The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Michael

A s soon as Sabrina hopped off the boat onto the seawall behind the Smith Agency, her mother descended on her.

In a swirl of turquoise caftan and rattling bangles, Minerva Colasanti had swept her daughter off. Arm in arm, after a few tearful hugs, they had walked toward the main entrance without a backward glance. Quinn followed behind, offering bottled water and smiles.

I watched the women walk away and something shifted in my chest. The same uneasy feeling as when Sabrina said we’d come full circle. I didn’t have a name for it or time to play twenty questions with my psyche to figure it out, so I did what men have done for centuries. I ignored my feelings and got back to work.

“Derek, I need help with him. He’s injured.” I looked sympathetically at Acosta. His face had a greenish cast, and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed. The boat ride had been physically hard on him. I unbuckled the harness and winced at the bloody mess of his shirt and my half-assed bandage wrapped around his shoulder.

“You brought us an undocumented Cuban gunshot victim. You shouldn’t have.” Derek hopped the small gap between the seawall and the go-fast boat. He leaned over Acosta and his shadow fell over the injured man’s face.

Acosta’s eyes fluttered open.

“I’m Derek Sawyer.”

“Roberto Acosta,” he rasped.

“Acosta, this is going to hurt. Get ready.” I bent and wrapped my arm around Acosta’s waist, careful of his injury. Derek took his other side. Acosta gasped and cursed in Spanish as we half walked, half carried him from the boat and onto land.

“This is it, I’m in America.” It was impossible to tell if Acosta was happy or in anguish.

“Welcome to Miami,” I said and nodded.

“That everything you need off the boat?” Smith had materialized next to us on the seawall. Gunter close behind him swigged water from a frosty bottle.

I licked my parched lips. “Yeah, our exit didn’t leave time for luggage.”

“Kennedy! Get rid of this thing. Make sure no one finds any part of it.” Smith pointed at the boat that tugged against a bow line tied to a rusty mooring cleat on the seawall.

“On it!” Noah jogged over and untied the rope before leaping on the boat and motoring away.

“The doctor should be here soon.” Smith turned and led the way back into the building. He and Gunter bent their heads close, talking rapidly as they walked.

Derek and I helped Acosta. It was slow going. By the time we were inside the break room and helping Acosta onto the couch, everyone was talking over each other. Captain Morgan, on a bird jungle gym in the corner, screeched profanities. My head pounded like I was back on the go-fast, bouncing over ocean swells.

“Here. Looks like you could use this.” Kira passed me a bottle of water.

I smiled gratefully and drained it in one long luscious pull. My parched throat, scratchy with salt spray, rejoiced.

Kira turned to Acosta and started a low conversation with him in Spanish, asking about his injuries and offering him water. The PNR officer was in excellent hands with her. I turned my attention back to the room.

Sabrina stood at the counter with her chef’s knife, slicing up a watermelon. As she worked, her mother kept touching her and stealing bits off the cutting board. The two were laughing and joking. Quinn offered a small piece of the red fruit to the parrot, who finally shut up to eat. Simon searched the upper cabinets for a serving bowl, banging them open and shut and complaining to Quinn about the organization system.

I hesitated, not sure where I fit in the scene. My role was protector, and the break room at the Smith Agency might be the safest place on earth.

Turning on my heel, I headed for Smith’s office. That was where I belonged. I would not get cut out of the information loop. I’d been shot at, almost let a maniac kill Sabrina, and ridden over a hundred miles in that hellish boat. I’d earned my place at the debriefing table along with Gunter.

Pausing outside the office door, I mentally prepared the arguments that would justify my presence. I knocked but didn’t wait for an invitation; I pushed my way inside John and Kira’s shared office.

Gunter sat in one of the visitors' chairs across from Smith. They both turned. An awkward beat of silent tension filled the room. I held Smith’s gaze, and he gave me a single nod.

Poof! I was in. A surge of pride hit, and I had to refrain from a massive fist pump.

I took the other straight-backed chair next to Gunter.

Smith turned and took a bottle of water from the mini fridge between his and Kira’s desks and offered it to me. “Hydrate.”

“I’ve just finished telling Smith what went down this morning,” Gunter said.

I nodded and swallowed a mouthful of water.

“Nice work, Steel. It’s impressive she convinced you to take part in such a risky scheme. I wasn’t so sure when Gunter told me the plan that I’d sent the right man for the job.”

“I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a better alternative that got Sabrina what she wanted.” I never wanted to be in a position like that again. Offering Sabrina to Sandoval had been gut-wrenching for her and me.

“Smart man. Always give a woman what she wants.” Gunter chuckled.

“Do we have any idea what happened after we got out of there?” I asked Gunter and Smith.

