Chapter Thirteen
Celeste stared out the window, watching men move around the grounds. Vix paced the floor, her dark catsuit useless now that the sun was up. She’d tried half a dozen escape plans, but none ended in success, even in her imagination, thanks to Rio. Celeste sat in the hospital bed, cold metal handcuffing her to the rail. One hand had been freed for her to feed herself, but with absolutely no interest in food, she’d only managed to force down a few bites. Her mind kept replaying the arrest. The gunshots had echoed in her head most of the night, chasing away any possibility of sleep.
She reached up with her free hand and rubbed her eyes, wishing she could curl up somewhere safe and sleep. The door opened, and Kari greeted someone who didn’t respond. Frowning, she dropped her hand, dragging her attention away from the scene outside. She looked over her shoulder and went still.
Rio.
He acknowledged Kari with a quiet “Hey,” and stood there, looking at her. Heat flared in her cheeks, and her heart started beating so hard it filled her throat. She turned away, focusing on a spot in the middle of the yard. After everything he’d done, she was still annoyed she looked like crap, and he got to see her this way.
“Celeste.” Hearing her name coming from him set her nerves on edge. “Look at me.” She straightened her spine, scowling as she met his gaze. “You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His features hardened. “I’m not going to let you hurt this child.”
She flinched. How could he think she’d willingly hurt the baby? “I’m not,” she retorted, outrage adding a hard edge to her tone. She moved to fold her arms under her breasts only to be held in place by the wrist. “The chorizo is…” She shook her head, scrunching her nose.
He relented, looking down at the chorizo and egg. “Parker.” He picked up the untouched meal and handed it to Kari, ignoring her questioning look. “Can you talk the kitchen into fixing a quick breakfast?”
“I think I can work something out.” Kari took the plate, giving her a curious glance from head to waist and back. Celeste wanted to stop her, but truthfully, she hadn’t eaten a full meal since the previous afternoon. She had no idea how that would affect a developing baby.
“Eggs, plain and scrambled, ham on the side. Wheat bread, lightly toasted.” Something twisted inside her. He remembered how she liked her breakfast. Vix’s shoulders sagged, and her expression turned dreamy. Celeste gave a disapproving sniff. These people probably researched their targets and learned everything about them. He turned back to look at her, his expression having softened. “And milk,” he added over his shoulder.
“Gotcha.” Kari gave him a mock salute. Celeste bit her lip, struggling with the urge to call her back. For the first time since this nightmare started, she and Rio were alone together. Suddenly the room seemed a lot smaller with just the two of them. Her senses focused on him, fighting to put up a wall and scale it at the same time.
“We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” She turned to the window, once again trying and failing to cross her arms.
“It’s about your father.”
Damn him. She ground her teeth and gave a subtle tilt of her head. “I’m listening.”
“Yesterday, you claimed your father wasn’t a part of all the violent acts he’s been credited with.”
Celeste nodded. What was Rio after? Hadn’t he done enough? Then it hit her, the jerk wanted help chasing him. Anger roiled through her. “I’m not going to help you trap him,” she snapped.
“Answer the question, Celeste.”
“He’s still my father. I can’t be—”
“He’s already in custody,” he said, losing some of the hard edge in his voice.
“No.” Bloody, horrific images flashed through her mind. Oz’s face replacing every victim the internet offered up when she Googled him. Devastated, she set her hand to her throat, applying pressure where her lungs were threatening to blast through. “Is-is he all right?” Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t look away. Custody. Not dead. Not hospitalized. Still, with her father’s reputation, things could have gone bad. Really bad.
Rio’s gaze swept across her face, in a familiar way. “He’s alive. And safe.” She fell back on the bed, releasing a shaky breath. Thankfully he was arrested and not killed. “Celeste, I need you to concentrate. You said he wasn’t involved in some of the reported skirmishes?” She nodded, pushing herself up on one elbow. “You understand he hires people like the ones in those firefights.”
“I know.” She agreed. “But this wasn’t him. I tried to tell your guy last night, but he didn’t believe me.”
“What if I said there’s a possibility you’re right?” Rio watched her intently. “Convince me it’s not him.”
“You didn’t see his face.” The memory was still vivid in her mind. “He didn’t know about the nightclub in Mazatlán until one of his men came in, pulling him aside for a whispered conversation. He told me to go to bed and spent half the night watching international news and making phone calls. Same with Tampico, only he sent me home and flew back to Mexico.” The people killed were innocent tourists at a popular resort. The news reported her father sighted in the area, so they believed he was personally responsible. “The following year, he came to visit for my birthday. That’s when Monclova happened. He left, furious.”
“How many phones does your father use?”
“Just the one.” She hitched a shoulder, not knowing what her father did outside of their visits. “Well, for me, just the one.”
