Reckless (8 page)

Only one way to find out.

I open the door.
 

It’s not a closet and there’s no floor. On the opposite side of this room or closet or whatever it is, there’s a ladder.
 

I peer over the edge and stare down.
 

Darkness.
 

I back away and tiptoe into to the library. I don’t see anyone, and it’s still early in the day. Diego will be gone for several more hours, at least. Nevertheless, I tell myself I should shut the door, go back to the library, and pick out a crummy paperback to lose myself in until Diego comes for me.

While that’s the safest move, I might be on to something. This hiding spot could very well be Diego’s drug or cash cache. There may be dead bodies, weapons, equipment used for processing the coca into powder, books full of names and addresses of close associates. There could be anything down there and every scenario I can think of ends with Diego behind bars.

I turn on the flash of my phone and shine it into the shaft. The ladder descends about twenty feet before it stops at a solid floor. There’s an opening to another room that’s under the parlor.

I take a breath and reach for the top rung of the ladder. It’s wooden so I don’t get any of those spooky, noisy sounds that might come from a metal one.
 

I slip down to the bottom in half a minute.
 

It’s dark and cold.
 

Aiming the flash of my phone around, I notice a light switch.
 

I flip it on.
 

What I see has me leaning against the wall. This isn’t a vault holding the secrets to Diego’s criminal enterprise.
 

I’ve stepped into an S&M dungeon. Coils of whips and floggers hang against the walls. A table is centered in the room with several straps to tie down the would-be prisoner. I don’t think this is a place to torture snitches and rivals. The sexual connotations contained in the room’s aesthetics allude to a far different purpose.

Killing the overhead light, I race up the ladder, close the door, and run into the library.
 

I grab the first book I find and sit down on the nearest sofa.
 

My hands are shaking, my face is hot, and I’m perspiring from everywhere. All I can think of are Diego’s words:
I did lie when I said the dress was free. There is one small contingency. You have to accompany me on a date tonight. It’s a surprise.

5

Repeating his ominous words, I imagine his grin, the lust in his eyes. Diego has no plans to send me back to America or to talk about literature. He wants to hold me hostage and use me as his plaything for his sadistic pleasures.
 

I have to get out.
 

I have to leave.
 

But how can I leave without being seen? I can’t outrun his men if they’re chasing me in vehicles, and the valley provides little foliage to hide within at this altitude.

I search for a telephone. Nothing. The only phone I’ve seen is the one in Diego’s hands. Not surprising. No one has landlines anymore.
 

There’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck here. I knew this was a risk when I took on this assignment.
 

By nightfall, maybe Nick and José will know I’m in trouble. This was supposed to be a quick stop to eat lunch and pick out a dress. They’re probably already worried.

Maybe Nick will come to rescue me.
 

Of course, I know that’s a lie. No one will come for me. This isn’t the Marines where the motto is to never leave a soldier behind. In the CIA, people are left behind as a matter of routine. Afterwards, you’re forgotten and your identity is erased as if you never existed.
 

If I’m really lucky, a star with a blank slate will be added to the Memorial Wall in Langley, honoring my stupidity.

I’m hyperventilating.
 

I have to get a hold of myself. Panicking is never the right response. I’ve been in worse. No, that’s not true. This is by far the worst. Still, I have options.
 

There’s no guarantee that Diego intends to hurt me for his sexual pleasure. The surprise might be something else entirely. Maybe he wants me to hurt
him
. That would provide a real twist.

While the levity helps calm me, I know it won’t happen. There isn’t even a modicum of submission in Diego. I’ve stared into his eyes—the confidence and power they contain isn’t a front.

I have to get organized.
 

First, I need to make sure the mark on my chest is gone. I peel back my shirt and stare. There’s a slither of pink remaining. Nothing that will draw much attention.
 

I still have the recording device on me, but it only works with the mic. I could tape the mic to my leg except most of the tape’s adhesive is now so weak that I don’t think it would hold. I can’t risk having it fall off, so I’ll have to go the rest of the night without being able to record anything.
 

Fine.
 

As long as I get out of this alive, I don’t really care.
 

I’ll leave the recording device on my inner thigh. Removing it would hurt like hell, and I don’t want to have bulging pockets when Diego returns.

Shoes click down the hall.
 

Someone is coming.
 

I see his shadow first.
 

“How was your afternoon?” Diego asks.

I nearly drop the book.
 

Get it together Miranda. You’ve been around danger before.
 

“Great. Did you get everything squared away with your business?”

“For now. The rest can wait. I want to take you to a very special place. Put on your dress. The car is ready.”

Car? So Diego doesn’t plan on tying me up and hauling me down to the dungeon. Whew. That’s a relief.
 

I change and follow him out to the front of the compound.

 
Over the farthest peak, the sun is beginning to set. Very gentlemanly, Diego opens the back door of the Escalade and helps me inside. He sits beside me.

“Before we get going, I have a small request,” he says.
 

He shows me a silk scarf.
 

“Since this is a surprise, I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we get there.”

“You want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Only for a short while.”

Diego folds the black silk and draws the fabric over my eyes. The scarf is tied tightly at the back of my head. I can’t see anything. The fabric is thick and secured in a manner that doesn’t allow any light to slip through.
 

Hands pass my waist. Diego buckles me in and settles the seatbelt strap across my chest.
 

I listen to his calm breath, feeling his hands brush against my body.

“Trust me,” he whispers. “I won’t harm you.”

His hand rubs my thigh.
 

The vehicle starts.
 

My breathing quickens.

