Reckless (3 page)

Nick sets my bags on the luggage rack. “He’s not staying in a hotel. Diego has a compound just outside of town.”

I think back to the photos. “Is that the one that looks like Vizcaya?”

“I think that might be a stretch, but yeah, that sounds like the one. I have all the intel. We can go over it later. Let’s wait for José and then we’ll go to dinner.”

“Fine, but first you have to tell me how you got into the CIA. I thought you were going out to California.”

“I did go out to California. I just didn’t join the LAPD. CI stuff.”

CI is bureaucratic lingo for counterintelligence.

“And how’s life in California?”

Nick shrugs. “Same as anywhere else, I guess. I’m hardly ever there anymore. I spend more time away than I do at home. That’s why I rent a small, one-bedroom apartment.”

“No Mrs. Price in your life?”

I watch Nick’s face tighten and I worry I’ve gone too far. We haven’t seen each other in years, and I’m talking as if we are still close friends.

“At one time. She left about a year ago. I don’t blame her. You know how this job is. She’d see me for a few weeks every couple of months and always wanted to know where I went and what I was doing, and every time I had to tell her I couldn’t talk about it. She started dating some movie producer and the divorce papers came shortly after. You?”

“No. For the same reasons.”

“At least you were smart enough to realize it.”

“Did you guys have any kids together?”

“Thankfully not. It was a pretty clean break. Or as clean as a divorce can be.”

There’s a knock at the door. Nick looks through the peephole and lets José inside.

We go to dinner at Pirqa, the hotel’s restaurant. I finish my coca tea as the waiter approaches. Feeling adventurous, I order the alpaca roast beef. We don’t discuss the assignment during dinner as guests are nearby.
 

Nick tells me the hotel is located in the heart of Cusco’s tourist district, a block away from the Cathedral of Santo Domingo and Plaza de Armas. I make a mental note to look up the landmarks in case I need something to talk to Diego about.

We eat and head back to our rooms. While Nick and I go over the details and logistics of the assignment, José leaves for a final stakeout of Diego’s compound to ensure he’s arrived.

Nick opens a laptop and brings up maps and aerial photos. “The fundraising event will be held at the Belmond Hotel Monasterio.”

“Where’s that?”

Nick points to a map on the screen. “About a quarter of a mile from here. It’s a straight shot down Calle San Agustin.”

“Where’s that?”

Nick laughs. “It’s the street we’re on. We’ve secured you a job at the event. Most of the other waitresses are regular employees at the hotel, but given the size of the gala, extras have been temporarily employed, so you won’t have to worry about being a fresh face. We’ll drop you off around a half past eight. The event will start at nine. We aren’t sure when Diego will arrive. José will be inside the courtyard with you posing as a guest. I’ll remain in the hotel.”
 

“Well, don’t you have the easy job? I can tell you’re in charge.”

“Normally I’d be outside the event in a van, but there’s nowhere to park on the street and the hotel’s parking lot will be teeming with Diego’s associates. We can’t take that kind of risk. Don’t worry. I’ll be able to hear everything, and I’ll remain in constant communication with you.”

Nick shows me several small devices. “This is a recording device that you’ll wear. It has a microphone that attaches to it that will transmit to José and me. You’ll also wear this earpiece so we can communicate with you. It can transmit up to about a mile so we have plenty of distance to work with. While it’s very hard to detect in your ear, we’ll ensure your hair is styled so that it covers the earpiece.”

“By the way, who’s going to do my hair and makeup? Bailey mentioned it would be someone from the team.”

Nick smiles. “José.”

“The driver!”

“Don’t judge. José is quite skilled with makeup and disguises. You’ll look great.”
 

A terrible image flashes before me.

Nick returns the devices to a small case.

“So what’s tomorrow night’s objective? Get Diego to fall in love with me and propose?”

“Diego? I don’t think the man is capable of love. He likes playthings. Be flirty and available. Act innocent and aloof. The goal is to get him interested in you enough that he wants to see you again. We won’t have another opportunity for you to speak to him, so you have to make an impression.”

