Page 11 of Wicked Intention

He forced himself to return to the conversation they’d been having. “Swee—Lady,” Finn corrected himself, “Silva won’t think twice about having you killed. His bodyguards have probably already spotted you, and you’re only breathing right now because he doesn’t see you as a threat. But if you keep tailing him, that’s going to change, and I might not be around to bail your sexy ass out of trouble when it happens.”

“I can take care of my own ass, thank you very much.”

Before he could figure out what to say to convince her how wrong she was, two of Silva’s bodyguards exited the café across the street. They were watchful, alert. Yeah, it was showtime.

A man approached from up the street. Another false alarm, or was this who they were waiting for?

When he reachedEl Arrecife,he stopped and conversed with the bodyguards. One gestured him toward the door, and Finn’s gaze sharpened. The dude appeared to be in his forties, was balding with gray at his temples, and sported a salt-and-pepper goatee. He was maybe five-and-a-half feet tall with about twenty extra pounds on his frame. Finn mentally ran through the intel reports he’d studied but couldn’t come up with anyone who matched this guy.

He might not have recognized the man, but the woman sharing his table sure as hell had—her muscles went rigid. “Who is that?” he demanded, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the newcomer.

“I don’t know.”

“You might not know his name, but you know who he is. Tell me.”

At first, he thought she’d continue to stonewall him, but then she shrugged. “I’ve seen him with Alfonso Ramos. He either works for him or is a business associate of some sort.”

Alfonso Ramos? Ramos was a drug lord with a reputation for being vicious. A man like him should already have more than enough firepower. “Why would Ramos need more weapons?”

With another shrug, she said, “Knowing Al, he’s probably getting ready to launch a war against a rival.”

Knowing Al?She casually referred to a drug lord as Al? Whothe hellwas this woman?

Chapter Four

San Isidro, Puerto Jardin

Present Day

ZO TOUCHED the penlight she’d tucked in the back pocket of her jeans but resisted the urge to pull it out and use it.

San Isidro was her second home, and she’d always felt safe there, but it didn’t mean she was going to stroll down the main street. While many of the residents considered her one of theirs, not everyone felt that way. If the government was offering a reward for her arrest, someone could turn her in. Some would even feel honor-bound to alert the authorities. They might regret it, might understand the corruption of the system, but they’d do it.

It was much safer to slip in covertly.

She ducked to avoid a frond, stepped on a rock embedded in the path, and before she could catch her balance, stumbled into some foliage—ferns maybe. Zo righted herself, but something was crawling on her. Frantically, she brushed at herself—her arm, her shoulder, her chest—trying to knock off whatever it was.

The sensation of little bug feet on the back of her neck had her twisting and shrugging off her backpack. As it hit the ground, she swiped at her nape under the braid. Nothing. She pushed off her jacket and ran her hand over her neck and across her shoulders. No bug.

Nothing.

She shuddered, took a deep breath, and bent over to rest her hands on her knees. When Zo had her heart rate back to normal, she cursed at herself.

Damn it. She’d never been a girly girl. Bugs shouldn’t bother her.

And they didn’t. Really. As long as they weren’t crawling on her.

Finn liked how strong she was, how calm she was under pressure—he’d commented on it more than once. Yeah, right. That’s why she’d freaked out over nothing.

Zo picked up her jacket, shook it out—although the weight of the disk inside the hidden pocket made it awkward—and put it on. The temperature had dropped, but eighty was too warm for leather. She’d survive, though, and it would offer her protection from the six-legged things waiting to ambush her.

Slipping her arms through the straps, she shrugged until the pack rested comfortably on her shoulders before she resumed walking. Carefully. The last thing she needed was to trip over something else and break a leg.

The inn wasn’t much farther, but she was having second thoughts. Zo was starting to suspect that whatever she was embroiled in went high up in the Puerto Jardinese government. If she was right, her presence might endanger Tio Luis and Tia Izel. She wanted to use their phone to talk to some of her contacts and find out why she was being targeted, but phone calls could be traced.

Tio Luis, though, had been in the presidential brigade, Puerto Jardin’s Special Forces. He hadn’t admitted it, but after living with Finn, it was hard to miss the signs. There was an attitude, a mindset unique to these men.

Zo’s foot snagged on something, and she staggered as she caught her balance. Enough was enough. She took the penlight from her pocket. The risk of being spotted was one she’d have to take.

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