Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 2

  He leaned against the back of his chair, hoping the expression on his face was enough to silence Bob. He didn’t have a lot of patience nowadays and his temper had gotten him into trouble before. The last thing he needed was another mark on his record for decking an analyst who wouldn’t shut up.

  “Guess you’re really busy,” Bob said in disappointment as he straightened from the table.

  Hallelujah.

  Migs dipped his chin.

  “I’ll leave you alone then.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  “You don’t talk too much, do—” Bob raised his arms in surrender as Migs narrowed his eyes. “I’m going. I’m going. Just saying. You’re gonna miss all the fun and cheap beer…” The analyst’s voice faded as he walked away.

  When the door to the office closed, a strong urge to bang his head on the table overcame him. Migs counted to ten instead, although when it came to Bob, twenty was a more realistic number. His eyes landed on the crumbs on the table, and, letting out a resigned breath, grabbed the folder beside him and swept the particles into the trash bin beside his desk.

  His eyes returned to the screen, but he wasn’t seeing the numbers. The reminder of Charles Bennett only exposed the raw nerve that had the power to pull his thoughts to the fiery Ariana. She was never far from his mind. He stalked her online, but that only made him feel like shit because he’d witnessed the implosion of her business on social media and there was fuck all he could do about it.

  The agency had him on a very tight leash.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the alternative was getting charged with insubordination, and he wouldn’t put it past the agency to throw him into the brig with a bogus charge like treason. And if he tried to contact her in any way? They’d pull her surveillance which is something Migs wouldn’t put past them to keep him in line. If that didn’t suck enough, they revoked his level-three security access and left him to request information from Bob when his basic one wasn’t sufficient. But despite the gravity of what Migs had done, he knew the CIA valued his skills and connections in Mexico. He just had to be patient, but he was the first to admit that it was wearing thin.

  It was almost midnight when he finished his report. He thought about stopping at a bar on the way back to his apartment, but he was brain dead. Doing a job he hated and being forced to do it was a sure fire way to give a person a migraine. As he turned off the office lights, his phone rang with an unknown number.

  Staring at it for a beat, he swiped the screen. “Walker.”

  “Done for the night?”

  “Garrison?”

  “Miss me?”

  Migs sidled up to the window, peeked between the blinds and down the street. That might be a silhouette of a man under a tree away from the street light, but it was hard to tell for sure. The spook was too smart to expose his presence like that.

  “I thought they’d sent you to Antarctica.”

  There was a brief chuckle. “Close enough.”

  “Does that mean I’m getting out of this town?”

  “Meet me at Oxford.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Migs was striding toward the bench at Oxford Park which was technically closed to the public by nine and made it the best place to meet John Garrison.

  Garrison had been his handler in the Ortega op and instead of letting the FBI take over the case when teen stars Theo Cole and Emma Haller got kidnapped, everyone agreed to go rogue to save them.

  John was already waiting for him at their rendezvous point, sitting back, an ankle crossed over a knee with both arms over the back of the bench. When Migs sat beside him, Garrison straightened his posture and leaned forward.

  “Tell me good news, John.”

  “Antonio Andrade is on his way to LA.”

  Migs stiffened. He certainly wasn’t expecting that news. “Brave move. Are you going to arrest him?”

  “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “You’re certain beyond reasonable doubt?”

  “According to my sources, he’s as hell bent as we are in finding the culprit who’d used one of his labs to manufacture the Z-91.”

  The Z-91 virus was a weaponized version of Ebola.

  There could be only one reason why Andrade was heading to LA. “He’s going after Ariana.” It took all his self-control to remain seated. There was no way he was staying in Washington now. “Get me out of here.”

  “Ariana called him.”

  “What?” Migs couldn’t believe his ears. “She hates him.”

  “Hate is a strong word,” Garrison said carefully. “Maybe she wanted to defy her brother’s wishes in marrying her off to Andrade.”

