The Cain Casey Series

Chapter Thirty-One

“What time do you want me there in the morning?” Anthony asked Juan as they headed to the airport. Because of Rodolfo’s displeasure that Juan had hired him and their dinner the night before with Nunzio Luca, Rodolfo was sending Juan home. In the short time Anthony had spent with Juan, though, he knew Juan would never go, and he was right.

“You weren’t paying attention, Mr. FBI?” Juan asked, sounding pissed. Since they’d pulled away from the Piquant, Juan had stared out the window and slapped his hand against his leg. “I’ve told you a hundred times already, and if you didn’t understand, maybe I fucked up by hiring you. Maybe Casey was right when she said you’re all a bunch of dumb fucks.”

“Cain Casey is about as smart as a bag of shit. She has more luck than brains, I assure you.” Anthony tried not to let his bias show, but when Juan smiled at him for the first time that day, he knew he’d failed miserably. “Do you want me to do anything about her while you’re gone?”

“Don’t worry about Cain. I’ve got that covered.”

“But if you’re not here, don’t you want to make sure it’s done right?”

Juan quit staring out the window and faced him. “You just worry about what I asked you to do and forget the rest.”

The Spanish accent made Juan’s y’s sound like j’s, but he spoke so slowly Anthony couldn’t mistake the words as well as the threat behind them. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of an idiot as Anthony had believed; perhaps Juan really had learned something from Rodolfo.

“I just wanted to help since I thought that’s why you wanted me around,” Anthony said, trying to appease him. “Cain isn’t someone to take on lightly.”

“Didn’t you say she’s just lucky?”

“She is, but you have to give her some credit. If you go after her and fail, remember she’s hot-headed. She’ll come after you with all she’s got, and if she’s joined forces with Ramon and the evil twins, they could be dangerous.”

Juan laughed and reclined farther into the seat. “Who said anything about going after that bitch?”

The question made Anthony pause. Juan obviously had a plan, and Anthony was running out of time to try to figure out what it was.

“Sounds interesting,” Anthony said, fishing for more information.

“Tomorrow at nine,” Juan said as the car stopped at the AeroMexico terminal. Rodolfo’s man Carolos Santiago, carrying Juan’s ticket and passport, emerged from the front seat and held the door for him. “Be here or don’t fucking call me,” Juan added before getting out.

“Your uncle expects you to stay home until he returns,” Carlos said in Spanish. “He has your mother waiting at the house.”

“For what? To babysit me?”

“As soon as he’s done with his business here he wants to talk to both of you,” Carlos said, obviously not caring to respond to Juan’s sarcasm. “He wanted me to express how disappointed he’ll be if you choose to ignore him again.”

“He could’ve told me himself.”

“You and I both know it’ll be better for you if he cools off.” Carlos handed him his papers as another man lifted his luggage out of the trunk. The other guard waited to walk Juan in. “Jesus will wait with you until your plane leaves.”

“I can get on a plane by myself, Carlos,” Juan said with aggravation.

“I used to think you could do all sorts of things to help out Mr. Rodolfo, but you proved me wrong so I’m not taking any chances.”

“Remember that my uncle won’t live forever, and one day you’ll work for me. When that day comes, I won’t forget this one.” Juan shoved his ticket into his jacket pocket and stormed off, with Jesus trailing him.

In the car, Anthony stayed quiet, trying to decipher some of the conversation. It took him a second to realize that Carlos was still standing there holding the door open. He started to get out, since he figured these goons weren’t about to give him a ride back to the city.

“Agent Curtis, you don’t think we’d leave you stranded?” Carlos asked, almost as if he’d read his mind. He had his hand up, blocking Anthony. “Sit back and let us give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to bother, I can catch a cab.” Anthony tried to get out again, but Carlos leaned farther in, his jacket flapping open to the gun he wore. Someone else opened the other passenger door, slid in, and pressed a pistol into Anthony’s side before he could reach for his.

“Mr. Luis would like to talk to you, so I insist on giving you that ride,” Carlos said before he slammed the door shut.

The guy sitting next to him had to have come from another car, since Anthony had never seen him, and he froze as the guy removed his gun and handed it to Carlos. After that his new friend patted him down and removed the other weapon from his ankle holster. He slipped that one into his jacket pocket. Then he ran his hand along Anthony’s body for any surveillance equipment, going so slowly and doing such a thorough job that he felt violated enough to crave a shower.

