Page 37 of Wicked Intention

“I had you investigated,” Torres said conversationally. “Mercenaries are generally untrustworthy, fighting for whoever pays them the most, and I saw nothing in your background to encourage me to do business with you.”

“I’ve never fought on both sides of any conflict. Your investigation would have told you that.”

Torres nodded. “Why mercenary work?”

“I was orphaned, no family, and I was sent from one stranger’s home to the next.” They’d kept his cover story close to his real life. “Joining the US military was my best option. I have no other skills except what I learned in the Army. Mercenary work earns enough to get a foothold.”

“And selling arms will do more than give you a foothold. It will set you up for the future, is that the idea?”

Finn shrugged. “That wasn’t part of the plan, but when the opportunity fell into my lap, I wasn’t going to turn it down.”

Torres remained silent as they rounded a gentle curve in the path. “Henri told me you have friends in interesting places.”

“Sí,” Finn agreed. At last, they were getting down to details.

“Why are they going through you and not brokering their own deal?”

“They don’t have the type of contacts I do. Both of them played it straight up till now.”

The path had another curve, and they were headed toward the house again.

“And it allows them to deny any knowledge of how the weapons ended up where they did, should they be caught,” Silva offered. “At least until the authorities learn of their friendship with you.”

“Henri is correct, as he always is,” Torres said with genuine affection. The half-smile didn’t linger. “Why should I work with you, señor? Because of your source, the weapons will come in dribs and drabs. I’m accustomed to receiving thousands of pieces at a time.”

They were nearly back to the patio now. “I can deliverthose numbers. A phony invoice, a misdirected shipment. It’s doable.”

They reached the house, but Torres didn’t stop. Instead, he continued around the side. “Perhaps we can do business. I’ll give you a 30% cut.”

“I have associates. Let’s make it 50%.”

The limo loomed in front of them. It looked like this was going to be another short meeting.

Torres didn’t say another word until they arrived at it. “Señor Finley, your associates are your problem.” There was nothing grandfatherly about him now. This was the international arms dealer. He nodded to the bodyguard, and the man opened the rear door. “The deal is 30%. I do not negotiate.”

Chapter Fourteen

Los Angeles, California

4 Years Earlier

ZO JUMPED WHEN the knock came at her apartment door. The moment of reckoning was at hand.

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her palms over her gray trousers and went to open the door. It was a reflex that had her checking the peephole, but she knew who was there—her parents.

She looked around, but everything was neat and clean. It had been a different story when Mari had lived here—her stuff had been everywhere—but that had been before she’d returned home to Puerto Jardin. The knock came again, louder this time, and Zo grimaced. She couldn’t delay any longer.

She had to take another deep breath before she could reach for the doorknob. “Mom, Dad, this is a surprise.” Not really, but Zo had expected them to phone before flying from Boston to LA.

They entered, her father carrying an overnight bag, so at least her parents hadn’t come prepared to lay siege. She closed the door, locking it behind them, and turned. They stood side by side near the couch, and Zo couldn’t decide who looked the most displeased.

“I didn’t expect you to fly in,” she said.

“You left a voicemail to tell us you’d dropped out of your PhD program,” her dad said. “Of course, we’re going to come to Los Angeles and find out what you’re thinking.”

“We talked to the department, Zofia,” her mom said. “They’re willing to change your request to a leave of absence if you need time off. There’s no shame in taking a break.”

Of course, they’d talked to the department. “As I mentioned in my message, I have a job with the Paladin League.”

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