Just the Messenger Page 6

  “Well, darlings, let’s go to our posh accommodations, then go to lunch. We’ve got to plan our itinerary, and seeing the sights isn’t going to fit in, if you know what I mean. Plus, I’ve got a meeting with a waitress at a local joint in about five hours. Don’t want to miss it. She’s got information for me. And as far as I hear, a killer set of legs.” Warren smiled broadly, which emphasized the small dimple in his right cheek. His perfect, straight white teeth gleamed against the beautiful olive tan of his skin. “Though I’m sure they can’t compare to yours,” he added, looking at Grace. “Maybe we’ll even have time for…dessert.” He stared at Grace while enunciating that last word, then laughed heartily at her shocked expression. “I’m just kidding, girlie,” he said. “It’s clear you belong to the associate producer.” He walked away from them, shaking his head. “No justice in this world, man,” he shouted to no one in particular. “I’m the fab reporter, and the AP gets all the beauty.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Marco said, falling into step with her. “He’s all bluster. He’s a good-hearted man.”

  “I think he’s funny,” she replied.

  Marco gave her an assessing look. “Well, just don’t think he’s too funny. I’ve got enough going on. I don’t want to have to worry about you falling head over heels for our prize reporter.”

  She didn’t answer this time, didn’t even look at him, but she squeezed his wrist gently and thought she felt a bit of his tension ease.

  Good, she decided as they entered the parking lot. A little jealousy never hurt anyone. And she was having the time of her life. After being ignored for all of her twenties, in the span of just a few weeks she had gorgeous men lining up for her. She smiled, thinking back to her first interview with Gene. He’d barely glanced over her before saying, “She’ll do,” to the HR person and ushering her from the room. How little she’d known then. Maybe this secret agent thing would be worth it in the end. If she didn’t get herself killed.

  That last thought came just a hair too late. As Marco flagged a taxi, something whizzed past her. A bullet, she realized in shock as more peppered the air.

  “Fuck!” Warren shouted. “Quick, you two, get in here!” He held open a cab door and ducked behind it as more shots flew by.

  “222 Avenida Dos, Esposola.” Marco recited the words calmly, as if they hadn’t just been out in open gunfire.

  “What the hell was that?” Grace asked.

  Warren shrugged. “Maybe they’re on to us already?”

  “Don’t be so cocky,” Marco said. “The town we’re interested in is not particularly close to here. I highly doubt they’d send people up to shoot at you in Bogota. And if they did hire people to shoot at you, Bell, those people wouldn’t miss. That spat probably had nothing to do with us. Good reminder, though. This isn’t a vacation.”

  After that, his mouth sealed into a tight line, and he signaled silence at them. The cabby hadn’t said anything, but he had definitely been listening.

  About three and a half hours later, they pulled into a bustling town center and hefted their bags out onto the sidewalk.

  “Well,” Warren said, shielding his eyes from the sun, “it’s no Sheraton.”

  “Welcome to Colombia,” Marco replied, lugging their stuff to the front steps. “This is the best they can do.” He grunted as he pulled a wheeled suitcase over the stairs, and Grace hurried to open the door for him.

  Once inside, they gave their names. A suite with a shared bath and two bedrooms. One for Grace and one for the boys. She sighed in relief. At least she’d have a modicum of privacy.

  * * * *

  With suspicious eyes, Marco surveyed the small restaurant where they were eating lunch. To their left, a gaggle of women laughed and talked, shooting looks over their shoulders at the pair of ominous men sitting at the bar. On outward appearance, the men seemed to be alone, but Marco knew better. They had thugs surrounding them as protection, stationed alone or in small groups, scattered around the room. The effect was a packed restaurant of random people. The reality was a business deal going on up front with backup ready to take action behind.