“What does Rodolfo want with me?” Anthony slapped his hand to the side of his head as soon as he asked, trying to rub away the pain of the blow the guy had delivered with the butt of his gun. When he took his hand away his fingers were bloody. “What in the hell was that for?” he asked louder than he’d intended.

“I’ve worked for Mr. Luis half my life,” Carlos said, never turning around, “and I’d never disrespect him by calling him by his first name. Pedro was just giving you a lesson in manners.”

Unarmed and bleeding, Anthony sat quietly for the rest of the ride. He kept reminding himself that he was smarter than all these people combined, but he had to stay calm if he was going to get out of this alive. As they exited the interstate, a car accident had backed up traffic, a perfect chance to escape, but his watcher must have sensed the same thing and pushed the barrel of his gun so viciously into his side that Anthony winced.

As they finally approached the hotel, sweat accumulated under his arms and down his back. Would anyone even notice if these idiots killed him and took him out with the trash?

“If you cause a scene in the lobby, Agent Curtis, I swear on my mother’s head you will live to regret it,” Carlos said.

The threat made him behave until Carlos swiped his key card at Rodolfo’s suite door. Rodolfo was sitting in the same spot he’d chosen the last time they met, only this time the drapes were closed. Anthony sat down.

“No one asked you to sit, Mr. Curtis,” Rodolfo said, then crossed his legs. “You aren’t a very mannered man, are you?”

“My manners are fine, I just have a headache,” Anthony said as he pointed to his head where he’d been hit, but stood after Rodolfo’s reprimand. “That would put anyone in a bad mood.”

“You’re just an innocent victim in all this, I’m sure.” Rodolfo laughed. “You can tend to your head in a bit since I’m not planning to keep you long.”

“If you want to offer me a job—my dance card’s full.” Carlos came closer and he almost expected to get hit again.

“My nephew’s not very smart and seldom thinks, but don’t put me in the same league. I don’t want to offer you a job. I want to give you fair warning.” Rodolfo got to his feet and stepped close enough that Anthony could smell his cologne. “Go home and tend to your head and be grateful that’s all that happened.”

“I don’t work for you, Mr. Luis, so, with all due respect, I don’t have to take orders from you.” He heard the whoosh of air behind him just before the pain in his head drove him to his knees. When Anthony could open his eyes, Carlos stood over him, holding his own gun to his head.

“Supposedly you work for my nephew, but you and I both know who you really work for, so I want you gone. If you talk to Juan again…well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.” Rodolfo pressed his fingers to the oozing wound and looked at them before he painted Anthony’s cheek with the blood that coated them. “Like you said, though, you don’t work for me, but I want you to remember one thing.”

“What?”

“The next time I call you in for a talk, don’t beg for mercy or cry for salvation, because there won’t be any.”

Anthony was still on his knees, which made Rodolfo seem taller when he peered up at him. “If you believe I still work for the FBI, isn’t treating me like this stupid?”

“Do you think anyone in this room but you is going to admit this meeting took place? Go home and back to your job, Mr. Curtis, and you won’t have a thing to worry about. If you don’t, you won’t be of consequence to anyone for long.”

Rodolfo left the room, and Carlos picked Anthony up and handed him to Pedro. “Now you can take that cab, Agent Curtis.”

“What about my guns?”

“You know what I think?”

“What?”

“That this won’t be the last time we talk.” Carlos suddenly grabbed Anthony’s crotch and squeezed so hard his eyes welled with tears. “When we have to talk again, I’m going to shoot this off first and send it to that pretty lady you work for.” He squeezed harder. “Then I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes with your FBI gun that I’m keeping to show my friends.” Carlos laughed before throwing him out.

Out in the hall Anthony leaned against the wall well away from the suite, trying to get his heart rate down. He needed to concoct a new plan before Juan returned the next night. No matter what it was, Carlos, Rodolfo, and Pedro were going down.

“And when that happens, you son of a bitch, don’t beg me for mercy,” he said, referring to Rodolfo. “Because I’m going to pull the fucking trigger three times, and it’s going to feel sweet.”