Authors: Allie K. Adams
Bernardo eyed her frame, a slow and sleazy smile spreading across his creepy lips. "
Muy bueno
. I find suit and come keep you company."
Swell. JT forced a smile. "That would be—" She couldn't bring herself to finish, and didn't have to. Just as she paused, a single gunshot rang out. "What was that?"
Bernardo looked back at the house, his gaze lifting to a second-story window. "
Señor
Mercado. He was, how you say, having final moment with Marcella."
His last moment? Or Marcella's? "Did he kill her?"
Bernardo traced her frame again. "I find suit for you." He hurried away, leaving JT standing alone.
"Holy hell, Weber." She spoke quietly, her back to the house again in case someone decided to spy on her from a window. "Did you hear that? I think he just capped his latest woman. What does that mean for me?"
She knew she wouldn't get an answer, but couldn't help asking the question. "Can we please do this tonight? I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
She turned to go back into the pool house just as a man carrying something over his shoulder emerged from the house. JT held in her gasp at what she saw. The black plastic did nothing to disguise the fact the man had a body slumped over his shoulder. She could see toes with pink polish poking out of the bottom. A bright red stiletto shoe fell out onto the ground. The man didn't seem to notice it and kept going.
Oh shit. It was Marcella. Her heart racing so fast she started to see little black dots, she brought her head down between her knees and drew in deep breaths. Oh God.
OhGodOhGodOhGod
. What was she going to do?
"Earth to Dan. I just saw them take Marcella's body out of the house. Jesus Mary. Why would he do something like that? She wasn't a threat to him." She remembered what he said about not allowing her to leave. He must have given the same speech to Marcella when she'd first arrived.
By the time the man returned empty-handed, JT had worked herself in to a panic. He didn't turn and look at her. It was like she wasn't even there. The man stopped when he spotted the shoe, knelt down and picked it up, and started to whistle as he went back inside.
Mercado liked to kill his women. She made a mental note. So, she just needed to keep from becoming one of Mercado's women. And kill him before he sent her to join Marcella.
At any cost
.
Dan pushed himself into the corner behind the door and waited. Whoever knocked him out would be entering the room anytime. He knew it couldn't have been any of Mercado's bodyguards. They were all standing behind their boss. And the only one of the Three Amigos still stood under his own power, and he was in Dan's sight.
That only left one person behind him.
Dan waited patiently for the traitorous bastard to show, because when he did, Dan planned on beating the confession out of him before snapping his pathetic neck. He heard someone coming and crouched, ready to pounce.
Snyder entered the room and paused, tilted his head as he eyed the empty chair. He had a towel full of ice in his hand and as he looked back and forth, he set it down on the table. "Weber? Where'd you go?"
Dan jumped out from behind the door and had Snyder in a full nelson before he could finish his sentence. "Who are you working for?"
"Holy shit, Weber. What are you doing?"
"Answer the question." He squeezed the man's throat. "Or I break your fucking neck."
"This is how you thank me for saving your life?" He coughed, but didn't struggle.
He didn't struggle
. Dan hated not being able to read a man, being blindsided by anything. Ever since meeting JT Turner, being pulled into this bullshit mission, that's all it'd been. One blindside after another. "Bullshit. Tell me who you're working for."
"I know I didn't hit you hard enough to scramble your brain."
"Keep avoiding my question, asshole. Give me one more reason to kill you."
"I work for NASSD. Same as you. Come on, man. Do you really think I'm on Mercado's payroll?"
"Actions speak louder than words, buttmunch."
Snyder coughed again. "Jesus. I can't breathe."
"That's the idea."
"Weber, listen to me," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Mercado's men would have torn you apart. I can't do this alone. Turner needs you. She's in now, and you're the only one who can get her back out. I can only do so much."
JT
. He tightened his grip, forcing another cough out of Snyder. Then he let go. Snyder fell to the ground and rubbed his neck, coughing and gagging for air. "Christ, Weber. I couldn't breathe. You almost killed me."
"But I didn't, so you're welcome. Now where is she?"
Snyder crawled over to the couch and pulled himself up. He then grabbed some of the ice and held it against his throat. Dan could already see the bruises forming. "I have no idea. I was shocked as shit when Mercado walked in. It's like he knew Turner would be there at that exact moment."
Dan cursed under his breath as he made the connection. "He did. Our mole made sure of that. Someone's been playing us. Throw me some of that ice."
Snyder grabbed a few more and tossed the towel at him. Dan placed it on the back of his neck. They eyed each other and grinned at the scene. They'd successfully damaged each other, and they were on the same side. Ironic.
"He was never at that compound," Dan continued after adjusting the ice so that it didn't rest directly on the golf ball-sized lump on the back of his head. Ignoring the pounding in his brain, he focused on the mission, if that was what they could call it. "Or at least where we could see him. It was a setup."
