Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (16 page)

The way he said Abdul’s name, as if the taste of it disgusted him, was a sentiment she shared. She didn’t even want to discuss the man anymore, but the guy was ruthless…and patient. He had settled for giving her, and Ric, a message with the pop to her mouth instead of choking her with his bare hands, which was the look he gave her right before his fist connected with her lip. Both she and Ric needed to analyze the man’s actions if they were going to stay one step ahead of whatever he was up to. “He didn’t say much. Just that he was sorry he wasn’t available when I came by to visit him earlier. I denied I was there, of course.”

“I knew I should have killed those guys.”

Ric’s muttering wasn’t lost on her. In the haste to escape the tent, they hadn’t gone to the trouble of silencing their captors. “We didn’t have enough time. And how would we have disposed of the bodies?”

“We wouldn’t have.”

“Then Abdul would suspect us!”

“Let him. He already does,” Ric answered evenly. “Without anyone to back up his claim that we were snooping in his tent, Sheik Hassan would have let the matter die. He’d have paid Abdul handsomely for the inconvenience and given him double the guards as a replacement.”

“You’re so sure of yourself? Of the sheik?”

Expecting an affirmative answer right away, she arched a brow when he took his time to ponder her questions. His hands were on his slender hips, his wide shoulders straight. Mel didn’t doubt the confidence he displayed. The silence said he doubted himself. Although his eyes were on her, he wasn’t exactly looking at her. Mel waited.

After a few moments, he spoke. “Of myself, yes, obviously. The sheik…” He blew out a long breath. He lifted the covering on one of the plates. Whatever his thoughts were of the food, they remained a mystery as he retained the look of contemplation. He pulled out a chair for her. After she took a seat, he continued in a low voice. “According to intelligence, an attack on the US Embassy in the UAE is imminent. Hassan is my source and has been for several years. My investigation has led me to suspect that he’s funding the attack.” Mel’s mouth hung open as Ric finally explained his mission. “I’m convinced Abdul is the organizer of the plot, which is why we can’t draw any more attention to ourselves.”

Melody, you’ve done a lot of stupid things, but this… Lives are at stake!

Ric spoke again. “I’m sure the sheik will do what he can to protect me until he no longer can.”

Melody took a seat across from him. “What do you mean by that? Is there some sort of expiration date on his hospitality? His protection?”

Ric removed the covers to reveal two hearty cuts of steak served with steamed vegetables. He cocked a half-grin. “My favorite meal, minus a bloomin’ onion. Hassan likes to have it cooked for me when I’m visiting. And to answer your question, yes, there is an expiration date on the sheik’s protection. It expires as soon as I make too much trouble.”

He averted his eyes. It didn’t sound like a dig but nevertheless, she took it as a chastisement for her earlier behavior and she accepted it in silence. She had endangered them both, and got nearly knocked out because of it. “I’m making too much trouble,” she said softly to herself.

“Not too much…yet.”

His easy smile did little to relieve the uneasiness she felt over the possibility that she might just count as a strike against Ric. Add the unfortunate moment Abdul’s men caught her in his tent and that was strike two. Ric now had very little room for error to continue his search for information about the upcoming attack on the embassy.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle the sheik.”

“And Abdul?”

Ric’s eyes flashed with villainous contempt. “I’ll handle him too.” He winked.

She wanted to smile but forced her lips to remain rigid. The situation was serious, and even though he smiled — thinly — for her benefit, she’d prove to him that she had learned her lesson. And…and…she’d follow his lead. Mel reached for the glass of water near her plate and chugged.

“Mel-o-dy? Take a breath.”

One last gulp and she slammed the empty glass back on the table. She inhaled loudly through her open mouth. She ignored the concerned look he gave her — or was it a “I think you’re weird” look? — and picked up her fork and knife to cut into her steak.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she answered at the same time she took a bite of the meat. She chewed as slowly as she could to avoid conversation. Ric crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. That cocky half-grin was back, but she refused to look at it.

“You know, I can do this all day.”

“Not eat?”

