Whispered Lies

TWENTY-FOUR

VESTAVIA LIFTED A file from his desk for the first phase of the Renaissance.

No one country could be a superpower. Not forever.

The only way the United States would ever become manageable was by cracking the infrastructure first to determine the strongest areas within the country, then undermining each of those.

What better way to bait a trap than their insatiable thirst for crude oil?

“You’re sure all four of them are prepared?” he asked Josie, who was lounging on the oversize sofa he’d had the decorator put in his Miami office for late nights.

She stopped thumbing the touch-tone screen on her iPhone and brushed a length of deep-chestnut brown hair behind her shoulder when she lifted her head. Of all the exquisite international art in his south-Florida office, she was by far his finest acquisition.

“The teenagers are a little shaky, but we only need one for sure,” she answered him, tapping her index finger against the iPhone case. “Since the other two are just backup and won’t have to actually do anything, I think we’re fine. And Kathryn still thinks she’s working undercover to protect Evelyn, so she isn’t going to give us any problem.”

“Go on.” Vestavia came around the desk and leaned against the front edge with his arms crossed. He drank in every inch of Josie in her red skirt suit and white, low-cut silk blouse.

“All the teens believe the story we’ve given them. And this”-she lifted a cell phone into view that matched her personal iPhone-“is programmed to send out three different transmissions at the same time.”

Well aware of what made this electronic gadget special, Vestavia smiled. “You’ve done an excellent job, Josephine.”

She preened under his compliment. This woman kicked in doors with a weapon drawn, but she was liquid sugar in his hand.

“This will solidify my position as the one to listen to within the North American Fratelli,” he said. “No one should vote against the next plan I propose after this. It’s annoying to be handcuffed by this ridiculous decision-by-committee the Fratelli use, but we can maneuver around them.”

“We are all so fortunate to have you,” she said in a voice bursting with admiration.

“What did you get out of Turga’s pilot?”

A frown disturbed the smooth lines of her classic beauty. “Everything possible before his heart gave out. The pilot was midtwenties and looked very fit. The medic’s examination prior to interrogation did not pick up a heart murmur. As a side note, the medic has been relieved of duty.” Her gaze hardened. “Permanently. But the pilot did give us the name of the man Turga had captured once he stopped blubbering about his wife and new baby needing him and the baby was sick and on and on. I reminded him that if his wife and baby ended up living under an overpass, they would still be better off than him…unless I ran out of patience and brought them in. That loosened him up. That and a method of skin removal I find very persuasive.” Josie beamed a proud smile. “He said the man Turga captured was Carlos, but never heard a last name or a name for the woman that was Carlos’s girlfriend.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That and some very good sketches of Carlos and the woman I’ve inputted into our imaging program. The woman’s sketch is unremarkable, but we’ll know soon if there is a hit on their faces.” She tapped a scarlet fingernail on her lip. “I interrogated him myself.”

No question Turga’s pilot gave up everything.

“I’ll be watching the national news tomorrow morning.” Vestavia opened his arms to her when Josie stood. She glowed, flush with excitement, when she stepped into his embrace. He kissed her deeply. “Too bad you have to catch a plane or I’d lock the office door for a couple hours.”

Her lips curled with a wicked thought. She stretched around him to hit the remote on his desk that locked the door to his office, then reached down to unzip him. “I’ll use the helicopter instead of a cab…if you approve?” The whispered words followed her as she dropped down on her knees.

“Granted.”

This was a woman worthy of an Angeli.

If she wasn’t so competent in the field, he’d bring her inside permanently. Maybe in a couple years. The only time she allowed her feelings to show was around him, such as now, when she raised love-filled eyes to his.

He brushed his hand over her soft hair.

She lowered her head, putting that amazing mouth to immediate use. He gripped the desk behind him.

Truly an angel of mercy.

CARLOS ENDED THE call with Joe and closed his phone. He wiped hair damp from humidity off his forehead and guided Gabrielle along the tree-lined street in Caracas. In another hour it would be dark and they’d have to take off their shades. They’d both opted for short-sleeved T-shirts and jeans to blend in, but he’d rather not have her in Venezuela at all.

