Dangerous Pursuit (OSI Dark Ops #3)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rafael’s phone dinged on his desk, and he hurried over to pick it up. Lorenzo’s name appeared. He tapped the screen a bit too hard to accept his call and skipped the greeting.

“Why did I have to hear about a helicopter flying over the hut from one of your stooges?” He took a swallow of tequila and began to pace from one side of his office to the other.

“Emiliano should not have troubled you, sir,” Lorenzo said. “I did not feel the need to call you because it was just one of those tourist helicopters that flies around the area.”

“How the hell would you know that?” His response had better be good or he might have to rip his head off.

“I have seen the same one flying all around the area for the last four or five years.” Lorenzo didn’t seem concerned. “Trust me, sir, it is nothing to worry about.” His phone crackled and kept cutting out. “I have an update on the condition of the merchandise.”

“Is there a problem?” He stopped pacing .

Rafael could not afford any more problems.

“One of the girls is sick, the youngest one.”

“Dammit.” She had the highest value. “What is wrong with her?”

“Bastien thinks it’s malaria,” he said.

“Malaria?” Rafael closed his eyes. The iced clinked in the glass when he held it to his forehead and prayed for patience.

“Yes, sir.” In the background, he heard footsteps clunking over the front porch of the hut or the wooden dock in the background. “Bastien said it’s treatable, but there is no way she will be healthy by the time the buyer comes to pick her up.” An outboard motor fired to life and threatened to drown out his voice. “I’ll contact you when we get back.”

“No, send Bastien to see me. I want you to find out who owns that helicopter and check them out.” He refused to believe it was a coincidence that a helicopter just happened to fly over their location at the exact time he was in the middle of the most important deal of his life.

“Yes, sir,” Lorenzo said.

“And be quick. I want a name by the end of the day.” Rafael ended the call and finished the last of his drink.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Paloma took a single, tentative step into the room. She wasn’t wearing her usual revolutionary wannabe costume today. Her hair was pulled back with clips on either side of her face, and she actually had on a modest, pale-yellow blouse and a pair of flowy blue pants with yellow flowers all over them. For the first time in a long time, she resembled the innocent young woman he’d sent off to college.

His promise to cut her off financially—as well as his more menacing edict regarding choosing wisely—seemed to have had some effect on her.

“What is it, Paloma?” He hadn’t spoken to her since their encounter in his office.

“Papa, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what you said.” I will just bet you did. “You were right.”

Rafael slowly turned to his daughter—his only child.

“I’ve been a spoiled, selfish child reaping the benefits of your hard work while also judging you harshly.” She slowly moved closer, almost nervously, and stopped a few feet in front of him. “I’m sorry I never took the time to think about how losing Mama affected you.”

“You are forgiven.” Rafael set his phone and empty glass down on his desk and opened his arms.

She stepped into them and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “I want you to teach me everything I need to know. I would like to become an asset to you and the organization.”

“I would be proud to have you learn more about our business.” He kissed the top of her head. “It is our family’s legacy, and it is important.”

He lowered his arms, and she stepped back .

“What can I do to help you?” Her eagerness was a welcome respite from the roiling hostility of their past few interactions.

“I am working on a very important transaction, the success of which is critical to the survival of this organization.” Perhaps tossing her immediately into the fray was the best way to test her commitment. “Come, let us sit, and I will explain it to you.”

As she made her way to the couch, he walked over to the phone on his desk and buzzed Regina.

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you let the chef know that Paloma and I will be eating dinner on the lanai outside my office this evening?” Rafael asked. “And hold my calls, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

He joined Paloma on the couch and proceeded to break down the different elements of their organization. He watched her closely as he explained their current financial situation in great detail: everything from the age and value of each girl, how their value was assessed, the mode of transportation to get them to Palomino, where they would end up, all of it.

Rafael intentionally pulled no punches and didn’t waste time sugarcoating anything.

Initially, she seemed somewhat shocked, though she’d tried to hide it. So, he decided the best approach was to capitalize on her naivete and sheltered, somewhat ignorant view of reality. He fed her a lie about how the girls were removed from horrible situations at home and that their lives would only improve, thanks to the Triano family.

After a few very pointed questions, she accepted his explanation. “It was a very compassionate thing to do.”

Rafael held no illusions she believed his benevolent spin on what was a dirty business. No, his daughter’s sudden acquiescence was driven by the fact she cared more about maintaining her privileged lifestyle than she did the welfare of a bunch of strangers.

A true chip off the old block.

“We will be taking the buyers out to see their merchandise tomorrow,” he said. “I would like you to join us on the yacht.”

“I’d be proud to, Papa.” She leaned across the cushion and hugged him. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Foolish child—trust was earned. And she had a long way to go yet.

“Meet us at the hotel tomorrow at three forty-five, not a minute later.” If she wasn’t there when they left at four, he would leave her behind. “Punctuality is critical in business.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” Her eyes lit with a disturbing excitement. “What shall I wear?”

“Wear something pretty,” Rafael said. “Perhaps something elegant and feminine, like your mother used to wear. I would like you to make a nice impression with the buyers and their representatives.”

“A dress? Um … okay, yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll find something suitable.”

The true test of his daughter’s commitment wasn’t whether she could accept the nastiness of their business—it was whether she would be willing to give up her masculine clothing in exchange for more feminine attire.

With the right hairstyle and makeup, Paloma could be a pretty girl. He might as well use that to his advantage.