  Grace was toying with her drink, taking small sips of it from the stirrer straw every now and again. She looked lovely and fresh, even though she hadn’t had time to shower in the hotel after they’d arrived. Her tight jeans and light blue tank top showed off her curvy figure. She’d drawn gazes from almost every male occupant when the three of them had walked in, something that had not escaped the notice of the scantily clad women around that back table. Every once in a while, one would speak too loudly in Spanish and point at Grace, her friends laughing. The messengers cheeks would redden, indicating she understood the language well, but she gave no other sign that she’d heard. Marco felt a surge of pride in her. She was holding up well, given the circumstances. A DSLR camera hung at her hip, over the side of the chair, and she crossed and uncrossed her legs, flashing Marco glimpses of her high-heeled platform sandals.

  “I’m going to go talk to those guys.” Warren’s voice broke through Marco’s thoughts.

  “What, are you crazy, man?” Marco replied. “We don’t need to invite trouble. It will find us.”

  “You worry too much, Marco.” Warren was interrupted by the food arriving, and he paused to inhale deeply and smile his best reporter smile at the server. It worked. She tittered as she scurried away.

  “Okay,” he said, after a few bites. “I’ll go talk to that waitress.”

  Marco rolled his eyes. “Always thinking with your dick.”

  “Not true! That’s the waitress I’ve got to question. I can tell by her legs.” Warren smirked. “Plus, you’re right,” he added, unfazed. “I shouldn’t talk to those guys. Gracie should talk to them.” He nodded at Grace.

  “What?” she said. “Why? What would I say to them?”

  Marco swallowed. “Nothing. You’re not going to talk to them.”

  “Hear me out,” Warren said, completely at ease. “You have to go over there and woo those boys, girlie. Use your…assets. They’ll fall for it. You’re choice real estate here.”

  Marco sputtered. “You’ve lost your damn mind. You’re sending her to the wolves.”

  “Listen, hermano, Grace is perfectly capable of handling herself. Your organization would have never involved her if she weren’t. Do you think I’m stupid? I do my research. This girl is no photographer and you’re no assistant. Now,” he turned to Grace, “here’s the plan. You see the one in the sunglasses? He’s the one these lovely ladies are drooling over. That’s your target. Woo them both, but zero in on him. He’s got some kind of clout around here, and we need to find out what it is.”

  “He’ll never tell me that,” she said.

  “Well, no, he won’t come out and tell you he’s a drug lord or anything, but he will brag to you. That’s important. Take note. And hopefully his buddy will try to one-up him. Just remember everything and bring it back to us, even if it seems like it’s not important. The key things we’re looking for are where these two are from and where they’re going. Got it?”

  Grace nodded, but Marco shook his head. “And where would we be during all this?”

  Warren laughed. “You, my sour friend, will be sitting right here, looking pissed off.” He mock surveyed Marco. “See that? You’ve already got your role down pat. You’ll look like the spurned lover, and maybe, if you’re lucky, one of those chicks will take pity on you. The girls obviously know who these guys are, and they’re not scared. That’s a good sign for us. And with your smoldering eyes and hurt puppy dog act, you’ll be a shoo in.”

  “I don’t think I like this,” Grace said quietly, staring straight at Marco to make her meaning clear.

  “It’ll be fine,” Warren quipped. “Just wrap it up, big guy.” He clapped Marco on the back.

  Marco gritted his teeth. “And you?”

  Warren smiled. “I already told you. I’m going to go chat up Maria. Maybe I’ll have some luck, too. With information and with…o
ther things.”

  Marco took a deep breath. He didn’t like the plan. “If we’re sending Grace over there, we’re going to need a reason. Let’s fake an argument, so it doesn’t look like she’s coming on to them.”

  “Okay, we’ll start shouting,” Warren agreed. “Gracie, when you get over there, make sure you get a picture of them. I don’t care how you get it. Oh! And don’t tell them who you really are or where we’re staying. Got it?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  Marco took a gulp of his beer and steeled his nerves. It was going to be a long night.

  “Excuse me.” Grace spoke softly, and the barkeep didn’t turn around. She was standing just to the left of the two men sitting on stools. They looked over at her, appraising her openly, but didn’t speak. “Excuse me,” she repeated. Nothing.