She refused to tell anyone else how to locate the informants, which he understood. Joe hadn’t fooled her with his easy agreement. Gabrielle was using every stall tactic she could find to avoid Joe and Interpol, plus she’d made a valid point about her being the only one capable of convincing Ferdinand to talk once they found him. The time line from Linette’s last missive was the “end of this week,” which Joe was taking as Friday, tomorrow-the reason he agreed to let Gabrielle go to Venezuela.

Time was the one nonnegotiable part of this mission.

And this trip was turning into another dead end, which might be literal if they were recognized.

“What did Joe say?” Gabrielle asked in a low voice, eyes moving back and forth nervously.

People were too close to her for Carlos’s comfort, and dark was creeping over the end of another business day here.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.” He led her to a fountain near Plaza Bolivar, where the water would allow them to talk and misting cool air offered a reprieve from the heat.

“Sounds like he guessed right,” Carlos answered once they stood with their back to the fountain so he could watch the streets crowded with rush-hour traffic. “Retter’s last message confirmed the secret meeting in Columbia Friday afternoon will be at the Fuentes estate. Joe is starting to think this meeting might have been orchestrated by a third, unknown party who has plans to do something, like launch an attack on the meeting. If so, that would mean someone is trying to pull the U.S. and South American into a conflict.”

“Who is representing the U.S. at the meeting?”

Carlos kept his eyes peeled for any threat and answered, “Joe was able to confirm both the president and vice president would remain in the U.S. The cabinet is still deciding who to send, but once they do, Joe will know. Retter has a dossier on Amelia so he’s on the lookout for her in case she doesn’t go to the U.S., plus in addition to the heavy security his team will cover the Fuentes home during the meeting to watch for anything unusual.”

“This whole thing is too bizarre,” Gabrielle marveled. “What could be happening with the teenagers? Brainwashing to commit some kind of crime?”

“I don’t know, but experience has taught me to be prepared for the unexpected.”

She released a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. “I’m worried about not finding Ferdinand and his son.”

They should have found the men by now. The ever-resourceful Jake had confiscated an even better jet while he was grounded in Milano. This was a hybrid Lear that flew Mach speeds, getting them to Venezuela in record time, but three hours of searching for her contacts today had been fruitless.

She shook her head at some silent thought. “I spent a year tracking them and setting traps to prove to myself that they were trustworthy and to be able to locate them if necessary. I hate to think what may have happened to them. I can’t find Ferdinand, Linette could be anywhere in the world if she’s with this Fratelli group…I’m so tired of losing people.”

Carlos reached out and lifted her chin with his fingers. “I won’t tell you we can definitely find Linette, but our people are the best. As for your contacts, maybe there’s a good reason they’re missing.” Man, what a liar. Ferdinand and his son were likely dead, but Carlos wanted to erase the misery eating at her for a while until they knew for sure.

“Someone should know where they are,” she muttered, thinking out loud. “Why would Ferdinand’s son close his pawnshop for several days during the week?” She shook her head. “This is a small community. People working in the neighboring stores were surprised he wasn’t there. I don’t like this.”

Carlos didn’t either, especially since they were only an hour’s ride from Durand’s compound. Something felt wrong.

But he wanted Gabrielle out of this country. Now.

“I agree.” Carlos shifted to a more productive topic. “Joe said Korbin and Rae found the clinic in Zurich, but the entire place is full of teenagers.”

“Wonder why?”

“Physical therapy. All the teens are physically challenged. Rae thinks she recognized one from her file photos that favors Evelyn. She and Korbin are searching for a way to get inside for a closer look.”

“So what are we going to do?” Gabrielle asked that with all the enthusiasm of someone on death row. She’d run out of options and knew it.

“I told Joe we’d wrap up here and head to Zurich to help them identify the teens.” That had caused a heated discussion, but Joe had finally agreed, reminding Carlos that Gabrielle had to come back to the States at some point.

Her quick intake of breath confirmed she hadn’t expected a chance to dodge Joe again. “Good idea.” Gabrielle frowned next. “But I don’t want to leave without finding Ferdinand, to make sure he’s safe.”

“The longer we spend here asking about him, the more suspicion we’ll arouse. Retter and his team will search for them without drawing attention. Ferdinand might have heard about you asking for him and is hiding.”