“Ha! You know what I mean.”

She believed him.
Don’t engage.
She took another bite. “Mmm, this steak is really tasty. Perfectly cooked.”

“Is it, now?”

“You should try it.”

“How’s your lip?”

The question caught her off-guard and her eyes locked with his. He still sat with his hands locked beneath his arms, but his demeanor had darkened once more.

“It hurts to chew, but I’m managing.”

“I swear I’m going to kill him,” he muttered.

The venom lacing his voice chilled her. Where was the usually good-natured Ricardo; the serious, yet softhearted, man who couldn’t stay mad at her for longer than two seconds? Funny how that trait was rubbing off on her. Was his attitude the result of letting go of past wrongs? The pain caused by loved ones? She rather enjoyed holding on to her bitterness. It gave her something to live for. It was one of the few real things she felt. Her appetite gone, she laid the fork and knife across her plate.

Ric groaned. He placed his elbows on the table and ran his hands through his hair before setting his chin in his hands. The storm in his eyes lessened a bit, as they remained glued to hers. His lips twisted into an ironic grin. “It’s so taxing.”

Mel rubbed the goose bumps on her arms, grateful for the chance to sever their connection. “What? The mission?”

“No. The mission I can handle.”

“Then what?”

“Worrying about you,” he said softly before chuckling.

Once again, her gaze fused with his. She sensed the weight of those three words in the deepest part of her soul. He might have chuckled a bit after his confession, but it did nothing to lighten the intensity growing between them. As their gazes lingered on each other, Mel considered his earlier statement. Had she been forcing an argument between them? She racked her brain for a moment when she hadn’t been as contrary as he suggested and realized she “forced an argument” more times than not.

She feared how her heart sung when he was near. He had several things going for him. For one, he was a Santiago. Both his brothers were federal agents and Ric had chosen a profession where he put his life on the line for the freedom and the safety of Americans and their allies. At any given moment, like his brothers, they could and would sacrifice their lives for the greater good. After she spoke with both Genie and Audrey — the wives of Rafa and Ale — she learned the Santiago brothers had extensive juvenile records. Each man had seemed to have shaken the stigma of delinquent pasts.

Second, Ric had never given her a reason
not
to trust him. She was keen on the signs of duplicity after having experienced a person who’d mastered the techniques. If anything, Ric had come through for her more than once. He was willing to risk his safety for hers, juggling both the responsibilities of her protection and his mission.

And he’s a great kisser.

Okay, not really a valid reason, but if what Hakeem said about him was true, then Ric was a man of genuine sincerity — a true friend with a compassionate and loyal heart.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The space between his brows creased. He scanned her face with a confused look. “For what?”

Mel blasted a breath and rolled her eyes. She stabbed her fork into some weird vegetable thing and raised it to her lips. “You know what.” She took a large bite in hopes of delaying any further conversation.

He grinned and shook his head. “Well, I appreciate that, but I don’t blame you.”

“I nearly single-handedly derailed your mission.”

“Wellll, I wouldn’t say ‘nearly.’ I had everything under control—”

“What?” she practically shrieked.

“And I still have control of the situation.”

Mel laughed heartily at his cocky self-assuredness. She almost took another bite of the delicious mystery vegetable when she remembered her first attempt to escape Abdul’s tent. Everything was out of her control when she tripped and landed on the floor, wasting precious seconds and allowing the men to find her— “The floor!”

“What?”

“I tripped over something in the tent, beneath the rug near the bed. It was very slight, but it was there and my foot got caught and I fell.”

“Could be the rug wasn’t smooth.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Uh-uh, no. My foot hit something
hard
.”

“And you think it’s relevant?”

She ignored her first impulse to believe he meant to be condescending. “Look, I searched all the obvious places where he would hide my badge. Maybe there’s something hidden near his bed, underneath that rug.”

He took his time and chewed a piece of steak before he responded. “There’s one place you haven’t checked.”

“Where?”

“His person.”

The idea Abdul would be walking around with her badge was preposterous. “What purpose would it serve to have it with him?”