  He didn’t like where Garrison was going with this. “What are you implying?”

  “Could be she’s seeing Andrade in a different light.”

  “He wants her as a trophy wife,” Migs sneered. “Ariana is better than that.”

  “Would that be so bad given her dicey situation?”

  Migs jumped to his feet and glared at the other man. “What the fuck? I thought Andrade forbade the cartel to touch Ariana after they killed Ortega.”

  “You’re talking about the PNO. I’m talking about Carillo.”

  He froze at the name of a supposedly dormant organization that left John’s lips. “So the rumors are true? They’re back?”

  John nodded. “They’ve gained the loyalty of major gangs in LA.”

  Migs scrubbed his face. This was bad news. Eight months not being able to do shit in this hellhole and the cartel he’d paid a high price to put away was back. “They’re bad fucking news.”

  “Don’t need to tell me that. Human trafficking has gone up in the Valley.”

  “Why the fuck am I only finding out about this now?” It sucked to be stuck in Nowhere, Washington, stripped of level-three access.

  “Your cousin should know.”

  “You know more than anyone that we don’t talk like we used to.” Emotion lodged in his throat.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Walker. Your uncle shouldn’t have trusted the Carillos.”

  Migs looked away. “We should never have used him.”

  “He was the best asset we had.”

  He glanced back at Garrison. “Is that what this is all about? My connections to the Alcantara family?” He laughed derisively. “You think they don’t suspect?”

  Garrison regarded him carefully. Under the glow of the streetlamp it was hard to tell what the spook was thinking. “It’s been four years, Walker. It wasn’t your place to tell them what happened.” He leaned back against the bench again and resumed his initial posture when Migs arrived. “But we’re talking about Ariana and Andrade.”

  Hearing Ariana’s name linked with that motherfucker’s grated on his nerves. “There’s no Ariana and Andrade.”

  Even in the dim light the arching of Garrison’s brow was evident. “There might be. Unless we can find her an alternative solution.”

  “Solution to what?”

  “Let’s just say our girl is in a bind.”

  “Is she in danger?” He was fast losing his cool with the spook’s obvious hedging.

  “That depends.”

  “Goddammit, Garrison. Get to the point.”

  “She wants Andrade to arrange a meeting with one of Carillo’s lieutenants—”

  “For God’s sake, why?”

  “Negotiate the release of a friend’s daughter, but I believe it’s a setup. The man who took over for Carillo had a strong beef with Ortega. He wasn’t satisfied with his death and sees an opportunity for revenge.”

  “I still don’t understand.” Migs started pacing the short width of the bench when all he wanted to do was drive straight to LA. “Besides, would Andrade be willing to talk to Carillo? Would the PNO even accept this?”

  Garrison shrugged. “You know the history of the Mexican cartels. Allies today, mortal enemies tomorrow.”

  Didn’t he know it. He started walking away.

  “Where the hell a
re you going?” Garrison demanded.

  Migs turned around but was walking backwards. “Los Angeles. Not wasting time hashing this out. I know you’ll send me what I need to know.”

  He spun on his heel and headed toward the parking lot, knowing more intel was forthcoming from Garrison. He wasn’t a fan of wasting time, and he couldn’t wait a second longer to get back to Ariana.

  3

  What possessed her to ask Antonio Andrade for help?

  Desperation. He was the only powerful friend she had left. Hell, he was the only friend she had left, and he wasn’t even that. More like an acquaintance. An acquaintance who desired her.

  Contrary to what was widely believed in their social circles, Andrade had not offered to marry her, but it was certainly the way Raul wanted to spin it. It was for her protection, he said. As for Antonio, she had no doubt he was eyeing her like another of his acquisitions. In what capacity, she wasn’t sure.

  Standing in front of Spinelli restaurant, she inhaled a fortifying breath. Antonio wanted to pick her up, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him the opportunity to get inside her house. There was a darkness around him, a ruthlessness she didn’t quite trust. A public place with a private room was the best option for this meeting.