“I hadn’t considered that.” When she didn’t continue, he could see she was accepting the decision to leave.

Carlos took her hand and walked in the direction of where their car was parked two blocks away. They hadn’t eaten since landing. He’d find a restaurant, then call Jake on the way to the car to give him a thirty-minute notice to prepare to leave.

“We’re missing something significant and I feel like it’s right under our noses,” Gabrielle complained. “Why can’t your people put this together faster?”

Carlos ignored her surly tone. He was just as frustrated as her. “My people are doing everything humanly possible right now. Let’s grab something to eat before we get back.”

She gave him a wry grin. “Trying to appease me? I can think of more interesting ways to put me in a better mood.”

“Insatiable wench.” Carlos smiled to hide the sick feeling in his gut over what she’d told him last night.

How could he possibly make love to her again with what he now knew? To do so without revealing his true identity would be using her. Never.

She laughed and gave him an exaggerated sigh, content to walk quietly alongside him.

He’d forgotten how intimate holding hands could feel. Such a simple gesture, but one he hadn’t shared since losing Helena.

His and Gabrielle’s destinies were never meant to cross. Now that his had intersected hers, they could not continue without causing harm to those he cared for.

Which included Gabrielle.

She’d shaken loose feelings he’d kept locked away for years out of survival instincts.

Gabrielle was sunshine warming his cold existence. He wanted to hold her in his arms for the rest of his life and wake up to her scent every morning.

But most important, she was the woman he had to find a way to shield forever from Durand and the Fratelli, then walk away from to protect. Hard to miss the irony in all this. Gabrielle had worked as hard to find Alejandro Anguis and bring him to justice as Carlos had worked to keep family secrets such as Alejandro’s identity buried.

Losing Gabrielle would rip his soul into pieces and leave a heartless bastard not even Joe could save.

“How about this place?” Gabrielle stopped in front of a sports bar.

“Works for me.” Carlos led her inside, where a short, black-haired girl in a rainbow-colored skirt and peasant top led them through a smoky room where several televisions dangled from the ceiling. He asked for a table in the corner so he could keep an eye on the entire room. A waiter brought two bottles of cola and took their order.

Gabrielle pretended everything was fine while she polished off her quesadilla before Carlos finished his last bite. She kept stealing glimpses of him. He was as solicitous as always, but she sensed a distance forming between them for some reason since they’d left Italy. What was he holding back from her? Something about the mission?

Carlos leaned back, eyes taking in everything.

But her.

Patrons spoke, ate their meals and eyed the televisions currently set on an American twenty-four-hour news station with a Spanish translation feed across the bottom. Her Spanish was rough, but she could glean the general information.

While Gabrielle had been racing across the world with Carlos, little had changed back in the States. The fuel crisis was churning political adversaries into a fever pitch. Candidates were battling fiercely for votes with the presidential election coming up next week.

Fuel issues lay between the two political parties, an intangible gauntlet with the power to drive even the most apathetic U.S. citizen to cast a vote on Tuesday.

When the images on the television screen changed to teenagers being interviewed, Gabrielle leaned close to Carlos and whispered, “Look.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and raised his eyes to the monitor. She read silently to herself.

The gist of the report was that teens of every income level from all over the world were traveling to speak to different countries as a unified group to ask nations to provide relief for physically challenged individuals. Starting in America, they were addressing how the fuel crisis impacted their lives.

The teens being interviewed said few people realized the burden placed on those with physical impairments who had a limited choice of vehicles, such as vans large enough to carry wheelchairs. They were imploring all the countries to offer aid in the form of gas credits and a list of other suggestions.

“Oh, dear Lord.” Gabrielle’s eyes bulged when the camera panned over three familiar teens and an adult-Amelia with curly black hair, walking unevenly on her prosthetic leg; the blond Kathryn Collupy, pushing Evelyn in her wheelchair; and the redheaded Joshua, who shifted his prosthetic arm as though to protect it…or to avoid having to use it.

The dialogue scrolling below noted these were three of ten students who would make a presentation this afternoon to members of Congress on how the fuel crisis is an additional hardship on the physically challenged.

“Now I know what bothered me about Joshua,” Gabrielle said under her breath.

“What?”

