The Protector of Ambra (Mercenaries of Fortune, #5) (2 page)

Only the cops hadn’t handled it and they wouldn’t.

Melody thunked her head back on the wall. She closed her eyes and thought of her shop back home. It relaxed her immediately. She could feel the smile creeping up her face. She must have looked like an idiot, but that’s what thinking about her business did to her. A second later and she could almost hear the whirring of frothing machines and the tingling bell of their old-timey cash register. Mama was probably there right now, wiping powder from her nose while she tallied up an order.

Melody took a deep cleansing breath and let her awareness spread to the exhaust fumes and sandals clacking on the street around her. Like a boxer in the ring, she wobbled her head and squared her shoulders to get her head back in the game.

She had to be in this place right now, to save her place back home. People depended on her. She couldn’t let them down and she wouldn’t let herself down. She’d built her happy damned shop with tears and grit. She wasn’t going to let some rogue chocolate supplier run off with her hard-earned money and wipe all her work away.

So she didn’t have her luggage. Big deal. Her purse was still wrapped across her body. That had all she needed to survive anyway: a phone to capture evidence of Noah being a thieving sonofabitch, a passport to get her home and a wallet to buy herself a celebratory drink on the plane ride back.

Step one was finding her way to the nearest hotel before nightfall. It had to be within walking distance by now. Maybe. Melody pulled up an app on her phone and its adjoining map.

She walked as it led the way, skidding over uneven pavement and dragging her hand along wire fences. Her stomach growled as she passed some food joints. Roasting beef and pork tickled her nose with promises of grease paved heaven. Odd. She’d hated Mexican food her whole life, but this smelled nothing like the stuff she’d had in Rhode Island. She didn’t have time to test it though. Whatever food they had at the hotel was what she’d be happy with. The sooner she got there, the sooner she could get to her real reason for being here – going directly to Noah’s facility and finding the source of her chocolate drama herself.

But maybe the scents of the city had a bigger hold on her than she thought. So focused on trying not to think about food, she didn’t notice the two men crowding her on either side until it was too late. She turned down a far less crowded street. When she tried to backtrack, the men blocked her way.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to maneuver around them. “I don’t want any...hey!”

One snatched her phone straight from her hand.

“Stop!”

Her shout didn’t stop him anymore than it stopped his friend from taking a knife to her purse strap and heading off in the opposite direction.

She could only save one. She chose the phone. There had to be an embassy around here for stolen passports, but her phone had everything. Credit cards could be cancelled with a call, but she had direct access to her financial and personal lives on her cell.

Melody wheezed with effort, but kept the guy in her sights. He pivoted down a side street and then another. She hauled ass right after him.

Bad idea.

One of his accomplices threw something at her, then body-checked her cheek first into a wall. “You basta...oh...”

She’d been thrown, not by some stranger, but by sexy-creepy doctor man. More strange, the thing he’d thrown at her was her suitcase. She didn’t thank him. He was too busy overtaking the guy with her phone and pummeling his face into the ground.

With a death grip on her luggage handle, and its tiny wheels tap-a-tapping on the semi-paved street, she caught up to the doctor in time to see the thief drop her phone and scurry away.

A flurry of relief welled up, but quickly dissipated.
Thanks, but no thanks
, didn’t exactly feel like the right thing to say, but it wasn’t too far off. “Listen, uh—”

He held out his phone to her. The same one he’d used for scary picture time. Melody inched closer, leaning as she walked – keeping her knees loose in case she had to pivot away. Her face stared back at her, but not of the picture he’d taken in the car. Instead, it was her way too old college ID card. “What the crap is this?”

She plucked the phone from his fingertips and backed up. Every flick of her finger across his screen produced another moment from her life. Speeding tickets, student loans, even her logo filing with the local small business group. “How did...who
are
you?”

The man she’d tagged on the plane as a handsome doctor, turned his glacial blue eyes towards her. He ruffled his hands through his hair – it looked as thick and as heavy as butterscotch – and tilted his head to the side. “I work for a particular organization. When a strange woman jumps into the car with me and essentially commandeers it, my initial thought is that she means to kill me.”

