Chapter 23
White and blue strobe lights bounced off the ceiling and second floor of Silas’s bar. Dallas strode next to his now enemy, his hands balled into fists, as he surveyed the lower level. Too many people around to take out Silas right now. But if it had to be done in the bar, so be it.
He still had the gun at his ankle.
One of the guards waiting near the booth stood back and extended his hand so Silas could slide in at the edge closest to the emergency exit.
Dallas took the seat across. He rested his elbows on the table and waited while Silas conversed with one of his men in Spanish.
The guard nodded then moved into position in front of the booth next to the first man, their backs turned. Two guys—not bad odds. He could shoot Silas under the table and take out one of the guards before they could react. Then he’d only have one to tackle until more came.
“I apologize for the noise level. We can go downstairs to my office, but I figured we’d have some fun first.”
A woman in a short black dress sauntered between the two guards with a tray balanced on her hip. Her bright red hair was piled on her head. She slid four shots onto the table and flashed Dallas a smile. “What can I get you?”
Well, shit. He hadn’t asked for shots, and it wasn’t how he needed to start this job. Not if he wanted to kill Silas and make it out of the bar in one piece. But refusing alcohol would look suspicious as fuck. “Vodka and water.”
Silas placed his order in Spanish and she turned away. Then Silas smiled, picked up a miniature glass, and slammed it down on the table in front of Dallas.
Sliding his fingers around the cool shot, Dallas lifted it.
Silas grinned, picked up another shot glass, and held it in the air. “To business.”
“To business,” Dallas echoed, clinking the glass with Silas’s before tossing the liquid back.
Tequila burned his throat as he wiped his mouth. “Now,” he said, nodding at Silas’s phone. “Are your men waiting for Lorenzo?”
Silas brought his screen to life, hit a number, and pressed the device to his ear. He exchanged some words in Spanish with the person on the other end and a beat later tapped the screen and held it out to Dallas. A video call displayed three of Silas’s men standing next to a trunk. Lorenzo stood with his arms behind his back adjacent to them.
The men gestured to Lorenzo, and he walked in front of the trunk, blocking the camera for a second. He hefted open the lid then stood back. The person holding the camera panned over the contents—various guns with ammo inside.
Dallas lifted his gaze to Silas who studied the pieces. He asked his men to take out the guns and inspect them.
Dallas laced his fingers on the table as their waitress came back and slid their drinks in front of them. He didn’t reach for his glass but kept his gaze on the screen. Every instinct told him to fire now.
Each minute wasted was a chance lost. His odds of shooting him and getting out of the bar were already shitty, but he needed a better moment.
Silas turned off the video then pressed the phone to his ear again and conversed with the man on the other end for several minutes. “I’m satisfied with the shipment,” he said to Dallas, after disconnecting. “Let’s go over numbers.”
A new song came on. The bass raged. “Can we discuss it in your office? I can’t hear a damn thing.”
Silas gulped back his second shot then grabbed his full-sized drink. Dallas picked up his, and they shuffled out of the booth. He followed Silas down the walkway toward the set of stairs.
If he could get Silas alone in his office, he’d have a much better chance.
***
No! Where arethey going?
Gemma turned in Cory’s arms, making his hand fall away. She watched as Dallas followed Silas along the second level then descended the stairs. Oh, thank god. Were they done with their meeting? What if they left? Would Charlene try to take them out once they got outside?
Panic rooted Gemma to the spot as Dallas approached. Cory’s hands circled her waist and swung her around so her belly bumped his crotch. She smiled through a grimace.
He laughed. “Thought you were trying to escape for a minute.”
Not yet.
She looped her arms around Cory’s neck and glanced over her shoulder. Dallas walked next to Silas, his stride brisk and his jaw in a hard line.
He was pissed.
Was he angry? Had he seen her?
He breezed by without so much as a look in her direction. No, there was no way he’d spotted her. Shit. She should have done something to get his attention. If she could get word to him that she was here, he might clue in that the CIA was also here targeting Silas.
The men walked toward the hall and entered the room. It had to be Silas’s office. Thank god. They weren’t far. But she had to do something. Charlene was still waiting to hear from her. And likely losing her patience by the second.
Cory’s hand moved to her cheek, and he dipped his chin to kiss her.
Jerking her head back and out of reach, she pushed on his shoulder. “Ah, sorry. I need to use the ladies’ room and make a call. Hold that thought.” She slipped out of his arms and bumped through the crowd. As she passed a garbage can, she tossed her half-empty drink inside.
Pulsing bodies littered the dance floor, making getting through worse than an obstacle course. More than one person slammed into her, and drinks sloshed on the linoleum.
God, she couldn’t wait to get out of this place.
She shoved open the bathroom door and found an empty stall. Locking it, she pulled out her phone and stared at the screen. She could try to call Dallas again, but more than likely he wouldn’t answer—or he would and his reaction to her being at the bar would give him away.