  She sighed and pulled out a stool, being careful not to bump her long legs on the underside of the countertop as she crossed them. The men looked over at her again. This time, she met their eyes and gave them a slight nod.

  “What’s a girl have to do to get a drink around here?” she laughed, nodding at the bar, her voice weak with nervousness.

  “Don’t worry, mami,” the smaller man said. “He probably just can’t hear that sultry whisper of a voice you have.”

  She blushed at the compliment and gave him her attention, taking in every detail and filing it away in case it was important later. He had a full head of black hair, olive-toned skin and small brown eyes that glittered and creased when he smiled. His teeth were crooked, sticking out at odd angles through his thin lips. He looked to be about forty-five and was dressed in a sleek, summer suit of tan linen.

  The man to his right was larger, both in height and frame. His hair was a light brown color, just a shade above mahogany, and his eyes were a swirling hazel. Grace assumed him to be the one in charge, due to his silence and slightly more easygoing manner. He exuded confidence, where the smaller man seemed to be trying to prove something.

  “Hermano!” the small man called, then waited for the bartender to turn around. “A drink for the little lady.” He turned to Grace. “What’s your name, morena?”

  “Um, Grace, Graciela,” she said, then cursed silently. She vowed to use a fake surname, should it come up. She glanced around the restaurant, her gaze landing on Marco, who was amiably chatting with a few of the girls who had wandered over to the lonely table. The other women in the group remained where they were and shot daggers at Grace with their eyes. She turned quickly away and sought out Warren. He’d trapped the waitress in the back corner. He was leaning against one wall, his arm pressed above him on the other, holding her in the kitty-corner position with absolute casualness. The little waitress didn’t seem to mind one bit and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she giggled in response to whatever he was saying.

  “And what are you drinking, Grace? Or are you, this early in the day?” The larger, handsome man finally spoke.

  “Oh, I’ve been up all night on a plane, it feels like midnight to me. I’ll have a gin and tonic.” She was proud of how steady her voice was. In her head, she ran over the list of information she was supposed to be getting.

  The larger man had set his sunglasses on the bar top and now leaned over on his elbows to speak to the tender. “We’ll have a gin and tonic and two more scotches.”

  Grace pulled out her wallet, but the man stilled her, reaching his arm around his companion and touching her wrist.

  “It’s on us,” he said. “So, angel, what are you doing in a place like this? You’re men giving you trouble?”

  Her stomach fluttered when he pulled away. “Oh, they’re okay. Just arguing about something stupid. I didn’t feel like listening anymore. I’m on vacation, actually, and we’re taking in the local sights. Colombia is a beautiful country.” Her mind was racing, trying to figure out how to get details out of them.

  The man nodded. “That it is.”

  “Do you know a lot about the area, Mister…” Grace said, nervousness rising in her.

  The bartender placed their drinks down, and the man paid. “You can call me Gomez,” he said, then nodded toward the smaller man. “And this is my associate, Luis.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you.” Grace leaned forward in an American show of shaking hands that left her cleavage exposed above the low line of her tank top. She felt self-satisfied when she saw their eyes wander there. “Do you come here often?”

  Luis laughed. “Do you use that line often?”

  Grace colored. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes,” Gomez interrupted, lightly smacking Luis on the forearm. “We do a bit of business here. Actually, I’d suggest you not come back.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Sometimes the locals get out of control, if you know what I mean.”

  “Really? It seems so quaint. And you? Are you not local?” She looked at him from under her lashes, praying she had the sex appeal Marco and Warren seemed to bestow upon her.

  “Oh, we’re local. But that’s why we’re okay. We know what to expect. As do they.” Gomez jacked his finger toward the women’s table. “However,” he added, “I’d be very interested in taking you out to a much nicer place. How long are you staying?”

  “Oh, just two weeks.” Grace quickly made something up. Truth was, she’d been given a one-way ticket and no instruction about her return. She had faith that Gene would get her back in one piece.