Rio leaned against the foot of the bed, solid arms crossed over his chest, reminding her of another time, another bed. He’d been so relaxed. Sexy. Her fingers had itched to explore his bare chest even though they’d just— “Would you be surprised to find two numbers for him in your contacts?”
She blinked, clearing her mind before replaying his words. Confusion, fear, and a need for answers shot through her, rolling around in an unbalanced mix. “I… No. How is that possible?” Though, yes, her father texting always struck her as odd. So why had she never questioned it, and who had she been talking to?
“How long ago did you start texting?”
“Um, I’d need to check the phone to be sure.” She searched her memory. “Several months, at least. Before that it was occasional phone calls.” She shrugged. “He’s always been concerned about putting me in danger.”
“Everything’s still on your phone? Nothing’s been erased?”
Heat rose up her chest to her cheeks. Obviously he’d seen she erased his message. Well, she wasn’t about to tell the man who was using her to get to her father that she’d been trying to keep him safe. She hadn’t wanted her brother or his men to find Rio’s information before she talked to her father. “No.” She cleared her throat. “All his messages are there.” Her voice trailed away.
Rio gave a single nod. “Did you ever talk to him about the texts?”
She shook her head. “We don’t talk often, and we visit even less.”
He nodded, losing himself in thought for a minute. “Did the house have any hidden video cameras?” Rio asked in a businesslike manner.
“No.” She did a mental run through the house again. “I don’t think so.”
“Good. We’re going to flush out whoever this is, but I need your help to do it.”
She sat there, considering her options, which at this point were few. She could help, or not. And maybe, just maybe, they could prove he wasn’t executing innocent people.
It was still hard to wrap her head around the fact someone was pretending to be her father. Had she shared anything personal? Anything that affected anyone else? Likely not, their conversations didn’t usually venture past the two of them and Leonard. The creepy crawly feeling she’d expected yesterday finally hit her full force.
“Celeste, are you up to it? We can keep you safe, but we’ll need you, in case he asks something we can’t answer.”
She nodded. “Would you take it into account, if we can prove he didn’t do those things?” It might not be much, but if it helped clear his name, it would be worth it.
“I don’t know how much it would help. He’s wanted in both countries after what he’s done.”
“But some may not be him.”
“I’m sure the court would consider it.”
“Okay.” She ran her hands over her shorts. “What do I have to do?”
“We’ll put a plan together this afternoon.” Rio studied her thoughtfully, then straightened, stepping in front of her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key ring and took her wrist. His long fingers burned into her skin. A mechanical crunch and the clamp released, leaving her free. He ran his thumb over the side, so soft it could be a caress. “Celeste.” He looked into her eyes, and she swallowed hard. What she wouldn’t give for a camera right now. Vix smiled from over his shoulder. She stretched out and ran her fingers over the cuffs, biting her bottom lip as she shot him a hot look. Celeste broke eye contact, cursing him inwardly for teaching her body to respond to him. “I—”
“Breakfast.” Kari pushed through the door, carrying the meal he’d requested. “The kitchen staff wasn’t exactly thrilled. They’d just finished cleaning up.”
Celeste pulled her hand back, gingerly rubbing the chafed skin where the cuff had sat. Rio curled his fingers into a fist. He stepped to one side, bringing the rolling table close. “I’ll go by and talk to Jorge.”
“She’s free to move around?” Kari nodded toward the handcuffs.
“With an escort,” he clarified.
“Can I have something else to wear?” Celeste interrupted, annoyed at them speaking as if she wasn’t sitting inches away.
“After everything is searched and catalogued, I’ll have Gatlin get your clothes,” Rio replied as he turned to Kari. “Once she’s eaten, get with Gatlin. He and Celeste are going to build a timeline so we can set a trap for our impostor.”
…
“’Kay. I think we got it,” Gatlin said, coming around to sit on the edge of his desk.
Rio swiveled, sitting back in his chair to see Gatlin’s screen. After clearing the air with Celeste, he opted to set her up with Gatlin since she was obviously still pissed. He’d kept an eye on them throughout the afternoon but she’d been completely focused on her tasks.
“We went back six years,” Gatlin explained. “Social media proved to be the usual gold mine of intel. I can confidently place Oz with Celeste at some birthdays, a couple of holidays, and a random visit.”
“Oz?”
Gatlin snorted. “That’s what she calls him.”
Celeste sat there absently pushing back her cuticles as Gatlin relayed the details of her life. “So why were you getting together this time?” Rio asked.
Gatlin waited. “I got a message to come,” Celeste directed her reply to Gatlin, who plugged in the information.
“So what did you discuss during the visit?” Rio insisted.
“We didn’t,” Celeste said in a clipped tone.
He raised his chin. “You’ve been with him several weeks and you didn’t talk?”
“I was waiting for Oz, but he hadn’t shown up.”