"Come again?"
"Even if Turner hadn't blown the op, we wouldn't have found him." Dan thought about the lab that created
The darkness. The lack of guards. Hell, Dan doubted the wire running through the razor wire even held a current. They were set up, led into a trap. Turner didn't blow the op.
She saved their lives.
So who set them up? Dan ignored the only logical answer, praying his suspicious nature was just in overdrive. HQ wouldn't send them into a trap. Not on purpose.
Would they?
Or, a more accurate question, would
he
?
"So where is the real compound?"
Instead of working through the various conspiracy theories, Dan thought about their situation. Given what Mercado did for a living, he'd need something close to water, yet completely covered. He grabbed a map of Colombia and spread it out on the table in front of them.
It didn't take him long to find the perfect spot for a psychotic drug lord to hide. The existing compound. "He's on the northeast side of the city, right at the inlet to the Caribbean Sea."
"But there's nothing on the satellite or NASSD would have picked it up."
"If we could see him." Dan studied the map, his gut twisting as his instinct kept pulling him back to the same spot. "He needs privacy for what he does. And he gets his shipment out to the Caribbean Sea without the satellite picking it up." Dan frowned. How was he feeding his drugs to the port without NASSD seeing him?
Snyder joined in on the speculations. As he spoke, he trailed the map with his finger. "The Caribbean Sea feeds into the Atlantic Ocean. He can navigate around Cuba and hit the Florida Keys." He pulled back and rubbed the ice on his neck, wincing as he swallowed. "I'll bet someone is helping him."
"The mole," they said in unison.
"It has to be someone still in NASSD," Dan added, swallowing down the bile in his throat. "Someone who has the power to hide this kind of surveillance from us."
"Goddamn moles," Snyder continued. "I hate the filthy little creatures. Always tunneling their way around underground, the cowards. They deserve to stay in the ground, if you ask me."
Dan snapped his fingers. That's it. He hated it when he discovered information that changed the course of a mission after it was already too late to do anything about it. "He's underground. He's getting the drugs to the port, using the ground as cover. And there are no borders to the Keys. We might as well offer him an escort onto American soil."
Snyder and Dan cursed in unison.
"So where do we start?"
"We make camp outside Mercado's compound." Dan grabbed the map and started to roll it up. "We need to get in touch with JT, tell her what we've discovered. She'll need to look for the entrance to the underground."
"She's a tough one to keep track of, Weber. I don't envy you for that. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"No." Dan grabbed his duffel, shoved the map inside, and closed it. His gut pinched at the realization of his statement. He wasn't ready at all. If something happened to JT, he'd kill every last waste-of-skin drug lord on the face of this earth until his thirst for revenge was sated. If ever.
And he'd start with Santos Mercado.
"Feel like taking a little road trip?"
Snyder coughed and held his throat. "I think I'll call in sick. I've got this terrible sore throat. It feels like someone strangled me."
Dan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck to remind Snyder of his little part in all of it. "You think they'll buy that?"
"What are they going to do? Fire me?"
"Good point." Dan hurried out of the room, Snyder on his heels. "Let's go shopping in your store room. I'm feeling the need for something a little more powerful than this .45."
Snyder grinned from ear to ear. "Now you're talking."
JT successfully hid from Mercado for most of the day. She had to endure the gawking of Bernardo while she attempted to swim in the pool. The suit he'd found wasn't more than a piece of dental floss and a couple of Bandages. Very hard to swim in with the way it kept riding up into every crack below her belly button.
After ten minutes of Hell while Bernardo drooled, she asked to be taken to her room. Poor Bernardo thought that was some sort of invitation, and JT had to remind him which head he shouldn't think with. She'd kneed him so hard he'd have a hard time playing with himself for a while. He limped back out of her room, apologizing profusely.
Thank God her door had a lock on it. She stayed in her room and paced for the rest of the day. When Mercado knocked and asked her to join him for dinner, she made an excuse about having a headache and just wanted to go to bed.
He didn't buy it, instead insisting she eat something. For the first time ever, JT didn't have much of an appetite. She eyed her reflection. Sure, he wanted her to eat something. And wear a red dress made of transparent material. He hand delivered it ten minutes ago, along with the red stilettos. Her hands trembled as she accepted them. They were the same ones she saw on Marcella that same day. She wiped them down one last time, making sure all the blood she'd found on them had been cleaned. Jesus. Marcella's blood, her only crime offering her heart to a man who didn't have one.
She closed her eyes to regroup. She'd never had to do anything like this before. They never had her train for this back at
Gahanna
. One more deep breath and she'd be ready. Okay. No, not okay. One more breath. Oh, shit. She'd never be ready for this.
