Marked man, p.17
Marked Man, page 17
I have to force myself to take my eyes off Amador and Sadie to give his guards a once-over. They afford the pair of us wary, but respectful chin tilts and shift to one side behind the booth, waiting for Amador to take a seat, then moving to stand out of the way, within his field of vision.
Jake and I remain where we are, attention switching between the room and the pair seated at the table.
“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” Amador says, reaching for the bottle of Scotch and the glasses. He pours a measure in each and hands one to Sadie.
She takes a lazy sip, making a sensuous hum of enjoyment that has him enthralled. I need to fucking stop looking, but when I tear my gaze away, Jake catches my eye and smirks, then rolls his eyes. I surreptitiously flip him off.
“You have good taste in whiskey, but I’m confused about your choice of meeting place. This is not what I expected of a woman with your refined sensibilities,” Amador says, casting a critical eye around the room.
“I didn’t choose it for aesthetics—I chose it for privacy. But you really don’t have a clue about my sensibilities, so you shouldn’t assume you understand me.”
“Apologies. I admit I am intrigued by you, though. I would be lying if I claimed I hadn’t noticed your rise in prominence these past few months. I didn’t expect you to be so young.”
“I could say the same, but looks can be deceiving, yes? I’m over thirty, and while I know your age, you don’t look a day over forty.”
He takes a sip, regarding her over his glass. I try to be circumspect about looking at him every few minutes, but now that he’s really checking her out, I clench my fist until my knuckles crack. The sound catches his attention, and I silently curse. Jake raises an eyebrow at me.
“Your guard seems tense this evening. Perhaps we should move to a more tasteful venue?” Amador suggests.
“One with fewer people, you mean?” Sadie asks, clearly baiting him.
Under his breath, he says, “One where the women actually want to be. If you enjoy sex clubs, I know a more reputable one where we can relax and enjoy a show with more privacy to talk.”
“Bueno. Vamos,” Sadie says, slipping out of the booth and facing me just long enough to wink. My stomach drops when I realize what that wink means, and when I glance at Jake, he’s grinning like a madman.
I step back to allow Amador to rise. He eyes me as he gets to his feet, and I hope he doesn’t recognize me somehow. My brother Sam spent the night in Amador’s prison, but didn’t come face-to-face with him, so hopefully he won’t pick up on any family connection to a former hostage. But his gaze isn’t assessing; he’s intrigued, and I don’t miss the subtle scan he gives Jake before falling into step beside Sadie as she leads our group to the exit.
His look is enough for me to grasp where this night could be headed. Suddenly my clothes feel too tight, the atmosphere in here cloying, and it doesn’t improve once we emerge into the humid June evening.
“Please feel free to ride with me,” Amador says when a sleek black SUV arrives at the curb and one of his men opens the back door. Our car is just behind it with the driver standing by. We have no reason not to trust the man at this stage, and his vehicle clearly has enough room in it for all of us, but ours doesn’t. It’s Sadie’s call, though, and I’m not surprised when she nods and climbs into the rearmost seat, where Amador joins her.
Jake steps over to our driver and gives him instructions while I climb in, eyeing the space between Sadie and Amador. I’m tempted to insert myself between them like a chaperone trying to guard her virtue, but Sadie slides closer to Amador, and I’m left squeezing into space beside her closest to the door. One of Amador’s guards takes the front passenger seat, and the other joins Jake in one of the two seats in the middle row.
“Tell me about the goods you have to offer,” Amador says as the driver puts the car in gear. I split my attention between his voice and the streets outside, noting landmarks as we pass them.
Sadie slips her phone from her purse and opens up her image gallery. We didn’t take a video of the guns, not realizing they were there all along, but it seems she was prepared.
“We are actually here to sell this beautiful piece of equipment,” she begins, loading up the video of our submarine virtual tour.
