Obsession (13 page)

“As soon as the authorities in Moldova extract her, they’ll take her to your mother in Minsk.” He wished he could be there when Natasha’s daughter was rescued, but he had his own mission to take care of right here in Mexico.

“Soon, yes?”

“Three, maybe four weeks. She’s not the only kid those thugs have. I’ve been told it’s practically a daycare center of hostages.”

“Martina, she had baby boy taken from her.” Natasha shook her head. “She heard men talk about selling him for adoption.” She gave a little sob. “Could have been me. My baby.”

Alejandro wished he could tell the blonde the rest. His handler thought he was crazy. Told him to step away from the trafficking issue, “don’t rock the boat.” But Alejandro
knew
there were deals that could be made for political asylum in the US. All Natasha had to do was convince a US immigration judge that the Russian mob would kill her mother, daughter, and herself if she went back to Minsk. The Russian mobsters were known for their take no prisoners approach. Girls were killed for lesser infractions than running away. The gangsters were everywhere in Eastern Europe, even in so-called safe areas. With the total post-cold war meltdown in the former Soviet Union, all a good immigration lawyer had to do was hold up a newspaper. Then the family could immigrate to the US for political asylum. He just had to get her across the border, into a safe house. But, before any of that could happen, he’d have to extract her from the brothel.
After
he finished his assignment.

“I know.” Alejandro clutched her hand and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I have to go away for a while. Not sure exactly when I’m leaving. I’ll be taking Tio and Pepe with me. Not sure when I’ll be back, either.”

“You pay Roja to hold Saturday nights for you, yes?”

“Yes.”

“She like you.” She massaged his scalp, soothing and relaxing his jangled nerves. “Tell her you want me rested up for when you come back. Otherwise, she make me work your time.”

“Ah, well that wouldn’t do, would it?” A former beauty queen and fashion model, Natasha was one of the high-end girls in Roja’s stable with an hourly price beyond the normal John’s means. He wondered who the madam had waiting in the wings. Someone with spending money. That meant a politician,
narcoterrorista
, or a rich tourist.

“I’ll have a few words with her before I go tonight, give her a down payment, tell her I’m coming into some money soon, and there’s going to be big bonus in it for her if she keeps you all for me. And that I won’t be happy if I come back and find you gone.”

“You good man, Ally-handro, even though Roja say you a narco, and I should be afraid of you.” She hugged him. “Too bad you no want wife and little girl. I be very good to you.”

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I’m just not the marrying kind.” Seriously, she was killing him. Damsels in distress had a way of pushing his buttons. Look at that beautiful, crazy redhead, Angie. That one drove him crazy. Made him think dangerous thoughts about rescuing her baby and settling down.

By all counts, he should have gone back to Isabel last week after the incident with the dead pig and told her to pack the woman up and send her home. But, no, he couldn’t do that because her kid was up there in the freaking mountains, waiting for his Mom to come get him. And, he had no right to keep a mother away from her child. The bond was a sacred one. He couldn’t bring his murdered nephew, Esteban, back, but if he had to lie, cheat, steal, even kill a few people, he’d help Angie
and
Natasha get their kids back.

“Why you look so sad?” Natasha cocked her head and frowned.

“Thinking about all the lost kids in the world. Your daughter will be safe with her grandmother soon, I promise.” He’d gotten close with the blonde, as close as an undercover agent dared, but he couldn’t tell her everything. As it was, he’d spun a story, telling her he had some underworld friends who owed him some big favors. Once she got into the US, she’d be hooked up with a good immigration lawyer.
But
she had to keep it secret or her little girl might disappear. That way he ensured her silence and kept his cover as a Lieutenant-in-training to the biggest Latina badass in Chihuahua intact.

She tipped her head back. “So, big bad man, what you want do tonight?”

He eyed her and smiled. “The usual.”

“Okay.” She reached into the drawer of the nightstand.

He unbuttoned his shirt, and leaned back on the pillows. “Don’t forget, we have to tell Tio and Pepe all about what we did tonight.”

“Oh, yes.” She giggled and counted off on her fingers. “First we do blindfold, tie up, spank, then very long blow job, and finish big doggie style.”