“The last report Gotthard sent included information on their injuries. Joshua lost his arm six years ago in a car accident where his arm was crushed.” Her heart pounded as she realized what she was saying. “Children adapt quickly. He should be proficient with the prosthetic by now…or at least comfortable, but he acts awkward, as though it’s very new. Amelia lost her leg from cancer eight years ago and walks as though she’s just getting used to it.”

Understanding dawned immediately in his face. Carlos stood, threw way too much money on the table, and took her arm. “Let’s go.”

“What do you think is going on?” she asked between breaths.

“You saw what the rest of us missed. We’ve got it all wrong.” He gave that quiet answer as he walked them calmly outside, then briskly toward the parking lot where he’d left their rental car. “I’ll call Joe in the car.”

He barely slowed at the cross street, let several cars pass, then took off again. The gravel parking lot was crowded with vehicles and a few scooters. Their rental car was parked in a corner at the back of the lot, next to a building.

A van was parked on the driver’s side and a sport utility with dark windows on the passenger side.

Carlos stopped and swung around, dragging her with him.

Three rugged-looking Hispanic men wearing jeans and boots strolled toward them. Carlos had more muscle and an inch on two of them, but the third was a brute. They all wore a mix of sleeveless shirts left unbuttoned with the tails hanging loose. They stepped from the shadow of the three-story building bordering one side of the lot. The wind whipped the left side of one unbuttoned shirt, exposing a weapon shoved between the man’s barrel gut and the waist of his jeans.

Carlos might be able to take all three, but he had no defense she knew of against the gun.

She couldn’t breathe past the fear gripping her throat.

Carlos looked over his shoulder and cursed. The swirling breeze fanned hair around her face when she turned to look as well. Two more men approached from behind, raising the ante on her panic.

When she looked forward again, the three men had stopped in front of her and Carlos. The brute with the gun said, “We are here to escort you to the Anguis estate.”

“WE’VE LOST CONTACT with Carlos,” Tee told Gotthard and Hunter over the videoconference line she’d set up in a hotel suite she and Joe were using as a mission headquarters in D.C. Gotthard and Hunter were in Joe’s office that overlooked downtown Nashville from the AT amp;T building dubbed the Bat Tower by locals due to the two points sticking up at the top floor like the ears on Batman’s mask.

“Retter, too.” On one side of the monitor, Gotthard rubbed bloodshot eyes. He probably hadn’t slept all night.

“Retter? His team is supposed to be staked around the Fuentes home.” Tee tapped a long, dark purple fingernail against the innocuous brown hotel desk.

What the hell was going on in South America?

Hunter appeared next to Gotthard, leaning against a wall in his usual indifferent pose. “Retter got word of someone willing to sell intel on Salvatore’s operation. He told his team to stick with the meeting at the Fuentes estate while he checked it out in person.”

Tee flattened her hand, tapping each finger up and down in succession. Retter was their best gun, the one she and Joe sent into any situation without questioning the percentage of success. What had Retter gotten himself into? “What do we have on these teens?”

Hunter answered, “Mandy has come out of her coma and her prognosis is good, but has no idea why she was grabbed. The only interesting piece our people got from her was that she claims she did not abandon Amelia, but that Amelia abandoned her to meet someone in Germany, so they separated at the airport.”

Tee interrupted, “Amelia is here in D.C. on the multinational field trip with about sixty students, including Evelyn and Joshua, that were confirmed as being at school yesterday in France. All part of the media circus in a congressional hearing room today.” In just a few hours.

“What kind of threat could the kids be?” Hunter asked.

“None of the teens are particularly athletic or have ever been difficult or dangerous.” Tee shook her head and shoved her long hair past her shoulder. “Hell, they’re model students.”

“Hard to ignore a warning-,” Gotthard pointed out, indicating the postcards from Linette.

“But,” Hunter interrupted, “let’s not forget we’re working with information supplied by an unknown woman involved with the Fratelli who no one but Gabrielle has met.”

“He’s right,” Tee agreed, though it didn’t stop her from believing this Linette might be as real as Gabrielle claimed. “We’ve got a full contingent of BAD agents along with me and Joe attending the event to watch both political parties and the kids. Between us and the Secret Service everyone in that building is as safe as can be expected.”

