Behind the Mask (Undercover Associates Book 4) (44 page)

Shots came from somewhere else. Had one of the soldiers turned?

The place erupted into mayhem.

The barongs flew. There was a crack as Hugo hit El Gorrion in the face.

Suddenly somebody was behind her, untying her hands.

“Rio!” She rubbed her wrists as he cut her legs free. She could hear him swear as he saw her feet. “I’m getting you out of here,” he said.

“No, we have to help Hugo. Give me something.”

“Some of these guys coming in are ours,” he said, pulling her off the bench. He pushed it over to create a shield. And started shooting.

Her mouth fell open. “You’re
coordinating
with Hugo.”

“Long story.”

Everything was confusion in the place, but there was Hugo, fighting like a bloody Phoenix. Chaos was his element. He took people down.

El Gorrion’s soldiers were already scattering.

And then they were gone and everything was quiet. El Gorrion lay on the ground, cowering at the end of Hugo’s blade. Riley and Cole and Kendrick and a few other guys were there in the El Gorrion greens. They took over for Hugo, who cast his blades aside and headed for her like a man on fire.

She stood. She didn’t care about her feet. She didn’t feel anything except the pull of Hugo, long legs eating up the distance between them.

“You were working together,” she said to nobody in particular.

“
Corazón
.” Hugo wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up into his arms. “
Corazón, corazón, corazón
,” he whispered.

“I’m okay,” she said, because he needed to know that first and foremost. She linked her arms around his neck. “I’m okay.”

He pulled her violently against his body. The way he clutched her to him was harsh and good, like him.

Over his shoulder she saw a soldier who looked a lot like Dax join the men who were standing over El Gorrion.

It
was
Dax. He gave her a look. She met his eyes over Hugo’s shoulder, feeling none of the old friendship.

Dax went to stand over El Gorrion. “We’ve got plans for you,” Dax said. “I find it exceedingly interesting that El Gorrion…” he looked up at her “…was Kabakas all along.”

She understood instantly. Dax would be delivering El Gorrion to the vice president. El Gorrion had confessed to acting as Kabakas. Delivering him would end the standoff.

She just took it in. It would take more than that to repair things.

Riley yanked El Gorrion up and somebody spun him around and cuffed him.

Hugo swiped a small blade from the bench—the blade El Gorrion had used to cut her—and handed it to her. “Take the blade,
corazón
.

“What?”

“Do it.”

She took it. Hugo spun with her in his arms and headed over to where they had El Gorrion handcuffed. She felt the energy vibrating through him. “He’s hers,” Hugo growled to the group as he stopped, still holding her aloft, face to face now with El Gorrion.

Dax’s dark eyes flashed from the side. “We need him. We’re going to use him.”

“Only if she doesn’t want him.” Hugo kissed her cheek. “He’s yours,
corazón
. Finish him.”

The blade felt electric in her hands. El Gorrion shrank against the wall. “Finish him. Finish the nightmares. He cut you with the blade. You’ll finish it.”

Kendrick held him in place. She thought he might slide to the ground if Kendrick wasn’t holding him.

“She shouldn’t kill him,” Riley said.

“No, let her,” Dax said “Let her do it. Kabakas is just as useful dead.”

She looked into the man’s eyes. He was Friar Hovde, right down the blade. Right down to the way he’d tied her. He’d killed so many without mercy. They could turn him over dead as well as alive. In the dream she’d wanted to stab Friar Hovde. She was always sure everything would be repaired if only she could find him and kill him.

She held onto Hugo’s neck with one hand, the other she gripped the blade, caught between waking and dreaming.

Hugo lowered his voice. “He waits for you,
corazón
. If you want him.”

“No.” She lowered it and turned to look into Hugo’s beautiful eyes. “It’s not about him. It’s not about any of them.” She tossed it.

She became aware of a helicopter sound. Strafing the ground. Their ride home. It was done.

Riley and Kendrick led El Gorrion away.

Hugo held her close. She thought he might never put her down, and that was okay. “Did it help?” he asked. “To have his life in your hands?”

“Not really,” she said.

“It didn’t help a little bit?”

She smiled. “A little bit.”

He kissed her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

Buena Vista

Z
elda ran a
finger over the edge of the SUV’s rear door panel. You could hardly see the seam; no clue that it was false; nothing even rattled when you thumped it. Same with the side panels; nobody would guess a veritable arsenal was hidden in the vehicle.

Riley, Rio, Angel, and Cole would be traveling through some very hot territory—best they came off like tourists for as long as possible. The Association was in deep pursuit of a vicious organ-peddling ring—a group with lots of firepower and deep political connections throughout North and South America. Exactly the kind of case she and Dax had created the Association for.

Sometimes she couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat when she thought about what had happened between her and Dax and the other Associates. She understood Dax’s choices on a theoretical level, but in her heart, she felt betrayed.

And she knew Cole, Rio, Riley, and the rest had just been taking orders from the person they’d always taken orders from. It stung, nevertheless.

The pirate standoff had been resolved, thanks to the offering of El Gorrion. Zelda had been tremendously relieved when she’d heard. Justice was as important to her as ever. Innocent lives were still important, and for her and Hugo, opening up the remote mountainside home as a staging ground for this operation against the organ ring was a no-brainer. It had been a busy week with the group of them resting up and carefully focusing on strategies, logistics, and supplies instead of what had happened out there in El Gorrion territory. They’d even done some training together out on the windswept grounds, much to Paolo’s delight. It had felt good; a baby step back into Association business. Her first. And the respect had run thick between them all.

