Hunt Her Down (12 page)

“Have.” She blinked at him. What was he talking about?

“What?” He practically pulled her out of her seat. “You still have it?”

“I think I do. It’s hidden in my grandmother’s tarot cards.” She brushed by him and started

toward the hallway. Had the thief taken it? She hadn’t even checked. “But why would anyone

want it?”

“For a hundred million dollars.”

She missed a step. “Excuse me?”

“The fortune in the cookie. That’s what we were looking for the night of the bust. It was the

location of a hundred million unlaundered dollars.”

“Are you serious? But it was just a phrase, a saying in a Chinese cookie.”

“It was much more than that. It was the key to where the Jimenez family was hiding too

much money to dump into standard accounts without being noticed.” He followed her into the

bedroom, nudging her to move faster. “You know that El Viejo not only moved cocaine from

Colombia through Venezuela using that bogus shipping company, but also laundered the

money his operation made all over the U.S., the Caribbean and Europe.”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“The reason we had to conduct the raid that particular night was because a message that

Viejo had been waiting to receive came in that day, and we had to intercept it. It was from his

brother, and it was the location of the money.”

She switched the light on her nightstand and rounded the bed to get to the dresser. He had

to be wrong. Her fortune had no such information on it.

“Wouldn’t a message from his brother have been hidden in the furniture shipment that came

into the warehouse? Did you look in all those furniture boxes?”

“Of course—that’s why the bust happened that night; otherwise we might have waited. But

there was no message in the shipment, just tons and tons of cocaine. Certainly enough to shut

them down and put them all away. But the other undercover agent in the operation found out

that the message had come in a Chinese food delivery that day.”

“Juan Santiago,” she supplied, remembering him clearly. He was the one who’d testified at

the trial, the one mentioned in the news. She’d fallen for his act, too, never knowing that he

was an undercover federal agent in their midst.

“He discovered a fortune from a cookie in Viejo’s possession when we arrested him that

night. But the best minds in the FBI couldn’t crack the code, if there was one.”

Maggie opened the drawer and pulled out the jewelry box. “If Viejo had the message when

he was arrested, why do you think this one has anything to do with the money?”

“Some of us, including me, thought maybe the message came in pieces as a precaution.

Others thought we’d been duped entirely, and there was no money. We never found any other

messages, and God knows we searched that house. We never found the money, either, even

after they all went to prison.”

She lifted Baba’s precious Buckland Romani tarot cards and cut the deck in the middle,

between the Sun and the Queen of Cups, where she’d long ago hidden the fortune, now

yellowed with time.

“Just like I remembered.” She handed it to him. “Now that love grows in you, then beauty

grows, too.”

“A typical meaningless cliché.”

Not to her. “What did you expect? A Swiss bank account number?”

“I just hoped for something more obvious,” he said, examining it carefully. “El Viejo isn’t

that sophisticated, and this wasn’t the CIA.”

“What did his say?”

He just shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t remember.”

“So if this is connected to the other message, what good is it now, anyway? Plus, after

fourteen years, surely the money is gone.”

“I could get the other Chinese fortune easily. I’m sure it’s still in the files in the FBI office

up in Miami, since this part of the case is still considered pending. And we don’t know if the

money’s gone. Viejo couldn’t even get to it until six months ago, and his transactions are

closely watched. If he has it and is washing it through a system, it would have to be in very,

very small amounts. Plus, the only person believed to know its exact location, Esteban

Jimenez, is dead.” He turned it over and looked at the numbers. “One-zero-three-eight.”

“Maybe a combination lock or a safe deposit box?” she suggested.

“Or an address. Maybe the other one has a street name on it. Although I seemed to recall it

had some numbers, too.” He studied the words again before he looked at her. “Can you

remember exactly how you got this?”

“There was an afternoon meeting, to plan the delivery I guess, and I was shuffled off to

watch Lourdes. When I went into her room to find her, she had two fortune cookies.”

“How did she get them?”

“I have no idea. She gave me one, and after that I was totally wrapped up in my message.

She was barely ten, and not really aware of the business going on in that house. I doubt she

knew that she had something valuable.”

“Maybe Ramon gave her his on purpose,” he said. “Maybe giving one to her was part of the

fail-safe system. Maybe he suspected someone was undercover. I wasn’t in that meeting.”

“But you were in on the delivery that night.”

He must have heard the accusatory note in her voice. “You weren’t supposed to be there,”

he said. “You were supposed to be at the movies with Lourdes, both of you out of the house.”

“But Juan Santiago got sick, and he was—one of . . . you. Oh.”

Dan nodded. “Viejo decided to stay home at the last minute, so Juan—Joel is his real name

—had to pretend to be sick, so Viejo didn’t somehow get word of the bust before agents got to

him. I didn’t know Ramon would insist on taking you in his place. When I saw you there . . .”

His brows drew tight at the memory.

“You made me run away.”

“I knew bullets would fly. I knew I was supposed to be ‘killed.’ It was the best I could do

for you under the circumstances. I thought you’d go back to Viejo’s and be put in government

protection. That was my plan all along, but when you disappeared . . .”

“You never tried to find me.”

“I knew you’d be fine, especially once they were all under arrest. I knew you’d survive, and

if I had found you, I’d have had to tell you the truth.”

She stepped away, a wave of familiar hate rolling over him. “God forbid you’d be honest.”

“There was nothing to be gained. For either of us.”

“Whatever. It’s history.”
Her
history, like it or not.

“No, it’s not.” He gripped her wrist, demanding her attention. “I never wanted your role to

be revealed, Maggie. I never wanted you involved in the trial. That was always paramount to

me, and one of the reasons I pushed to ‘die’ at the scene, so I didn’t have to reveal to a jury

where I got some of the leads. Without me testifying, it was just a matter of presenting the

evidence we found at the warehouse. I never intended for you to get hurt.”

