CHAPTER TWELVE
WHENMARIANNAROLLEDout of the guest bedroom the next morning, she found Simon in the breakfast nook, staring at his laptop.
He looked up, his eyes serious. Her steps slowed as they silently took each other in. There was something different in the way he was watching her. The intensity of the night before crackled between them. They hadn’t spoken, but all night he had held her, covered her with his warm, hard body. When she turned over, still half-asleep, she’d found him gazing at her, fully awake.
Now he was freshly showered, dressed in black pants and a black T-shirt that fit snugly around his biceps, but his eyes showed signs of strain. Maybe Marianna was just as self-centered as William had accused her of being. Because beyond all the lust and want and plays for control these last couple of days, she hadn’t seen the strain. All the ways this affected him.
Like this was about more than just her safety now.
“I made coffee,” he said, turning back to his laptop. “There are some pastries on the counter. We’re leaving in an hour.”
She padded across the tile floors, refreshingly cool in the early morning heat, and headed for the kitchen. Marianna sat down across from him at the little bistro table. She tucked her feet around the metal legs of the chair and rested her elbows on the table. The bitter taste of coffee filled her, one familiar thing among so much uncertainty. Simon stared at the screen in front of him, deep creases marking his forehead.
“Will you be wearing a gun today?” she asked quietly.
Simon blinked up at her in surprise, then frowned. “No. If Goodwin is smart, we’ll get patted down before we get close to him. But I’ll have one in my car as backup.”
The words came out without emotion, as if this was a question he fielded every day. Maybe he did. She swallowed, trying to keep her voice even. “What did your team find out about these shipments coming in, about Ruiz Imports?”
Simon ran his hand over the stubble along his jaw. “Nothing certain. But Donovan Lewis bought his plane ticket after you did. Which isn’t good news.”
Lines furrowed his forehead, and his mouth turned down at the corners.
“So you think this is real?” she asked. “That William has an illegal side to the business?”
“I do.”
She closed her eyes. Well, she said she wanted answers. Now she was getting them.
“What do you think we’re mixed up in?” she asked, her voice steady. When he hesitated, she added, “I want to know.”
Simon took a deep breath. “This is just an idea, nothing for sure. But I think it’s drugs. Ice—that’s what meth is called here. The ingredients are expensive in Australia, so most of the ice is imported. Hiding it would be easy. It’s small and uses some of the same ingredients as fertilizer, so it’s hard to trace. And ice is in really high demand here in Australia, especially in rural areas.”
Marianna took a sip of her coffee, trying to digest this information.
“I don’t understand how William thinks he has a foolproof system,” she said. “How does he hide it? Drugs are so risky.”
He leaned back in his chair and met her gaze. “Most of the ice comes to Australia from China, and authorities here are catching on. My guess is that he’s brokered a deal that allows one of the producers to use your distribution routes. So he picks it up along the way, and no one in the Ruiz Imports system actually has fingerprints on it.”
“Like money laundering?”
“A little like that,” he said. “It could be set up to look like it flies under William’s radar, so he could plausibly deny involvement. Maybe the company makes a couple deliveries and gets out before anyone catches on.”
She took another sip of her coffee, letting it warm her, and put down the mug. The pastry in front of her no longer looked appealing. She played with the plate, turning it around and around on the table. She thought she was prepared for anything when she got on the plane for Sydney, but this was too much. Her company was fueling a drug epidemic? Hell, no.
“My father wouldn’t have done this,” she whispered. “He hated the stereotype that Latino businesses were connected with the drug trade.”
Simon reached across the table and slid his hand up and down her bare arm, his palm rough on her skin.
“We don’t know anything yet, so let’s just focus on getting through the day,” he said, his voice soft, soothing. “We’ll see where that takes us.”
Marianna nodded, and Simon closed his laptop.
“I know it’s hard, but try not to look beyond the next few hours. A lot depends on how this goes.” He stood up and reached out his hand. “You ready for this?”
She hesitated, and then she took it.
Marianna buckled herself into the passenger’s seat. Simon pulled the car out onto the little road. She glanced at Simon’s hard profile as he drove, all his concentration on the morning in front of them, his expression blank, impenetrable.