About a minute later, I hear the tires sliding to a stop in the gravel. From this, I know we’re leaving Diego’s residence. I have to pay attention to each stop and turn and try to figure out where we’re going in case I’m forced to make a quick getaway.

After a while, I realize it’s impossible. There are too many turns and twists and pauses. I think the driver is circling around the nearest village just to throw me off. There’s no way we could have taken that many turns so soon.
 

I hope Nick and José are following us. They would have stayed close to the gate of Diego’s compound, hiding in a nearby location and watching. Maybe they saw me in the backseat with a blindfold over my eyes. That would have given them concern. Or maybe they couldn’t see through the SUV’s tint at all.

During the ride, the driver begins shouting something in Spanish. Diego shifts in his seat as if he’s looking through the rear of the car.
 

The Escalade accelerates, the force pushing me back into the seat.

“Is everything, okay?”

Diego pats me on the thigh. “Of course. A car was just following too closely.”

A lump forms in my throat.
 

The trailing car has to be Nick and José. If they’re following us that poorly, José must be the one behind the wheel.
 

I don’t think Diego suspects anything of me yet. If he did, I’d already be dead. There are plenty of rival drug dealers, and clearly he’s on edge about something within his business.

The twists become more prominent. The hairpin turns occur at regular intervals and my ears start to pop. We’re obviously traveling up a mountain. Which one, I have no idea.
 

The tires rumble as we turn onto a gravel path.
 

We stop.
 

Doors open.

“Can I now take this blindfold off?”

“Not yet,” Diego says. “Keep it on for a little while longer.”

He helps me out of the vehicle and leads me by the arm.
 

From the energy I have to expend, I know we’re traversing up a steep path. When I’m almost out of breath, he tells me to stop and removes the blindfold.

I stare ahead.

I’m too shocked to speak. We’re standing at the top of a ledge overlooking Machu Picchu. Sharp peaks and daunting mountains surround us. A full moon bathes the Inca ruins in milky light.

He takes me by the hand. “What do you think?”

“It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

It’s not a lie.

“I thought so, too. Until I met you, Caroline.”

Bringing me closer, he stares into my eyes. Despite a few kinky fetishes Diego may be harboring and the fact that he’s a drug smuggler, I want him to kiss me.
 

What has gotten into me?

He doesn’t kiss me, though. Instead, he nods to a small table set up behind us with a bottle of champagne. A sea of candles lights the scene.
 

He pours us each a drink and offers a toast.

“To trust.”

Our glasses ring together.
 

I take a sip.
 

The bubbles are good. Probably the best I’ve ever had. No telling the price.

“How in the world did you get permission to do this? I don’t imagine this is a regular thing here.”

“Who says I have permission?”
 

Diego smiles. He’s even darker and more handsome beneath the moonlight.
 

“I have a few connections with park associations. That’s how I was able to secure my home in a protected wildlife area. I’m very trusted in this region.”

“I guess money can buy lots of trust.”

“Money can buy some things, but trust is earned. When I promise something, I always deliver. Stay close to me Caroline, and I promise you the world.”

If such a cliché line had been uttered by anyone else, it would have me rolling my eyes. But I know Diego possesses the means to back it up, and as I lose myself in the depth of his eyes and their all-consuming intensity, my legs weaken.
 

His hands slide behind me, holding me steady and close.
 

Any reservations I have are quelled by a simple excuse: this is for the job, this is for the job, this is for the job. So when his lips press against mine, I let myself go, slipping my tongue into his mouth for the sake of national security.
 

Diego’s hand squeezes my ass, pulling me against the bulge in his pants.
 

He’s huge.

I become wet at the thought of him laying me down in the grass, spreading my legs, and claiming me. Or maybe he intends for me to drop to my knees, open his fly, and suck his cock until he explodes.
 

My whole body trembles at the possibilities and the realization that I don’t have to hold back. Nick and José can’t hear. This isn’t being recorded. How I earn Diego’s trust never has to become official record.

His hand sliding up my legs gives me pause. I’m so wet and enthralled that I almost forget the obvious. The stupid CIA hardware is still taped to my inner thigh.
 

I’m so hot with desire that my body tells me to lose myself in the act and let Diego rip it off my flesh and take me.
 

His hand pulls the zipper of my dress.
 

This wakes me up. Diego isn’t going to spank me or give it to me hard if he discovers the device. He’s going to break my neck and throw me off the edge of this cliff.

I pull away.
 

“Not so fast. I’m a properly raised girl from Georgia.”

I pry his hands away.
 

“Georgia? I thought you said you were from LA?”

“I am from LA, but I originally grew up in Georgia. I’m still a southern girl at heart. And we southern gals aren’t that easy. We’re proper ladies.”

Diego doesn’t get mad. A smirk forms across his face. I think he enjoys the challenge—that or he’s amused by my assertion of being a proper girl with half my dress undone.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you didn’t want to. I can take it slow.
If you can
.”

He says it like a challenge put forth. Part of me wants to excuse myself to the nearest restroom so I can remove this device and chuck it over the mountainside. I could then tell Diego that the LA whore inside me is too strong to deny.
 

Where do I get such thoughts?
 

This man has me thinking in ways so uncanny for me. Maybe it’s the wine and the altitude giving me these decadent ideas.

“I appreciate your understanding,” I say in a voice that is almost a moan.
 

I doubt the pale light of the moon can hide my florid cheeks.

“Of course. Slow is better.”

Diego takes my hand and leads me back down the path.
 

I’m so hot between the legs that every stride sends quick shudders through my body. I keep reminding myself that I’ve done the right thing. Diego is used to getting his way with women. If I submitted so easily, he’d look at me as just another cocktail waitress he had some fun with while out of town.