Page 75 of Wicked Intention

ZO FOUGHT to remain on her feet. The adrenaline boost she’d gotten when she and Finn had been captured by Ramos’ men had faded while they’d hiked to the car that had taken them to the hacienda. Now that they stood in the office, waiting for Al to make an appearance, she was losing the battle. Finn had his left arm around her waist, offering his support, and she took it, leaning into him.

This was her first visit to Al’s estate, her first time inside his office, and it was amazing. Even with her vision blurring around the edges, she couldn’t help but gawk. She’d known Ramos since she’d been a child, and she never would have pegged this as his style.

She hadn’t seen anything this ostentatious since she’d been taken to Jorge Torres’ mansion more than two years ago. Like Torres, Al had gone with a traditional style that incorporated a lot of gilt, but while the arms dealer’s home had been a veryfeminine space, Ramos’ home was the opposite. His office looked like it belonged to an eighteenth-century British lord.

The walls were a dark charcoal gray, but the desk was white with some kind of black inlay and a medallion carved into the center panel. Gold leaf liberally covered every carved pattern on the large desk. Behind it was a matching bookcase with sconces on either side, and the ceiling had carved crown moldings.

The exactness fit Al even if the style didn’t match her mental image of his home, but it was a designer showplace, and the room lacked warmth. The only personal item in the entire space was a single photo on the bookcase behind the desk.

Al’s grandfather.

Zo hadn’t realized how tense she’d become until that picture allowed her to relax. Señor Ramos was smiling at the camera with the Huarona ruins in the background, and if she was right about when this shot was taken, blowing up the image would show her head poking out of the pyramid temple behind him. She’d been eleven at the time, maybe twelve, and a professional photographer had come to take shots for some Puerto Jardinese magazine.

She missed Señor Ramos. He’d known more about the Huarona people than anyone she’d met—including her parents and Doctor Castillo—and he’d enjoyed sharing every story he’d heard. The elderly man had also been kind, gentle, and the only person who’d ever been able to rein in Al.

Things were so much simpler when Señor Ramos was alive. It was before the civil war had started, before her parents had frozen her out, before Mari had disappeared, and before Al had started working for a drug lord. And it was long before Al had launched a coup against that drug lord, and taken control.

Finn’s arm tightened around her waist, and Zo let go of her sadness. Things weren’t bad now, even if they were morecomplicated. She had a career that challenged her and that she enjoyed, she’d saved countless artifacts and gotten them into museums, and she was living with the man she loved. Her life was good—maybe not perfect, but damn good.

Alfonso Ramos strode in the office then, and the four men guarding them came to attention. Al wore gray sweatpants, a white T-shirt, black running shoes, and a stainless steel sports watch. The clothing wasn’t for show. He was damn serious about his workouts.

He was also drop-dead gorgeous. If a person didn’t look in his eyes.

His brown hair was cut short to control the curls. He had brown eyes, full lips, and dimples that were only partially hidden by his neatly trimmed beard. Al had a swimmer’s physique and enough muscle to rival Finn in that department. He could have traded on those looks. He could have become an actor or a model. But instead, he’d murdered his way to the position of drug kingpin.

After settling in the office chair behind the desk, Al studied them, taking his time. At last, he smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. “Zofia, you’re a mess,” he said in Spanish. “It appears as if you rolled in the mud.”

Witty repartee was beyond her at this point. “Sorry. I fell while your men were chasing me.”

“If you hadn’t run, they wouldn’t have needed to chase you.”

The words showed how much concern he had for her—zilch—but he’d always been this way. Zo pressed her lips tightly together.

Al didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. His focus shifted. “Señor Finley, or do you prefer Rowland?” He didn’t pause for a reply. “You turned out to be quite a surprise. We didn’t expect to find you with Zofia.”

“Jail didn’t suit me,” Finn said carelessly.

And Tom Finley was back.Zo noticed that Ramos’ eyes hadnarrowed, and she held her breath, but he didn’t explode over Finn’s tone.

Al crossed his arms over his chest. “Zofia coming down by herself at the last minute required a good deal of improvisation on my part. It seemed most expedient to have the government watch for your arrival.” His voice was every bit as careless as Finn’s had been.

“You couldn’t be sure I’d come to Puerto Jardin.”

“Yes, I could.” Al straightened in his seat, the breeziness gone in a heartbeat. “Even if you and Zofia were on the brink of divorce, I knew the instant you learned she was in trouble, you would do anything to reach her side. You are predictable, Señor Rowland. All too predictable.”

Finn stayed silent, but what could he say? The fact that he was standing in this office proved Al right.

“Why the elaborate scheme to get Zo?” Finn asked.

Al shrugged. “The plan was simple until Vargas underestimated Zofia.” Ramos’ gaze returned to her. “I did warn him that you were slippery.”

Her lips curved. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Inclining his head, Al said, “I watched over you at the site for three years until I left for university. I know how much trouble you are.”

Finn chuckled. “She hasn’t changed much over the years.”

With a frown, Zo looked up at him. “Hey!” she protested.

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