She focused on the diamond studs in her ears through her reflection. "I hope you are out there looking for me, Weber. And I hope you find me." The knock at the door was her queue. "Before it's too late," she added and swallowed before opening the door.
Mercado stood there in head-to-toe white. At least he'd changed into a new suit from earlier. JT saw at least three blood spots he apparently hadn't noticed when he dropped the shoes off.
He eyed the bandage on her arm. "Are you hurt,
bonita
?"
JT shrugged off his comment, his mocked concern. "I had a little accident."
Did you know I'm the same woman your men tried to kill back in Seattle?
"I hope it is not unpleasant for you." He gave her a slow, slimy once over. JT felt so dirty, but allowed him to get his fill. In good time, she'd remove his eyes for him.
"It's nothing. Really. But thanks for your concern, Santos."
He smiled at her, though she knew he didn't believe an ounce of her sincerity. Good, because she didn't have any to give. "Remove your undergarments,
por favor
."
JT's humiliation heated everything from the neck up. "What?"
"Your undergarments."
"But I always wear a bra, at least."
"Not tonight. You will do as I request."
She narrowed her eyes as a final act of defiance before she did as he ordered. Turning her back to him, she removed her bra and underwear, leaving her completely exposed.
"You look delicious, Miss Jessica." He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. Disgusting, and it made her skin crawl. Although she appeared steady and sure, her insides were in chaos.
"Do I really need to be so dressed up?"
"Oh,
Sí.
Our first night together shall be memorable. I want everything perfect. And you," he paused and looked ready to attack her, "are perfect."
She crossed her arms in front of her, trying to cover up and retain what little dignity she had left. "Let's feast."
"Oh, believe me. I will."
JT doubled up her fists to remain calm. She couldn't knock him out. How would that look for her cover? Timid American beats up prominent drug lord. Film at eleven.
Instead she hurried ahead of him and down the stairs. Let him stare at her ass. She'd be damned if she was going to parade the rest of it for him.
"You will wait for me," Mercado ordered. She slowed at the bottom of the stairs, knowing it wasn't a request. He gave her body a lasting look. "You Americans. Always rush, rush, rush. It is not proper for a woman to enter without an escort."
JT waited until his eyes made their way to her face. But they never did. He held out his elbow. She hesitated as long as she could before accepting it, not wanting to touch this monster any more than she had to.
"If I had my way, I would skip dinner and take you back up to my room for dessert."
"Well, we don't always get our way," she shot back, sick of playing nice with this sleezebag.
He grabbed her arm. Hard. Her shoulder ached in protest. Jerking her to a stop, he finally met her eyes. "
I
do."
JT swallowed with a nod. For an instant, he gave her the exact same look he gave Marcella earlier. Before he sent her upstairs and killed her in cold blood.
Okay. So pushing Mercado definitely wasn't one of her better decisions. He continued to eye her before finally softening his features. She remained silent and allowed him to escort her into the dining area.
She groaned inwardly, the heat of her mortification burning her from the neck up. Every last man in Mercado's compound, and a few he must have pulled in off the street, had to be sitting at the long table. When she entered, every pair of eyes swung toward her and damn near fell out of their sockets. Mercado smirked.
The lighting in the room seemed different. Low. Except at the empty chair at one end of the table, which had what seemed to be a spotlight. Must be her seat. The lighting would perfectly illuminate whatever feature couldn't be seen through the sheer outfit.
It must be some sort of ritual with Mercado and his men. The new girl, on her first night, gets to parade around in some obscene outfit purely for their enjoyment and her humiliation. Nice way to put the woman in her place.
Not this woman, thank you very much.
Boldly, she met each and every set of eyes as Mercado led her over to her chair. He held it out for her and she sat. Not once did any one of the men look away.
JT scooted her chair as close to the table as possible. She then removed the ring from her cloth napkin and tucked it into the top of her dress, much to the dismay of the men. It covered her. Barely.
"Miss Jessica," Mercado said as he sat at the opposite end of the table, mocking her with his expression. "Why do you wear a bib?"
The men all looked at her, obviously wanting her to remove the obstruction. Too bad. "I'm a messy eater. This is such a beautiful dress. I don't want to stain it."
"I will buy you a new one. Remove the napkin."
JT huffed as the heat once again hit her cheeks. Damn it. Slowly, she brought her hand up and grasped the napkin, jerking it out of her dress and onto her lap.
There was a collective sigh from the audience, and JT wanted to crawl under the table. She hated this. She hated them. Her eyes rested on Mercado. And him she hated worst of all.
He seemed to sense her thoughts. "Do not blame me for your beauty. Be proud, Miss Jessica." He lifted his brows. "As I am to have you." He took a drink of wine. "Here," he finished.
"
La cena se sirve.
" A group of men emerged from behind a swinging door, all carrying huge silver platters. At least they all took one look at JT and put their eyes back in their heads.