Amador makes a sound of interest as he watches the video. Jake was his usual charismatic self in it, and when I look at Amador, he smiles and glances at the back of Jake’s head. I can’t deny it makes me a little uncomfortable that our profile of him was so on point, but our plan seems to be working, at least.
When the tour reaches the cargo hold in the submarine, Sadie pauses it. “This is the part you’ll be interested in. Those crates are all filled with the goods you’re looking for.” She swipes her screen to reveal still shots of all six crates with the lids open, the contents on full display.
It’s hard to make out all the guns on the small screen, but I recognize the shapes of AK-47s in the mix, along with a handful of other models the Navy equipped our squad with before we left the SEALs. The handguns we’re carrying now are the same 9mm SIG Sauers as the ones in the photo.
“Where did you get these?” Amador asks, then glances at me with a frown. A spike of worry pierces my gut, because it occurs to me that he’s had near-misses with two of my brothers. Not only did Sam visit his compound a few months back, but Mason very nearly sold a stock of similar weapons to him over three years ago, which was the deal that almost killed him.
Sadie tuts. “That is my business.”
“Owen and I are former SEALs. We have connections,” I say, because he’s going to see our tattoos if we actually wind up going where I believe this op is headed.
Amador’s eyebrows lift and he gives me a slow nod. “And may I ask how you acquired these two highly specialized weapons, Ms. Blanco?” Amador asks, looking at Sadie and gesturing between me and Jake.
She cocks her head and smiles. “Like I said . . .”
“That is your business,” Amador finishes with a chuckle. “I’m not sure if your secrecy should worry me or not, but I appreciate your taste in both weapons and men. I imagine this will be a very interesting night.”
27
Sadie
I could kick Marco for blurting out that bit of intel about us. I don’t want Amador knowing too much. But the fact that he seems impressed is an advantage, not to mention he’s clearly intrigued by both me and the guys. And I have to admit that threading some truth about us into the conversation can’t hurt; it’ll give the guys a little more freedom to be themselves at least.
“Tell me about yourself, Ana. May I call you Ana?” Amador says, lightly touching my hand.
So far he’s been more than respectful of my boundaries, which is at odds with my general perception of the man, based on all the intel we had at our disposal. And despite my bet, I didn’t expect him to be as dismissive of the club we just left, though I do feel a little bad about winning; I’m sure Marco is freaking out a little about having to pay up, but I’ll have Jake go easy on him.
“I’m sure you’ve done your research if you made the trip to meet me. I inherited the business from my mother. She hasn’t been well for some time now, and it took work to build it back to its former glory. She created the business and deserves to see it thrive, to have it support her in her old age. I owe that to her, because her work afforded me a comfortable childhood. These guns and the submarine are things we could use ourselves, but what we need most now is capital to rebuild and allies to help facilitate our growth. I have big plans, but they start with infrastructure. People. Desmond and Owen are two of my recent acquisitions too. Perhaps the most valuable.”
I slide a hand possessively up Marco’s thigh and am rewarded by the slightest nudge of his leg against mine. When I return my gaze to Amador, he’s fixated on my hand where it rests near Marco’s crotch.
He lifts his gaze to my face again and smiles, faint lines fanning out from the corners of his dark eyes. He truly is a handsome man who has aged well, and I don’t see any hint of the psycho his body count suggests should be there. I’m not sure whether that should worry me.
“Let’s enjoy the evening while I consider the value of your goods, Ana. I want time to get to know you better as well. Perhaps we might find more common ground to discuss other arrangements?”
“I’d like that,” I say, hoping whatever other arrangements he has in mind will allow us a way into his compound. We’ll see how the night progresses.
The SUV turns off the main road toward the water and pulls around a large, circular driveway in front of a yellow colonial-style mansion with white trim. Every window is lit up despite the late hour, but sheer curtains hide whatever is occurring within.
When the driver opens the door, Jake steps out, along with Amador’s guards. A warm Caribbean breeze wafts through when I follow, teasing beneath the hem of my skirt and ruffling my hair. I catch Amador looking at me with interest and offer a flirtatious smile.
