Operation Tropical Affair: A Poppy McVie Adventure (Poppy McVie Series Book 1) (21 page)

“I worked hard to make her think I’m a hard-nosed business woman. If I told George yes, she would suspect something was up. No good businessman would jump at the first offer.” He stared at me, unblinking. “Only a cop would do that.”

His expression turned to disdain.
 

My cell phone rang. “See,” I said. “Right on time.” I picked up. “Howdie,” I said in a cheerful Brittany voice.

Dalton flopped back in the chair with a groan.

It was Maria. In a calm, clear voice she said, “I’m confident we can come to an arrangement that will suit your needs.”

“I’ve already made arrangements that suit my needs,” I said. Dalton covered his face with his hands.

“I tell you what,” she said. “Hear me out. We already have an established relationship. Take a look at my merchandise. I will match any other offer or beat it. What have you got to lose?”

“Hold on,” I said. I held my hand over the phone and winked at Dalton. He shook his head. I sang a verse of
Row, Row, Row your Boat
in my head. That was probably a good amount of time. I put the phone back to my ear. “All right,” I said. “We might as well take a look.”

I mentioned to Dalton on the way to Maria’s house that we should stop and pick up a torta chilena. I don’t know why, but that seemed to irritate him more.
 

He felt the need to remind me of our goal. “We are to confirm she is the head of this operation. Nothing else. We don’t reveal ourselves. We keep our cover. Nash decides what to do with the information. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“I mean it, Poppy. We’re not in the U.S. Our goal here is not an arrest. Our goal is intel. That’s it.”

“I understand.” I got it the first time.

“Even if we get an offer to sell, we do not arrest, we do not hint at arrest. We don’t warn, talk, sing. We do nothing.”

“Got it. No singing.”

He yanked the steering wheel to the right and skidded to a halt on the side of the road. He spun in the seat to face me. I instinctively pulled back from him. He was pretty fired up and I had no idea what was coming.

“Let me be very clear,” he said, his jaw set. “I don’t like this. I don’t like how this has transpired. How you’ve—” He sneered. “I’m damn sure there’s more you’re not telling me. But we are going in there together. And there is no question about it, our lives are in danger. Do you understand that? Do you?”

I nodded. I did.

He stared ahead, his hands gripping the wheel for some time, then shook his head, reluctantly coming to some conclusion. “You got the invitation, however you did it. If she believes you’re the one running the show, then––” he clenched his jaw, then let out a breath “––then we need to continue with that. You need to take the lead.” He looked down, his tongue stuck in his cheek. “I’ll act the clueless husband.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had underestimated him. He was a true professional, dedicated to the mission—no matter what it took.
 

“Just remember,” he said, his finger in my face. “My life is in your hands.”

I nodded.

“I need to know you understand. I need to hear you say it.”

I looked into his eyes. “I know this is not a game. I know it’s dangerous. I promise to be careful.”

He seemed somewhat relieved. “You better be.”
 

I held his gaze, serious. I nodded.
 

He eyed me. “What else do I need to know?”

That I made her believe there’s another kingpin in town, threatening to take over her business. That I tricked her into paying a ransom. That I put Carlos in jail for running drugs.
“Nothing,” I said. “I swear.”

“All right.” He seemed satisfied.

“I didn’t mean to––” I sighed. “I just knew she was the kingpin and the opportunity was there and––”

“What’s done is done.” He stared ahead for a long time, thinking. It was as though some of the events of the past few days were clicking into place, making sense to him. “Believe me, I’ve been there. I just wish you would’ve told me before.” He stared, thought some more. Then turned to me, his expression stern, as though to drive home the point. “Remember what I said? This whole business of working under cover is like improv. So now, whatever happens, whatever is said, we go with it. No matter what happens, we stay in character.”

“I can do improv.”

“Not just improv. The most important skill you can have—more important than any combat training, physical strength, or technical skills—is your ability to twist the truth to fit the situation, to shape it to your advantage. On the fly.” He grinned. “And the ability to sell it. Which,” he shook his head, “I have no doubt you can do.”

