He narrows his eyes at me. “Your man Gregor stuffed forty men on a charter flight, they were waiting when I landed. We should assume the ten men Aira brought won’t be able to help. Alonso’s likely taken all their weapons. If they’re still alive,” he adds gloomily.
As we drive to Juan Alonso’s mansion, I look at the drone footage Gregor already ran for me. “We go in with four men, the rest I want to be dispersed around the estate,” I tell Gregor. “Out of sight. No one fires unless I give the signal. Not with Aria and Elana in the house.”
Gregor looks especially grim. “Even if we overpower his crew and pull Miss King and Mrs. MacTavish by force, the likelihood of getting out of Cartagena alive is slim.”
“Until we hear what Juan wants,” Zed points out, “this is all speculation. Breaking them out in a firefight is the last thing we want to do.”
“I don’t know,Iwant to burn the fecking compound to ash,” I say cheerfully. My brother-in-law is not amused.
The mansion is just as huge and garish as I expected, and the men lining the gates are grim, prominently displaying theirAK-47s. One of the guards steps up and hits the window with his gun, arrogantly gesturing for me to open it.
I do, then yank on the barrel, slamming his face into the car door and dropping him like a bag of rocks. Stepping out of the car, I raise my hands. “Who’s next?”
An older guard kicks the unconscious man out of the way. “Get back in the car,por favor.I have the gates open. I would appreciate it if you did not run my man over, though I know it might be tempting. He is my son. His mother will never forgive me.”
“I have a mother like that,” I agree, shaking his hand.
When we’re ushered into Alonso’s office, I have to smother a laugh. He’s posed by the window, one hand in his suit pants and the other holding a smoldering cigar. He lets us wait for a full sixty seconds before turning to greet us.
“Ah, my good friends! Welcome to my humble home.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Zed says with a smile as false as Juan’s greeting.
“Where is my wife?”
Juan looks at me, grinning. “Well cared for and spending time with my lovely fiancée.”
“I want to see them before we talk business,” I say, wanting to leap over his desk and shove his head through the window. This arrogant feck has no idea how close he is to death.
He picks up his phone. “Bring them.”
There’s some tension between Aria and her sister, when they enter, Elana keeps as far away from her as she can and takes the seat closest to Juan.
“Are you all right?” I murmur as I kiss Aria.
“Just fine,” she whispers. “And your business?”
“Concluded,” I say. “Now let’s finish this shite. We’re due for a vacation.”
Jesus, she’s beautiful, my wife. She smiles up at me, smoothing her hand over my dress shirt. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Your wife has been telling me that she runs the King Syndicate now,” Juan says, trimming another cigar. When he holds it up to me, I shake my head and he shrugs, lighting it.
“This is true,” Zed says. He’s seated himself next to Elana with a protective arm around her shoulder. “She speaks for the family.”
“A man who gives up the right to take command of his family is no man at all,” Juan scoffs.
Zed shows his teeth in something that isn’t quite a smile. “I won’t lose any sleep tonight over your opinion, Alonso. Let’s talk about why we’re here.”
“So soon?” Juan protests. Yeah, this motherfucker has a death wish. “Allow me to show you hospitality. Dinner, some drinks between men…”
“Mr. Alonso,” Aria says in the sweetest tone I’ve ever heard from her. “I believe I know what you require from us.”
“What would that be,querida?”
“A man as ambitious as you must struggle with impatience, especially when you see the path to success for your organization.”
Goddamn, she turns me on when she’s talking business.