  Jen, the Maître D, recognized her and smiled. It pained Ariana that, because of the last few weeks, she had to wonder if that smile was genuine or not.

  “Thanks for coming back to see us, Miss Ortega.” Jen extended her arm, leading the way. “Mr. Andrade is in the green room waiting for you.”

  Ariana thanked her and followed the slender woman past the main dining room into a hallway flanked with private chambers. Jen slid the door open to one, and the man waiting inside stood, saturating the room with his presence.

  “Ariana, it’s been a while.” Antonio moved from behind the table and greeted her as Jen discreetly slid the door closed and left. He kissed her on both cheeks before leaning back to survey her. “Beautiful as usual, but you look tired.”

  She laughed lightly. “Didn’t your mother teach you what to never say to a woman?”

  “I’m honest.” He helped her to a chair before taking the one across from her. “I know you have a lot on your mind.”

  “And direct to the point.”

  He waved his hand in a careless gesture. “I don’t like to … how do you say it … beat around the bush.” He picked up the bottle of wine on the table and started to pour her a glass. Ariana noticed it was from her favorite winery in Napa. An uneasy feeling settled in her chest. As the ruby liquid filled her goblet, she wondered what happened to the initial attraction she felt for Antonio when she first met him at a party all those years ago.

  Their server came into the room and started reciting the specials for the evening. Letting Antonio ask the questions, Ariana picked up her glass, taking a sip while stealing a surreptitious glance at her dinner companion.

  A man of polish and sophistication, his dark suit clung to his body in a way that left no doubt that it was tailored to his exact specifications. His dark hair was slicked away from his face, highlighting his broad forehead, the sharp angles of his jaw, and the white jagged scar at his temple. It was in stark relief to his tanned face, but it gave him an edginess. His rough upbringing on the streets of Rio was frequently referenced in articles about the billionaire. Was this why Ariana shied away from a possible relationship with him? Antonio hid a brutality beneath fine wine and threads.

  Unlike Migs, of whom she had an opposite opinion. On the outside, he bore the appearance of a rough and gruff biker thug, but she’d caught glimpses of the tender man beneath his tattooed skin.

  Migs appealed to her very much and she entertained fanciful notions about him, until his betrayal left a hollow feeling inside her. An emptiness she still couldn’t shake, blaming it on the loss of her brother and not the man she thought lit a fire in her heart.

  Antonio’s deep blue eyes turned to her. “Are you okay with the prix fixe, Ariana?”

  She winced apologetically because she hadn’t glanced at the menu yet. Her childhood years taught her not to be picky with food and she ate everything except tomatillo. Giving the set course a once over, she nodded. “That sounds good.”

  They exchanged small talk about the future of her vitamin infusion clinic, but Antonio wasn’t one for idle chitchat as he had warned. He went straight for the jugular.

  “The tattoo you described does belong to Águila y Fuego, a gang now affiliated with the Carillo cartel,” he confirmed. “You were right that they were loyal to your brother before.”

  She blew out a breath. “Okay.”

  “So you want me to mediate between you and Carillo?”

  “Yes.”

  Antonio circled the rim of his glass with his finger. The expression on his face was grave, far from promising.

  “You understand that my alliance is with their rival, the PNO … the Pon—”

  “I know who PNO is—” Ariana cut in with some impatience. She was the sister of a crime lord, for heaven’s sake, not some spoiled debutante who needed to be shielded from the wolves. “The Ponce-Neto Organization.” She was also sure they killed her brother, but Leah’s life was more important at the moment. “But as history shows, cartels break up and form new alliances—”

  “There’s a reason I steer clear of the Carillos.”

  Ariana might have an idea why, but she waited for him to elaborate.

  “Human trafficking is an area I don’t want anywhere near my business,” Antonio said.

  “That’s exactly why you should help me. Connie’s daughter … she’s only fifteen.”

