Dangerous Desires (4 page)

“May not be as easy as you think,” Avery said. “I’m going to need you on site as part of the team. Emmett and Lara are heading out to Russia in the morning. We’ve agreed to help neutralize a recently discovered stockpile of chemical weapons. And I’m not certain that Drake is ready for a new mission.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Drake said, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “I’ve been through the requisite debrief.” He glanced over at Lara for
confirmation. “And I’ve been cleared for duty. Besides, I’m the best you’ve got when it comes to extraction.”

“Yes, but you’ve had a lot to deal with in the last few weeks. I just don’t want you out there too soon.” Avery paused, eyes narrowed. “Before you’re ready.”

“I could go,” Emmett offered. “Drake can go with Lara.”

“No dice.” Avery shook his head. “Drake doesn’t speak the language and your Russian is flawless.”

“I’m perfectly capable of going into Colombia,” Drake said, trying to contain his irritation. “For God’s sake, it’s not like I had an attachment to the woman.” He hadn’t meant to add the last bit; the words came of their own volition. Everyone stopped talking, eyes riveted on the table. “Jesus”—he blew out a long breath—“you’d think I was the first one to have to deal with a traitor. I’m telling you, I’m fine. I can handle this.”

Avery studied him for a moment, and then nodded. “All right. But I want Jason to go anyway. He can fill in for Emmett handling communications. That going to be a problem?” The question was rhetorical but Jason answered anyway.

“Not from my end. Hannah’s perfectly capable of dealing with things here, and if she runs into a problem, I’ll just advise long distance.”

“Okay,” Emmett said, staring up at the photo, “so it sounds like we’ve got everything arranged. But I’m still not seeing why Langley would go to all the trouble to bring us in to retrieve her. She’s just the guy’s mistress—how much do you think she really knows? I’m thinking there’s got to be something more to this.”

“There is.” Avery crossed his arms, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Do tell,” Nash prompted.

“As I mentioned earlier,” Avery said, “di Silva’s been suspected of dealing arms for quite some time now. But there’s never been any tangible proof. There have been all kinds of rumors. Everything from a warehouse in Bogotá to a terrorist hideout in the mountains of Chaco.”

“But nothing has ever been substantiated,” Hannah added.

“Until now.” Avery’s expression turned grim. “According to the original source, Madeline Reynard knows the location of di Silva’s weapons cache. And it’s somewhere in the vicinity of his compound. So if she’s telling the truth—”

“Then we’ll be able to nail di Silva,” Nash said.

“Exactly.” Avery nodded. “Our task is to find the cache, document the site, and then blow it to kingdom come.”

“After we extract Madeline Reynard and get her back to D.C.,” Jason prompted.

“Not possible,” Avery shook his head. “The only way to be sure she’s on the level is to make her show us the site. If everything pans out, then Tyler blows the pop stand and we escort Ms. Reynard straight to Langley.”

“And if she’s lying?” Drake asked.

“Then,” Avery shrugged, “we leave her to di Silva.”

Casa de Orquídea, Valle del Cauca, Colombia

M
adeline Reynard paced back and forth in the confines of her bedroom. It seemed whatever decision she made it was the wrong one. She’d killed a man to save her sister. Confessed to keep Jenny out of the picture. And then she’d agreed to Ortiz’s conditions—this time to buy her sister’s freedom. But Jenny was dead. Which meant that everything she’d done had been for nothing.

Madeline had promised her mother, and now she’d failed.

And to make matters worse, she was little more than a prisoner here in Cali. Once they’d returned from Bogotá, she’d found that her bedroom had been moved from the first floor to the second. And at night there were guards outside her bedroom door. During the day she wasn’t allowed even a walk on the grounds without an armed escort. Di Silva’s men swore it was for her own protection, but Madeline didn’t believe a word of it.

It had been almost three weeks since she’d heard
anything from the Embassy. And once she’d been sequestered here, there had been no way for her to contact anyone. Someone was always watching her. She stopped in front of the window, looking out across the manicured lawns. The breeze caressed her face, the curtains lifting lazily as the air was filled with the heady perfume of orchids.