“I’ve spoken to an old acquaintance at DI, the Cuban Intelligence Directorate. It was officer Mora’s fault things went to shit. He was showboating instead of doing his job. Sandoval got the drop on him and took Mora hostage.”

“At knife point?” I asked.

“Yes.” Smith raised an eyebrow.

“My knife.” I recalled the sick feeling in my gut when I passed the blade to Sandoval.

“Shit.” Gunter shared a wry smile with us both.

“Gunfight broke out. Shot up a bunch of boats at the Hotel Internacional Marina. Sandoval’s Jabberwocky burned to the waterline. Apparently, the smoke was visible to half of Havana. Most of Sandoval’s guys escaped. Mora’s in surgery. And Sandoval took a bullet in the leg before getting arrested.”

“Mora’s going to wish he’d joined Acosta here in Miami. That’s a career ender,” Gunter said.

“Could be.” Smith didn’t look convinced.

“He was young and stupid,” Gunter added.

“Or?” Smith prompted me and Gunter to think beyond the obvious.

“A faction in Sandoval’s organization paid him to botch the arrest?” I could see it all now. Mora had been selling me so hard on how much he loved Cuba. What a good patriot he was. He’d been planning to pin Sandoval’s escape on Acosta the whole time.

“Who was paid?” Sabrina had silently slipped into the room.

We all stared at her. She looked windblown and a little sunburned, but a lightness around her eyes made her look younger and happier than I’d ever seen. Another surge of accomplishment washed over me. We’d survived the most ridiculously risky bullshit plan and made it home safe.

“We don’t know for sure anyone was bribed.” Gunter turned in his seat. His tone was cautious, like he expected her to fall apart at any moment. Her smile faded, but her spine stayed ramrod straight.

“The other PNR officer: Mora.” After the vandalism at Viande, I’d learned my lesson. I wasn’t hiding shit from Sabrina. She was smart and could handle the truth.

I dared a quick look at Smith to see if I’d pissed him off by telling her my theory. The calculating look of agreement on his face told me all I needed to know. Smith not only approved of me sharing information with Sabrina, he liked my Mora theory.

I stood and pulled another chair over to face Smith’s desk and offered it to Sabrina. She sat down slowly, processing what I’d said. “Did Sandoval get away?”

“No.” I rushed to answer.

“Am I safe? Is this all over?” She gripped the narrow arms of the chair so hard the kitchen scars on her knuckles seemed to pop white and angry from the backs of her hands.

None of us said anything. I looked from Smith to Gunter, waiting for one of them to take the lead. They had all the information I was the muscle. The bodyguard. Not the spy.

“God damnit. I’m a full-grown woman. I’ve been on my own for years. Don’t think you can put me on the sidelines while you manly men handle this. It’s my life. I want to go home. I want to stop looking over my shoulder—being afraid. My restaurant opens in six weeks.” She laughed at the impossibility of the last statement and dropped her head into her hands. “I want to have a merry Christmas.”

“It’s complicated,” Gunter started. His smooth European accent was like a candy coating on the bullshit answer.

“No, I’m not talking to you, Gunter.” Sabrina stood and loomed over Smith, seated at his desk. She might not have been tall, but the power that radiated from her made even me feel small. This was the badass chef that made line cooks tremble and lazy wait staff rush to do her bidding. “I’m talking to you, John Smith. Agent Wright said you’d fix my problems. Well… fix them. It’s time. I did as you asked. I risked my life in Cuba. For what?”

“Fair question.” Smith nodded slowly and maintained eye contact with Sabrina, treating her like an equal or valued client, not a victim that needed to be coddled. It was a stark contrast to how he’d spoken to her before today. “Sandoval is in jail and injured. His odds of surviving a Cuban prison’s medical ward aren’t good. My primary concern is that the remains of his organization may come looking for retribution.”

“He seemed like the kind that inspired fear, not loyalty. So, what are the odds?” she asked.

“More than you should risk.” I’d gotten her home safe. Damn if I’d let her get hurt now.

“Gunter, work your Cuban and Interpol contacts and see what they have to say. In the meantime, Quinn will set up a schedule for a twenty-four-hour guard detail at your home and restaurant.”

“I don’t want people under my feet. I have shit to do.” Sabrina straightened, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Fair enough. How about fully monitored security systems at both locations instead?”

She tilted her head and considered the offer. “What’s it going to cost me?”

“I’ll cover install and one year of monitoring.” Smith stuck out a hand to shake on the deal.

She took his hand. “When can I go home?”

“Give me and Gunter tonight to make some calls. Then we’ll decide in the morning.”

She nodded. “There’s fresh fruit in the break room and Quinn needs you all to tell her what you want for dinner. She’s ordering Thai food. I’m going to shower.”

Sabrina walked out as silently as she’d entered. That uncomfortable sensation in my gut was back, and I wasn’t sure if it was from her turning down the personal protection or because she walked out without looking back.