Tee didn’t miss Gotthard’s scowl at Hunter’s attempt to discredit the information from Linette. Just as exceptional a computer terror as he was a dangerous operative, Gotthard hadn’t backed off trying to find this mysterious woman online since Gabrielle had explained the code she and Linette used.

Linette was the only intel they’d had on the Fratelli so far, but they had to proceed with caution when it came to this unconfirmed information.

Tee moved ahead. “I’m with Retter in thinking the teens are a diversion to draw attention away from the meeting at the Fuentes compound tomorrow, but we can’t dismiss the threat to them. Once this dog and pony show is over, we’ll send everyone we have tonight to find Carlos, Gabrielle, and Retter.”

Gotthard was scratching his jaw, something Tee had figured out long ago meant their burly agent was mentally crunching on something. “What’s up, Gotthard?”

“Just playing devil’s advocate. What if Gabrielle was better than any of us realized and she’s set up Carlos? Maybe even Retter?”

Tee didn’t hesitate. “If any of my people are harmed because of her, I don’t give a damn if she’s a princess or a ditchdigger or what Interpol wants. She’ll never see the light of day again.”

CARLOS STARED THROUGH the open door to the desk in Durand’s office. That room hadn’t changed since Carlos had lived here. Same heavy, hand-carved desk shipped in from South Africa he’d helped three other boys carry inside when it arrived. The inside of the hacienda had changed some with new, more exotic decorations.

He had perfect recall of the layout and could find his way around the entire compound blindfolded.

The downside was that he wouldn’t get the chance to put that knowledge to any use.

This was not going to be some happy family reunion. His father never forgave a slight, especially by blood.

Carlos tugged on the cable ties holding him to the chair, but Durand’s men had put four of the thick black plastic straps on each arm, securing him to a chair bolted to the wall. This was a holding room for “interviews” with Durand. The soft leather seat and polished metal ladder-back chair didn’t appear quite so daunting to get out of upon first glance.

He might have had a chance if his legs weren’t just as well anchored.

Gabrielle sat in an identical chair to the side of him, trussed up equally as securely. She kept turning her head to stare at him, as if she waited for him to save the day.

He’d promised to keep her safe.

She was now a prisoner of the one person she feared above all others.

The door leading from Durand’s office to a hallway opened and closed with a snap.

“What is going on?” Durand’s voice demanded from the next room. He walked past the gap where the door was partially open with a cell phone in hand, paying no attention to Carlos and Gabrielle, waiting in the dimly lit room.

No one had recognized Carlos, so far, and Durand didn’t know-yet-he’d captured Mirage, but that would soon change.

From what Carlos had figured out on the ride here, his father must have grabbed Ferdinand and his son, then stationed an Anguis soldier to watch the pawnshop with orders to pick up anyone who seemed overly curious. No one would have anticipated the Mirage, an electronic informant, coming out in the open to make physical contact with a resource.

If not for BAD, she wouldn’t have been here.

Carlos had given Gabrielle three hours, tops, to search for her contacts, thinking they’d get in and out without drawing attention.

But Durand had surprised even him.

“I lost men taking those kids for you,” Durand said in a quiet voice, the one that was meant to raise the hairs on a man’s arm. “It is my business when you put my family at risk. What are those kids doing in the United States? On television?”

Durand continued just as quietly, more so. “If you cannot answer that, then explain the meeting at Fuentes. I thought the point in the attacks was to keep these countries apart.”

Silence filled the gap, then Durand replied in a low voice that belonged to the demon he was, “I know about the meeting with Fuentes because I make everything that happens down here my business.” Pause. “Why can you no explain now? What happens tomorrow at noon?” A long pause followed. “I will give you until then, but you owe me, Vestavia. You have not handed over Mirage yet.”

Vestavia? Could that be Durand’s connection to the Fratelli?

Carlos could tell Durand had closed his phone. The click of a lighter sounded, then cigar smoke billowed past the opening. The pungent scent of high-grade tobacco rolled into the room, where Carlos finally put things together from Durand’s conversation.

With so much negative press going on with the fuel crisis and presidential election only days away, everyone would show up for the dog and pony show at the Capitol this afternoon. A staggering list of political power would be present.

