10. Vinnie
10
VINNIE
“ Y ou’re kidding,” I say.
Though I already know he’s not. Austin Bellamy may be the Cooper Steel heir and a successful rancher, but there’s something crooked about him.
Something crooked about how his oldest son went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
And something very crooked about whoever is buried on his property.
Plus, I already know he had Brick Latham killed because he thought he was a threat to Raven.
But it makes me wonder…
Was Latham truly a threat to Raven? Or was he a threat to Bellamy himself?
“Does he know anything else?” I ask.
“No,” Elmo says. “I’ve got all the information we need to take back to Agudelo.”
I raise an eyebrow. “But we won’t be taking all of it back to Agudelo, right?”
“Right.”
Elmo speaks again to the informants in Spanish. Then we all shake hands. The informants slink away.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We get the hell out of here,” Elmo says.
Sounds good to me. This place makes my skin crawl. I’m on high alert the entire time, hyper aware of anything and everything that is a threat. I don’t trust these men as far as I can throw them. Especially since I can’t understand what they’re saying. I suppose I should take some Spanish lessons.
But who the hell has time for that? I took Spanish back in high school, and of course spent some time traveling through Spain when I was in the EU, but not enough apparently. Most of my time in Spain was spent in Barcelona, and they speak Catalan there. Similar to Spanish, but just different enough for my ears to have a hard time understanding.
My knowledge of Italian has helped a little. I can pick out words and phrases from what they’re saying. But damn, they speak so quickly.
I hurry out of the warehouse to the car that’s waiting.
“I wish we weren’t staying at the Agudelo house,” I say.
“Yeah, I agree. We can’t speak freely there.”
I press my lips together. “On the other hand, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He needs to think I’m a friend. I need to make this deal happen so my grandfather will trust me enough to take over.”
I say no more.
Though I do believe our driver is trustworthy, and I doubt he can hear us, I don’t know for sure. For all I know, he could be an enemy. He could have surveillance equipment in the backseat.
Mario could be having us watched at this moment.
So could Agudelo.
It’s doubtful, as we put a lot of our own surveillance in place, but I still can’t be a hundred percent sure that we haven’t been followed.
I can’t be a hundred percent sure of anything at this point.
Damn. Bellamy.
What the hell is his role in all of this?
That Texas rancher who wears jeans and cowboy boots and bolo ties. Blond and blue-eyed, with his all-American good looks. Married to a Mexican beauty queen, Starling Esparza.
Father to five beautiful children… One of whom is an ex-con.
Fuck.
It all must come together in some way.
Mario thought I would be here for a month. After reading through all of the documents, and my meeting with Agudelo—which included Vega as well—I think I can be out of here in two weeks. I can get this deal made. The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can get back on my home turf where I have the advantage.
Another big lunch tomorrow at the Agudelo home.
I need to find out what I can about Bellamy before then. Though I doubt there’s a way to access the dark web from the Agudelo home. Everything probably goes through a huge network that he keeps track of.
My only chance is to get this deal settled as quickly as I can and get back home where I can research Bellamy more thoroughly.
So many pieces to this puzzle. Not one of them seems to fit together.
Mario Bianchi.
Diego Vega.
Giacomo Puzo.
Jacinto Agudelo.
Brick Latham.
The old woman in the photo.
And Austin Bellamy.
And whoever the hell is buried under the Bellamy barn.
Then my jaw drops.
The EPA. My contact there. How when I called her, she was already working on keeping the Bellamys from excavating that particular parcel of property.
Oh my God.
Bellamy never had any intention of excavating that property. Because he knows. He knows what’s under there.
What if he is the one who started the process at the EPA?
But if that’s the case… Why would he tell his boys that he was getting ready to excavate that area of his land?
If he knows what’s there, he knows that would freak them out.
Is that what he wants? His sons in a state of panic?
His sons having no choice but to come to me for help?
None of this makes any sense at all.
I’d like to talk to Elmo, but he’s my bodyguard and my translator. He’s not my friend. Not even my colleague.
But he knows everything that I know for this trip at least. He has to, in order to interpret.
When we return to the Agudelo mansion, our driver hands us each a pamphlet on points of interest in Bogotá.
“For when Agudelo asks you what we did on our sightseeing tour,” Elmo says.
I nod. “Of course.”
When we get into the mansion, Morehouse greets us. “Mr. Agudelo had to make a quick overnight trip,” he says, “but he’ll be back for your lunch meeting tomorrow.”
An overnight trip? Where? And why?
I know better than to pose these questions to Morehouse. He won’t betray his employer.
“Good enough,” I say.
“Dinner will be served for you at eight p.m.,” Morehouse says. “In the dining room.”
I nod. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
“We will have another dinner guest as well,” he says. “Senor Agudelo’s daughter, Daniela.”
“All right.”
Daniela. Right, Agudelo has a daughter. I learned that when I researched him in preparation for this trip. She’s eleven. The same age as Belinda McAllister.
Fuck. Belinda.
She reached out to Raven and to me. Her nanny is trying to help her, but she has limited resources. And she probably needs her job.
The thought of what Declan McAllister is doing to his daughter…
I can’t go there.
I will rescue Belinda, somehow. At least I know her life isn’t in danger. McAllister may hurt her, but he would never take her life. She’s a pawn. Chattel. And she’s already been promised to me.
I hate the fact that she has to live for another couple of weeks in those horrid circumstances, but I can’t help her right now. I have to finish this current project.
I check my watch. It’s four thirty. A little over three hours until dinner is served and I meet Agudelo’s young daughter.
I sigh and walk up to my suite.
The room has been fully serviced.
All new towels, and a box of chocolates on my pillow.
I didn’t sleep last night, and I’m exhausted.
Without changing my clothes, I lie down.
And blackness falls.