He slammed the gearshift into drive and pulled out. “Let’s do this thing.”

As we pulled into the drive, the butler stepped onto the porch and called the guard dogs off. We parked and got out of the car. The butler greeted us. “She is waiting for you in the horse barn,” he said with a smile, as if we were there for afternoon tea.

Dalton took me by the hand and, as we walked toward the barn, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “For luck,” he whispered.

As we entered the barn, part of me feared this was a farce, that she wouldn’t be there. That all my work had been for nothing. But she was waiting.
 

If she hadn’t been an evil wildlife smuggler, I’d have admired her poise. She carried herself with a confidence most women would envy. She was neither friendly nor stand-offish. She simply welcomed us.

Her little dogs circled, yipping their hellos. The same man was with her, the one who carried the gun. “Ramon will hold your cell phones,” she said.
 

Dalton handed his over without reluctance. I dug around in the bottom of my handbag for mine. Fortunately, I’d erased all the texts and numbers already. “Search her bag, too,” Maria said.
 

I shrugged and handed him the bag. “Keep it,” I said. If he searched it, some items might give him pause. This way, he’d be less likely to bother. I didn’t like being without those items, but you do what you’ve got to do.

Maria gestured to three horses that had been saddled and were ready to ride. “Let’s go then.” Maria made it look easy. She seemed to float onto the back of the horse. Her man picked up each dog and they were placed in the saddle bags on either side of her, their little heads poking out.

Dalton helped me mount my horse. Not that I needed help. Then he heaved himself atop his.
 

We followed Maria out of the barn and down a trail, the trail that led to the neighboring property and the coffee-roasting shed. She wasn’t hiding now. Maybe it was arrogance. Maybe she figured I knew now anyway. What was there to hide? Either way, she was taking us directly to her hidden lair and, I was sure, going to offer some class I species—scarlet macaws, howler monkeys, ridley turtles, maybe even a jaguar. If we were really lucky, she’d offer shark fins, but that was unlikely, since we’d established we were in the pet market. One step at a time.

I felt a divine sense of satisfaction. She was leading us to our goal, to confirmation. Yet, at the same time, it felt hollow. We’d get up to the shed, see the illegal animals, confirm she was the kingpin, then we’d smile and walk away. I wanted to see her in handcuffs, dragged off to prison for what she does. I couldn’t help it; I wanted her to suffer for every animal she’d ever harmed.

At one o’ clock in the afternoon, the heat was more than uncomfortable. The horses labored, huffing with sweat. Maria didn’t seem to care. She pushed her horse up the inclines and we had to keep up. She said nothing. Simply led and we followed.
 

Finally, with my blouse soaked with sweat and my inner thighs raw from rubbing the saddle (of course I wore shorts), we came into the clearing where the roasting shed stood amid the concrete slabs. We dismounted and a guard led the horses to a shaded area with a trough.
 

I tried to hide my excitement. This was it. Once Dalton saw the class I species inside, there’d be no question she was the kingpin.

Maria led us around the corner of the shed and as we stepped inside I stopped short and my knees turned to jelly. It was empty. The two old coffee roasters stood in the corner and that was it.

She gestured toward a couple of folding chairs. “Have a seat.”

What was this about? I glanced at Dalton. He acted the dopey husband, as he’d said he would. He happily grabbed a chair and popped it open, placing it in front of me, then set up another for himself. He plopped down as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
 

“Before we go any further,” she said. “I just want to clarify a few things.” Her eyes bore into me. I met her gaze, as steely eyed as she was. “You came for a monkey, did you not?”

Dalton grinned. “Yeah, my sweetheart wants her own.” He beamed at me, love in his eyes. At least
he
was following our plan. What was Maria up to?

Maria smiled demurely at Dalton. “John, dear, I hate to be the one to tell you, but your wife has been a very busy lady making some arrangements of her own.” She stepped closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “And here, I thought we had something special.”

“What?” My head snapped toward Dalton. “What’s she talking about?”
 