“So snoopy people like us won’t find it in his sock drawer.”

If he wasn’t so cute, she’d have reached across the table to knock him upside his head. The slow grin he gave her mitigated her temper and allowed her to enjoy the levity of the moment, but it was brief. His grin soon faded and he was back to business.

“I’ll check it out.”

“How? His men saw us. Abdul
knows
we were there.” She pointed to the bump on her lip. “What’s your plan for getting back in?”

“I won’t be there.”

“You won’t?”

He took a sip from a water bottle he’d placed on the table earlier. “Nope. I’ll send in a man.”

Mel sucked in a breath. “You can’t mean Hakeem? He won’t know what to do, how to improvise—”

Ric held up a hand to silence her. “First off, Hakeem is very good under pressure. We’ve had quite a few close calls. His skills might surprise you. And second, no, it’s not Hakeem.”

“Then who?”

“Someone whose supposed to be there.”

Ric dialed the number to headquarters on his satellite phone. He hadn’t checked in in over two days. In a few more hours, he’d be considered dead, captured, or gone rogue. He should have made contact sooner, but unfortunately, he hadn’t had much to report. Hakeem was still working his angle with a few of the sheik’s temporary employees and Ric had had his hands full with the lovely Melody Lewis.

How was he supposed to explain Mel? His boss would excoriate him for compromising the mission with his decision to protect her.
One life for the hundreds at the embassy? Ricardo, have you lost your mind?
he’d say. And in the days Ric had to think of a satisfactory excuse, his mind was still blank. Blank because he knew deep down he couldn’t explain this in any way that would be acceptable to the boss.

He’s gonna threaten me with desk duty.
The one fear his boss believed Ric possessed. Not firefights, not being double-crossed, not that time he survived a boat capsizing in shark-infested waters off the coast of Mozambique. Until recently, working in the office would have put him on suicide watch, but meeting Mel presented a new perspective on the life he led. The thought of leaving her was more troublesome now than working behind a desk.

After taking a deep breath, Ric slowly exhaled as he waited for the call to connect. He’d have to remain calm, despite his boss’s objections, and only then could he present a logical defense. Maybe he’d leave the part about claiming Mel for his own out of the sitrep.

Upon command, he voiced his pass code and waited for confirmation. Before long, Ric heard the gruff voice of his boss over the grainy sat-phone reception. “It’s about time.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Don’t give me that, Santiago. You know protocol.”

“And I’m not overdue for another…” He paused to glance at his watch. “Three hours, ten minutes, and twenty-nine seconds.”

“You’re a prick.”

“You want the briefing or not?”

“Get on with it, then.”

Even though he was convinced he wasn’t being observed, Ric scanned the area around him. He was on the outskirts of the camp, near the food services tent. Abdul’s men would undoubtedly be elsewhere as they rarely socialized with the workers. “I have a lead on the facilitator.”

“The sheik? How long has he been a source?”

A long time.
“I can’t confirm it’s him, yet, but someone in the company has facilitated weapons shipments, has access to money…” He hoped he could dissuade his boss’s first inclination to blame Sheik Hassan.

“Are you sure the sheik isn’t providing top cover for this man? Is it just one? How many actors do you expect are involved?”

Still unsure which insurgents traveling into the UAE were actually part of the plot, Ric couldn’t confirm the number, but he assumed they all were participating in some capacity. Ric provided additional biographic details about Abdul and a few of the men of whose allegiance he commanded. His decision to keep his association with her concealed stung his conscience. If his mission went sour and he needed an extraction, that wouldn’t be the time to suggest to his boss to update contingencies.
It won’t come to that.

For starters, he would be two steps ahead of Abdul. Intelligence analysts surmised there were only a few phases left in Abdul’s operation. He’d already recruited the men necessary to conduct the attack, and it was up to Ric to identify the explosive device and disable it if possible. Other operatives were on the ground in the UAE, tracking the movements of men who had traveled from Yemen and Oman believed to be involved in the plot. The only question was why Abdul would be in Saudi Arabia, so far from the embassy?