“Exactly.” He looked at the cards in his hand. “Go fish.”

Chapter Nine

Angie pressed the off button on her cell phone and paced the friendly confines of her guest room like a caged tiger. She needed something to do, to keep busy, to burn off the frustration. Too dark to go for another run and too early to go to bed. Isabel had given her American guest full access to the house, yet Angie had been reluctant to do much more than go to the kitchen. There the omnipresent staff leaped to wait on her, offering coffee, cinnamon drenched baked goods, and entire meals on demand. She wasn’t hungry for food, but famished for company. If only she could wave a magic wand and make the nightmare go away. In the weeks after her arrival, as they gathered intelligence on her father’s location and obtained satellite maps, the weather had grown unseasonably wet and cold, interfering with rescue plans. High winds, rains, and snowstorms in the upper altitudes of the Sierra Madre made any travel, much less a clandestine rescue, next to impossible. As she recalled the conversation with Dan, a wave of homesickness swept over her. She slammed her fist into her hand. She should be home, dammit. Home with Jake’s father and wife, Dan and Sarah, celebrating her son’s first Chanukah.

Unbelievably, Sarah still hadn’t delivered her baby. No, they didn’t know the sex of the child, didn’t want to know, wanted to be surprised. Well, the biggest surprise so far was that Baby Rosen hadn’t made an entrance into the real world, apparently enjoying the comforts of a womb with no view. Angie spent half the phone call reassuring Dan that Jake was safe with Miriam. Having seen the care her mother had lavished on her grandson the first time he’d been kidnapped, Angie was confident that no harm would befall the child. Yes, Miriam was bullied by Zeke, but no way would she ever harm her grandson. Angie needed to hold onto that sliver of trust while they waited for the weather to break. She glanced out her window. Lights blazed in the main part of the house. She pulled on a waterproof jacket, threw the door open, trudged through the bitter wind and snowflakes, drawn to the lights like a moth to a flame.

Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the large kitchen, and multicolored lights strewn over the walls and windows blinked a Morse code of holiday cheer. A pot simmered on the range. The aroma of roast beef teased her nose and made her mouth water. A silver platter brimming with hors d’oeuvres sat on the center island, and wine glasses sparkled on another nearby tray
. Feliz Navidad
played somewhere in the house, and she caught herself singing along with the chorus. Was Isabel having a Christmas party? She should leave before it became awkward. She turned to go back the way she came and came face to face with her buxom hostess.

“
Hola, chica
. I was just about to send Alejandro over to your room to invite you to join us.” Isabel winked. “Or perhaps you could have your own party alone with him?”

Angie’s face burned. “I had no idea you had company. I’ll leave.”

“No, please. I want you to stay. It’s just my family—and the families of my employees. Please don’t go.” Isabel arched an eyebrow. “I was
teasing
.”

Angie hesitated. Should she go back to her safe little room and watch
telenovellas
, Mexican soap operas that she could barely understand? Maybe cry herself to sleep again? Or should she accept Isabel’s invitation, try to pretend she wasn’t socializing with the crème de la crème of drug lords?

That was a no brainer. “Okay.” She peeled off her coat. “Thank you. But just so you know, I don’t drink. I’m allergic to alcohol.”

Isabel waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “I promise you I won’t shove a drink down your throat.”

Angie nodded. “And I don’t do drugs.”

The Latina badass stiffened, her face a mask of righteous indignation. “For your information, there are
no
illegal drugs in my house or on my property. I have kids and no one’s going to expose them to that shit.”

“It’s my turn to apologize.” Angie placed her hand on her chest. “Forgive me, I have issues—”

“Stop. You forgave me. I forgive you. All is forgiven.” Isabel linked her arm through Angie’s. “Now let’s go have some fun.”

A fire roared in the enormous fieldstone fireplace in the great room. Conversational groupings of furniture encouraged little clusters of women and men to sit, sip beer or wine, snack on appetizers and chat. Red and white poinsettias crowded corners of the room, competing with strings of bright lights for attention. In the corner, a huge Christmas tree, decorated with multi-colored lights and bright colored glass ornaments glittered with pictures of the Mexican Loteria and Day of the Dead figures. An exquisite brown-haired angel in a blue dress smiled at the homey scene below.

