Protecting Arizona (Special Forces: Operation Alpha)

by Holt, Desiree

  He could tell he startled her. “You think some of these other people might be hooked up to him some way?”

  “Anything is possible. I learned the hard way the thing you don’t check out because you think it means nothing is the thing that will blow up in your face. I want to get a complete lay of the land here. Then we need to figure out how to get a boat while it’s still daylight.”

  “I can help with the boat. Glad it’s summer, so we have a lot of daylight left.”

  “Good.” He was studying each of the streets they drove down, assessing what kinds of security some of the houses may have, seeing what kind of traffic traveled the streets. Not much, he realized. People didn’t go cruising around Davis Islands. They just came and went to their destinations.

  As they drove, he thumbed again through the shots he’d taken of the Vasquez house, studying each one. Normally he had no trouble at all focusing on the mission at hand. That’s what he’d done for all his years as a SEAL. But he hadn’t been sitting next to a woman with whom he’d had the wildest, best sex of his life. A woman whose scent still made his balls ache and his dick get so hard it threatened to break his zipper. He’d come here to help this woman with a critical, dangerous situation, not take her to bed and fuck her brains out. He just wished to fuck he knew where his legendary control was now.

  And what am I going to do when night gets here? We can’t break Ruby out today. What do I do when it’s dark and that gorgeous, hot body is sleeping one room away from me?

  “Are you okay, Razor?”

  He looked over to see her glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

  “Yeah, fine. Just trying to memorize all of this and get the picture situated in my head. Let’s see what we get this time, but with all this water we might have a better chance to spot her from a boat.”

  “He has a nice backyard behind his security fence,” Arizona told him. “It was on the site plan my boss got from city hall. She could be out there playing, and we’d never see her from the street. So, yeah, a boat sounds good.”

  “Another reason a boat would be a big help. I want to be prepared for every scenario. That’s what they teach us in the SEALs. If you get caught with your pants down you can lose your ass.”

  She actually chuckled, although softly. “I like that. I’ll have to remember it.”

  “The visual alone can keep you on your toes. When is the DEA planning to lower the boom on Vasquez?”

  “One week from today.”

  They were crossing the bridge into Tampa now, and he took in the busy traffic and the activity of what he’d expected to be a slow, sleepy Southern city. Instead it was filled with activity, and everywhere he looked there was new construction.

  Never assume anything, buddy. You know what that does.

  “The city looks like it’s growing.”

  “Lots of Northern money moving down here. No state income tax, for one thing, and a business-friendly climate for another. A great place to bury a drug operation.”

  “About that boat,” he reminded her.

  “Heading there right now.” She punched an icon on her dash screen. “Call Charles Winters.”

  “You have a boat on speed dial?”

  She laughed. “Only the boat owner. You know how to drive any of these things?”

  Razor laughed. “I’m a SEAL. If it floats on water, I can handle it.”

  He heard the ringing and then a man’s voice.

  “Arizona? Are you finally going to play hooky and spend the afternoon on the water with me?”

  Razor’s muscles clenched at the man’s words. Was this a love of Arizona’s? He might have to punch the guy.

  She laughed. “Only with your boat. You said if the DEA needed it for anything it was a go. And I have a captain who knows his boats.”

  There was a long pause. “I’ll have to check him out, but you know my wife and I would do anything for you after you got Adam out of that trouble.”

  At his words, Razor relaxed a little.

  “Yes, and thank you. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Is this convenient for you?”

  “I’ll make it so. See you shortly.”

  “There’s a place we could rent a boat on Davis Islands,” Arizona told him, “but I didn’t think you’d want to take the chance of us being noticed. No one knows who you are, but I have a feeling Vasquez has his people check out everyone who looks like a stranger on the island.”

  “Even in his public guise as a well-heeled business entrepreneur?”

  Arizona gave a ladylike snort. “Believe me, he has his people trained so well no one thinks of them as anything but business associates of his.”

  “Surely somebody wonders why he has strange men hanging around his house. People who aren’t members of his family.”

  “He’s set it up very carefully, believe me. Quote: ‘I have security because some people made threats against my family. The motor home business isn’t always so nice.’ End quote. Or maybe this: my wife’s brothers live with us. She feels secure with them around, and they both work for me. He’s got a million plausible stories. And truly, when you live in the same area as other people with lots of money, nobody asks too many questions.”

  “And therein lies a rampant problem. People with money think rules don’t apply to them.”

  “Especially,” she went on, “if they happen to be in anything like the drug business.”

  He glanced over at Arizona, trying not to notice her toned arms, or the way her hands moved effortlessly on the wheel, the graceful column of her neck and the way her ponytail swayed when she moved her head. Or the way her top fit—

  Shut it, asshole. This is not the time or place.

  His problem, however, was from the moment he’d laid eyes on her again and recognized her, all he could think of was that long, hot, night with her naked body next to his and the incredible, erotic things they’d done. It was only his SEAL discipline that allowed him to force his cock to stay at least at semi-rest. Arizona had enough problems, She didn’t need him panting after her while she was trying to rescue her niece from a drug dealer and murderer.

