8. You’re Driving Her
You’re Driving Her
At exactly nine o’clock, Chris Roman walked into Mateo Vargas’s office.Not eight fifty-nine.
Not nine-oh-one.Nine.Sharp.If Mateo noticed, he didn’t say anything.Chris suspected he noticed.Mateo Vargas seemed to notice everything.The office occupied the top floor of a six-story building downtown, hidden behind the respectable name of Vargas Holdings in brushed-steel letters downstairs.According to the public records Chris had memorized, Vargas Holdings invested in commercial property, transportation, restaurants, automotive businesses and construction.According to the FBI, at least some of those businesses existed for reasons that had nothing to do with legitimate profit.Proving it was Chris’s problem.
A receptionist had taken one look at him and said, “Mr. Vargas is expecting you.”
That was new.Two weeks ago, Chris had been fixing engines in Rafael’s garage.
Now the cartel boss had his name waiting at reception.The chase had worked.
Maybe too well.Chris stepped through the open office door.Mateo stood behind an enormous desk, speaking Spanish into his phone.Diego occupied a chair near the windows.
Chris immediately disliked that.Not because Diego intimidated him.Because Diego watched.Always.Chris stopped just inside.Mateo held up one finger.Chris didn’t move.His eyes wandered casually around the office.Floor-to-ceiling windows.Private conference room behind frosted glass.Two exits.One main.One side door.Camera outside the office but none visible inside.Locked credenza.Paper shredder.Laptop.Two phones.A framed photograph on the bookshelf.Mateo and Camila.Chris’s eyes stayed on it half a second too long.
“Roman.”Chris looked over.Mateo had ended the call. “Morning.”
“You’re punctual.”
“You said nine.”
“I did.”Chris glanced at his watch.“Would’ve been weird if I showed up at eleven.”Diego’s expression hardened.Mateo smiled.“Sit.”Chris sat.Mateo walked around the desk.“How’s Rafael treating you?”
“Like he thinks I’m going to steal his tools.”
“Are you?”
“Depends if he keeps underpaying me.”Mateo laughed.Diego didn’t.Chris wondered if Diego ever laughed.Probably at executions.Mateo leaned against the desk.“I talked to Rafael this morning.”
“My condolences.”
“He says you’re one of the best mechanics he’s had.”
“Now I know he’s lying.”
“He also says you don’t like taking orders.”
“That part’s true.”Diego shifted in his chair.Chris glanced at him.“What?”Diego’s eyes narrowed.“Nothing.”
“Then we’re doing great.”
“Roman,” Mateo warned, though amusement remained in his voice.Chris looked back at him.Mateo folded his arms.“I’ve been thinking about That Driving.”Chris leaned back.“Try not to. You might develop anxiety.”Mateo laughed quietly.“You weren’t worried?”
“No.”
“Not even when they pulled beside us?”Chris’s expression remained casual.Inside, Walker sharpened.Mateo was revisiting details.Testing the memory.Chris gave him the same version he’d give anyone.“I was annoyed.”
“Annoyed?”
“They were making me work harder than I wanted to.”Mateo stared.Then shook his head.“You’re either very good or completely insane.”
“Can be both.”
“I believe that.”Mateo walked around the desk again.“What did you think they wanted?”
Chris shrugged.“You.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”That answer mattered.Mateo’s expression shifted.Just slightly.Approval.Chris saw it.Diego probably did too.
Mateo opened a drawer.Removed a folder.Set it on the desk.“I don’t need another mechanic.”Chris looked at the folder.“Rafael finally fire me?”
“No.”
“Shame. I was starting to enjoy irritating him.”
“I need security.”Chris’s gaze lifted.There it was.Mateo continued.“Driving. Transportation. Some personal protection.”Chris said nothing.“You have experience.”
“Some.”
“You handled yourself.”
“I drove.”
“You noticed the tail before I did.”Chris shrugged.“I was watching.”
“You changed the route when something didn’t feel right.”
“Construction.”
“You told me not to pull a gun.”Chris smiled faintly.“That part was fun.”Mateo laughed.
Diego didn’t.Of course.Mateo pushed the folder toward Chris.“You’ll still work with Rafael when necessary. But starting today, you report here.”Chris looked at the folder.
Then Mateo.“Pay better?”Mateo smiled.“Considerably.”
“Then this has been a very productive meeting.”
“There’s more.”Chris should’ve known.There was always more.Mateo glanced at Diego.For the first time, Diego looked amused.Chris immediately became suspicious.“What?”Mateo said, “Your first assignment starts tonight.”
“Where?”
“Here.”Chris frowned.“Security?”
“Driving.”
“Who?”Mateo’s eyes stayed on him.“My sister.”Chris didn’t move.That took effort.
Of all the assignments he’d anticipated—warehouse transportation.Mateo’s personal security.Meetings.Cash movement.Deliveries.Surveillance.He hadn’t anticipated Camila.
