Chapter Seventeen
Celeste glanced around at the group gathered in the conference room. Men filled several rows of chairs while Kari made herself comfortable on a side table. She winked, patting the spot beside her. Vix leaned her hip on the table, crossing her arms as she took in the whole group with a big grin.
Celeste crossed the room, her inner fashionista chastising her for purposely standing next to someone wearing the exact same outfit she wore. But nobody seemed to give them a second look.
Ever since showing up for breakfast, things had been different. No more curious looks. No checking her out. The men had been courteous and respectful. Heat climbed up her cheeks. They must all know where she spent the night.
“Settle down, guys,” Gatlin bellowed as Rio took the floor. Even among the cast of military men, he stood out as a man in command.
“We’ve identified another threat from the Ayala cartel,” Rio began.
“But we got Ayala himself, didn’t we?” one of the men asked.
“Ayala and the others captured during the raid are in custody,” Rio replied. “But recent intel leads us to believe we have an imposter passing himself off as Ayala.” A handful of curses made their way around the room. “I extended the forty-eight-hour media blackout on the arrests in order to lure out our unsub. Gatlin will give you the details.”
Rio stepped back, folding his arms as he leaned against the far wall. Their gazes locked for several heartbeats, and she could almost feel him surrounding her again.
Gatlin brought up their presentation on the screen. “This is the timeline we have for Ayala.” He clicked, separating the timelines. “Our intel says the unsub may be responsible for the events in Mazatlán, Tampico, and Monclova where we had tourists and non-cartel casualties.” Anger raked at her insides, leaving her chest raw. “In addition, we have two other events in Hermosillo and Juarez that don’t fit his M.O.”
“Do we have any idea who the unsub might be?” the man behind her asked.
“No,” Rio replied. “We only learned about the imposter after we arrested Ayala.”
“This could be a rival cartel or one of his own crew.” Gatlin switched to a diagram of Oz’s organization. “The unsub has a phone we’re tracking, but it’s an older generation, so no GPS.” The group replied with a grunt and a couple of annoyed exhales. “The best I can tell you is he/she is in Monterrey.”
With a city the size of Monterrey, it would be nearly impossible to pinpoint someone if you didn’t know who you were looking for.
“We’ll be rolling directly after the briefing so we can set up Eagle’s Nest at the Flamenco. Four teams will be dispatched at thirty-minute intervals to surround La Caverna hotel, the plaza on the next block, and the warehouse at the rear. We’ll be rerouting traffic so we have as little civilian intervention as possible.” The screen showed a twelve-block area with highlighted spots. “Snow White will check into the hotel, then walk out the back to switch off with Parker. I’ll take Snow White to Eagle’s Nest and text the unsub with the meet-point.”
Rio’s gaze found her again, a hint of amusement on his lips at Gatlin’s use of her code name.
“We don’t know where this guy is, so it could be hours or it could be days.” Several men nodded. “Parker will set up a pinhole camera in the hallway in case he decides to track her down.” He brought up a blueprint of the hotel. “Once we’ve identified the unsub, we’ll move in. Remember, we want to bring this guy in alive. We need information on his network.”
“We’ll make contact with the unsub once the second team is in position,” Rio added. “Holiday will be on point at Eagle’s Nest.” A man with a too-serious expression nodded toward her. “I’ll run the op with Damian, from the communications van.”
“Any questions?” Gatlin asked, looking around the room.
Kari raised her hand. “More of a comment, since I don’t usually have an active part in these things.”
“Go ahead.”
“I can’t stress enough how important it is to keep your medic safe and unharmed,” she said with a heartfelt expression and a hand to her chest. Celeste grinned as chairs scraped the floor and a couple of the guys shot out dismissing remarks.
Gatlin just shook his head. “Let’s roll.”
…
The taxi cut through traffic at breakneck speed. Celeste grasped the door handle and seat, hanging on for dear life. She wanted to check on Kari’s car to see if she was still in one piece. Rio’s plan started with them traveling separately. If they arrived together, the story about her escaping the raid wouldn’t sound true. Instead, the group would meet at La Caverna then split up.
The driver made a sharp right, coming to a hard stop in front of the hotel. “Here you go, lady.” Celeste handed him the fare and a generous tip for delivering her alive before stepping out to the sidewalk. She resisted the urge to search the street for the car with Kari and Gatlin. Even though, with her oversized sunglasses, nobody would likely notice.
She went to the front desk, asking for a room on the first floor.
“Only one night, miss?” asked the older lady, her nails clicking away at the keyboard.
“Yes.”
“Do you need help with your luggage? I can call someone up front.” Her voice dropped off with a note of curiosity.