Casa de Orquídea was beautiful, its namesake flowers coloring every nook and cranny in shades of pink and purple. But beauty could be deceiving. The compound, like San Mateo, was a prison. Only this time, Madeline was fairly certain there would be no reprieve. In the end, Andrés’s playing card had amounted to nothing. She hadn’t wanted to believe it offered salvation. Only fools bought into happy endings. And yet, some part of her had hoped it was true.

She sighed, her hands closing on the bars that obstructed the open window. They were a new addition, another way to make sure she couldn’t escape. Behind her the door rattled as it was thrown open, and she whirled around, composing her face as she struggled to maintain at least an outward sense of calm.

“I see you’ve settled in here nicely,” Hector Ortiz said, his lithe frame filling the doorway. Hector was one of those men who blended into the background. Neither tall nor short, big nor small, handsome nor ugly. He was every man. And it served him well. His dark hair was always impeccable. Combed back in the Latin style, it emphasized the angles of his face, and the dark obsidian of his eyes.

She hadn’t realized until now how much she truly despised the man. “I liked my old room. I had access to
the courtyard and the grounds beyond. Now,” she waved toward the window, “I’m little more than a prisoner.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Although Madeline’s Spanish was excellent, Ortiz, for some reason, preferred to hold their conversations in English. “But I have reason to believe that you’ve been considering breaking our agreement. And I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that would be.”

“I’ve done exactly as you asked me. From the very beginning.” She shook her head. “But it’s never enough.”

Ortiz smiled. “I’m afraid it’s the nature of the bargain. There’s always something more. But your work isn’t the problem. You’ve actually been quite a valuable asset. Which makes my discovery all the more disappointing.”

Her heart twisted, but she lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You contacted the American Embassy.” He threw a photograph onto the bureau. She reached for it, fighting to keep her hand from trembling. “Is that not you?”

She glanced down at the picture. “I’m an American.” She tossed the photo back on the chest. “And Will is a…” She hesitated, lifting one shoulder in feigned indifference. “Friend.”

Actually, she’d only met him once before the picture was taken. At a political function. She’d been there with a prominent politico, a man with strong ties to the Latin American military-industrial complex. He’d been a pig. But Ortiz had insisted he had access to information no one else did. Anyway, it was that night that she’d met William Richardson, filing the name away as a possible ally should she ever need a way out.

“You’re implying that the man was your lover?” Ortiz
actually laughed. “From what I’ve heard he was a devoted family man.”

“That hardly stops di Silva,” she said, determined to keep him from the truth. “Will had certain needs. And…” she trailed off. “Did you say ‘was’?”

“Yes.” He held out another photograph.

She took it, her stomach threatening revolt, as her brain struggled to process the scene depicted. Will lying in the street. His body crumpled like a rag doll, his blood staining the pavement. “Oh, my God.”

“You left me no choice,” Ortiz said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I had to clean up your mess.”

“You killed him?” The words came out a strangled whisper.

“I gave the order.” Ortiz shrugged, his gaze never leaving her face.

“But he hadn’t done anything to you.” She shook her head, the photograph falling from trembling fingers, drifting to the floor.

“Ah, yes, but if he’d helped you escape…”

“I told you he was my lover.”

“And I’m telling you it’s a lie.” He slapped her hard and she jerked back, eyes wide as she covered her cheek with her hand. “I’m certain you were asking him for help. And I know why.”

She froze, her heart threatening to break through her ribs.

“You were in my office.” His voice was soft, but there was a thread of steel.

“I’m in your office all the time. I work for you, remember?” She clenched her fists, praying for a miracle—certain that none would come.

“Yes, but this time you were there without my permission. And you found the letter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.” He raised his hand again and she shrank back, but instead of striking her, he clenched his fist, his hand dropping back to his side. “Shall I spell it out for you? Your sister is dead. And you decided you wanted out. And you thought William Richardson would help you, but you miscalculated. And now he’s dead.”

“But I’m still alive. Why is that?” she asked, anger pushing away her fear.