When the driver closes the door, Amador offers his elbow, and I slip my hand through his arm and let him lead me to the front door. I can already tell this place is nothing like the club we just left. I’m still glad I chose the one I did, because it allowed us to break the ice regarding proclivities for kink without ever broaching the subject directly.
We reach the door and Amador dismisses his guards, who reluctantly fall back. I have a feeling they were more interested in going in for the scenery than out of any need to protect him, though.
He glances at Jake and Marco. “Can they occupy themselves, or . . .”
“My guards stay with me at all times,” I say, making sure the weight of my words sinks in. Amador lifts an eyebrow and nods, a smirk curling one corner of his mouth.
“I see. I did wonder. I’m glad to hear you don’t let such perfect specimens go to waste.” He turns to the burly Black doorman and slips a shiny black keycard from his pocket. “I’m a paying member.”
The man silently nods and produces a handheld card reader, which he swipes Amador’s card through. A green LED lights up and the doorman views the screen.
“Welcome back to Whitewood Grand Cayman, Mr. Amador,” he says in a Jamaican accent. Of me, he asks, “Are you a willing guest of Mr. Amador?”
“I am, yes.”
He repeats the question to Jake and Marco, who both say yes as well. A pair of men step forward with handheld scanners and run them over both my boys.
“Your firearms will be held in a secure locker,” the doorman says, nodding to the two men, who confiscate Jake’s and Marco’s guns and proceed to place them in a nearby locker. They return, and one gestures to me.
“May I scan you, miss?”
“Of course, but I’ll save you the trouble.” I shift aside the split in my skirt and unfasten the blade on my thigh, handing it over. I still have to submit to a scan, but nothing else triggers the alarm. Amador, surprisingly, isn’t carrying a weapon.
“Thank you, sir,” the doorman says, turning back to Amador. “Since your guests are not also members, you are restricted to the first level. If you wish to ascend, they must pass inspection and sign the waivers.”
“I understand,” Amador says as the man pushes open the large double doors and steps aside. “They have very strict rules here,” he says to me when we walk through into an enclosed vestibule and stop before a second set of double doors. “Which include that every individual who crosses this threshold must do so willingly.”
After a moment, a warm light above the doors flickers on, and they swing open. A statuesque Black woman in a form-fitting red dress greets us with a genuine smile.
“Amador,” she croons in an accent similar to the doorman’s. “It’s been too long.” She takes his proffered hand, and they exchange brief pecks to the cheek before she turns her gaze to me, then Jake and Marco at our backs. Her eyes light up.
“You brought new friends tonight! How exciting. What kind of an evening do you fancy? The first level is having a little party in the lounge—nothing outrageous, just a relaxed soiree. And there is an orgy in the sunroom that just got going. Participation is not required.”
I peek through an arched opening into a sitting room, where a naked woman stands in the center, blindfolded, with five shirtless men surrounding her. They spin her in a circle, then stop, and one man kisses her. She reaches out both hands to touch him, drifting her fingers over his face and chest, then blurts out a name. He laughs and steps back, taking a seat. Then the remaining four spin her again. She’s clearly enjoying herself, especially with four sets of hands gently copping feels of her as she rotates.
Behind me, Jake mutters, “No fucking way, I thought this place was a myth.”
“It’s real,” Amador answers over his shoulder. To the hostess, he says, “We’d like semi-privacy and quiet to discuss business, but I think my guests will want a show as well.”
“I have just the place. Please follow me,” she says.
She leads us down a hallway and through another arched opening, down a set of stone steps into a beautiful two-story sunroom that overlooks the beach. Down another set of steps at the far end of the room, dozens of potted tropical plants border a tiled area underneath the glass-paneled dome. Several luxurious carpets and a scattering of pillows cover the tiles, as well as a handful of plush sofas and chairs, upon which about two dozen naked people are engaged in various forms of copulation.
