Page 89 of Wicked Intention

“And armed men could try to recover the cash,” Lurch added.

One side of Silva’s mouth quirked up, but he hardly glanced at Lundquist. “Perhaps he’s not as vacuous as he appears.”

Finn struggled to remain impassive, but it was amusing. His former teammate was not only not stupid, but he also had a degree in mathematics. He glanced over at Lurch. “That’s a nice way of saying you’re not as dumb as you look,” he said.

“Thanks,” Lurch drawled. “I managed to puzzle it out on my own.”

Forcing his humor aside, Finn returned his attention to Silva. “Basically, the job title isn’t broker. It’s babysitter and enforcer.”

Inclining his head, Silva helped himself to another cookie. “Sí. Ernesto handled the job well. I hope you are up to the task.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Finn asked another question, “Was Ernesto really stealing from Señor Ramos?”

Silva shrugged one shoulder—he didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

Okay. Next topic. “Did Señor Ramos mention what he’s looking to purchase when he called?”

After finishing his cookie, Silva said, “No, he said you would know.”

Finn wasn’t sure how to interpret it. He’d expected that Ramos would have detailed exactly what he wanted and how many, and Finn would negotiate what Silva would actually deliver and how much it would cost. The fact that the drug lord hadn’t done so was peculiar. “He wants some ARADs,” he said.

“That’s possible,” Silva said.

“And a lot more of the precision-guided, US-made rifle he bought earlier.”

Silva’s lips puckered, his expression clearly one of displeasure. “That won’t be possible.”

“You don’t have any in inventory?”

Speaking slowly as if he were choosing his words carefully, Silva said, “This particular item has proven to be popular, and we’ve had many inquiries from potential customers. As Señor Ramos has demonstrated himself to be cost-conscious, he might want to consider other options.”

“You’re taking them to auction?” Finn asked.

Ignoring the question, Silva placed his napkin beside his plate. He turned his gaze to the bodyguard on Finn’s right. “Hand Señor Finley one of my cards.” The man did as instructed. “This is my business number.”

“You didn’t give this to me two years ago,” Finn commented as he glanced down at the card he held, memorizing the number quickly.

“You were a seller then. Now you are a buyer. Have your discussion with Señor Ramos, and if you remain interested in making a purchase, telephone me.” Silva stood and said, “I’ll pay for the coffee on my way out.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Alfonso Ramos’ Estate

Present Day

ZO'S PLAN had been to appear relaxed and unconcerned for the men watching the security monitors, but instead, she paced the length of the suite, unable to settle. Finn had pointed out the locations of the cameras in the sitting area and bedroom before he left for a meeting with Henri Silva, and it was hard not to gaze into them as she walked past.

She felt queasy, but it wasn’t because of lunch. The food had been delicious, and Al had been pleasant company. They’d talked mostly about his grandfather and his lifelong quest to find the disk. And they’d both speculated about where it might have been found if it wasn’t discovered at the ruins. The broker she bought it from hadn’t known anything.

No, lunch was fine. It was fear that had her stomach roiling. What if Silva had learned that Finn had never been a gunrunner and that he’d had a role in the time the man spent in prison? What if he ordered Finn killed? What if—?

With a shaky breath, Zo forced her brain to stop spinning and unclenched her fists. Finn had been in plenty of dangerous situations before and after she’d met him. She had to trust him to handle this. Had to, because if she didn’t, she’d curl up in the fetal position on the bed, and that would make her worthless to him. He thought she was strong—helikedthat she was strong—and she needed to act like it.

She also needed to do more than walk the floor of the suite. A brave, resourceful woman would have intel to pass along when her lover returned. What did she have? That the cook knew how to make a fantasticArroz con Pollo.

Zo grimaced. She’d contemplated the situation as she’d paced. There were no men stationed on the balcony outside the suite. It was surprising, and it made her wonder how much freedom she actually had. It was time to test it. The worst that could happen is she’d be shepherded back to the rooms and told to stay inside.

Striving to appear casual, something that wasn’t easy with her heart racing, Zo headed for the door. They weren’t going to kill her for attempting to leave the room. At least not until the arms deal was completed. In the meantime, Al needed her alive.

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