched. Michael? As in Mateo who changed his name to Michael?

  But that was crazy. And Michael was a very common name. Plus, Rosa didn't even remember if that was the guy's name.

  "Did Bethany talk about her boyfriend when she was here last weekend?"

  "She said she was going to Los Angeles to see him. She told me she might be in love, really in love, for the first time. But despite her words, she was sad, tense. Something was wrong; I didn't have a chance to find out what. But she was different than her normal happy self. She wasn't flirting with anyone, and she wanted to talk to my cousin, Reggie. He's a pilot. She needed to get to Panama City the next day, but she didn't want to go commercial. I gave her Reggie's number. I don't know if she spoke to him."

  "We're going to need to talk to your cousin," Diego cut in.

  "I don't want to get him into trouble," Rosa said somewhat hesitantly.

  "Reggie is not in trouble," Tara said. "We just need to find out if he flew Bethany to Panama City or somewhere else and when that happened. Can you give me his number?"

  "He's out of town until tomorrow. He flew a charter to Bogota. But I can give you his number if you want to try in the morning."

  Diego didn't want to wait until the morning. He didn't know if they could trust Rosa to give them her cousin's real number or that she wouldn't warn him for some reason. "Why don't you text him now?" he suggested. "Ask him what happened with Bethany."

  Rosa frowned. "I'm working."

  "This won't take long. The sooner you help us, the sooner we'll be gone."

  "Very well." She took out her phone and sent a text. "I don't know if he'll answer right away. He could be busy."

  "We'll hang around here until he does." As he finished speaking, he saw her phone light up with an incoming text. "Is that him?"

  "It's him." She opened her messages, then handed him the phone. "You can read it for yourself."

  Tara huddled next to him as they read the message together: Took her to Panama City Airport last Sunday morning. Didn't talk to her after that. Why? What's wrong?

  "I'm going to text him as if I'm you," Diego told Rosa as he typed out a text asking Reggie if Bethany said anything about being in trouble, because some people came into the bar looking for her.

  Rosa didn't look happy about him commandeering her phone, but she didn't attempt to take it back.

  Reggie answered: She told me she needed to get out of Colombia fast and not to tell anyone I'd given her a ride to Panama City. I didn't ask questions. I didn't want to know. She paid me in cash. That was it. Did you tell someone you gave her my name?

  He wanted to protect Rosa, so he answered: No, I didn't say anything. Don't worry.

  Good, I don't need any problems.

  Diego handed Rosa her phone. "Thanks."

  Rosa skimmed through the texts. "I appreciate you not telling him I told you about him."

  "We're Bethany's friends. We're trying to help her. But anyone else who comes asking won't feel the same way, so please don't share the information."

  "I won't. What kind of trouble is she in?"

  "I really wish we knew," Tara said heavily. "But I think it's bad."

  Rosa gave a quick look at the bar. "I need to get back to work."

  As Rosa walked away, Tara turned to him with a light in her eyes that was both worried and hopeful. "Bethany isn't in Colombia anymore. Do you think that's a good sign?"

  "I do. She left under her own steam."

  "It also sounds like she's running from someone. What do we do now? Go to Panama City?"

  "Yes. But before we do that, I'll see if I can get someone in Panama to check the airport security footage for Bethany. If we know what plane she got on, we'll know where she got off."

  "It has been six days since she left Colombia. She could have gone anywhere."

  "Yes, but we're one step closer to finding her."

  "I'd like to think so."

  He pulled out his phone and texted Wyatt.

  "Who are you contacting this time?" Tara asked.

  "Wyatt. While Lucas has more connections in South America, Wyatt has more powerful connections in the bureau. And we may need someone on a higher level to ask the Panama authorities for help."

  "You have good friends willing to help you no questions asked. Is that how it is among agents?"

  "Not always, but Wyatt is different. He's part of a group of six—five now—friends that I met at Quantico. We were put together early in our training, and we formed a tight bond that lasted beyond the academy. We know we can turn to each other for help, especially if we have to work off book, which is what I'm doing now."

  "Why did you say six, then change it to five?" she asked curiously.

  He leaned against the rail. "One of our group died a few weeks before graduation in a training exercise. His name was Jamie Rowland."

  "I'm sorry. That's sad."

  "His death ripped us apart. We all felt a little responsible, even though it was an accident. But I know I'm not the only one who went over every move I'd made, wondering if I'd done something differently if Jamie would still be alive."

  "How did he die? If you don't mind talking about it."

  "The training mission was to rescue a group of hostages who were being held on the top floor of an empty building. The structure was booby-trapped. The apartment door was wired with explosives. We had to disarm several devices, evade shooters, and rescue the group."

  "But something went wrong."

  "Tragically wrong. We were almost done, when explosions were set off. It felt like the building was coming down around us. But we had the hostages, and we were heading out the door. I gave the all clear to our team outside, but then Jamie thought he heard someone call out for help. He ran back inside. I tried to stop him, but he was gone. Later it was discovered that he fell out of one of the windows during a fiery blast." He swallowed a knot in his throat at the memory of that horrible night. He gave Tara a hard look. "He wasn't supposed to go back inside. The building we were in had been set for demolition. That's why we were able to use it. Once we were done, the building would go down and be rebuilt. It was planned out. No one was supposed to die."

  Tara's face paled, her eyes filling with shadows as she faced him, putting her hands on his shoulders. Her warm touch was more than welcome.

  "That’s horrible, Diego. I'm so terribly sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

  "You had no way of knowing."

  "I had no idea training missions could be so dangerous."

  "Like I
said, it wasn't supposed to be, and it wouldn't have been if Jamie had not gone back inside. But that's who he was. If someone was in trouble, he was the first to act. We took his example to heart after that, telling each other we'd always be there if someone called. I think sometimes now we try to save each other, just because we couldn't save him. Not that I've been much help to the rest of the team. I've been in South America the last several years, and I haven't been very available. But Wyatt is still willing to help me. And I'm sure the others would, too, if I asked."

  "Where is Wyatt located?"

  "He's in Los Angeles, which should make finding my brother easier as well. I already sent him the details on Michael Winters."

  "And now he'll look for Bethany, too."

  "He's caught up on the whole situation."

  "What kind of work does he do in the bureau?"

  "He's done a lot of undercover work. He's a chameleon. He can blend in anywhere. But recently he joined a task force run by another former classmate. It allows him to not be so covert, which is good, because he fell in love during an undercover assignment at an aerospace company last year. His girlfriend Avery is an astrophysicist, which blows me away, because Wyatt was never one looking to date smart girls, if you know what I mean."

  She smiled. "I know what you mean. I've been a little too smart for quite a few of my dates. And I'm only a high school Spanish teacher."

  "If you're too smart, then you don't want them."

  "Probably true. Who else is in your group?"

  "Bree Adams. She's also in Los Angeles. She was originally in New York, then worked a case in Chicago, where she hooked up with an old flame. They decided to move to the beach, which was fortunate for Wyatt, because Bree ended up helping him save Avery's life."

  "So, it's not all guys on the team?"

  "No. There's also Parisa Maxwell. She's a language expert, and she recently survived a kidnapping at an embassy in New York. She's apparently now seeing a CIA agent, who helped her stop a terrorist attack."

  "That's a crazy way to fall in love."

  "It is. Last but not least is Damon Wolfe, who works in New York. He has always been the leader of our group. He's focused, insightful, and fiercely loyal. He's been moving up in the bureau very quickly. I expect he'll one day be running his own field office."