  “How do you know she’s not already in Tampico.”

  “Tampico? That’s where they take them?”

  Antonio nodded, a hint of disgust twisting his mouth. “That’s where the buyers come to look at the girls.”

  “Connie said she was taken three days ago.”

  “PNO has control of the routes I need for my shipment. I’m not willing to break with them.” He paused. “Even for you.”

  She sat back in her chair and glared. “Then what’s the purpose of this dinner? Why even come to LA if you’re only going to turn me down?”

  “I have an alternative. A proposal.”

  A wariness stole over her. “I’m listening.”

  “I can hire people to rescue your friend’s daughter, but I need to let the PNO know what I’m doing. This will escalate tensions between them and though they have no problem thwarting the Carillos, they will see this as a favor to me.”

  “So it’s going to cost you,” Ariana said. “I have money, but I doubt it’ll be enough—”

  Antonio’s smile sent a shiver up her spine. “I don’t need your money.”

  “I can’t be your mistress either.” She meant it as a joke, but her voice came out strangled and she grabbed her wine to hide her consternation, but only managed to cough when it caught in her throat.

  “Not mistress. My wife.”

  Her gaze snapped to his and she had to look away at the chilling intensity in them. It didn’t make her warm all over. It didn’t creep her out either.

  It elicited a kind of guardedness she couldn’t explain.

  An aversion to being drawn back into the world that stole her brothers. She had no doubt Andrade still lived in that world despite the urban facade he projected.

  “What? Come on, Antonio.” She attempted levity. “We both know you’re not the marrying type.”

  He shrugged. “I’m forty-two. It’s time I took a wife.”

  “But—”

  “This would solve both our problems. I need a hostess for my dinner parties. I don’t want a socialite or one of those anorexic supermodels.” There was a brief flash of heat in his eyes, but it made her want to flee, as if she was prey getting sized up for the kill. “We also come from the same background.”

  “What about love?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s important. Don�
�t you think?”

  Antonio exhaled a resigned breath. “That is something I cannot give you because I don’t know how to love.” He spread his hands. “Isn’t it more important to be practical? I’m offering you a safe haven from your problems.”

  “But then you’ll be indebted in a way to the PNO.” Ariana shook her head. “I’m done with that life and I can’t allow you to make such a sacrifice.”

  He smiled. “I’d say it’s a worthy sacrifice.”

  “Antonio, I just can’t. All my life, I refused to follow Raul’s path and, deep inside, I know he didn’t want it for me either.”

  Something akin to pity crossed his face. “We can’t escape what we are, you know.” He nodded at her, then touched the cuff of his suit. “These expensive clothes, they do not change us integrally. That’s why I think we’d make a good partnership. We don’t forget where we came from.”

  Ari gave a short disbelieving laugh. “We’ve only met a handful of times at gatherings. How can you make a life-altering conclusion like that?”

  “Gut instinct,” he said. He was interrupted from saying more when the server came in with their first course.

  An appetizer of a single scallop on its shell covered with a layer of cheese was set in front of them. Their waiter asked if they needed anything else and when both of them said no, he withdrew from the room.

  “Where were we?” Antonio picked up his fork and plunged it into the creamy dish releasing its aroma. “Ah yes, I was making my case for why we make the perfect match.” For the first time that night, he flashed her a charming smile. It was easy to see how he controlled an empire. He was charismatic and commanding. Fortunately for Ariana, she grew up around men like him. Unfortunately for Antonio, she knew how dangerous it could be to fall for the silver tongue of powerful men.

  “I know about your charitable work,” he continued. “You give back to those in need. Even when you’ve attained your dream of having a business in one of the most recognizable zip codes in the world, you never forgot your roots.”

  “That dream crashed and burned.”

  “It doesn’t need to remain in ruins,” he insisted. “I have the resources to help you rebuild elsewhere. Bigger. Better.”