Page 49 of Bad Rio

A crush of cocktail-attired people chattered amid the chink of champagne flutes chimed against each other. Servers passed with trays of oyster-on-the-half-shell. In one corner, a cigar roller was busy at his craft. The women were all in fashionable, glittering dresses, and the men in tails and coats. Eagerly, Becca scanned the room until her gaze fell on her father, holding court in the middle of a knot of men across the room. Well groomed, in an expensive suit, the handsome fifty-year-old seemed in his element.

Intent on making a beeline for him, she was stopped by Rio’s hand on her elbow.

“Wait a second,” he said. “He’ll be pretty surprised to see you. We don’t need a scene. Remember, he doesn’t know you’ve been rescued. We need to get him into a private room.”

“Got it.” To the left she spotted a pair of closed doors, presumably a library or guest room. That would do.

As they approached, she saw Daniel De Monte’s gaze stray from the men in front of him and he caught sight of her. His mouth dropped open. He gasped. “Rebecca?”

“Dad!” She flew into his arms. Rio stood back.

Hugging her tight, the older man exclaimed, “Oh, God, I can’t believe it! You’re safe!”

The people surrounding Daniel looked on curiously.

Rio came forward. “Since it’s been a good two weeks since you’ve seen her, I’m sure you’ll want a private word with your daughter,” he said, indicating the closed doors.

Before he could react, Becca urged her father toward the room. “Yes, Daddy, come talk to me for a minute.”

One of the men standing beside Daniel faded back, stepped away from the others. He was bald, with lightly pocked skin and a reserved manner. He said nothing and Becca barely noticed him.

Looking confused but relieved, Daniel De Monte allowed himself to be herded into the room. When a tall, rather muscular man who appeared to be a bodyguard tried to follow, Becca said to her father, “Just us, okay, Dad?”

He waved the bodyguard off and Rio closed the doors.

Inside, the paneled room was walled by hardbound books and featured a broad desk and groupings of club chairs. A fire crackled in an enormous fireplace.

Daniel took his daughter by the shoulders, and searched her face. “I’m so happy to see you. You can’t imagine how worried I’ve been. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine now, thanks to Rio.” She broke the embrace to look at her rescuer, standing behind her. “He got me away from the Mexican cartel. This is Rio Lang.”

“Mr. Lang, I’ll assume you work for Black Eagle?” He held out a hand.

In the fireplace, a log snapped and briefly blazed. Sparks flew upward into the flue.

Rio took the shorter man’s hand, perhaps with a firmer grip than strictly necessary. “That’s right.”

“Allow me to express my deepest gratitude. I’ve been worried sick.”

“Uh-huh.” Rio dropped the other man’s hand. “So worried you still needed to continue your political fundraising?”

“Rio!” Becca scowled at him. The fire behind her climbed higher.

Daniel blanched. “I—I had to! I realize it might look bad, but I was advised to keep the matter quiet. We needed to continue on our regular schedule. Nobody wanted an international incident.” He spread his hands wide.

“Of course not, Dad,” Becca said. She patted his arm. “Rio, please.” She cast him a warning glance.

He ignored her.

Daniel said, “The Black Eagle people assured me they’d send their best.”

“They did. They sent me.” Rio leaned toward the man and allowed his superior height and bulk to loom over the other. The fire in the grate raged. “So, tell me, what kind of man puts his daughter’s life in danger? Did you know she was shot?”

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