Deadly Pursuit (SCVC Taskforce) (17 page)

Lovely
. “Can I make a voodoo doll of her when this is over and stick her with pins?”

The hint of a smile tweaked the right corner of his mouth. “Whatever gets you through the next hour in one piece, kid.”

Kid. Even after everything she’d been through, she was still kid in his book. Well, they’d see about that.

Dupé was waiting for them on the twentieth floor with a squad of agents. A woman, a red-headed version of Dolly Parton, was standing next to him in a gorgeous Mediterranean-blue suit. Forester and Thomas were on Celina’s sides, Cooper behind her.

Like their male counterparts, women were creatures of evolution. They instinctively sized up each other without giving it a second thought. Celina looked at the woman again and thought,
efficient, calculating, manipulative
.

Lana? No way. Lana was a black belt who benched two hundred pounds. The woman standing next to Dupé looked like she’d tip forward on her air-bag breasts if she lifted so much as a coffee cup.

Yet, when their eyes met, her expression was hard, eyes cold.

Lana’s assessment of Celina took all of a second. She took in her kinky hair, her wrinkled clothes, and the boots on her feet, and Celina saw a mocking shadow cross her features. She shifted one petite, stilettoed-foot forward like a model posing.

Cocky
, Celina added to her list.

“Celina.” Victor Dupé stepped forward and reached for her hand. Celina dropped her overnight bag to the floor and accepted his handshake. There was more salt than pepper in his hair, more worry than laugh lines around his eyes. He was broad-shouldered and medium height, and when she shook his hand, he used his free one to squeeze her elbow. Very Bill Clinton, not quite regulation, but not solicitous either. He was a good man—energetic for his age and this top position—and one who cared about his agents. Celina let out the breath she was holding and gave him a small smile. She was glad to be back under his umbrella.

Dupé turned her toward the woman and introduced her. Lana Custov, ex-DEA, and now his section chief, but instead of shaking Celina’s hand, Lana put her hands on her hips, a deliberate move that both snubbed Celina and opened her jacket to reveal her badge.

And her cleavage.

She had good reason to be cocky.
But I’ve been in Iowa where they grow them just as big and all natural.

As Celina went to introduce Chief Forester, however, she realized the effect Lana’s chest had. Forester was a deer frozen in headlights. Celina ignored Lana’s look of conquest as she introduced the Chief to Dupé.

Then she asked for an update on Ronni.

“She’s out of surgery,” Lana said.

“I know that,” Celina said. “Has her condition been upgraded?”

Lana breathed impatience. “She’s in serious condition, but she’ll survive.” She turned to Dupé. “Everyone’s in the conference room waiting.”

Dupé nodded. “We have a lot to cover.” He motioned them toward the bank of offices down the hall to their left. Forester fell into step beside Lana. Thomas lagged behind, exchanging a funky handshake with one of the Feds passing by.

Cooper and Celina hung back. “She’s a machine,” he murmured under his breath, picking up Celina’s bag. “Doesn’t care about anyone.”

“She’s a pixie in a power suit.”

They stood there together for a moment staring at Lana. Just as the woman reached the door to the conference room, Forester pulling it open for her, she turned and glanced back at them. It was a subtle, over the shoulder look, her left eyebrow rising ever so slightly at the sight of them standing together, Celina’s bag in Cooper’s hands. Celina saw the mocking shadow pass over her face again and a second later Lana was on her way back.

Cooper stiffened beside her.

“From here on out, the DEA has ceded authority on this case to the FBI.” Lana smiled at Cooper. “Your presence here is not necessary…” She paused for effect. “Nor wanted.”

Cooper opened his mouth to respond, but stopped and forcefully closed it.

Celina admired his control. She, however, was more than up for Lana’s challenge. Engaging her expressionless perfunctory smile, Celina stepped toward her. “I had an instructor at Quantico who always said, ‘an effective leader uses all the tools in his toolbox, and uses them wisely’, meaning don’t use a hammer when you need a screwdriver.”

Lana took the challenge. “Your point?”

