Chapter Sixteen
Tucker didn’t know what had come over him when Mia compared Micah to one of the Beach Boys. She hadn’t been flirting, but for a few seconds he’d flashed back to the witch he’d been married to, and all the anger and jealousy had boiled to the surface before Brock’s scathing glare brought him back to his senses.
Watching her scrutinize the photo, he’d seen Mia’s admiration for what Micah had done to enhance the detail. Their interaction had been purely professional, and he was ashamed of his earlier reaction. Watching her study the men standing in the background of the photo, Tuck could see her concentrate on each figure before moving to the next. When her gaze landed on the man they were most interested in, he saw her eyes widen in surprise before her brows drew together in a frown.
“Who is this? He doesn’t fit here.”
No shit. It was like one of those picture puzzles you saw in a children’s magazine. Which one of these things is not like the other?
“You’re right. He doesn’t fit. Tell me what you see.” Micah hadn’t moved, and his words were coaxing rather than commanding. The team wanted to tap into her photographer’s eye, and he had to give Micah credit for getting there so effectively. This was the reason Kyle West had insisted on flying the head of Prairie Winds security to the ship rather than waiting a few days for her to arrive on site.
“He’s wearing a suit. Who wears a suit in the jungle? His shoes are wrong. The clothes are wrong and… oh shit, he’s looking right at the camera.”
Tucker watched the blood drain from her pretty face, and she swayed. His feet were already moving before his mind processed the need, and he pulled her into his arms and waited for Brock to slide a chair behind her. Once she was seated, Tucker pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and motioned for her to continue.
“So… does this means the rumors I heard about your government being involved are true?”
Tucker was impressed. She hadn’t missed a beat, assessing the situation in a few seconds and drawing the same conclusion they had after a damned hour-long meeting.
Cam stepped forward and nodded. “I think you’re right. The man you captured in the photograph works for a shadow agency within the CIA.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
“Technically, it means he doesn’t exist. But, that being said, I think his clothing is a clue. Let’s take a closer look.” Micah tapped in a quick command, and the next picture came up zooming in on the man in question. “Do you recognize him, Mia?”
Everyone in the room knew the answer before she had the chance to respond. Her expression reflected recognition almost immediately.
“Yes. He works at one of my grandfather’s banks. He started about a year or so ago in a branch that wasn’t doing very well, but from what I’ve heard, it’s made a remarkable recovery under his leadership.” Tucker saw her hands begin to tremble and knew she was piecing things together. “Oh, fudge. My grandfather is going to go insane when he hears this.”
Tucker wasn’t worried about her grandfather’s frustration at being infiltrated, but he was damned worried about Mia’s safety. The man in the photo was going to use any means necessary to make sure he wasn’t connected to Tyson’s captivity. There wasn’t anyone in the world more dangerous than a covert operator on the cusp of being exposed in the midst of a black op because they had nothing to lose. The whole thing was an international incident in the making.
Four hours later, Mia sagged back in her chair, and Tucker finally gave into temptation and lifted her into his arms and stalked to the door. She’d been grilled about every detail in the photos, the rumors she’d heard, and Tyson’s escape. Micah and Cam had used every interrogation trick in the book and some Tucker wondered if they hadn’t made up on the spot. The only reprieve she’d gotten was the brief FaceTime call with Tally Tyson who’d thanked Mia for the photos and promised they’d meet personally as soon as possible.
“She’s had enough. The rest can wait until she’s been fed and gotten some rest.” Tucker had seen Cam go days without any significant rest, but he wasn’t going to stand by and watch him push Mia to the same point of exhaustion. Before the door closed behind him, he heard Cam’s amused voice.
“Well, that didn’t take as long as I thought it might. Good to see the fire back in his eyes.” Tucker resisted the urge to return and tell his friend to go fuck himself, but it wasn’t easy.
*
Brock watched his brother walk out with Mia cradled in his arms and felt a surge of hope, but it was also tinged with frustration. Turning back to Cameron Barnes and Micah Drake, Brock leaned back in his chair and watched them for several long minutes before speaking.
“Start talking.” This was the first time Brock could remember seeing Cam visibly uncomfortable—hell, he was known for his cool detachment during even the diciest operations.
Micah leaned back against a table with his ankles and arms crossed in front of him. Brock noticed the dark circles under his eyes and wondered how long it had been since he’d rested. It was obvious he’d been working furiously gathering information. Everyone on the Prairie Winds team knew Micah was the go-to man for intel. Brock suspected government contacts used him when their legitimate resources weren’t enough.
“Mia confirmed everything we’ve been hearing for months,” Cam finally broke the silence. “Every rumor she mentioned and a few that probably hadn’t filtered that far down. Her memory and attention to detail are remarkable, Kyle will probably try to hire her.” Cam grinned at Micah, who nodded in agreement. The thought of Mia on an op sent a spike of fear through Brock’s chest.
“Senator Tyson needs to surface—and he needs to do it damned fast or the cartel will cut their losses. There’s no question the man working in Mendez’s bank is playing both sides against the middle. He’s laundering money and skimming. If he was in the U.S., he’d have already been caught, but banking in Colombia isn’t regulated as closely.”
Brock wasn’t interested in the damned laws governing Colombian financial institution and he hoped his impatience showed.
Micah tapped a command into his phone and another picture appeared on the screen. This one showed two men watching from the shadows as he and Tucker escorted Mia along the dock.