  “Well, we’ll have to work fast, then.” Luis smiled as he spoke the words.

  “Hey,” Gomez chided. “Who was talking about you?”

  The other man’s silence and slight head bow confirmed who was in charge.

  “So, what about it?” Gomez continued. “Can I expect to see you again?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Grace hedged. “We have a lot of sightseeing to do, and I don’t know if my companions would like it.”

  “Jealous types, are they?” Gomez nodded. “I don’t blame them. Do you have a phone number? I could drop you a call sometime to see if you’re free. When I’m not busy, of course.” He seemed to remember why he was there and cast a glance at their surroundings with just the slightest tension showing in his jaw.

  “Oh, no, my phone doesn’t work here. But if you have a number…” Grace stalled, thinking. “If you have a number, I could maybe give you a call from my hotel.”

  “Unfortunately, people don’t call me,” Gomez said, a secretive smile playing on his lips. “Where are you staying?”

  She had talked herself into a corner. Not knowing what to do, she told the truth.

  Gomez nodded again. “Nice place,” he said. “But there are better.” He paused, rubbing his hand on his chin, as if calculating something. Then he shook his head and smiled brightly at her. “What are you doing this evening, then, since I can’t call you?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  “We’ll be in the town center tonight. I’ve got a bit of business to attend to, first, but if you go to the fireworks show, I’ll find you.”

  Grace gave him her most feminine giggle. “Business, huh? What do you do?”

  “We’re in exports,” Luis said, but silenced after a look from Gomez.

  “We do business internationally,” Gomez continued for his companion. “It’s complicated, really, but it pays well.”

  “That sounds so exciting!” she gushed, putting on an impressed air.

  “Not really.” Gomez waved it off. “Just business like any other.” He looked at her, eyes filled with meaning. “I look forward to learning more about you tonight.”

  The conversation was clearly over, and Grace had taken her drink in her hands, wondering how she was going to convince them to pose for a picture, when Marco saved her by signaling in garish fashion.

  She put her drink back on the counter and stood up.

  “Could you two do me a huge favor?” she asked, her voice a stage whisper.

  “Anything, corazon.” Luis flashed her a creepy smile.

  �
�You see that guy over there, alone at the table?” She pointed and waited for them to take in Marco’s scowling face. The table had cleared and Warren was nowhere to be found. “That’s my ex-boyfriend,” she said. “We planned this trip before we broke up, and he’s been a real pill since he found out I ordered different rooms for the two of us. I don’t know if he thought this was a reconciliation trip or what, but it’s not. It would really chafe him to think I might be serious about spending time with you two. If I asked him to take our picture together, would that be okay? I’d get a keepsake of the two most handsome men I’ve seen here yet, and he maybe will get the point?”

  She held her breath, praying for it to work. Luis looked at his boss. Gomez surveyed her with critical eyes for a moment before a wave of ease passed over his features. “I don’t see the harm,” he said.

  “Fantastic,” she said, grinning widely. “Just wait until you see his face.” She turned. “Hey! Hey! Come over here for a second, will you?”

  Looking bewildered, Marco edged up to the bar. “Grace, we really should go.”

  “Oh, you’re such a stick in the mud,” she said, pouring it on. She enjoyed the look of frustration on his face, reminding herself of his hit-and-run romantic tactics. “I’m finally having fun, and you want us to go.”

  Marco played his part, but his look told her he was putting trust in her and had no idea where she was going with this.

  “Can you at least take my picture with these two? They’re so interesting, and they’ve invited us to the town center tonight.”

  “Actually,” Gomez said in his rich bass tone, “we invited you.”

  “I go where she goes,” Marco snarled, but he took the camera and fiddled with the settings.

  Grace stood in between the two barstools and readied for the shot, as Gomez replied, “Okay, okay, consider yourself invited, chico.”

  She snickered at Marco’s expense, earning a look of praise and lust from Gomez.