A Covert Affair Page 8

  Nathan started to protest again, but Amelia spoke first. “You really think he’s behind kidnapping women?”

  “It’s a statistically high probability he’s involved in illegal activities,” Cade said. “If not kidnapping women, he’s still a criminal.”

  “If he is taking women, why do you think he’s taking them?”

  “We don’t know. But they’re young, attractive women who could be viewed by the predators of the world as easy prey. No one has missed them until recently.”

  Nathan tried to rein in his temper but was finding it difficult. “Damn it, Cade—”

  Cade glanced at Nathan, his eyes hard. He didn’t have to say a damn thing for Nathan to understand what he was silently communicating. If this was anyone else, Nathan wouldn’t balk at bringing her in. Amelia had already proven she wouldn’t blow his cover; she’d gone straight to the cops when she learned about the kidnapped women, and she had the perfect in with Mercado. She could be a good asset.

  “What would I have to do?” Amelia asked, interrupting their silent conversation.

  Cade focused on her again. “Get inside his house under the pretense of a date. We’ll clone your phone and we’ll be listening the whole time. You won’t need to do anything other than get within fifty feet of his computer. From there our guys will do what they do. If something goes wrong we won’t hang you out to dry. We’ll breach the house in a full assault. . . . You’ll just have to stay alive until we can get to you.” His words were blunt, but true.

  She needed to know what she was getting into. It was why Cade was laying everything out for her. Didn’t mean Nathan had to like it.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Nathan said. “You’re not trained.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t need training to go on a date. And Iker has a reputation for being selective about the women he dates—and for treating them well. I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about him in those regards. Does the FBI have different information?” She looked at Nathan as she asked the question.

  Though it pained him to admit it, he shook his head. “No. But if he’s involved in the sex slave trade, who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt you?”

  “We’ll be listening the whole time and have a backup team waiting nearby. Only minutes away,” Cade said.

  “I’ll be part of that team,” Nathan interjected. He didn’t care what Burkhart or anyone said; if she went inside Mercado’s house, Nathan would be as close as he could get.

  “I’ll be compensated?” Now she looked at Cade.

  “Yes.”

  “How well?”

  He blinked, as if he hadn’t expected the question. But Nathan had. Amelia had no problem bartering. When they were teenagers she’d dragged him to countless flea markets and thrift stores, always looking for deals. “I’ll have to confirm anything with my boss, but what did you have in mind?”

  “After I talk to Detective Sinclair and confirm that you’re both who you say you are, I’ll help you—if you pay off the rest of my loan for Plátanos Maduros.” It was the second restaurant she’d opened up recently, Nathan knew. She owned the building on her first. “And your boss will give a donation to the charity of my choice. Since you clearly have files on me, you should know who I donate to. You’ll double my yearly donation.” Her voice brooked no argument.

  Cade looked as stunned as Nathan had ever seen him, but he covered it quickly. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Moving economically, he hurried out her front door.

  Amelia turned to Nathan and tapped her ear as soon as Cade closed the front door behind him. “Can you . . .?” She trailed off, silently asking him to turn off his earpiece.

  Not caring about protocol, he did. The NSA had gotten what they wanted from her at this point. “It’s just you and me now.”

  “I would have done it anyway, in case you’re wondering,” she said softly. “I just want you to know that.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. “How?”

  “Because you care about Danita. I heard it in your voice when you were talking to Maria.”

  For a moment she looked torn between anger and another, indefinable emotion. Then she sighed and stepped closer to him. For just a moment, that high wall between them seemed to crumble. God, he wanted to pull her into her arms, to shake her and tell her not to fucking do this. They’d get to Mercado another way. There was always another way. He just wanted Amelia safe.

  “Do you think we could have lunch or dinner without listening ears? I still have more questions,” she said softly.

  Completely taken off guard, he nodded. He didn’t have to think about his answer. Maybe that made him a masochist, but he didn’t care. “Yes.”