“I’ll be fine.” Rio had drummed in the fact she shouldn’t offer information if she wasn’t asked a direct question. Not much different than what she’d done all her life.
The woman laid a key card on the counter. An image of her last hotel check-in filtered through her mind. She’d still been trying to figure out what to do with the second card when he’d stepped up.
“Room six. Take the hall to your left. The room is at the end, by the exit.”
“Thank you.” She walked down the quiet hall, chanting don’t come out to herself with every other step. As luck would have it, she made it all the way to the exit and nobody left their room. Kari, dressed in similar jeans and top, waited by the glass door, pretending to text. The key handoff was quick, without either one of them making eye contact. Kari went into the hotel while Celeste ducked into the car with Gatlin, lying down on the backseat.
“You okay back there? You looked a little unsteady.”
“Did you see his driving?” They lurched forward. Celeste braced herself for another wild ride.
“The driving around here takes nerves of steel.”
To say the least.
“Sending the message,” he said with finality.
She crossed her fingers, replaying the text to herself. I’m safe. Checked into La Caverna to shower and rest. Please bring me some clothes when you come by.
“’Kay, done. Keep your head down. I’ll let you know when we’re clear.” He shifted gears and they continued at a normal pace for several miles.
“You can sit up now.”
“Okay.” Pushing herself up, she watched the Saltillo suburb rush by. Most of the storefronts and the passing city buses screamed last century. Some quaint and old-fashioned while others just looked old.
Gatlin slowed the car as they neared a roundabout with one of those huge statues of some important person in Mexico’s history. To the right sat the Flamenco, a Spanish-style, two-story hotel resembling a villa. They pulled into the drive, going around back to park away from the building. She reached for the door.
“Stop,” Gatlin barked. Celeste froze, not knowing what was wrong. “Study your surroundings before you put yourself in danger.”
Her eyes went huge. “You think I might still be in danger?”
“Consider that the person we’re hunting might have a hired gun.”
“Someone else could be out there,” she whispered. The weight of possibility landed squarely on her shoulders. The world felt huge around her, leaving her to sit there like a little speck with a giant red X on her chest.
Gatlin waited while she glanced around. “What do you see?”
This was like a scene out of a movie. The seasoned cop training a rookie to find the thing that didn’t belong. She straightened, feeling the pressure to succeed. “Um, a half-empty parking lot. Mostly cars, two SUVs, and a delivery truck. Heavy traffic on the main street. A man selling fruit.” She peered through a line of trees planted down the center of a boulevard. “There’s a couple on a bench by the bus stop.”
“And?”
What had she missed?
“Did you see anyone sitting nearby?”
“I didn’t—” She craned her neck, looking at the vehicles to her right.
“Too obvious, Snow White.”
Celeste cringed, shrinking back against the seat. Amateur move, she had to live up to her role. She tried again, twisting in place. “I’m going to pretend to talk to you, and look around.” Nothing next to them. One more, then another. Yes! “There’s someone in a bronze car, on the phone.”
“Be specific. Male or female? Give a description. Even a general description is better than nothing.”
“Four spots to the left. Older bronze Taurus, I think, parked away from the building. Person with short hair, possible male, on a phone.”
“Better.” Gatlin gave her a thumbs-up. “The call could be a cover while sending information or checking the surroundings.”
She nodded. It made sense. How many times had she seen characters on a TV show do the same thing?
“Okay, let’s go.”
She clutched the door handle. “Shouldn’t we wait until he’s gone?”
“What if he’s calling for reinforcements?”
Now she wanted to puke. “Then what should I do?”
“If you don’t feel safe, you don’t stop. In our case, we go inside, with our reinforcements.” He opened the door. “And because we’re not sure about Mr. Cell Phone Guy, I’m going to be on your left so he’s in my line of sight while we walk.” They crossed the parking lot while Gatlin pretended to listen to her intently. “Looking good. He’s backing out of the space.”
“How do you know he’s not a threat?”
“I’ve had people monitoring every call from this area.” He swiped the card to get in the side door, putting a hand behind her shoulder to lead her inside. “Stairs. Second floor.”
“Every call?” How was that even possible?
“Every call. He was arguing with his wife. She thinks he’s messing around with his secretary?” She raised her brows as she rounded onto the next flight. “She’s wrong. He brought one of her friends.”
They emerged to find a familiar-looking handyman working on a nearby window. He nodded, pulling a key to let them in.
“Got a reply.” Gatlin drew the phone from his pocket.
“Oh.” Wide-eyed, she leaned in, reading the response. Good girl. I’ll see you shortly. Whoever it was sounded just like her father—short, sweet, and to the point. Gatlin typed out Let me know when you’re here. I’ll meet you in the plaza behind the hotel. He hit send as they went in the room.