“Whose first thought is that?”

“Well Ms., I—”

“What the hell kind of job do you have? And a name. You owe me that, at least. Seeing as how your weird little phone probably tells you when I’m on my period...”

The man’s face scrunched, then relaxed into a dangerously attractive smile. “Suffice it to say, my work involves going into dangerous situations and quickly getting out of them.” He brushed dirt from his collared shirt and jeans, then shrugged. “That’s really all I can say. Oh, and Pierce. My name’s Pierce, 31, Boston, non-smoker.”

Of course his name was Pierce. He probably had three middle names and a family crest to go along with it. Something about him bespoke a past of wealth and privilege, unless this too was part of his job’s persona. She knew a bit about that – putting on airs, faking it until she made it.

But her faking it meant putting on a game face before applying for a business loan. He’d just taken down a man with ruthless efficiency, after returning her luggage from a moving vehicle.

And she didn’t forget what she had seen on the flight too. He’d been helpful and kind and well. She couldn’t make him out.

It was impossible for the feeling to be mutual. The man knew everything about her with a scan of her face. The proof of his words was in her hand. Technology like this wasn’t available to anybody. Or even every government agency. This guy had to be way up the food chain to have something like this at his disposal. She wiggled the phone in front of her. “How do you have access to all this information?”

Pierce snatched the phone away and slid it inside his jacket pocket. “You have to know that I can’t share that with you. The bigger question is, why are you here?”

“Your magical phone can’t read my thoughts? Don’t answer that. I don’t need any more bad news.”

“Your purse is gone,” Pierce said with a nod.

“You noticed that too?”

“It’s my job to notice things. C’mon, let’s get you to a hotel.”

It wasn’t such a long walk from where they were. She’d been mugged on these streets, but also protected on them by the man walking beside her. His presence removed the sketch from an otherwise frightening situation. And because the yellow-haired Clark Kent was here, guiding her – even pulling her luggage – her mind wandered again to her personal doubts. She’d been in the country for less than an hour and already her plans had blown up in her face. The last few minutes left her effectively stuck in the country. “I know, in theory, that I should be able to get a new passport. I need you to tell me it’ll be an easy process. Lie if you have to.”

“Of course it is. You’ll be fine. Tell you what. I’ll have you out of here flying first class. You deserve it after your evening. But...”

She’d already started crafting her dream of what the golden streets of first class might look like, before his strained “but,” kicked its way through. “Yes?”

“My mission has to come first. Besides, going through all the formal channels takes time. It’ll be much easier to take the accelerated route. That means, however, you staying in town while I finish up some things. I’ll come back and get you out of here.”

“Some things? Secret things?”

“Yes.”

“Important things?”

He nodded.

“That won’t work for me.”

His eyebrow quirked up in open amusement. “That wasn’t one of the options. I didn’t really give options. Okay, I’ll put you in a taxi for the nearest consulate and make some phone calls when I get back. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“Can’t do that either.”

Pierce stopped, tapping his finger against his lips. “So, option one, then. Question. Why exactly are you here again? Perhaps if you tell me this secret mission of yours and yes, I get the hypocrisy, but...” His hands clawed the air, urging her on.

She didn’t have anything to lose by telling him the truth. Given his powerful connections, whatever they were, he might even be able to help. Despite her best efforts, he’d been nothing but helpful since they’d met.

Melody put one foot in front of the other and laid it all out on the line. Her chin was darn near melting into her chest. There was nothing as humiliating as asking for help. Only two things would ever make her do it. Her family and her career. This trip impacted both. “It has to do with my business.”

“You’re a baker.”

“Chocolatier.”

“Got it,” he said with a dimpled smirk. His bottom lip quivered, but he nodded appreciatively. “And your situation?”

“It’s the chocolate.”

“You have a chocolate situation?”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Not at all,” he said, behind a half opened fist.