What better place to attack with so much of the world focused on South America right now?

The Fratelli could be planning two attacks.

Carlos hadn’t worked out the whole plan, but Joe and Tee needed this information.

When Durand answered a call on his desk phone that sounded as if it was from one of his legitimate business accounts, Carlos whispered at Gabrielle. “Listen.”

She zeroed in on him and waited.

“I think an attack is planned for D.C. today.”

Gabrielle nodded. “Okay, but I still don’t understand.”

“I don’t exactly either, but I think the meeting in Columbia is to draw the world’s attention and national security focus away from a U.S. media show. Think about it. All the politicians will be on hand at the Capitol Building this afternoon, both presidential candidates, including the president and his cabinet. Plus children who belong to powerful people, allies to the U.S.”

Her eyes widened with comprehension.

“I can get you out of here.” He’d been scabbing together a plan since they were grabbed.

“No. I want to stay with you.”

He knew she meant now, but the desperation in her words shoved past his stalwart defense, the barrier he’d constructed to keep him from wanting a life he could never have. He wanted to stay with her, too. To wake up every day and see this woman next to him, hear her laughter, and hold her close.

That would never happen. Not now, when he only had one hope of getting her out of here. The reality of losing her crashed in on him, clawed his insides with the savage pain of a wounded beast.

He’d spent a lifetime lying, but this one had to be exceptional to convince her to leave without him. “It will be easier for me to escape without you. I need you to get word to Joe and Retter that those kids and the president are in danger.”

Her eyes glistened with worry. “What about you?”

“Retter will get inside here and help me escape.” Not unless he brought an army with him, but let him enjoy the fantasy of Retter bringing in an army to stomp Durand.

“How are you going to get me out of here?”

“Durand’s sister lives in the compound.” Carlos prayed she would help him. “I can trust her to take you out.”

If she’s here.

“How do you know you can trust her?”

“I just can. She isn’t anything like him.”

Gabrielle opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and shook her head. She accepted his judgment of Durand’s sister without question. He knew why. She trusted him and cared for him.

That wasn’t going to last long.

Acid churned in his stomach over what he’d soon have to do.

“I don’t know how much time we have before Durand comes to get us, so here’s what I want you to do.” Carlos gave her Joe’s direct number that was answered 24-7. He told her exactly what to tell Joe to pass along to Retter, Korbin, and Rae for any hope of preventing an attack on the teens, the president, and members of Congress.

“What about you?” she asked. “You didn’t tell me what to tell them for you.”

“Tell Joe I’m at Durand’s compound and it’s a code black.”

“Got it.”

No, she didn’t understand, but that was okay. He’d just told her to tell Joe he was dead to everyone since he would be by the time she was out of reach.

Durand ended his call, then clicked a button and said, “Julio, come here.”

“One more thing,” Carlos said to Gabrielle.

“What?” She focused on him, intent on whatever directions he gave her.

“No matter what happens…promise me you won’t hate me.”

Every line in her face softened. “I could never hate you. I love you.” She stared at him with uncloaked love in her eyes.

Carlos couldn’t believe he’d found a miracle like Gabrielle only to lose her. Hearing her declaration of love was almost too much to bear. He’d never intended to utter those words to another woman, but this would be his only chance.

“I love you, too, Gabrielle. You must believe that. Please, give me the promise I ask for.” So I can die in peace.

“I’ll do you one better. I promise to love you forever. I know there are things you haven’t told me, but I trust you.”

Hell. He’d be better off telling her now before she learned the truth in front of an audience. Carlos opened his mouth to speak, but heavy footsteps entering the dark room from Durand’s office stopped him.

Julio walked in with four armed men. “We will untie you,” he said to Carlos. “Make one wrong move and that one”-Julio pointed at a tall hombre with a severe mustache and attitude-“will blow her head off her shoulders. ¿Entienden?”

“I understand.” Carlos had one hand to play and it was winner take all. Once he was free from his bindings and standing, he reached over to help Gabrielle up.

Hammers on two weapons cocked loudly.

Carlos withdrew his hands, holding them up in the air. Gabrielle stood on her own, rubbing her arms, her fear palpable.