  She reached out as if to touch him, but the door opened and her arm dropped. They both turned to the door.

  Cade looked pleased and that sinking feeling in Nathan’s gut intensified. “Your terms are acceptable. Now we just need to go over our game plan.”

  “We’ll go over the plan, but I don’t do anything until I’ve talked to Sinclair and I’ve got a written contract with outlined terms I agree to. And my attorney will have to approve.”

  Nathan hated the thought of sending Amelia into a potential viper’s nest. No matter what, he’d be on the other end of her comm when she was in Mercado’s house.

  And if God forbid something did go wrong, he’d do anything to get her out. It didn’t matter that she’d broken his heart by walking away from him as if he had meant nothing. She still owned a part of it, and he could never let anything bad happen to her.

  Chapter 6

  Operational latitude: the broad scope of flexibility that an agent has on a mission when making mission decisions.

  Wesley Burkhart opened the second row door of the SUV he was in, then slid over so Captain Jarvis Nieto of the Miami PD could get in. Despite the ridiculous early-morning hour, the man looked alert—and annoyed with him.

  “You don’t know how to ask for a small favor, do you?” Nieto shut the door behind him with force before strapping himself in. His movements were precise, probably bred into him from his Navy days. He was only five years younger than Wesley and in good shape.

  Wesley’s driver immediately pulled away from the curb without a word.

  “Is your wife annoyed?”

  Nieto just snorted. “No. She’s a cop’s wife.”

  Which meant she was accustomed to her husband leaving in the middle of the night. Wesley nodded once. “Good. Did you talk to Detective Sinclair?”

  “Yeah. Told him not to talk to anyone, including Amelia, before I got there.”

  Considering they now had Sinclair under surveillance, however temporarily, Wesley already knew about their recent conversation. But he wanted to see how up front Nieto was with him. He’d worked with the captain before, after the Westwood bombing last year, and he genuinely liked the man. From what Wesley had found out about him, and through his own interaction with Nieto, he cared deeply about his city, and while he could play politics, he put his job and people first, not his own personal gain. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Tell me why you pulled me out of bed at one thirty in the morning.”

  Wesley handed him a manila folder. Nieto would get to read the file on the missing women, but he couldn’t keep a hard copy. It was why Wesley hadn’t been willing to risk sending Nieto anything electronically. Wesley didn’t suspect a leak anywhere, but he was keeping this whole thing locked down tight. The more people who knew about it, the bigger chance the wrong people found out. “Read the highlights. My team is working on this, but we’re not checking in with any other agencies.” Which, yeah, was fucked up, but Wesley didn’t care. At all. He wasn’t going to waste time with red tape or procedure when his guys could get the job done. “If you and Sinclair help us wrap this up, you’ll get all the credit for bringing down whoever the ringleader is.”

  “Hmm,” was all Nieto said as he flipped to the next page. Then, �
��Stop and pick up coffee and muffins. There’s a place a block from Sinclair’s home. We’ll drive right by it. He’ll be easier to deal with if we feed him.”

  Wesley nodded at his driver, who’d merely glanced at him in the rearview for confirmation.

  By the time Nieto had read most of the file, they’d made it to Sinclair’s condo complex, coffee in hand. They buzzed him at the gate and were let in immediately.

  “What do you want from us?” Nieto asked, handing the file back to Wesley while his driver looked for guest parking.

  “For now, I need Sinclair to confirm to Amelia that my guys are FBI.” And it was possible that sooner or later this deception would get back to the FBI, but if they played this right it wouldn’t. “I need this shit quiet and can’t afford any other agencies to get wind we’re here. Mercado could have sources we don’t know about. He’s managed to avoid arrest for a reason.”

  “Maybe the reason is that he’s clean.” Nieto’s voice was dry.

  “You believe he is?”

  “No. He’s definitely into smuggling. But the slave trade?” Nieto shrugged. “Nothing should surprise me anymore, but I never would have pegged him for being that dirty.”