“Good. I pay top dollar for fair trade chocolate. I get it directly from the source. Well, not directly. Obviously via a distributor. That’s not the point. That point is that Sweet Happiness Chocolate Haus is good from the inside out. It’s not just branding, it’s what I believe in. It’s who I am.”

He grinned, but she wasn’t afraid or ashamed of her passion and kept right on going. “I want to be the owner of a world dominating chocolate company. One built on love, kindness, rainbows and all that other good stuff. I’ve dedicated everything to this. As part of the agreement with my distributer, a percentage of profit goes back to the community, but the numbers just aren’t adding up. Something’s off. Plus, the taste of the chocolate has changed. The quality isn’t there anymore. I think my guy down here is ripping me off.”

“So why not go to the police?”

“I’ve tried. Twice. It’s too small a case for anyone to be concerned about. Who cares if another small business goes under? Or if poor people in another country get screwed? Tell me I’m wrong.”

His pursed lips said that he couldn’t. Pierce’s eyes narrowed and he stared at her as if solving some impossible math problem.
Good
. He should know he wasn’t the only hero around here. Dollars to doughnuts, she rocked the cape a little harder than he did. The man had a team and government backing.

She was doing this all on her own. As far as righteous qualities went, she matched him blow for blow. When counting raw talent in this field, however, the point had to go to him. He’d saved the lady on the plane and now her. The dude was two for two. She’d be the dumbest person alive if she didn’t try to exploit that. “Pierce, buddy,” she said, slapping her hand across his arm. “You’re noble.”

Pierce’s magazine-white teeth blared against his tanned skin. “I already said I’d help, but go on. This sounds like it’s going to be good.”

“Hear me out. Pretend that ‘no’ is not an option.”

“Wow.”

“I’m just saying that since you work for the government and I’m an American citizen in distress, you’re kinda obligated to help me and others. I told you what I do. How many people are helped by my tiny business? Those people and their families...” She paused for the most dramatic headshake on Earth. “Think of the children.”

“Yours?”

“No. Ours,” she said, swinging her arm away from her chest. “All the kids of those workers in the fields who are benefiting from the increased incomes from Sweet Happiness—”

“Chocolate Haus. Yeah, got it,” Pierce said, stopping again and crossing his arms. He sighed into his fist and appeared as though he were in the middle of the craziest argument with himself.

“You’re thinking about it. Good. Let the guilt get real deep in that noble brain of yours.”

“Oh my God.”

She wasn’t just blowing smoke up his butt, though it was likely working. She was right. Her work was good. It was beneficial to her. It was beneficial to the farmers. Anyone shady enough to steal money from that ought to get punched in the kidneys. Melody sized up Pierce’s fist and smiled at her good judgment. He looked like the kidney punching type. “Pierce?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t waste time staying in a hotel while bad things are happening to people and to my money. If there’s solid proof here of something dirty, I need to find it. The evidence I need to nail the bastard to the wall is in the jungle. You’re going to take me there.”

“And we’re supposed to magically find...what? A compound? A business office?”

She dug in her heels, refusing to back down. “You took a picture of my face and discovered my life. You could find freaking Brigadoon on that phone if you wanted to. Plus, I have the address. It’s in that phone you saved,” she said, sucking her teeth with a loud smack. “Unless you want to hurt the little children.”

“Enough. I’ll help.”

“Doesn’t it feel good to do the right thing?”

“Not really,” he said, with his head rolled back and his eyes closed. “It feels a lot like unemployment.”

P
ierce waited in the jeep they’d rented while Melody leaned against the hood and called her credit card companies. Plenty of other people would have been in hysterics over what she’d gone through. The woman was tough. He liked her, though he had no good reason to tell her the truth that his heroic government job had very little to do with the government.

Or heroism.

This noble quest of his involved breaking into a monastery and stealing a priceless artifact. Well, not totally priceless. Therein lay the rub. To raise funds for the parish, local monks were selling off some Olmec pieces. The treasures had been property of the church since the days of the conquistadors and before then, in the hands of the Maya. Now they were on the auctioning block.