Page 11 of Forty Days and One Knight
“Make me hard, bitch!”
Her hand was forced to close around something soft and unfamiliar. Tahira couldn’t open her eyes even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. She willed her mind to think of one of her favorite places on Earth. She’d been in many beautiful locations, all around the world, but she loved to sit on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico and watch the dolphins play as the sun set behind them. That’s where she wanted to be right now—with her soulmate.
A man with dark hair and green eyes sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her, keeping her safe. He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “I have you, princess. You’re mine, and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you ever again. Keep thinking of me. You’ll get through this if you just keep thinking of me. I love you.”
11
“Batman, you there?”
Unable to verbally acknowledge Costello’s question, Darius coughed once. Her voice had come through the comms unit in his ear canal. The thing was so small no one would be able to see it—that also meant it would have to be carefully removed when the mission was over. The microphone that went with it was on Darius’s watch, but Carlos was standing next to him on the patio, so he had to use prearranged signals.
“Have you seen Diaz lately?”
Frowning, Darius glanced toward the mansion behind him. He didn’t know where ` was going with this and let out two more coughs. It didn’t mean much that he hadn’t seen the head of the cartel all day–there had been several days he hadn’t seen the man or only spotted him once or twice. With about twenty-four hours left before the auction, it was doubtful Diaz had left the compound.
“You okay, amigo?” Carlos asked. “Getting sick or something?”
Staying in character, he snorted. “Yeah, probably. Wish I was back in Miami or anywhere else that’s warm this time of year.” While it was winter in the southern hemisphere, the local temperatures had been hovering in the high fifties and low sixties during the day for the past six days, and about ten to fifteen degrees lower at night. According to tonight’s forecast, the temperatures wouldn’t come close to the freezing mark, and they were due for heavy thunderstorms and hail.
“Yeah, the cold weather sucks. I heard Diaz and Secada talking about heading to the Panama house after the auction. Margaritas and señoritas in bikinis? I’m up for that.”
“Me too,” Darius agreed, wishing the man would shut the fuck up so Costello could tell him what was going on. He gestured to his right with the AK-47 he was carrying for guard duty. “I’m going to take a walk around the house–check things out.”
“Knock yourself out. I’m going inside to get warm. Nobody’s around. Come in for some tequila when you’re done.”
“Sounds good.”
Darius strolled around the perimeter of the building as Carlos ducked inside the entrance to a mud room. Once he was sure he wouldn’t be overheard, Darius spoke softly into his multi-purpose watch. “I’m clear, Costello. Sit-rep.”
“For the past hour, the camera feeds have been in and out, just like the last time a storm rolled in—they’ll probably get worse. But besides that, Diaz hasn’t been spotted on the security cameras all day.” Over the past six weeks, Costello and Romeo had been scanning through the recorded security tapes from the compound, looking for anything that could provide them with more intel. But since the teams had arrived yesterday, they’d been monitoring the live feeds. The only rooms that didn’t have surveillance cameras installed were the master bedroom suite, Secada’s suite, and Diaz’s office. “He went into his bedroom this afternoon around 1300 and hasn’t come out since. Secada went in there about a half hour later and stayed for about twenty minutes before coming back out. Nobody’s gone in or out of the master suite since.”
With his head on swivel, checking his surroundings, Darius responded, “I heard Secada tell the house staff this afternoon that Diaz had a stomach bug or something and didn’t want to be disturbed. He gave them the rest of the day off. That was the last I heard from either Secada or Diaz.”
“Secada was in Diaz’s office for almost three hours after he left the master bedroom. He then went to the security office for a little bit before going to his own suite. That was about two hours ago. I don’t know if he’s still in there or if he’s back in the office or with Diaz. The live feeds have been out more than they’ve been on.”
“Damn storm,” Darius muttered, a second before a lightning strike brightened the dark sky. It wasn’t long before the crack of thunder followed. The storm was rapidly getting closer. “All right. I’ll see what I can do about checking on them. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“So does Boss-man. He’s already on his way to the compound with the second team. I’m turning over the surveillance feeds to Cookie and Egghead in Tampa, then headed your way too. If shit goes down, you’ll have plenty of backup—just give them a few more minutes to get there.”
“Got it.”
Something was wrong. Emmanuel Diaz had taken over the family-run cartel after his brother had been killed, but he wasn’t the intelligent and crafty businessman Ernesto had been. However, the family name, and the money behind it, had been enough to win over many of the men who currently worked for him. Truth be told, his right-hand man had become the brains of the operation. In fact, Darius was curious why Secada hadn’t done a hostile takeover—maybe he was waiting until the timing was right.
Rounding the back of the house again, Darius looked up at the northwest corner where the master bedroom suite was located. The lights were out, and it was only 2000 hours. Emmanuel never went to bed before 10 p.m. Had Secada decided to stage a mutiny? There was only one way to find out.
Darius was just about to head inside when Ian’s voice came through his earpiece. “Batman?”
“Go.”
“We’ve got the compound surrounded, but it looks like things are going to go FUBAR. We’re not the only ones out here. Looks like there might be a rival cartel trying to move in.”
Another flash of lightening lit up the sky, and its accompanying crack of thunder indicated the storm wasn’t far off. “Any chatter?”
“Egghead’s looking into it but might not have the intel in time—not that it really matters at this point. You locate Diaz yet?”
“Negative. Going to scout out his bedroom. Just need a few minutes to get up there.”
“Your safeword is ‘snake’.”