Gatlin brought up two timelines on the screen. The timeframes over the past few years ranging from a long weekend down to a few hours in recent visits. Had they been planning something? Checking in once their scheme went live? Or would a father really travel halfway across the country on his child’s birthday to meet for just a few hours?
Gatlin’s voice brought him back to the present. “—plotted points where they were together then checked against Oz’s murder board.” Celeste shifted uncomfortably while Gatlin overlaid the timelines. “From those, we found six points in common.” The series disappeared, leaving only the overlapping points, three of those marked by large red dots. “Including the three major events in Mazatlán, Tampico, and Monclova. Mazatlán being the worst.” Gatlin zoomed into the first one, the screen filled with one distorted body after another. Celeste shrank back in her seat, her face going ashen despite the new tan. She bit her lip before she averted her eyes from the gruesome scene.
“Move it along,” Rio suggested. Gatlin looked over, confused, leaving an image with decapitated bodies on the screen. Rio glared, his eyes shifting to Celeste then back.
Gatlin’s back stiffened as he realized what he’d done. “Um…” He hit the remote, clicking through the rest of the shots. “We did find three other, minor incidents, escalating to Mazatlán. Known cartel members were among the dead at the first location. Oz took credit for the third incident with a bloody message on the wall. And he was seen in Tampico, the fifth scene, which is how he ended up with credit for the mass—incident.”
Rio looked up at the screen. “The whole writing on the wall thing has always bothered me. It doesn’t go with anything else he’s ever done.” It also didn’t fit the man on the video.
“We assumed he went after a contact at the resort, then literally sent a message.” Gatlin shook his head studying the original board. “Now I’m not so sure.”
“The first one looks like gang on gang. Ayala cartel versus Guerrero’s. We’ll double-check to be sure.” Gatlin nodded in agreement. “The rest is escalation by whoever’s trying to pass for Oz.”
“You still think there’s an inside guy?” Celeste looked up at that, her face pale. Her eyes found his, filled with a glimmer of unshed tears and a heavy dose of hope. It took everything in him to keep from wrapping his arms around her.
“Yes,” he said quietly. Her shoulders sagged, and she released a breath she’d been holding. His attention shot back to Gatlin. “Our guys are pulling out today,” Rio informed. “So if you have questions for Ayala, you need to get them asked ASAP.”
Gatlin dropped the remote beside him and pushed off from the desk. “Roger that.” He picked up his notes. “Let me head next door to use the phone.”
Rio nodded, looking past to where Celeste sat on the far side of the room. She looked so damn small, staring into space, shoulders hunched as if she carried the responsibility for her father’s actions. I hate you. How could you do this to me? Her words echoed within the hollow in his chest. Although the office seemed bigger than ever before, he knew the space between them was a lot more than the few yards separating them.
“If we’re done,” Celeste asked, clearing her throat, “may I go back with Kari?”
“Yes.” He stood, drawing her gaze to him. For half a second he saw recognition of him, as a man. As something he’d been to her back in Breman. But she blinked it away. “I’ll walk you back.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms. “That’s okay. I’m just going next door.”
He had the urge to tell her he’d go, because he made the rules at the facility. But he bit off his words. She didn’t need to hear that, or to know he could make exceptions. “Guests need to be escorted around the grounds. Even next door,” he added. Disappointment, annoyance, and resignation flashed across her face. Her pattern held strong, but she nodded and moved forward, scraping the floor in her government-issued steel-toe boots.
Maybe she’d be more at ease if she realized he wasn’t the enemy. What was a guy supposed to say at a time like this? Most guys would be glad or regretting their actions. He just felt her words echoing inside him. But that was secondary to the fact she carried his child. For a guy who’d grown up alone, shipped off the moment he was born, he was surprisingly good with becoming a father.
Steeling himself, he said, “I got the results of the test.”
Celeste straightened her spine. When she looked up, her expression, or lack of one, knotted the muscles along his throat. “You don’t have to worry,” she said with a cool, businesslike tone. “I’ll take care of everything.”
What? His chest tightened, the pressure splitting the halves in two. No, she couldn’t be thinking of ending the pregnancy.
Her hands covered her stomach. “We’ll be fine once I’m far away from here.” And from him, though she didn’t say it out loud. Still, the simple action gave him a sliver of peace.
With that, she went past him to the hallway, carrying herself with the same serene bearing he’d first seen at the airport. If he hadn’t caught that spark of something in her eyes, he might have believed she was unaffected.
If things were different, he’d be glad she was handing him an easy way out. Otherwise, he’d play the asshole and give her a reason to stay away. But as things were, he didn’t want her to stay away. He needed to find the quirky, fun, sexy woman who’d haunted his dreams for weeks. He had questions that needed answers, for both him and her. They wouldn’t have much time. He’d already laid out a plan to lure in the impostor. At most they’d have a couple of days together, at worst, only a few hours. He had to move now, and he knew exactly where to start.