She couldn’t risk it.
But... maybe someone else could phone him. A relative with an emergency. All she needed was for him to step outside long enough for Charlene to make her move. Then bam, Silas would be dead, she’d be free, and Dallas wouldn’t be in the line of fire.
She dug into her purse again and pulled out the card Dallas had given her. Her hand shook as she dialed Cole’s number. He’d been MIA the last time she was with Dallas, but maybe he had his phone now.
“Hello?” a man’s deep voice growled with annoyance.
She swallowed. “Um, hi. Is this Cole?”
“Who wants to know?”
“This is Gemma Turner. I’m a friend of Dallas’s—”
“I know who you are. Is my brother with you?”
That was a loaded question. “Well, not really. He’s in trouble though and... actually, you know, he’s been trying to reach you all day.” She tried to keep the accusation out of her tone, but dammit, Dallas had needed to hear from him, and maybe if Cole had called earlier and had a solution for them, she could have avoided this whole situation with the CIA.
“I was a little busy. I’m just getting in my rental car at the Ibarra airport and haven’t had the chance to call him.”
Hope rose from her belly. She squeezed her phone. “You’re here?”
“How the hell else was I supposed to give Dallas the new passports? Yeah, I’m fucking here. Now tell me why Dallas is in trouble.”
She couldn’t avoid telling him about the CIA. To hell with what he thought of her. All that mattered was getting Dallas out alive. She rattled off everything she could think of while he listened.
When she was done, he said, “So you’re at the club and the CIA is waiting for your cue to make a move on Silas?” The gentle hum of a motor in the background told her he was on his way.
“Yes,” she said, her heart thudding. “But I’m afraid that they’ll think it’s worth taking out Dallas, or that he could get caught in harm’s way. Last time they set off bombs without telling me, and I can’t guarantee they won’t take the same risk again.”
“All right. This is what I want you to do. Call your boss—or whoever the fuck this broad is—and tell her you don’t have eyes on him. Buy some time. I’ll call Dallas and see if I can get him out of there. Keep your phone on you and I’ll call with a plan whether I speak to Dallas or not. Got it?”
“Okay.” The agreement came out breathless and somewhat needy.
“He’ll be fine.” The call ended and her stomach bunched into a million knots. They were nowhere near out of this, but at least now they weren’t alone. If Cole could coax Dallas away from Silas, they might all live.
She hit Charlene’s number and returned the phone to her ear. A woman’s cackling laugh echoed in the tiled bathroom, and the door of the stall next to hers slammed shut.
“Where the hell have you been?” Viciousness clung to every syllable of Charlene’s words.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to lie low. I think I got a glimpse of him, but I can’t be certain. I need to get closer.”
“You won’t be able to miss him. Our drone picked up a good image, and he has a bandage on the right side of his face, more than likely from the bomb.”
Gemma chewed the edge of her lip. “Okay, good to know. This wasn’t him then. I’m not sure if he’s even—”
“He’s there. We followed his car to the back alley but couldn’t get a sniper on him through his guards. If you can’t identify him in the next fifteen minutes, we’re making a move.”
Her hands turned sweaty and the phone threatened to slip from her grip. “You can’t do that. You could hit the wrong person—”
“We can’t afford to miss him, Gemma. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” Charlene hung up and Gemma pressed her fist to her forehead.
Dammit.
Tears stung her eyes. There was no way out of this. She couldn’t risk the CIA hitting an innocent person because she didn’t do her job, but she also couldn’t risk Dallas.
To hell with caution. She had to let Cole know they had a time limit. She tapped her fingers on the screen.
My boss gave me 15 minutes. Please hurry.
She tucked the phone and card away and exited the bathroom. A man stood outside the door and she stopped in her tracks—Cory.
Why the dude was hovering in the hallway outside the door was beyond her, and more than a little creepy. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
“Thought you ran out.” He held out an arm, and she gingerly rested her wrist on the inside of his elbow.
Great. Just her luck. She’d used Cory as a cover, and he was probably a psychopath.
“I was thinking we could go grab some food or coffee?”
She stopped and pressed her back against the wall at the end of the hallway. “Gee, that sounds fun. Actually, I’m meeting a friend here, so—”
He looked affronted. “I thought you said you were alone.”
A sliver of unease wound through her core. She let out a light laugh. “Well, I’m alone right now.”
“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll hang out with you until your friend shows. Maybe something will come up and then we can go chat somewhere.”
As if, dude.
She needed to get away from him, but she couldn’t leave the bar yet, and starting drama would only draw attention to her. “Let’s sit at the bar,” she said. “Might be easier to talk there.”
He led her through the myriad people again. How long would it take Cole to get here?