  “He’s not our only suspect. We’ve got a wide net, but Mercado is in the top five. I want to either eliminate him or bring him down.” And they had the perfect way to do it. If Amelia Rios could get into Mercado’s house, it would be simple for his team to hack the info they needed.

  Nieto’s frown deepened. “I don’t like asking my man to lie.”

  “Even to save lives?” That was something Wesley didn’t have a problem with.

  Nieto’s jaw clenched as he looked away and out the window. The complex was brightly lit, with palm trees lining the sidewalk they’d just pulled up to. Wesley didn’t think Nieto was seeing anything, though.

  Finally Nieto turned back to him. “I’ll tell Sinclair that he’s going to get a call from Amelia Rios and that he’ll confirm what she’s been told. I’m going to tell him your guys are FBI, so I’m the only one knowingly lying, not him. And I’m going to go meet him now, alone, and order him not to dig deeper into your guys. It’ll piss him off, but he’ll follow orders for the time being. He could recognize you and I don’t want him to put it together that you’re NSA.”

  Wesley was silent for a moment. Most civilians wouldn’t know who he was unless they searched his name or paid attention to the news. A cop would have a greater chance of actually recognizing his face, especially after the Westwood bombing. He’d tried to stay out of the media, but some things were unavoidable. “Okay. Don’t lie to me, Nieto. I’ll find out.”

  The captain just gave him a hard stare before getting out of the vehicle.

  Wesley allowed himself to relax as Nieto headed up to Sinclair’s place. After working with the captain on the terrorist attack in Miami, he had a good feel for the man. He was going to trust his gut that Nieto would help them out with this and be discreet. With so many innocent women’s lives on the line, Wesley was almost certain Nieto would come through for him because in spite of the dregs of humanity he’d dealt with as a cop over the years, he still cared about the innocent and he loved his city.

  Amelia smoothed a nervous hand down her body-hugging black-and-teal dress as she stepped out of the walk-in fridge. It was a little dressier than she normally wore to her restaurants, but she wasn’t staying on today to help out and supervise.

  No, she’d apparently lost her mind, because she’d agreed to help the FBI starting today. Nathan, Cade, and a couple of computer geeks had met at her house early this morning—thankfully giving her a few hours to sleep, then meet with her attorney to go over the contract for her fee, and to contact Sinclair. Phase one, as they’d called the first step in their operation, seemed like a risk to her, but she’d find out soon enough. As soon as Nathan picked her up.

  Nathan Ortiz. It didn’t matter that she’d touched him, held him, been so damn tempted to kiss him; it still felt surreal that he was back in her life—however temporarily—and working for the government. Well, the government part didn’t exactly surprise her. He’d always been such a straight arrow—unlike her. She’d figured he’d go into some sort of law enforcement if he didn’t stay in the Corps. She wanted to ask him why he’d gotten out of the Marines and so many other things.

  He hadn’t been at his grandmother’s funeral, though his parents had been. They hadn’t known who Amelia was and she’d kept it that way. She’d simply told part of the truth; that she’d been an old neighbor of Benita’s. For some reason Benita and her daughter, Nathan’s mom, had a falling-out and while he’d been allowed to visit his abuela, his parents never had. Nathan had wanted to introduce her to his parents so many times, but Amelia had always said no. She’d never felt good enough back then. His parents had been respected members of the community and her mom had been a prostitute. It had been too shameful, too embarrassing to even contemplate meeting them. What if they’d found out about her mom and then forbade Nathan to see her?

  And now it was too late to ever meet them. She’d read in the paper that they’d died a couple of years ago in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. She’d thought about going to the funeral, but it had been in Tallahassee, where they’d moved to almost as soon as Nathan had joined the Corps. Though the real reason she hadn’t gone was that she was too afraid to see Nathan. If he’d brought someone with him, a wife . . . just no. She’d liked living in her bubble of not knowing much about what he’d done since she broke things off. Now that bubble was popped, and she wanted to know everything.