My lack of Spanish should be the least of my concerns. “Nick, I’m not exactly the world’s greatest flirt. I’m going to act like a fool. I don’t even know how I got on this assignment.”

Nick places a hand on my thigh. “Flirting is subtle. You’ll do fine. That’s why I was so adamant when I recommended you for the job.”

“
You
recommended me?”

“Sure. I needed someone I could trust and a woman who could think quickly on her feet. I remember the way you carried yourself in New York. You were a pro then, and I’m sure you’ve only gotten better with time.”

I tilt my head and study Nick. The way I carried myself in New York should be all the reason
not
to have me on this assignment. I wonder if he has other motives for inviting me to Cusco. I can’t entertain those notions, though. Not now. I need to keep my mind clear. Dad has already gotten too much in the way.

“I almost got myself killed, Nick. I wouldn’t call that stellar undercover work.”

“It wasn’t your fault. The important thing is that you got yourself out of it alive.”

That’s one way to tell the story.
 

Back in the early days of our undercover work, when Nick and I were infiltrating Russian heroin dealers, I managed to network my way through Manhattan’s high society and made several small to medium purchases of heroin. None of these dealers were arrested since our intent was to nab the bigger fish. I eventually got my introduction to two Russian mobsters from a woman I befriended at a Halloween party on the Upper East Side. We arranged to meet in a hotel room. Nick and the rest of the law enforcement team waited and listened from an adjoining room. Everything was going well at first. Money and drugs exchanged hands. We were all about to leave when one of them said, “Hey, I know this girl. She’s a cop.” What happened next is a bit of a blur, but when they pulled out their Tokarev pistols, Nick crashed through the adjoining hotel door, tackled one of the mobsters, knocking this guy into the other Russian. A gun went off as I dove away from the bed; the slugs ricocheted off the far wall, missing me by less than a foot before NYPD and DEA stormed the room and disarmed the men.

“I think you were the one who got me out of that alive,” I say.

“But you had the good sense to move. Most people would have frozen up in that situation.” Nick starts to get up. “Trust your instincts and you’ll do fine. Study the intel for a few minutes but don’t overdo it. The best thing is that you’re rested and relaxed.”

An impossible request.

Nick leaves me with the pile of gadgets and intel. Years of undercover work have given me an almost photographic memory. After a few minutes of reading the documents on Diego and glancing through the pictures, I rehearse the main points in my head until I feel confident that I can recall them from memory alone.

I settle in and change into a comfy pair of all-white silk pajamas. I’ve worked on the road enough times to know there’s no better way to unwind after a long day of field work than to wrap my body in the soft, sexy feel of silk.
 

After lying on the bed to catch my breath, I decide a warm bath is in order. I start the water and begin to unbutton the silk top.
 

Someone knocks at the door.
 

I turn off the water and tiptoe to the peephole.
 

Nick.
 

I study him for a moment, taking in his soft eyes and handsome face. He’s holding a cup of tea. What a sweet guy. He glances around like he’s nervous. Keeping the chain latched to the door, I crack it open.

“Can I help you?”

Nick smiles. “Thought I’d bring you some tea and check up on you.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I was just getting ready to take a bath.”

“Do you want me to come back?”

“No, but I’m in my pajamas.”
 

I show Nick the sleeve of my gown.

“I’ll just leave the tea outside your door.”

Agh. Now I remember why everyone at the NYPD called him “straight-laced Nick”.
 

I shut the door, undo the chain, and open it.
 

Nick has already started down the hall.

“Nick! I was just kidding. I’m wearing more clothes than I was when you picked me up.”

While that’s true, my former attire didn’t show the hillock of my nipples. I hold the door for Nick, offering him what I hope is a cute smile.
 

“I think you skipped a few buttons,” he says, nodding at my chest.

Shoot! I’m absolutely mortified. Half my breasts are hanging out. Nick probably thinks I’m a whore. My hands race to button away my impropriety.
 

“Sorry, I was running the water when you knocked and I forgot—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Miranda. I should have called before coming over.”

He sets the tea on the nightstand. “You breathing okay?”