“Because we believe you can still be useful to us.” His gaze had turned speculative.

“And why would I want to help you? You killed my sister.” She spoke through clenched teeth, hanging on to her control by sheer force of will.

“I did nothing of the sort.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Your sister killed herself. She was a junkie. And like all junkies, she simply couldn’t stop.”

Madeline swallowed her tears. “I should have been there with her. You should have told me.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” he said, his expression impassive. “And I needed you focused on your work.”

“So you lied. You let me believe she was still alive.”

“I did what was best for our operations.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he shrugged, “you will continue to pay off her debt. Besides the drugs, there is the small matter of the hospital.”

“And if I refuse,” she said, clenching her fists. “Then what?”

“Then I’ll be forced to tell the authorities where you are. They still believe you’re in San Mateo. And murder is a crime punishable by death.”

She shivered but held her ground. “You’re bluffing.”

“I never bluff,” he said, his gazed locked with hers. “And if that isn’t enough to keep you in line, consider the information you’ve stolen. The men you’ve deceived. There are bound to be consequences for such duplicity.”

“But I was working for
you.
If you bring me down, then you come with me.”

“You always were naïve.” His laugh was harsh. “There are ways of releasing your identity without involving the di Silva organization. We’ve been careful to insulate ourselves in case you failed. And that protection will only play in our favor should I choose to throw you to the wolves.”

“You wouldn’t.” The words came involuntarily as she thought of the men she’d duped. Powerful men who’d like nothing better than to make her pay.

“Oh, believe me, Madeline,” he said, jerking her forward, his fingers biting into her skin, “if you make any further attempt to betray us, one way or another, your life won’t be worth a damn.” He released her, and she stumbled backward. “If you don’t believe me, have another look at the photograph of William Richardson.”

“You in?” Nash asked, the communications device in Drake’s ear crackling to life.

“Roger that.” He frowned, surveying the dark room beyond the terrace door he’d just entered. “But there’s no one here. Looks like there hasn’t been for a while. The closet is empty and there aren’t any sheets on the bed.
Any chance we’re too late?” As he spoke, he rechecked the room, looking for something that might give him a clue as to Madeline Reynard’s whereabouts.

“Negative,” Nash insisted. “Hannah’s got recent footage. She’s there somewhere. They must have her somewhere else.”

“All right, so what’s my next move?” Drake asked. “In or out?”

“Got to be in,” Nash said, his tone grim. “You’ve got incoming. Three of di Silva’s men just took position on the terrace.”

“Great. No package, no exit strategy, and I’m flying blind.” Drake swallowed a surge of irritation. There were always hiccups in operations. It was part of the gig. The best thing to do was stay alert and roll with the punches.

“Hang on,” Nash said. He and Avery were located just inside the compound’s walls, but they were still too far away to give Drake needed backup. “Jason’s patching us through to Hannah. She’s working to get access to di Silva’s internal security cameras. You guys there?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “We’re still working on the feed. We’re in, but Hannah’s having a little trouble with the encryption.”

“Hey, it’s only been a couple of seconds,” Hannah’s voice crackled over the line. “Give a girl a chance.”

“Not sure I have that option,” Drake said, moving the drapes slightly so that he could see outside. “I’ve got two of the guards on the move. They’re heading this way.”

“Hold on.” Hannah’s voice was distracted. “I’m almost there.”

Drake pulled out his gun and shifted position. “We’re down to seconds.”

“Got it,” Jason said, as Drake released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Hannah, can you see it?”

“Yeah,” Hannah confirmed. “And I’ve got infrared as well. There’s no one in the adjoining room.”

Drake sprinted across the room and through the door, pulling it closed behind him, the sound of voices rising as they came in from the terrace, indicating just how close he’d come to being discovered.

“They still coming?” he queried, keeping his voice low.

“No,” Hannah responded. “They’ve gone back outside. You’re clear from that direction.”

“What about the hallway?” Avery asked, his voice breaking up a little.

“I’m showing no activity in the immediate area,” Hannah responded. “But there are people all over the house. Maybe ten or eleven. And the ones I can see on the security cameras are armed.”