“So, they knew where we were all along?” If that was true why hadn’t they tried to stop her?
“These men work for Lucia.” Cam’s use of Mia’s grandfather’s first name implied they were closer than former acquaintances. “Not everyone on General Moreno’s team is loyal to him, some of them are loyal to their boss—as they should be. They’ve had to shut down each time she’s tried to leave the country, and from what I’ve heard, they were happy to sit this one out.” The gleam in Cam’s eyes meant the guys had probably already been paid off before they arrived with Mia. The man never ceased to amaze him.
“Where is Tyson being held, and who’s calling the shots?” They’d been sent to Colombia to find out what Mia knew and retrieve the senator, and Brock had to keep reminding himself the second part of that mission still hadn’t been achieved.
“He’s being held in a hotel in Medellin. Ironically, it’s not far from the hospital Mendez is in. I swear the whole damned country operates in a four-block radius. Christ, it’s worse than a small town. Everybody is up in everybody else’s businesses.” When they all blinked in surprise at Micah’s outburst, he rubbed his hand over his face in obvious frustration.
“Shit. Sorry, but the more I learn about this mess, the less I seem to know. Phoenix is just as baffled, and I would have sworn that wasn’t possible.”
Brock agreed, Phoenix Morgan was one of the smartest men in the country. He’d made his first million while in high school, writing programs for games and completed college when most people were still trying to figure out where the student union was during Rush Week. If Micah and Phoenix hadn’t figured out who was who in this zoo, Brock didn’t stand a chance.
“If we know where Tyson is, why aren’t we pulling him out?” Brock suspected he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear their confirmation.
“We need to be damned sure what we’re walking into. Everyone who knows Karl believes he’s a victim. If he’s suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, he might not be willing to leave.” Micah looked at Cam, who shrugged. “Cam isn’t as trusting, and with his experience, no one is willing to discount his opinion.”
“Damn,” Cam chuckled, “he makes me sound like a skeptical bastard, doesn’t he?”
“And that, gentlemen, is my cue.” CeCe stood up and shook her head. “I’m going to relax by the pool and drink something decadent and filled with all the goodies I won’t be able to have if all goes according to plan.”
Brock watched as she kissed both of her husbands and walked out. He also knew he shouldn’t waste any time getting the information he wanted because neither Cam nor Carl would leave their spirited wife unattended for long.
With the door once again closed, Cam leaned back and propped his feet on the desk.
“I think there are other possibilities. Don’t discount the possibility the man was in bed with one faction of the cartel before arriving and was held by an opposing group.” When Brock raised his brows, Cam held up his hand. “I’m not convinced that’s the case, but I think it’s something which bears consideration. I know the team discussed this contingency, and I don’t have anything to add to their previous information. I just want all the cards on the table.”
Carl leaned forward and flipped through a folder before speaking. “Have you considered mind altering drugs? Maybe he’s being drugged and prepped before a pseudo-rescue by the same group holding him. With his political aspirations, he’d be a damned powerful ally as a senator and exponentially more valuable if he becomes President.”
Micah shrugged. “I called Joelle Morgan and Merilee Lanham. Both women have extensive backgrounds in pharmaceuticals.” No shit. Joelle recently won a Nobel prize for her work with the drugs used for cancer treatment. And Merilee was the Chief Executive Officer of a medical center, she had her ear to the ground on all the latest mind-altering drugs. “They’ve given me an extensive list of possible drugs and a very short list of facilities with the confidential resources to help if this is the problem.”
Brock waited for several seconds and when no one else spoke up, he decided to say what no one else wanted to.
“And what’s the plan if you find out he’s dirty? What happens if your surveillance shows he’s complicit?” Micah was the only one who knew the Senator well enough to count him as a friend, and he saw the man flinch ever so slightly at the blunt questions.
“We’ll walk away. The pictures will disappear because no one wants to further endanger Mia even though I’d love to leak them to a few of my contacts to keep the pressure on the rogue operator, but I suspect Lucia Mendez and the cartel will take care of the problem.”
“Timeline?” Brock hoped they wouldn’t attempt a rescue until Mia was safely ensconced at Prairie Winds.
“They’re still watching, but there’s been some unusual activity at the hotel in the last couple of hours, so the team is on standby. We’re docking in Cozumel tomorrow to avoid drawing unwanted attention by changing our itinerary. There are already guests asking about your presence and the chopper landing on the deck early this morning. Why anyone was up at the ass crack of dawn I don’t know, but there you have it.”
Brock laughed at Cam’s frustration. After a career in Black Ops followed by years owning and operating a kink club, Cam Barnes was a sworn night owl. His dislike for dawn was well known.
Micah rolled his eyes. “In case anyone asks, I’m a real estate agent Mr. Barnes summoned because he doesn’t have the fucking patience to wait until docking in Texas to see what properties are available between Houston and Austin. I think it’s a brilliant cover because everyone knows he has the patience of a gnat.”
“Fuck you, Drake,” Cam’s laughter defied his harsh words, and Micah just shrugged because everyone knew what he’d said was the truth.
Brock shook his head and headed for the door. “Keep us posted. I want to check on Mia, you asshats badgered her into exhaustion. If you fucked up our plans for tonight, I’ll shoot you with your own guns and throw your disrespectful asses overboard.” The last thing he heard as the door closed behind him was their taunts and howling laughter. Arrogant fuckers.