Not now that you’re around.

“Yes, I’m doing much better.”

“Great. Listen, the real reason I came over is because I just got a call from Langley. Bailey wants to pull you off of the assignment.”

“What? Why?”

Nick scratches the stubble on his face and tells me to sit.

“I just got here, Nick. Is it because I don’t speak Spanish?”

I can’t think of any other reason.

“What did you tell the man sitting beside you on the plane?”

My mind races. I can’t quite compute what I’m hearing. “Wait a minute. That little shit! He set me up, Nick. I forgot my alias one damn time with a guy posing as a migrant farmer. I should have known that guy was a fake. I knew he didn’t fit on that plane.”

“Miranda, settle down.”

“Don’t you mean
Caroline
? Better watch out, Nick, or maybe grumpy old Bailey will send you off to Antarctica to investigate drug smuggling penguins!”

“Miranda, that isn’t why he wants you off the case.”

I pause. “It’s not?”

“No. Don’t you see? You’re still grieving. Bailey thinks you’re unstable.”

“Unstable? That’s bullshit. What did you tell him? Do
you
think I’m unstable?”

“I think you’re dealing with a lot of emotions, some of which may be influencing your desire to join this assignment. I still think you’re the right person for the job, but I don’t have the final say in these matters. While my opinion counts for a lot, Bailey has ultimate authority.”

“If he takes me off this assignment, I’ll show him unstable. This isn’t fair. It’s typical CIA horseshit. If I were a man, no one would doubt me, which means I wouldn’t have had some low-level CIA contractor following my every move. I was sitting in that seat minding my own business before he started talking. It’s entrapment.”

Nick starts to laugh.
 

“I’m glad you find this so funny, Nick.”

“Sorry. It’s just that you sound like every person we’ve ever busted with that entrapment bit. Listen, I agree with you and I still want you onboard. And as to the unstable charge, we’re all unstable for being in this line of work. We thrive on instability. No sound individual would ever agree to do our jobs. We’re mental cases with fancy gadgets and pistols.”

“Yeah, well tell that to Bailey.”

“I’ll do everything I can. I wanted to let you know what was happening so you weren’t kept in the dark. I’ll let you know what I hear in the morning. Take your bath and get some rest.”

Nick pats me on the shoulder like a big brother, gets up, and leaves.

I’m too fumed to take a bath and I know I won’t get any sleep tonight. I yank the covers over my head, wishing I were somewhere else.

2

I slept better than I thought I would. We eat breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. My hair is frazzled, and I’m still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
 

Across the table, José studies me.

“What?”

“I think I should start on your new look as soon as we get done eating instead of waiting until after lunch.”

If I could shoot death rays out of my eyes, José would be a charred pile of ash. Wisely, he returns to his bowl of Cornflakes.
 

Nick does his best to stifle a laugh.
 

“You do look a little rough this morning,” he says, concealing a smirk behind his coffee mug and exchanging ha-ha expressions with José. “I kind of like the look, though. It’s cute.”

“Fuck you both.”

I return to my eggs and toast while the boys continue their snickers.
 

“Did you speak to Bailey?” I ask.

Nick nods. “Yeah. I told him you were in good mental health and that unless he wanted José to wear a wig, we didn’t have any other options. He tried arguing that he could get someone on a flight this morning, but I told him there was no way we could get the new undercover ready and prepped in time. Rushing leads to mistakes. Bailey agrees with that kind of logic. You’re good.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

We finish eating. I brush my teeth and shower before subjecting myself to José’s makeover.
 

He tells me to meet him in his room.
 

When I go inside, the desk chair has been pulled into the middle of the room. A large makeup case sits on the bed with a sprawling brush set beside it. At least he has the right equipment. Whether he knows how to use any of it is entirely another matter.
 

I’ll soon find out.

“Have a seat,” he says.

I plump my butt in the chair, bracing myself for the worst. “Just don’t make me look like that Dodge Dart.”

José sharpens an eyeliner pen. “But that car is a classic.” His smile tells me he’s only kidding, but I’m not in the mood.