Julio led them into the office, then directed Carlos and Gabrielle to face Durand, who sat behind his desk.

“Who are you?” Durand asked Carlos.

“Tourists?”

Carlos got a gunstock in the back at his kidneys. He grunted and sucked down on the pain. He’d pee blood for a day or two, if he lived.

“It would be a shame for this young woman to pay for your back talk.” Durand puffed on his cigar, staring intently at Carlos. “Julio says you were the black-ops leader who raided the château in St. Gervais. He was hidden belowground when you killed my men.”

Just as Carlos had told Joe once years before, Durand Anguis operated like no other criminal. Carlos would bet Durand’s men hadn’t even known Julio was inside the château the whole time they were dying. He never lifted a finger to help his men.

Durand stepped around his desk, sucking on the cigar and studying Carlos. “I know you, sí?”

Rather than answer that, Carlos said, “I have a deal to offer you.”

Durand smiled with deprecating humor. “Must I remind you that you are not in a position to negotiate?”

“You’ll want to hear this offer.”

“Really?” Durand laughed. He returned to his chair, where he leaned back and propped his feet on the desk. “I am intrigued. So tell me this offer.”

“Not without your sister Maria present.”

Durand’s feet slammed the floor as he stood in a rare show of emotion. “What do you know of her?”

“That Maria is a good woman,” Carlos said slowly. “She was kind to me once. I trust her and am willing to make a deal with you for something you want very badly.”

Gabrielle gasped.

Carlos couldn’t spare her a glance. He wasn’t ready to see the hurt in her eyes at what she was assuming-that he was going to give her up as Mirage. He should be insulted, but by the time this was done, she’d look at him with much worse than hurt.

“I do not have to trade.” Durand eyed Carlos like a snake deciding when to attack. “I can make you tell me all I want to know for free.”

Julio and his men snickered.

Carlos shoved ahead. “You can try, but you’ll be gambling that you can force someone with my training to talk, and there’s always the small problem of believing me.”

“You will talk if she is the one in pain.”

Gabrielle stood so still Carlos thought she might break if he touched her.

“I thought Anguis did not harm innocent women.” Carlos watched the eyes of Durand’s men, who glanced at their leader for confirmation. When silence continued, Carlos tossed out bait he doubted Durand could pass up. “What does it cost you to hear my offer? I know about the teenagers kidnapped in addition to Mandy, and that you’re being manipulated by a powerful group.”

Durand’s dark eyes blackened with annoyance. “What game are you playing? Tell me about this group.”

“I’m just showing you that I’ll cooperate if you agree to a simple deal and let your sister hear it so I know you’ll keep your word.”

“You question my word.” Durand’s low voice always warned of more danger than did another man’s raging.

“No, but you respect blood above all else.” Carlos drew on all he’d ever known about this man to get what he wanted.

Durand’s eyes lit with interest. “You say my sister was kind to you once? Then she will know you.” He turned to Julio. “Bring Maria.”

While Julio was gone, Durand had his men move Carlos and Gabrielle to sit in the side chairs as if they were invited guests. Carlos maintained a blank face and kept his gaze away from Gabrielle. He had to believe she would keep her word to him and contact Joe, no matter what. He leaned forward with elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his cupped hands.

He knew Maria would not fail him. His aunt had been the only constant in his life, the one person who had ever cared that he existed.

But she hadn’t seen him since he was a teenager…or since his facial surgery. What if she didn’t recognize him?

Carlos had spent many nights at his aunt and uncle’s house, where he’d had a male role model of a man with integrity who loved his family. But his uncle died too young. When Carlos met Helena, he envisioned a marriage like the one his aunt and uncle had shared. He would always consider his aunt his only mother. She’d bandaged his cuts, fed him as one of her own, and held him the only time he’d cried-over losing Helena. The same day Carlos had made a pact with Maria to hide the truth about the bombing, then walked away to keep his aunt and Eduardo safe.

When Maria walked into Durand’s office, Carlos endured physical pain at not being able to hug her. The years had not changed her, but the warm brown gaze creased in confusion when she took in Carlos and Gabrielle.

“Hola, querida Maria,” Carlos said as he sat up, using his teenage greeting of “dear Maria” to give Carlos’s aunt his identity immediately without Durand knowing.