“Well, you may not have intended it, but what you did hurt like hell. Par for the course.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve been lied to since I was born. My mother spewed them in her once-a-year calls to me,

my husband wasn’t the most honest dude to walk the face of the earth, and, of course, there

was you, the granddaddy of liars in my life. So forgive me if I’m not about to shower you

with trust. You have zero credibility.”

She pulled away and closed her fingertips around the fortune he held. “So, I’ll take that.”

She slid it from his fingers. “Until we give this to whoever wants it, my son’s not safe. This is

ransom. And they can have it.”

“You can’t turn over a hundred million dollars to a former drug cartel and known money

launderer. Or to anyone, for that matter.”

“I don’t care about the money. I only care about one thing on this earth: Quinn. If this little

piece of paper puts him in jeopardy, then I’m giving it to the people who want it, to be sure

he’s safe.”

“It belongs to the United States government.”

“Oh, please. Don’t go all FBI on me now.” She took a step back with the paper. “I’ll text

whoever wrote to me right back. That Greek guy, Ramon—hell, I’ll hand it over to El Viejo

himself. I just want my son out of harm’s way.”

“Are you crazy? Maggie, do you think they’d let you live? Even if you gave that to them?

Knowing what you know?”

“What do I know? Only what you’ve told me, and that’s always questionable. And even if

you are telling the truth, they have no idea you’re alive, let alone standing in this room.” She

turned away. “This is mine, and Quinn is mine, and you can’t just waltz in here and take either

one. No.”

“He’s my son, too. And you know damn well neither one of you would ever be secure.

Don’t you remember what those people are like? El Viejo is ruthless and brutal. Life means

nothing to him. Not yours and not Quinn’s.”

She couldn’t deny the truth of that. “But until they have what they want, Quinn’s not safe.”

“Oh, he’ll be safe. I’ll take him to Miami tomorrow, where he’ll be surrounded by ten-foot

walls and under the constant watch of a personal protection specialist with the size and

disposition of a grizzly bear.”

That sounded really good at the moment. “And then what?”

“If someone wants this fortune that bad, it confirms one thing: the money is still there. I’m

going to find it and then turn it over to the FBI in a very public announcement, letting Viejo

and anyone connected with him know that it’s gone. Then you can rest easy.”

His approach made sense, it was safer, and he was right about Viejo. He’d never let

someone live who had that kind of information on him. “How can you do that? And how long

will it take?”

“By ten o’clock tomorrow, I’ll have every single public and private record on the

background of Constantine Xenakis. By noon, I’ll be in the 1A files at the FBI office in North

Miami Beach to get the other fortune. With the two fortunes in hand and the resources of my

company, we can have the code broken in hours. By tomorrow night, we could be home free.”

He made it sound so easy. “What if they want retribution? What if they want to hurt Quinn

just for vengeance?”

He reached for the memory box in her open drawer. He lifted the lid, the golden curl and

baby tooth looking absurdly small next to his masculine finger.

“Then I’ll find every damn one of them and kill them myself.” His expression was dark

with emotion, surprising her with the force of it.

She really had no choice. “All right. I’ll go with your plan. But if anything happens to my

boy, I’ll kill
you
myself.”

QUINN POPPED OUT his earbuds when Dan pulled up to the guard gate at the entrance to Star

Island, the boy’s eyes wide and his jaw slack. Dan couldn’t help watching his expression of

shock and delight in the rearview mirror.

“Dude. This place is insane. We’re really staying here?”

As if he sensed the excitement in Quinn’s voice, Goose lifted his head and uncurled from

the comfort of a tight leather seat in the back of the Porsche.

“We are,” Dan said, handing his license to the guard.

“Awesome. I bet they have a ballin’ pool.”

Dan and Maggie shared a look that silently said they had no idea what ballin’ was, but it

must be good.

“They have twelve thousand square feet of mindboggling luxury stocked with a theater and

an aquarium and plenty to make sure you’re not bored.”

Quinn let out a low whistle, leaning forward as they drove through the gated entrance,

looking far more like he was headed into a vacation hotel than a 24/7 secure compound.

As the Porsche purred down the island’s only road, Maggie and Quinn tried to see the

houses blocked by large walls and thick foliage.

“Who is this Cori again?” Maggie asked. “And how much does the universe love her?”

“I don’t know about the universe, but Max Roper sure does. She’s on the board of her

deceased husband’s mall management company, and after she married Max, they moved to

wine country and Max runs the West Coast operations of my company. A couple of times a

year, they have to come here for board meetings. We’re lucky this is one of those weeks.”

They pulled into the wide drive, and Dan entered the code on the keypad. The iron gate

opened slowly, inviting them into lush grounds. As the driveway curved, the stunning expanse

of a contemporary Spanish-style villa came into view.

Quinn choked. “Holy crap.”

Before Dan had even stopped the car, the front leadedglass doors opened and Max stepped

out, looking almost comical with a two-year-old in his arms.

“The size of a bear, maybe,” Maggie said. “But not the disposition. Not the way he’s

looking at that child.”

“Fatherhood has mellowed him, it’s true. But he’d still kill you for looking sideways at his

principal. Believe me, I’ve known the guy since he gave me a black eye in kindergarten.”

Seconds later Cori stepped into the morning sunshine, her long dark hair pulled up in a

youthful ponytail, her wide smile genuine as she darted to greet Dan with a hug the minute he

climbed out of the car.

“A woman, a kid, and a dog,” he whispered as she gave him a kiss. “I owe you for this.”

Before she could answer, Goose bolted out of the back seat and jumped on her.

“He’s harmless,” Dan assured her, going for the collar as Maggie came around the front,