  “Eat,” Manuel, one of her full-time cooks, said, handing her a small plate with two empanadas de verde con queso on it.

  Blinking, she took the plate and wondered how long she’d been staring off into space like a complete maniac. The doors to the fridge and walk-in freezer were in the hallway off the main hub of the kitchen, but her surroundings crashed into her, the steady hum of the early-afternoon servers and cooks loud enough that she shouldn’t have been able to zone out. “Thank you.”

  “You look like you need some comfort food.” In his fifties, Manuel and his wife had been working with Amelia for years. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just . . . nervous about a date.” Better to be honest about everything that she could right now. It wasn’t as if she was worried Mercado was watching her movements, but according to Nathan and Cade, she needed to act as if he was at all times. There was no room for error.

  Manuel’s eyebrows rose. “Same man from last night?”

  “Uh, no.”

  His bushy eyebrows rose even higher, a seemingly impossible feat. “Two men, two different nights? It’s about time you started dating,” he said before she could respond, approval clear in his voice. “You’re young—you need to enjoy yourself more.”

  “Manuel, get your ass up here!” his wife shouted, making Amelia smile as he moved into action, practically jumping.

  Feeling more relaxed, she took a bite of the empanada and had to bite back a groan as the melted cheese and spices hit her tongue. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, but this should help her find her balance before Nathan arrived. Comfort food was always a smart choice.

  Instead of doing her normal rounds with the customers, she headed back to her office, mainly to hide. Before she’d even sat, Tessa, one of her weekend hostesses, popped her head in.

  “Hey, boss, there’s a man here to see you. Says he’s picking you up for a date.” Her grin turned mischievous. “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

  Amelia was surprised by the sharp stab of possession that punched through her. Especially since Tessa was in freaking college and clearly teasing. But when it came to Nathan, logic didn’t come into play. The man had her twisted up, same as when she’d been a teenager. “Thanks, I’ll be up there in a sec.”

  Tessa’s smile remained in place as she nodded. “Sure thing.”

  Standing, Amelia picked up her purse and took a
deep breath. She could do this. This whole “phase one” was simple. Or at least Cade and Nathan seemed convinced it was.

  The walk through the kitchen and then through the dining room area took longer than she’d wanted. She stopped to talk to two servers having a crisis, then to greet a few regular customers. By the time she made it to the hostess stand, she found Tessa and another server—who should be working—standing behind the hostess stand staring at . . . Nathan’s ass.

  Sweet Lord. There was a lobby area right when customers entered and he was leaning against the frame, his broad back to them, looking down at something. Probably his phone.

  “Shouldn’t you two ladies be doing something?” Amelia whispered as she came to stand behind them.

  They jumped, cheeks pink with embarrassment, when they turned to face her. They were both taller than her, even in her heels, so she put her hands on her hips as she looked at them. She gave them her best “boss stare,” which wasn’t very intimidating at all.

  Tessa cleared her throat. “We were just—”

  “I know what you were doing and I don’t blame you, but get back to work,” she said in a mock whisper, sidestepping the stand. The second she did, it was as if Nathan sensed her.

  Or maybe he’d known she was there all along.

  When he turned and pinned her with that dark gaze, her entire body flared to life, her nerve endings sizzling with raw awareness. She wondered if it was sad that a single look from Nathan got her hotter than pretty much all foreplay with anyone else. At least he seemed just as affected as she felt.

  For a moment anyway. His gaze swept over her quickly, but with an undeniable hunger, before a charming smile slid onto his face. She thought it looked a little fake but didn’t care. Maybe this was part of his role as Miguel Ortiz—a criminal looking to do business with Mercado. Nathan hadn’t actually gone into many details about who Miguel was supposed to be. Just that he was a businessman visiting and hoping to buy up some real estate. As his date this afternoon, she would be clueless about his shady dealings.