“Jesus,” Marco whispers.
“This is better than the book,” Jake says, nudging Marco who chuckles and shakes his head.
The hostess directs us to a comfortable, warmly lit sitting area on the terrace closest to the entrance. It’s off to one side, out of the way, yet offering a perfect view of the lower terrace. It’s shielded from the doorway by a folding screen, and features a loveseat and two cushy armchairs, as well as a fat, round, red velvet-covered hassock in between.
“I will have some drinks sent over. Your usual?”
“That would be perfect,” Amador says. “Thank you, Sonja.”
She gives us both a warm smile and pats me on the arm, then departs, leaving behind a faint scent of jasmine.
“Please, sit,” Amador says. He unfastens the front button on his jacket and gestures to the loveseat. I settle at one end, and he sits beside me. Jake and Marco take the chairs and stare at each other for a beat, then look at me.
I have to resist rolling my eyes at them, because they’re trying so damn hard not to watch the sex show going on several yards away, even though I am positive it’s killing them. Jake finally gives in to temptation, his eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas.
Sonja returns a moment later with a bottle of Scotch and four glasses, which she sets on a side table near Amador’s end of the love seat. She pours us each a glass, then quietly leaves.
“This is amazing,” I say, watching for a moment and sipping my drink before turning back to Amador. “How often do you visit?”
“Not as often as I’d like to lately. I have no one to come with, and it’s more fun with a partner.” His lips press into a slash bracketed by deep creases, and worry lines appear in his forehead.
“That’s too bad. I would think a handsome, successful man like you could have any woman . . . or man . . . he wants.”
His jaw spasms and his nostrils flare, but he regains control, suppressing whatever anger surged in that moment and directing a genuine smile at me. “I am a very particular man, Ana. Obviously not everyone I meet is going to be interested in visiting a place like this. But I did have a partner until very recently—a lover, though it wasn’t serious. He was a companion, a friend. And was permitted to join me on Level Two, which was where we spent most of our time.”
“What’s up there?” Marco asks, glancing at the row of balconies one story up. A handful of observers stand looking over the wrought iron railings at the scene below. Our little area is mostly shielded by a few tall potted palms, but I can see through them clearly. The Level Two patrons are fully dressed and merely observing, but each has a colorful ribbon tied around their upper arm. Interesting.
“Experiences too amazing to describe,” Amador says with a wicked glint in his eyes. He waves his hand at the orgy. “But imagine this scene divided into rooms to satisfy each of a person’s particular kinks. It’s a smorgasbord of carnal delight upstairs, for viewing or joining in.”
“Is there a Level Three?” I ask, curious whether the third story of this building is part of the club.
He lifts one eyebrow and his smile broadens. “Of course. That’s where all the darker kinks are explored. I’m rarely in the mood for those when I come. That’s something I restrict to my own private space at home.”
“I’m sorry you lost your partner,” I say. “Relationships end. It’s unfortunate.” I reach out and squeeze his hand. He squeezes back and shakes his head, the flash of anger returning.
“I didn’t lose him. He was taken. Oh, don’t worry, I caught the man responsible, but I lost my friend.”
I widen my eyes in surprise. “Oh my god. That’s terrible! Did you interrogate the man you captured? Did he tell you where your friend is?” It’s a struggle to choose my words now. My heart is pounding at how close I am to finding out what he’s done with my dad.
“He’s well-trained. Probably has a similar background to your two bodyguards, if his tattoos are any indication.”
Jake rejoins the conversation, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “We have methods to break through that training. I’m happy to give you some pointers.”
I grit my teeth and flash a look at Jake. Don’t fucking help this man torture my dad, jackass. I force a more pleasant smile when I look at Amador. “My men are very capable of extracting intel.”
He relaxes a little and smirks. “But that would require you to come to Cancún.”
I give a lazy shrug. “If you are the high bidder on the goods I’m selling, we would need to deliver them to you anyway.”