A Christmas star shaped piñata dangled overhead, dominating the room.
Weren’t piñatas for children’s parties?
Angie scanned the room and listened for little ones’ voices over the music. There must have been at least thirty or more people in the room, but no kids. Were they back in the children’s wing?

Isabel interrupted her thoughts. “When we lived in Baltimore, we always had the biggest tree on the block. When we moved here, I tried to tell Sean and the kids, that in Mexico people don’t have huge trees in their living room for the holidays.” Isabel grinned. “As you can see, I was out voted. Let me find you a soft drink.”

A miniature nativity scene nestled between hundreds of gaily-wrapped packages at the foot of the giant pine. There were so many different decorations, Angie didn’t know where to look next. A string of bubble-lights caught her eye. When she’d lived in Baltimore during law school, her roommate, Patti, had been a Christmas maniac, mad for antique holiday decorations. Angie had tolerated the woman’s obsession with the holiday because she liked her friend and enjoyed watching her enthuse over her finds. “Treasures, look at my treasures,” she would exclaim to Angie. The last she’d heard, Patti was working for a law firm in North Carolina.

“Peso for your thoughts.”

Startled, Angie glanced up and felt a warmth unrelated to the fireplace. Alejandro stood in front of her, dressed in a navy blazer and a white shirt open at his very nice, very lickable, kissable throat. A citrus scent wafted toward her, mixed with his own clean scent. He held a drink out to her. “You asked for a soda?”

She took the glass from his hand, their pinky fingers momentarily brushing. A tingle raced from the tip of her little finger to her nipples, skipped the middle ground, and arrowed straight into her core. Knees nearly buckling from the direct hit below the belt, she struggled to recover the use of her tongue. “So,” she whispered in an unintentionally low, husky voice, “Isabel has you tending bar now?”

He bowed his head and whispered, his breath tickling the hot spot between her ear and her shoulder. “And other duties as assigned.”

She wondered if that included bedding the brunette? A lightning flash of jealousy struck her, leaving her shaken. She sipped her drink, taking her time so she could recover from the jolt of emotion that should never have been there.
Say something smart, witty, seasonal
.

“Does your family back in the US know what you do for a living?”

His lips thinned, and he looked as if he was in pain.

Shit. Shit. Shit.
What was she thinking? That was bitchy—not witty!

“I’m so sorry.” She put her free hand on his well-muscled arm. The image of him that day in the jail, shirtless, flashed into her mind and she felt her face flame—
again
.

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings. I’m an idiot.” Why did she say the wrong things to him all the time? Why did her brain short circuit every time she tried to have a conversation with Alejandro? Yes, the man had a criminal past, one he tried to hide behind his charming smile. She, of all people, knew what it meant to have that albatross around your neck. He had to have a family that mourned his choices, people who wished he was home for the holidays. He probably missed them, too. Why did she have to go and poke at his wounds? He must think she was an absolute bitch. This time her cheeks heated with shame, and with no small amount of reluctance, she dropped her hand from his strong arm and looked around for some place to leave her drink. “I should go.”

He put his hand up. “Please. If you walk out on the play, the children’s feelings will be hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” She glanced around wondering if she had missed a tiny tot hiding among the poinsettias. “I haven’t heard or seen any kids since I came in the house.”

“Wait. You’ll see.” His expression grew sad. “For the record, my family has no idea what I do for a living. I wish with all my heart that I could be spending the holidays with them.”

Sorrow clutched at her chest, and her eyes filled with hot tears. He had a family somewhere, that loved him, missed him, and wished he was with them. She bit her lower lip. Even a drug lord didn’t deserve to be kicked in the
cojones
at the holidays.

“I’m sorry for behaving badly.” She shook her head and flicked away an errant tear. “I
hate
the holidays, more than ever because my son is with the man who made me despise them. For me, this time of year isn’t full of good memories. Christmas just meant longer sermons from my father. No ‘graven images’, no ‘idols’, no ‘abominations in the eyes of the Lord’. The beatings were longer, too.”