Heck, she didn’t even know what he looked like. She did a mental face-palm. Great. She had less than fifteen minutes before someone came with a bullet for Silas—or another bomb. She wouldn’t put it past the CIA, regardless of Charlene’s promises.
She had a mega mess to get herself out of, and now she was tangled with Cory, who’d turned out to be more than a little clingy.
He pulled out a stool at the bar and signaled to the bartender, who leaned in.
“Just water, please,” she said.
“Switching already, Felicia?”
Cory’s use of the fake name she’d given him almost stalled her brain.
He propped his arm on the bar and ordered a beer. Disdain flashed in his eyes. Now he was really putting her off. To hell with what he thought.
“I suppose,” she said with a shrug.
He sucked back a swig of beer then watched her with small eyes. His charming air and boyish smile long gone.
Thank goodness she hadn’t left her drink alone with him.
“So, who you waiting on?”
Crap. There was a chance Cole would want to speak to her when he arrived, so she couldn’t pretend it was another woman. Besides, maybe if he knew a male friend was meeting her, he’d back off. “My friend’s brother. He just landed about twenty minutes ago.”
Cory cocked his head to the side. “Interesting. What would bring him to Ibarra?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Something work related.” She flicked her wrist then zeroed in on him. “What brings you to Ecuador? You’re American?”
“Correct. I’m here on a guys’ trip, actually. Everyone was sick from partying last night so I came out alone.”
“A guys’ trip? Why not Vegas or something?” She brought the glass of water to her lips and sipped.
“One of the guys in our group is from here, so he’s giving us the full experience.”
She nodded slowly as anticipation made the hair on the back of her neck stand to attention. Charlene’s man had a finger on the trigger, Dallas was locked in an office with a brutal killer, and she was at the bar sipping water and stringing along a douchebag.
“Excuse me one sec.” She sunk her hand into her purse. “He might have trouble finding the place.” She glanced at her phone.
No new messages or missed calls.
And it’d been exactly five minutes since the call with Charlene. She couldn’t wait much longer.
“Well?”
She looked at Cory and made a face. “Not yet.”
“Then let’s go. You can always come back when we’re done.”
It took all her self-control not to knock her forehead on the bar. Was he legit out of his mind? Did she really look that stupid?
“Yeah, I need to stay. But thanks. Have a good rest of your night.” She stood.
Cory’s cold, stiff hand locked on her forearm. “That’s it? You wasted my time.”
Her eyebrows crawled up her forehead. Who did this asshole think he was? “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Cory. Now let me go before I make a scene.”
Only she couldn’t make a scene. Because doing so would bring all the attention to her face.
Cory stood. “I don’t think so, you little fucking tease.” He yanked her arm, drawing her closer to his body. The scent of sweat mixed with booze leaked from his pores.
Her body vibrated with anger, but a tremor of fear prickled her spine. “I’m going to ask one more time, Cory. Let me go.”
“Not a chance.”
A hand clamped down on Cory’s shoulder and whirled him around.
“What the—” he squeaked.
Gemma staggered backward into the barstool as her gaze flew to the hulking man standing in front of Cory.
The stranger’s eyes were the color of shiny slate and thick dark scruff covered his sharp jaw, which was the exact same shape as Dallas’s.
Cole.
She sucked in a breath as she stared at the meaner-looking, more terrifying version of Dallas. He wore a light-gray T-shirt that clung to his biceps and chest. Nearly every inch of his exposed skin was covered in tattoos... his arms, hands, neck. All but his face bore ink.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cory sputtered.
Cole’s mouth twitched. A smile? If it was, she’d never seen one so slight.
“Someone who’s about to break your arm if you don’t get the fuck out of my face.” He spoke low enough that she could barely hear him above the music, but his menacing tone and the curl of his lip promised he’d do much worse than break Cory’s measly arm.
Cory shook off Cole’s hold and, without casting Gemma another glance, hurried away. Cole watched him exit the bar then turned to her.
His arms hung at his sides and his face didn’t hold a hint of warmth. “Gemma?”
She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Uh. Yeah. How’d you know it was me?” Awkwardness pulled her shoulders forward. Dallas’s brother had just saved her from Cory dragging her out of the bar. “And thank you for that,” she added, gesturing to the spot where Cory had disappeared.
“Don’t mention it. And I knew it was you ’cause I had to recreate your passport.” He opened and closed his fists at his sides and glanced around the dance floor as if the scene disgusted him. “Where’s my brother?”
She pointed to the hallway beyond the dance floor. “Office.”
His devastatingly intent gaze swung back to hers. The more she looked at Cole, the more she saw the similarities between Dallas and him... and the more she sensed their differences.
At first glance, Dallas was tough and frightening, but it didn’t take long to see the undercurrent of joy inside him. In contrast, it looked as though a smile would cause Cole physical pain, and his confident air was nothing less than threatening.
And slightly terrifying.
He nodded at her purse. “Time to make your phone call.”