Inside, a dozen men were in a rush of activity around the large suite. Rio looked up from loading his bag when the door opened.
“We got a reply.” Gatlin held up the cell then shoved it in his pocket.
“Yeah, Damian reports the phone’s on the move.”
Gatlin acknowledged with a nod, yanking his shirt over his head. “I’ll clear the room.”
Celeste sidestepped as men filed past her on the way out, each of them wearing a dark uniform and bulletproof vest covered by a button-up shirt, their head gear and weapon in the bags they carried. This was how they moved around town without calling attention to themselves.
“You’ll be safe here,” Rio assured her. “Holiday will be outside as a precaution.”
Celeste nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Why don’t you try and get some rest.” His eyes shot to a bedroom door. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Seriously? You expect me to just stretch out and nap?”
“It’s a stressful situation, you’re pregnant, and you didn’t exactly get a good night’s sleep.” She couldn’t argue with any of it. Rio dropped a kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back.”
“Be careful.” Celeste’s stomach tightened as he followed Gatlin out the door. Oh God. How could women watch their men go out into danger every day and stay sane. What was she going to do until they came back? And who would they find? Some faceless person Oz employed? Someone who’d obviously turned against him without him realizing it. What if they didn’t catch him? She wrapped her arms around herself, her nails dragging across her elbows. Oz would end up paying for the atrocities this man had committed in his name. The courts would surely crucify him. And she, the only one in contact with the imposter, the only one that could have figured out something was wrong, had missed any possible clue. Did Mexican courts have due process? Did he have any rights? What he needed was a lawyer.
She turned to the desk. Leonard. As much as her conscience rebelled at the thought, she’d have to call her brother. But when she picked up the receiver, she got no dial tone. Pressing and releasing the button a couple of times didn’t help. Then she checked behind the phone, where the wire should be plugged in. Nothing. “What?” Bastards. They left her with no way to call out.
Dashing into the bedroom, she found another dead phone. Anger pinched at her stomach. The world was revolving around her, and all she could do was watch things happen. The sheer helplessness made her want to scream, break something against the wall, or pitch it out a window. With a headache building behind her eyes, she went to the bathroom, hoping to find a pain reliever. Instead, she sped up when she spotted a phone built into the cabinet beside the toilet.
Relief coursed through her as she reached for the receiver. Don’t do it. She paused. What she was about to do was a step from treasonous. She bit her lip, curling her fingers into her palms. But for her father to have any chance of making it through this, he needed a lawyer. And the only person she knew who could make that happen in Mexico was Leonard. Don’t do it. She picked up the receiver and dialed his number, waiting while the line beeped. Don’t do it. “Come on. Come oooon.”
“Bueno?”
“Leonard,” she said, relieved. “It’s Celeste.”
“Victoria? Where are you?” he asked, switching to English.
She didn’t have time to explain everything. “I’m at a hotel. Father’s been arrested. Can you get him an attorney?” Then it occurred to her, considering their father’s tendency to be prepared. “Or does he keep someone on retainer?”
“Arrested? Where?”
“Yes. I don’t know where.” For all she knew he could have been in the same camp, in the middle of nowhere.
“Are you sure?” he asked, incredulous. “It hasn’t hit the news.” And something as huge as Victor Ayala being arrested would surely hit the news in several countries.
“Yes. I’m sure.” Was it too much to ask that he take her word on this?
“Hold on a minute.” Leonard was quiet for a few heart-stopping seconds. They had to hurry. No telling when and if someone would come check on her. “We’ll need to come up with a plan. I was heading to the ranch—”
“We need to find him a lawyer.”
“Okay. Let me make some phone calls and I’ll come get you.”
Come get her? She couldn’t exactly take off with him. Especially not while she was trying to help clear her father’s name.
“Or don’t you want to see him?” Leonard asked, with a note of censure.
Guilt needled its way through her. She paused, searching for the right words. He’s your father. How could you not realize it wasn’t him on the phone? He’s facing the death penalty. Death penalty. You missed the clues and let him walk into an ambush. Oz didn’t text. Oz didn’t check on her at random. Oz didn’t ask if she needed money. Why didn’t she question what happened? And why would this person reach out to her? Why not Leonard? Should she ask him? In the back of her mind, Vix shook her head vigorously. “Of course I do,” she finally answered. Doubt whispered in her conscience. What would Rio say? Well, she’d been let off her leash to a certain point. The guy sitting outside was to keep people out. Should she go? She’d never expected to have the opportunity to see Oz. “Okay, I’m at the Flamenco Hotel in Saltillo. Come around back.”
“Perfect. I’m not far. Give me an hour or so. I’ve got a guy that can get him out.”