Engage warmer smile. Manipulate the manipulator
. “Like you, Agent Harris has years of experience with Emilio Londano and his organization. Like you, he’s looking for a successful outcome here. You may be the hammer that drives this mission forward, but when it comes time to put the screws to Emilio, you’ll need the screwdriver to get the job done.”

After a second, Lana mirrored her smile with absolutely no warmth. “How metaphorical of you, Agent Davenport, but from my experience Agent Harris has never been a team player. He’s undisciplined, unprincipled, and”—she did that pause thing again as she glanced at Cooper—“unmanageable.”

How
un-
tidy
, Celina thought, keeping her smile in place. Cooper was none of those things. The complete polar opposite of those things in fact. Kind of like Lana seeming to be the exact opposite of how Cooper described her. What was with these two? “Director Dupé has already given Agents Harris and the SCVC taskforce clearance to help with this mission.” Celina dropped her smile and did her best innocent look. “I’m surprised he didn’t mention that to you.”

Lana’s lips tightened.
Bingo.
Lana knew…she just didn’t know
Celina
knew.

Lana tapped her foot on the floor, passing her gaze between Celina and Cooper. Down the hall, Forester was still holding the door, gaze locked on Lana. Dupé stuck out his head. “Chief Custov?”

“Coming,” she said, giving him a true smile.

Wants to snag the boss,
Celina added to her list, and then something clicked in her brain that made her look at Cooper. He was a statue, looking down the hall but seeing nothing. Saying nothing. Had Lana been one of
the
gals
?

Lana turned back. “Let me give you a piece of advice, rookie.” She was completely cool, completely ignoring Cooper, completely emphasizing the annoying term. “You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last in Agent Harris’s bed, but if you’re ever going to be a part of
my
team, you better chose your fuck buddies with more discretion.”

O-
kay
. Celina closed the distance between them, put her nose to Lana’s. “How dare you tell me what—” Cooper’s hand touched her arm and she stopped in mid-sentence, remembering his instructions. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back. Forced her gaze to mimic Cooper’s.

Lana smiled. She marched to the door, heels clacking confidently as Forester ushered her into the conference room.

Studying Cooper’s face, Celina forced herself to keep breathing. “So you and Lana…” she let her voice trail off.

“Hate each other, yes,” Cooper said. “Thank God she’s one of you now and I rarely have to deal with her.” He gave Celina a wink and ushered her forward. “Your metaphor was off. I’m a power tool. Y’know, like a Dewalt drill driver, 12volt, XR pack kind of guy.”

Cooper never joked. He was trying to take her mind off of Lana, distract her so she’d calm down.

“You lied,” she said under her breath to him as they approached the conference room. “That woman has never bench-pressed a weight in her life.”

“It took her less than thirty seconds to make you lose your cool,” he said, matching her voice. “Never underestimate what she can do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Throughout her teenage years, Celina had a reoccurring nightmare. She stood in front of a group of people wearing nothing but a rosary. Cooper’s estimate of how many people were waiting for her in the sleek, modern, high-tech conference room of L.A.’s FBI headquarters was conservative. At least twenty-four pairs of eyes focused on her as she entered the room and Celina froze in mid-stride. She double-checked to make sure she was still wearing clothes.

Most of the SCVC taskforce was present and an FBI profiler. There was also a female fugitive apprehension agent who looked like she could pass for Celina’s sister.

“Sara Rios,” the woman said, shaking Celina’s hand. “How are you doing, Agent Davenport?”

“I’ve had better days.”
I’d rather face Emilio than speak in front of all these people
.

Celina shook hands with the rest of them and took a seat reserved for her next to Dupé. Lana sat directly across from her, her face a blank. Cooper was also on the other side of the table, but farther down next to Thomas.

Dupé updated the group on the current situation, including the manhunt. Celina noted Emilio’s picture had been added to the FBI’s Top 10, hanging poster-size, on the walls. One drug cartel leader in among terrorists and serial killers. In Celina’s mind, Emilio fit perfectly with the others.