Someone set a plate full of food in front of her. "
Quéjese y la Papa Empanadas Con Salsa Picante
," he said to her.
"Beef and Potato Empanadas with Salsa Picante," Mercado repeated in English for her. She nodded and dug in. It didn't matter what it was called, it was delicious. And she suddenly found herself starving.
The conversation through most of the meal was in Spanish. She picked up on bits and pieces. Heroin
this
, and next shipment
that
. Too bad their boss wouldn't be around to enjoy his next shipment of drugs. And with any luck, neither would any of them. This thought made JT smile as she finished her meal. She kept her eyes down and pictured herself sitting behind a two-way mirror. One where she could see and hear and understand everything they were saying, but they didn't even know she existed. It helped. Some.
"Are you ready for dessert, Miss Jessica?"
JT almost jumped out of her chair and made a beeline for the door. Mercado stood and walked over to her, held out his hand. His gaze fell to her breasts and stayed there.
"I don't feel so good."
"Oh? You are sick?" His eyes moved to the bandage on her shoulder. "Is it your wound? I can have one of my men look at that."
Every last man jumped out of their chair at the comment.
"No!" She stopped them before they all attacked her. "The shoulder is fine. Was there—" She looked down at her plate and spotted a piece of melted cheese she'd missed. "Cheese in this?"
"Oh, Sí. Many different kinds."
"I'm lactose intolerant," she blurted out. "I need air."
"You wish for me to be with you?"
"No." She brought up her hand like a traffic cop. "You stay here. When I get all lactose-y, you don't want to be anywhere near me. Trust me."
"You are sure?"
"Oh, yeah." She jumped up and hurried out the double doors leading to the back. She ran so fast she almost tripped and fell into the pool. Kicking the shoes off, she continued to run as fast as she could away from the house, and away from Mercado.
She zigged. She zagged. She double backed. Unless Mercado was an experienced tracker, he wouldn't be able to find her unless he'd followed her. And she would have heard him.
So when she heard a noise behind her, she almost let out a yelp. How in the hell did he find her? Did he have a nose like a dog? Because he sure ran around like a canine in heat.
JT took the few steps needed to step around the trunk of a tree. Looking around, she found a good-sized branch on the ground and picked it up. If it turned out to be one of Mercado's men, then she'd apologize later. If it turned out to be Mercado, she'd knock him out and smother him with the piece of see-through fabric he made her wear.
She listened, holding her breath. She could sense the person right on the other side of the tree, moving toward her. It was now or never. Bringing the branch up, she stepped out and swung it as hard as she could.
He dropped like a chunk of lead. She stood above him, the branch above her head, ready to finish the job if she had to.
"Jesus Christ, Turner."
"Dan?" She dropped the branch and knelt down. "Oh my God. Did I hurt you?"
Stupid question. Of course she hurt him. She split his cheek open, bloodied his nose, and he'd be sporting a nice shiner come morning. She reached down to assess the damage.
He jerked away and blinked a few times as he shook his head in an attempt to get his eyes to focus. His right eye had already started to swell.
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," he rasped and looked up at her with his one good eye. "You okay?"
She laughed and pulled him into her arms. Her entire being thrilled as hell to see him. He smelled great. Looked even better, new wounds and all. "Please tell me you are here to take me back with you."
"I figured you never wanted to see me again after what happened to your uncle."
JT hugged him closer. She spent her entire day deliberating over that. Her Uncle Charlie died doing what he loved—protecting his country. Dan did what he thought to be the right thing to do. And it probably was. She couldn't hate him for that. And when she took care of Mercado and returned to Seattle, she'd come to terms with her grief. For now she had to think about those still living, and those she wanted to remain living. Like her.
"How did you find me? The earrings?"
He nodded, then shrugged. "Not at first. They only have a range of about two miles. When you didn't show up on the tracker, Snyder and I actually did a little spy work."
"David's here, too?" Her eyes shined. "Thank God."
"
David
? Since when are you two on a first name basis? Something you want to tell me?" He stated gruffly, trying to keep the protective tone out of his voice, she was sure. Hearing his reaction made her warm and tingly all over.
"Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Superspy?"
He returned her smile. "You know, I don't think lactose-y is a word."
She lowered her lips to his, desperate to taste him, to have him pull her from this nightmare—if only for a brief time. He pulled her down and rolled her over on top of him, bubbling a giggle out of her. Their kiss deepened, the taste of his lips sending a shock wave through her entire body. Her nipples, already hard from the night air, puckered in response.
His hands traced a path down her ribcage, and JT felt the heat from his touch through the thin material. She sat up as she straddled him and gazed down. She could already feel her wetness start to saturate her.
He glanced at her outfit and nodded in approval. "I like this. Nightgown?"
"No. He had me wear this to dinner."
Dan lost his smile. "In front of him?"