He pursed his lips. “Nothing, honey bunny.” He grinned wide. “Sweetheart.” He glared at Maria. “She’s trying to drive a wedge between us of mistrust.” He shook it off. “It’s an old business tactic. Don’t fall for it.” He looked her in the eyes. “Our deal stands. You know I’m willing to pay a fair price. Let’s just see what you’ve got.”

I eyed him, then looked back to her. She wore a sly grin.
Maybe I should give her what she wants. See where this leads.

“What’s going on, John?”

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t look at me. “I said don’t worry about it.”

I drew in a sharp breath and covered my mouth. “You’ve been sleeping with her!”
Holy crap, I didn’t see that one coming.

“Oh, honey, can’t you see? She’s making you––”

“Don’t you
honey
me.” I turned my back to him.
 

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he said.

I spun around and glared at him.
What the hell is he doing?
He crossed his arms and huffed, like he was trying to get up the nerve to say something. “You’ll sleep with any young stud with a ponytail.”

My mouth dropped open. “How dare you?”

“You think I don’t know? You sneaking off during the day to get some action. While I’m working to put food on the table. You promised you’d stop. This trip was supposed to be for us.” He managed a hopeful grin. “To bring us together.”

I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t know what to say. I had to trust Dalton. He had just reminded me, improv was the cornerstone of undercover work. Go with it. But what the hell was going on? I looked to Maria. She stood with her arms crossed, a smug expression on her face, nodding approvingly. She was enjoying this.
 

I glared at Dalton and said through gritted teeth. “You have the nerve to accuse me. And you’ve been with”—I jerked my head toward Maria—“
her
.”

He shrugged, a noncommittal, it-doesn’t-matter-anymore shrug. “Can we just do some business here? Talk about this later?”

My mind went into overdrive. What does Maria think she knows? After I’d confronted her, had she tried to seduce Dalton to probe him for information about me? Or had he been sleeping with her all along? And if so, what had he been planning? Wait—he said ponytail.
Noah.
But why would he give him away?
Unless Maria already knows. That means—

“Yes, let’s get to business,” said Maria. “I have just the right pet for you.” She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled, one of those loud whistles that can be heard in the next county.

One of the guards came through the door carrying a cage with a cloth draped over the top. He set it down next to her and stood behind her, his hand on the weapon strapped over his shoulder. The cage was situated so the door faced away from me. I couldn’t see what was inside. Maria opened the cage, reached in, grabbed hold, and rose to face us with a monkey in her grasp, her hand wrapped around its tiny neck. A white-faced capuchin. Squirming and squealing. It’s little hands reached up to grip her wrist and I saw it. The right hand was missing.
 

Oh my god. It’s Clyde.

Maria grinned with evil pleasure. She shook Clyde, tightening her grip around his neck, and he let out a shriek. “What do you think?”

My gut turned to water.
Think. Think! What the hell is going on?
Poor little Clyde.
She knows all about Noah and Isabella too! Dammit!
Of course she’d know who was targeting her operation. But Dalton must have known something, somehow. He covered with the adultery story. But how? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to me?

She must think I’m an activist, an eco-terrorist.
It was the only thing that made sense.
 

Clyde whimpered. Maria gave him another shake. “¡Cállate!”
Shut up!

My breath came in short pants.
Not Clyde!
I wanted to grab Maria by the neck and shake her, shake her until her brains spilled out. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, couldn’t act. Instead, I had to convince her I was a slutty, rich bitch who’d sleep with anything for sport. That Noah was a coincidence. If she thought I was an activist, here to infiltrate her operation, she’d kill us both. Dalton knew it, too.

I glared at him. “Are we still on the monkey kick?” I added an eye roll. “I never wanted a frigging monkey. That was your idea. But you couldn’t let it go.” I crossed my arms. “
Oh, darling, let’s have a baby,
” I mocked. “Don’t you get it. I only married you because I got pregnant. And you were so—” I shook my head. “So damn sweet. Then we lost the baby anyway.” I rolled my eyes again. “But Jesus, can you be any more boring in the bedroom? The lights always have to be out, really? Always on top? My god, screwing a Hobbit would be more exciting than you.” I blew out my breath.
Where do I come up with this stuff?