  Still, he wondered if she had the same thoughts he did. Was she thinking of that night? Had she thought of it since it happened? Did she wonder if it would happen again?

  Enough already.

  He forced his mind back to the present and the situation at hand. They were on another bridge now, crossing over to what looked like a residential island. Passing some shops and apartment buildings, they pulled up to a guard house at an iron gate. Arizona reached into the console and pulled out a small plastic card that she showed to the guard. He looked it over, smiled, and handed it back.

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Hunt. Hope today it’s for pleasure.”

  She grinned. “Me, too.”

  “I’m impressed,” Razor told her, and he was. Usually it was the drug dealers, not the drug agents, who were that recognized.

  Arizona laughed. “Don’t get too impressed. Harbour Island is a very exclusive community just across the water from downtown Tampa. The son of the owner of one of the houses here got himself in trouble with drug dealers. Joaquin DeLoach, my team leader, and I were able to get him out from under and on a new path.”

  “Good for you, but…” he paused.

  “But what?” there was an edge to her voice.

  “But how did that get you a permanent pass? Just curious.”

  “He asked what he could do to return the favor. I told him it would help to be able to have water access just in case. Thus the pass.”

  They passed towering condo buildings as well as homes that Razor estimated in the high six figures, a clue to the economics of Harbor Island. Arizona pulled into the driveway of one of the latter and turned off the engine. They were barely out of the car before the door to the Mediterranean-style house opened, and a lean man in a short-sleeved button-down shirt and well-tailored slacks jogged out to the car. The moment Arizona exited the vehicle, he wrapped
her in a tight hug.

  “Sorry,” he said when he released her. “I think I’ll always get a little emotional when I think of what you and DeLoach did for Adam.”

  “And it’s still working out well?”

  He nodded. “Some days are tough, but we’re at least all on the same page.”

  Arizona pointed at Razor. “This is Clint DaCosta, former SEAL. He said if it floats he can handle it.”

  Razor shook the man’s hand. “Razor will do. Thanks for doing this.”

  “Charles Winters.” The men shook hands, each giving that little extra macho squeeze. “Anything for Arizona. Okay, let’s get the boat in the water.”

  Chapter 6

  Luca Vasquez disconnected the call on his cell phone and sat back in his desk chair. He was in his office at Southern Motor Homes, pulling on a cigar to keep from grinding his teeth. Just when he was sure he had his life in order, had the balance he wanted, something came along to knock it off balance. Only his hard-won self-control prevented him from taking the heavy crystal ash tray from his desk and heaving it against the wall.

  The call had disturbed an already tumultuous day. He gave thanks for the enormous self-control he’d developed over the years. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with the news itself, the person involved, or Octavio for missing it altogether. He depended on the man to ferret out all these things, inform him, and take care of it. Especially at this particular time he did not need this kind of basura in his life.

  He had just picked up his cell again to call Octavio when there was a knock on his office door.

  “Yes?” he called out.

  Valeria, his secretary, opened the door just enough to slip inside then closed it again.

  “Senor Vasquez.” She wet her lips.

  “Yes?” He raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

  “There are two policemen here. Detectives.” She swallowed. “They say they need to see you.”

  So, they had come to his office. They’d no doubt tried the house first.

  He kept a bland expression on his face. “They probably want me to contribute to a policeman’s fund,” he told her. “I do that a lot, you will recall.”

  “They don’t look like they’re here for donations. They look very serious. And unfriendly.”

  He made himself laugh. “Most policía look unfriendly. It’s all right.” He gestured toward the door. “Don’t make them, wait. Show them in.”

  Still looking uncertain, she opened the door wide and gestured toward the outer office.

  “Please come in, gentlemen.”

  As they entered, she stepped aside then closed the door as she went back to her desk.

  They were both of medium height—one blonde, the other with brown hair. They both wore standard detective outfits—slacks, sport jacket, and shirts, one with a tie. Nothing spectacular but, Luca thought to himself, on a detective’s salary what did one expect?

  And Valeria had certainly been right. They looked far from friendly.

  He leaned forward in his chair. “What can I help you gentlemen with?”

  The introduced themselves as Detective Jason Burnell and Detective Barrett Trainor with the sheriff’s office and showed him their badges.

  Vasquez just kept his face bland.

  “Is there something I can do for you? We’re inside the city limits, so I don’t usually have too much contact with the sheriff’s office.”

  Burnell gestured toward the two chairs in front of the desk.

  “May we sit?”

  “Of, course, of course. Would you like some coffee? Either of you?”

  They looked at each other and shook their heads.

  Trainor cleared his throat. “Mr. Vasquez, when was the last time you saw your wife?”

  Because he’d been expecting this, planning for it, he was able to arrange a puzzled look on his face, and frown.

  “At breakfast this morning. We ate with our daughter. Afterward she said she was going to do some shopping today.” He leaned forward, studying them. “Is there some kind of problem that I’m not aware of?”