Maria lifted trembling fingers to her forehead. She had to be trying to reconcile the voice and familiar greeting with the face.

Durand asked her, “You know this man?”

Before she could answer, Carlos took everyone back to the point of this meeting. “Now that your sister is here, let’s discuss my offer.”

Durand ignored him, waiting on his sister to answer.

The struggle to decide what to say warred in Maria’s gaze. Carlos held his breath, praying she wouldn’t say a word to undermine the deal he was cutting.

She nodded. “Sí. He is familiar, but I want to hear this offer he makes you.”

Durand gave Maria a hard look. Carlos banked on the bond between these two to prevent Durand from forcing her to say more.

“Tell me!” Durand demanded.

“I’ll give you Mirage-” Carlos flinched when Gabrielle sucked in a deep breath. But when he added, “And Alejandro Anguis,” her muttered, “Bastard,” cut deep.

Durand just stared at him mute.

Not a sound was made until Carlos heard sobbing and looked at Maria. She knew for sure now. Her watery gaze pleaded silently with Carlos to let her speak, but they’d made a deal and she had given her word.

“You can do this? Deliver both Alejandro and Mirage?” Durand demanded, amazement and excitement ripe in his question.

“Yes, but I want something in trade.” Carlos hoped the next words would buy him some small redemption. “Let this woman”-he nodded at Gabrielle-“go free. Her only mistake was dating me. She knows nothing about any of this and will never risk saying a word once she leaves.”

“Let her leave?” Durand stared in disbelief. “No.”

“Durand,” Maria said softly. “He has offered you what no one else has and asks far less than any other would in his place.”

“You know this man, Maria?” Durand asked.

“I think so.”

“Who is he?”

“I will no say unless you agree to his offer.”

“Dios! You are family. How can you side with him?” Durand struggled to maintain his icy calm. He crushed his cigar in a glass tray.

“I will explain later, but first tell him you will make this deal. It is no so much to ask.” His sister crossed her arms and jutted out that stubborn Anguis chin.

“His woman can cause me trouble,” Durand pointed out.

Carlos chuckled sadly. “Take a look at her. Do you think she wants any part of this or that anyone will believe her? She has no proof of anything that has happened down here, and right about now she’s ready to cut my throat for you.”

Durand eyed Carlos curiously. “So why do you care about her safety and no yours?”

“Because I used her as cover to come search for an informant and owe her a safe return home.”

No one spoke or moved for the next minute as Durand studied his dilemma.

“Who is your informant?” Durand crossed his arms, clearly not ready to make a deal.

“Like you haven’t already gotten that information in your granero?” Carlos didn’t want to share Ferdinand’s name, but he’d bet the father and son were somewhere in this compound. Most likely in the heavily guarded shed. Or already buried.

“How do you know so much about my operation?” Durand’s gaze bounced to Julio, whose eyebrows lifted in curiosity, but he said nothing.

“Make the deal and I’ll tell you.” Carlos leaned back in the chair, arms crossed.

Durand finally pointed his cigar at Carlos. “I will agree to your deal, but if you no produce Alejandro and Mirage, I will find your woman and she will pay for your lies.”

“I know that.” Carlos turned to Gabrielle, whose horror was right up front for everyone to see. She knew, as everyone in this room knew, that Durand would hunt her down the minute Carlos was dead and his sister was home. Carlos prayed Joe and Tee would have Gabrielle safe by then. “Go stand with Maria.”

When Gabrielle just sat there, Carlos added a firm “Now.”

She stood and moved tentatively toward Maria, eyeing everyone in the room as she did.

Carlos said to his aunt, “Go with her to the airport and assure she is on a plane to the U.S. Once you call and tell me she is safe, I’ll tell Durand everything.”

“I will,” his aunt assured him. “I am to leave very soon with Eduardo, who is seeing a doctor in the U.S.”

Carlos smiled. “Damn. Rather be lucky than good any day.”

“No one is going anywhere until you give me proof of at least one right now,” Durand ordered.

Carlos sighed. “Can I lift my hands without getting shot?”

Durand nodded.

Carlos ripped his shirt open, exposing the Anguis tattoo with the scar. “I am Alejandro Anguis.”