Not this quickly.Chris kept his expression blank.“Camila.”Mateo’s gaze sharpened.
“You remember her.”Not a question.Chris leaned back.“Hard to forget somebody threatening to make me walk home.”Diego looked between them.Mateo’s mouth twitched.
“She didn’t threaten you.”
“Give her time.”Mateo’s expression became serious.“She has an event tonight.”
“What kind?”
“Charity dinner.”
“Dangerous.”
“Roman.”
“What?”
“My sister doesn’t know details about my business.”
Chris already knew that.
Mateo continued.
“I intend to keep it that way.”
Chris met his eyes.
“Okay.”
“She has security because she’s my sister. Not because she’s involved.”
“Understood.”
“You drive her there. Stay nearby. Bring her home.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”Chris studied Mateo.“You trust me with your sister after one drive?”Diego finally spoke.“I asked him the same thing.”Chris looked at him.“Glad we’re bonding.”Diego’s jaw tightened.Mateo ignored both of them.“I trust what I saw, your driving.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”Mateo’s expression changed.For a moment, neither man spoke.
Chris knew he was pushing.But Roman would.A criminal who accepted sudden access without questioning why looked suspicious.Mateo finally answered.“No. I don’t trust you.”
Chris nodded.“Better answer.”
“But I trust you behind a wheel.”
“Fair.”
“And Camila has a habit of making her regular security miserable.”Diego muttered, “That’s putting it mildly.”Chris smiled.“Now I’m interested.”Mateo pointed at him.
“Don’t be.”Chris’s smile faded.There it was.The warning.The same one he’d received in the garage.Only clearer.Chris held Mateo’s eyes.“It’s a job.”Mateo nodded.“Exactly.”Chris stood.“Tonight?”
“Six.”
“Here?”
“The house.”The mansion.Chris picked up the folder.“Anything else?”Mateo stared at him.“Yes.”Chris waited.“She’s my little sister.”There was no humor in Mateo’s face now.
None.Chris understood exactly what he was being told.This had nothing to do with the cartel.Nothing to do with employment.Nothing to do with security.It was a brother speaking to a man.Chris nodded once.“Understood.”
“Good.”Chris turned toward the door.Diego’s voice followed him.“Roman.”Chris stopped.
Looked back.Diego smiled faintly.“Good luck.”Chris stared at him.
“Why does everybody keep saying things that make this job sound worse?”Mateo laughed.Chris left.The door closed behind him.He walked toward the elevator.Pressed the button.Waited.His reflection stared back at him from the polished metal doors.Sloan’s voice appeared immediately in his head.She is not part of this operation.
“Yeah,” Chris muttered.The elevator opened.
He stepped inside.“I’m aware.”At six o’clock that evening, Chris drove through the gates of the Vargas estate.This time, he was expected.The guard waved him through without calling the house.That was useful.Also terrifying.Access was expanding quickly.Chris parked the black Range Rover Mateo had assigned him beneath the covered entrance.
He got out.Black suit.White shirt.No tie.Concealed handgun at his waist.Roman’s gun.
Technically real.Technically illegal for Roman’s fabricated circumstances.Technically one more thing Chris had to explain if tonight went badly.A security man opened the front door.
“Mr. Vargas is in the study.”Chris entered.The mansion was even larger than he’d realized.
High ceilings.Stone floors.Arched doorways.Massive staircase.Artwork that probably cost more than Chris’s actual apartment.He cataloged cameras automatically.One.
Two.Three.“Stop doing that.”Chris turned.Camila stood halfway down the staircase.
And every useful thought in his head disappeared.For approximately one second.
Which was one second too many.She wore a fitted black dress that fell below her hips,barely, understated gold jewelry, and heels that brought her closer to his height.
Her dark hair fell over one shoulder.Chris stared.Camila smiled.“See?”Chris recovered.“See what?”
“You were doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking.”Chris glanced toward the staircase.“It’s a staircase.”
“At me.”
“Were you blocking the staircase?”Her smile widened.“You’re terrible.”
“So I’ve heard.”She descended the remaining stairs.Chris had seen beautiful women before.That wasn’t the problem.The problem was Camila seemed completely aware of what she did to him.Worse—she enjoyed it.She reached the bottom.“Why are you here?”
“Work.”
“What work?”
“Driving.”Her expression changed.“No.”Chris smiled.“Yes.”
“No.”
“That’s usually not how employment works.”
“Mateo!”Chris winced.“Subtle.”Mateo appeared from a hallway.“What?”Camila pointed at Chris.“Why is he here?”Chris looked behind himself.“Who?”Camila glared.Mateo looked entertained.“He’s driving you.”
“No.”Chris leaned against the console table.“This is going well.”
“I have a driver.”
“You fired him.”
“I did not fire him.”
“You told him you’d rather walk barefoot across Texas than spend another evening listening to him breathe.”Chris looked at her.“That’s impressively specific.”