  “And that’s the last time you saw her?”

  “Yes,” he snapped. “Can you please tell me what the problem is?”

  Trainor studied him. “Do you have an idea why your wife would be at the Chestnut Hill Motel out past the university?”

  “What?” Luca made himself looked shocked. “A motel? No, no, no. Why the hell would she be there?”

  Burnell cleared his throat. “We were hoping maybe you could tell us.”

  Luca rubbed his hand over his face. He knew just how to play this. “Okay, no more games here. What the hell is going on? I want to know right now. Has something happened to her?”

  Trainor leaned forward in his chair. “I’m afraid we have some very bad news for you. Your wife’s body was found in the motel around noon today. She’d been shot.”

  Even though he had ordered the killing, he knew how to look shocked. Years of training in dicey situations had taught him to be a good actor.

  “Shot?” He just stared at both men. Then he began gasping for breath.

  One of the detectives, Trainor, poured a glass of water from the carafe on the sideboard and brought it to him.

  “Here. Drink this slowly. I know hearing something like that is a shock, and I’m sorry we had to bring you the news.”

  Luca took a few slow sips of the water before setting the glass on his desk. He rubbed his face with both hands then let out a slow breath.

  “My god, my god. My beautiful wife. Are you sure it’s her?”

  Burnell nodded. “Her purse was with her, and her driver’s license was in it. We matched her to the picture.”

  Vasquez dropped his head in his hands, giving an admirable performance of a man devastated by the news. “But who would do this? Why?”

  “We have no idea.” This from Burnell.

  Trainor gave him a hard stare. “We were hoping you could tell us. That maybe you had some clue.”

  “Me? Nada. How would I know?” He scrubbed a hand across his face again. “I don’t know what she was doing there nor who would do this to her.” He sipped some more water. “Was there some kind of fight? Did someone break in? How-How did you find her?

  Again, Trainor answered. “We have no answer to any of those questions. Dispatch told us some woman called in and said there’d been a shooting, gave the name of the motel and the room number and hung up.”

  A woman! It had to be that bitch of a sister of hers. He just knew something had been going on with those two.

  “This woman did not leave a name?”

  “No, and the call was made from the phone in the motel room so there was nothing to trace. Do you know if she was meeting a friend there?”

  Should he tell them about the sister? See if he could throw the blame on her? No, not yet. Not until he had prepared the trap so Arizona Hunt could not wiggle out of it.

  He arranged his feature into the picture of distress. “I have no idea. I—” He stopped and drew in a deep breath. “There’s something wrong here. She was going shopping. She loves to shop, especially for our daughter.”

  “Did she have Ruby with her?”

  Vasquez shook his head. “No, not this time.” He snapped his fingers. “Was her car there? Maybe someone kidnapped her when she was shopping and took her there.”

  The detectives exchanged a look. “No, there was no car. We checked all the vehicles that were parked there.”

  “Then how did she get there?” He slammed his hand on the desk, startling both detectives. “I’m telling you, someone grabbed her. She gave them a hard time, and they shot her.”

  “Who do you think would do that?” Burnell asked. “Has anyone threatened you?”

  Only people who’d like my place as a middleman for cartels.

  But of course he couldn’t say that to the cops.

  “I’m a wealthy man,” he told them. “I’m sure you know that. I’m active in the communit
y. Any number of disgruntled or jealous people could have their eye on me.”

  Trainor took a small notebook from his inside jacket pocket and a ballpoint pen, which he clicked.

  “How about giving us a list of those people so we can check into them?”

  Vasquez stared at the man. “You think I keep a list? Isn’t it up to you to find out? It could be anyone. Someone in my position always makes enemies.”

  Trainor’s face never changed expression. “It just helps if you happened to know of anyone specific.”

  “What I know is someone killed my wife, and you need to find out who it was.” He looked from one man to the other. “I must go home and be with my daughter.”

  “I understand,” Trainor acknowledged. “But before that we’d like you to come down to the medical examiner’s office with us to make a positive identification.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course.” He scraped a hand over his face. “I just want to make sure you haven’t made a mistake before I go home and figure out how to tell my daughter her mama is never coming back again.” He pushed back from his desk. “Can we go right now? I don’t think I’ll believe this until I see her for myself.”

  “Of course.” This from Burnell.

  Both men followed him as he opened his office door, still wearing an expression of shock and distress..

  Valeria turned, a look of surprise on her face.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. Vasquez? You have an appointment in less than an hour.”

  “No, nothing is right.” He shook his head. “These gentlemen have brought me some very sad news. My beautiful Florida is dead. Shot.”

  Valeria gave a small gasp. “Shot? Dios. Was it a robbery? What happened?”

  “We don’t know yet. I must go and identify the—body.” He deliberately stumbled over the word.

  “Oh my god!” Valeria rose from her chair, distress written all over her face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Just cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. Have Jorge deal with the customers and keep things running here. Oh god.” He arranged is features in a look of distress. ” Business is the last thing on my mind right now.”