Page 11 of Rogue Voice

In his mind’s eye, Rogue saw himself standing up and slamming his fist into Cruz’s mouth, saw the man fall right onto the pastries he so clearly loved. It took every ounce of willpower he had to stay sitting.

“I have a headache, Uncle,” Beatriz said, her voice barely a whisper. “May I be excused?”

Cruz nodded. “Of course,mi florecilla. Get some rest.”

Florecilla.Little flower. Rogue clenched his teeth together as an unexpected fury filled him. He forced himself to relax his jaw and put on what he hoped was a gallant, dumb expression.

Beatriz didn’t look at him as she turned and left the room, walking slowly, as if even putting one foot in front of another was an effort.

Cruz continued eating. When he was finally done stuffing his face with sweets, he dropped his napkin onto his plate and led the way to an adjoining sitting room. One of the servers appeared as if by magic and placed a tray with two tiny coffee cups in front of them, then left the room. The smell of dark espresso filled the air.

“Ah,” Cruz said. “Colombian coffee.Almostour finest export,” he said, laughing heartily at his own joke.

Rogue leaned back against the velvet armchair. “Let’s get down to business, Emiliano. What is it you think I can do for you?”

“Always in such a rush. You Americans are…”

“I’m Australian,” Rogue corrected. This was something Cruz would already know, so he wasn’t giving anything away.

“Of course, of course,” Cruz said, his expression making it clear it was the same to him. “But still, so impatient. I want to help you, Rogue.”

Rogue arched an eyebrow. “Help me?”

Cruz laughed. From an ornate, wooden box, he brought out a cigar. He offered the box to Rogue. “Straight from Cuba. A good friend brings them for me.”

Rogue shook his head. “I prefer cigarettes.” He only just stopped himself from referring to his missing pack. “What’s going on, Emiliano?”

Cruz closed the box, setting it carefully back on the coffee table, and spent an inordinate amount of time cutting the tip offthe cigar before lighting it. “Let’s put it this way. Maybe we can help each other. I’ve done a bit of research on you.”

“I’m flattered,” Rogue said, forcing himself to remain calm. He was certain his cover would have stood up to scrutiny.

“You’ve led a boring life since you arrived in Toronto. A boring job at the municipal library, an even more boring salary. You keep a fucking fish, for God’s sake.”

Rogue nodded, impressed despite himself. That was some good detail Carrie had added to his bio. “Dogs are expensive,” he said with a shrug.

“What happened with all the money you made here?” Cruz asked, sighing in satisfaction as he puffed on his cigar.

This time, it wasn’t hard for Rogue to fake the anger. “I spent it. It turns out one makes really stupid decisions when one’s high all the time.” He shrugged. “I was lucky my sister paid for rehab.” In reality, the Australian military had paid. He’d been lucky. If the end of one’s career could be called lucky. It wasn’t a time he wanted to think back on.

“Ah. But you must wonder how different your life would be if you still had that money.”

Rogue watched the red and orange glow for an instant, allowing a greedy look to cross his expression.

“Sure I do. Sometimes,” he said, then shrugged. “But I have a comfortable life now.”

He couldn’t make this too easy for Cruz.

“Comfortable,” Cruz said, his lip curling up in contempt. For an instant, he looked so much like his brother, Rogue felt was like he was traveling back in time.

“Admit it, Rogue. If your life were really so comfortable, you wouldn’t have come back to Colombia.” Cruz clasped his hands in front of his body. “But, you do this one small thing for me and I will change your life.”

Keeping his expression steady, when he wanted to hoot with laughter, was another exercise in self-control. Rogue raised an eyebrow and smiled wolfishly. “Just how much cash are we talking about, Emiliano?”

Cruz leaned forward in his seat, like a fisherman about to reel in his biggest catch of the day. The cigar lay forgotten on the ash tray in front of him. “You remember the system you designed for my uncle?”

Rogue kept his expression carefully neutral. “How could I forget one of my finest pieces of work?”

Come on.I’ve got you now.

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