And in truth, it had been a nice break. She and Hugo and Paolo had spent a long, hot summer cutting back the plants and treating the soil. Grueling work, but it had repaired something deep in her soul, dealing with living things again, and working side by side with people who knew the plants as well as their own hands. She’d had more interesting botany conversations and arguments over the past few months than she’d had in years. And it had been amazing to see Hugo develop relationships with the people here, and the way they accepted him—especially when they found out who his mother and grandparents were.

She found the welding seam. Yeah, almost imperceptible. This, too, called to her. She ran her finger over the beginning and end of it; the metal was still cool from the night air.

Footsteps. She turned to see Riley coming out of the house with a duffel bag. He wore one of the brightly woven shirts they’d gotten at the Bumcara market. He nodded at the back panel. “You like that?”

Yeah, she liked it. “Can’t even tell.”

He stowed the bag and turned. “Thanks,” he said. “For letting us rest and regroup. Run things out of here. I know you’re still conflicted.”

“Only about some things.”

“Like my part in it? Keeping you from going after him?”

“I can’t fault you for being loyal,” she said. “Anyway, doing the wrong things for the right reasons, that’s pretty much the mission statement for the whole Association, isn’t it?”

He leaned back against the truck and folded his arms. “You can’t extend that understanding to Dax?”

She gazed out over the valley as Hugo came out with Rio, who looked cool and crisp and dangerous as ever, even disguised as a
turista
. “It’s not about understanding, it’s about trust. Dax is still my best friend and I
am
coming back; it just has to be different after this. It’s painful still.”

“He’s not doing well,” Rio said. “He needs you back as a friend. Thorne thinks he’s imploding.”

“Dax is tougher than he seems,” she said as the others came out and stuffed bags into the vehicle. “And I won’t dishonor our friendship with a false reconciliation. He would hate that. And look, we’ve got you losers basing out of this place, right? That’s a step.”

Rio eyed her, relieved to finally be talking about it, she guessed. “We okay?”

“After you tried to kill the man I love?” she asked playfully.

Rio’s smile was evil and beautiful. “I
didn’t
kill him, though, did I?”

Hugo’s lip quirked.

Rio caught it, said nothing. They looked so different, Rio smooth and polished, Hugo with his hard, rough gravity. But they had dark things in common, these two assassins. They had entire underground rivers in common.

“Boys.” Angel came up and shoved a box into the backseat. “Here’s what’s killing me—that fucking décor in there. I have one word for you—upholstery.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I should stay. Help you fix up the place.”

Hugo gave the Association’s resident safecracker/interior designer a dirty look. She and Hugo were ready for some alone time, and everybody knew it.

Angel snorted. “Fine. Maybe I come back here when we’re done with this job. It disturbs me that it would even be like that.” She opened the driver’s side door. “You guys ready?”

Zelda took Hugo’s hand. It felt so natural to be with him. Partners. Lovers.

Angel and Cole argued about who would drive as Liza walked out with Paolo. She and Paolo were getting dropped off at the big waterpark in Guayaquil. Liza was doing great these days—she was a natural with Paolo and she’d really pitched in on the harvest. She was thinking about staying in Buena Vista after the trip the two of them were planning to visit their parents in Okinawa.

Zelda watched Hugo roughhouse with Paolo. They were so much more physical now.

She and Hugo had talked a lot about the future. She wanted to get back into the field, maybe even freelance with the Association, but Hugo was into working the literal fields and raising Paolo. They would make it work. She could base out of Buena Vista as easily as New York. She needed the distance now.

The group of them piled into the vehicle, all except Liza, who came up and kissed Zelda on the cheek. She was back to blonde, but she had blue eyes now. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes.

Hugo wrapped his arms around her as Liza spun around and headed toward the SUV. Hugo had that energy she’d come to recognize, like a wild bear. She trembled with anticipation.

“And light on the junk food for Paolo, or you’ll be sorry,” Zelda called as Liza shut the door.

The vehicle pulled out, disappeared down the mountainside, leaving them in blissful peace and quiet.

Kind of.

When even the sound of the SUV faded into the wind, Hugo lifted her up.

“Hugo!”

He carried her into the house. His legs were all but healed now. “I am sorry,
corazón
, I cannot wait.” He brought her clear through the house and out to the veranda, setting her on a slate-topped table in the sun and the wind.

“Out here?”

He didn’t answer, just began tearing at her clothes.

She pushed him off. “Hold up.” She slipped off and stood in front of him, unbuttoning her shirt little by little, stoking his frenzy.

She glanced out over his shoulder as she undressed, looking out at the newly harvested field. Really it was partly harvested. There was a row on the far edge where they let the savincas bloom. She and Hugo had decided on it together, to let that farthest row of flowers bloom wild and free.

“I love you,” he rasped.

She gazed into his brown eyes. “Do you think that’s going to get me to take off my shirt faster?”

He came to her then and started on her pants, feverishly.

“I love you more,” she whispered.

“Do you think that’s going to make me not rip your clothes?”

She snorted. Everything was so different now. She understood that no amount of penance could erase the death she had caused. Her painful guilt and shame would always be with her, but that time with El Gorrion had freed her from some of the worst of it, ironically. She saw now that the guilt and shame were only small facets of her. There were other facets of her, like her love for Hugo and Liza and Paolo. And the way she was rediscovering her passion for growing things, her passion for spycraft, for justice.

It felt strange and beautiful to feel whole after feeling reduced for so long.

Hugo set her back onto the stone table and fumbled with her bra, a sexy front-clasp number. He swore in Spanish, having lost his characteristic dexterity. She let him struggle; it was just stoking up his frenzy. “Don’t you dare wreck it,” she commanded.