Dupé directed his next comment to her. “After you left the safe house in Des Moines, the agent in charge had a visitor.” Pushing a button on the remote in front of him, a black and white image of the safe house’s living room appeared on a monitor in front of each person. Mary had her back to the camera. She was talking on a cell phone and looking out the front window next to the fireplace.

Her voice was too soft for the audio to capture, but Celina strained to catch what she was saying. A man emerged behind her, his back also to the camera. Not tall—about the same height as Mary—but well-muscled. While a ball cap covered much of his head, Celina could see his hair was dark and cut close to his skull. He hesitated for a moment, head cocked to listen to the agent. Mary closed the phone and he moved toward her with grace like a cat, and something clicked in Celina’s brain.

Cooper sat expressionless, but the rigidity of his back confirmed what Celina’s mind was saying.

Emilio was that close
.

The next few minutes of video unfolded in silence except for the voices of the agent and Emilio. At the end, he left her on the floor and blew a kiss at the camera as he passed. The ball cap was pulled low enough to shadow his features and his hand helped conceal even more, but something about the gesture rang false to Celina. Before she could put her finger on it, Dupé stopped the recording and everyone’s eyes swung to her.

“What I want to know,” Lana said, picking up a pen and rolling it between her fingers, “is why Londano killed a male agent, but only injured the female ones. Why stab the first one in the shoulder and not in the kidney? Why interrogate this agent and then leave her with only a head concussion like he did McBroom?”

Celina shrugged. “Emilio has never murdered a woman that I know of.”

“Why not?”

Cooper spoke. “His MO does not include direct involvement in murdering anyone, male or female. In the past, he’s always directed Valquis or one of his other lieutenants to do his dirty work. Killing Sugars—”

“My question still stands,” Lana interrupted. Her eyes continued boring into Celina. “Why didn’t he kill the female agents?”

“They have names,” Celina said. “Ronni, Dawn, and Mary.”

Lana stopped rolling her pen and Celina felt mental ice daggers shooting across the table at her.

The profiler sat forward in his seat. A middle-aged guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a facial tic that made him smile at the end of every sentence, every pause. “Emilio and Enrique were raised by their mother.”
Smile
.

“That’s right,” Celina jumped in, glancing around the table and settling her gaze on Dupé. “In Mexico City. Their father, Ernesto, and their uncles who ran the original drug cartel supported a local politician, Muendez, who was active in their organization. He helped them stay out of prison and they funded his rise up the political ladder. But a deal between Emilio’s uncles and Muendez went bad and all the parties chose to blame Ernesto. Muendez sent some of his men to the house to find Ernesto and exact some revenge, but he wasn’t there. Emilio’s mother was beaten in front of the two boys but she refused to tell Muendez’s men where Ernesto was hiding; maybe she honestly didn’t know and eventually they killed her. Ernesto never returned to the family and Emilio and Enrique went to live with their uncle Jose Prisco. That’s where they learned the business.”

Lana tapped her pen three times in succession. “Was there an answer to my question in that story, Agent Davenport?”

Celina glanced at the profiler. He nodded, and answered. “Emilio is opposed to killing women because of what happened to his mother.”
Smile
.

“But that fact will hardly help us capture him,” Celina said, her eyes now locked on Lana’s. “So really it’s a moot point.”

Lana’s pen stopped in mid-swing.

“May I?” Celina asked Dupé, pointing at the remote. He handed it to her. “The real question is why is Emilio doing this? What’s his motivation?” She rewound the last thirty seconds of the video feed and let it play again. Emilio dropped the agent and blew a kiss at the camera.

Thomas cleared his throat behind her. “You said it was revenge. He wants to make the FBI look incompetent.”

Celina rewound the feed again, and the scene unfolded once more. “Too simple,” she said, still distracted by the tight feeling in her stomach. “I had a lot of time on the plane ride back here to think about it and I believe revenge is too simplistic of a motive for Emilio. He’s never been driven by emotion. Enrique, yes, but not Emilio. Emilio’s cerebral. Goal-oriented. He’s a business man, motivated by deal-making and long term strategy to further his bottom line. Revenge seems…” Her voice trailed off for a moment as Emilio blew a kiss at the camera, at her. “Trivial.”