Chapter 11
Their hotel room was small, but clean. Cal could pick up the scents of disinfectant and maybe pesticide, sharp and chemical in the humid air.
First thing he’d done was check for bedbugs.
No sign of them. No signs of a recent infestation either, so the pesticide was probably preventative.
He’d slept in worse places, but he didn’t want Io spending the night in a dump.
Two twin beds covered with traditional Puerto Jardinese blankets took up most of the space, leaving barely enough room for the small table and two chairs.
A flat-screen television was bolted to the wall near the bathroom doorway, and beside it, an oscillating fan struggled to push semi-cool air around the room.
The air conditioner wheezed like it was dying slowly, and Cal wondered if it would make it through the night.
He sat quietly in one of the chairs, facing the wall, down to his T-shirt.
A brown vinyl decal of the Eiffel Tower filled the space, glossy and slightly peeling at the edges.
He couldn’t figure out why a hotel in Trujillo had a Paris landmark for décor.
Maybe someone thought it gave the room a touch of sophistication.
It didn’t. But it was better than a bare white wall.
Io fussed over him, and while he’d told her the wound wasn’t serious, she wasn’t having any of that. He was a medic without his bag, so they’d stopped at a botica and picked up supplies to treat his arm.
Io purchased gauze, antiseptic, ointment, gloves, multiple sizes of adhesive bandages, tape, and more. Hell, it was enough to stock a field kit twice over. She’d gone overboard, but Cal didn’t say anything.
“I don’t think you need stitches,” she said as she finished cleaning the cut on his left arm.
“It’s just a graze, Thing.”
“You’re a medic.” She reached for the antibiotic ointment. “You know what the tropics can do to a cut. We’re not taking half measures.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How did you get this anyway?” she asked, dabbing the ointment onto the wound.
“Pieces of wood from the crates went flying when they hit the cement. I got winged.”
She put the cap back on the tube and reached for the gauze. Cal stiffened. “You’re not wrapping my arm. Use the large adhesive bandage.”
“It might not be big enough. The gauze is the better option.”
“The gauze will slow me down if I need to grab a weapon.”
“You’re right-handed.” Io scowled at him.
“I can shoot with both hands or use a knife if necessary. I’ll take my chances with the adhesive bandage.”
He won the staredown. Io grabbed the box he indicated.
After peeling off the backing, she arranged it precisely over the wound.
She didn’t just take a little care, she actually studied her placement before setting it down and gently rubbing around the edges to adhere it.
Only then did she peel off the latex gloves and toss them in the trash.
“We’ll check that wound again in the morning and make sure it’s not infected.” Io frowned and dropped onto the other chair. “I appreciate Rusty pushing those crates over to get us out of there, but I hate that you were injured.”
Cal straightened. “Rusty? He was there?”
“Well, yeah, those crates didn’t topple over on their own.”
“I didn’t spot him.” That had him frowning. If Io had seen Rusty, Cal should have picked him up, too. Missing Rusty felt like a failure he couldn’t afford. If it had been another mobster instead of a teammate, Io could’ve been the one bleeding.
Io shrugged. “I only caught a quick glimpse of him before you hustled us out of there.” She must have read something on his face because she added, “Stop beating yourself up. You were verifying that the Russians were out of commission, checking for a way out, and making sure no one else was waiting outside the pavilion. I just happened to glance behind me as we were exiting.”
Just happened to glance? She didn’t have his training, but she still caught something he’d missed—something he should never have missed. And what was Rusty doing at the market? His meet-up with Lurch had been cancelled.
Io put her hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze before pulling it back to her lap. “Relax, Cal. We were cornered. If Rusty hadn’t shown up when he did…” She let her voice trail off and shrugged.
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if his teammate hadn’t realized they were in trouble and come to help.
He’d heard the kid was a screw-up, but in the four months Cal had been on the team, he hadn’t seen any signs of that.
Blowing out a breath, he leaned back in his chair.
“We better talk about the situation we’re in now. ”
It was Io’s turn to frown. “This messes up our plan.”
“I know.” He wanted to add more. He wanted to say the plan was over, Io needed to return to the safe house and stay there until Petrova was out of the picture, but he swallowed the words.
That wouldn’t be a discussion. It would be an argument, and after working so hard to cool down, Cal didn’t want to fight.
“I’m not sure there’s any point in returning to the convent tomorrow,” Io continued.
Nodding, Cal said, “The odds are we’ll pick up the Russians again like we did today.”
“Agreed. I don’t get it, though. Why is Ivanov willing to risk his association with Torres? They’ve had a business relationship for decades.”
“The world is full of arms dealers. There’s one-billion-dollar treasure.”
The air conditioner shut off with a belch, leaving only the whirring fan. Io began loading the medical supplies back into the bag, but she was thinking.
After the table was cleared, she stood, set the botica bag next to his pack, and said, “Maybe. But Torres has built a reputation for getting his hands on weapons other arms dealers can’t touch for months.
Sometimes a lot of months. Torres even managed to briefly acquire some of the precision-guided XM9 assault rifles, and the Army’s been keeping the Talon under lock and key. ”
After dropping that bombshell, Io raised both hands over her head, closed her eyes, and stretched.
Cal clenched his jaw hard enough for a muscle to tick.
She shouldn’t know about the Talon.
“Where did you hear XM9 Talon?” he asked quietly.
Io must have picked up something in his voice because she stopped mid-stretch and turned. “Archer,” she said at last. “I sat through a briefing that lasted for hours before I was given my assignment.”
Archer again. The Paladin League’s public face was all grants and archaeology, but its covert arm clearly had deeper access than Cal had realized.
“The M4 replacement is supposed to be top secret,” he said, voice tight.
“Don’t worry, Cal, I’m not running around telling everyone about it. I know it’s not cocktail-party chatter. I also know you probably have more intel on it than I do, so I wasn’t divulging anything new.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe I had no intel on the weapon and you just casually—”
“Please give me some credit. I’m not stupid. I figured out your op shortly after I was back on my feet.”
“I know you’re not stupid,” he said immediately. The problem was she was too smart for her own good. Too smart for his peace of mind. “But there’s a big difference between knowing what our op is and knowing about a weapon the Army has kept under wraps. I’m going to have to tell BD about this.”
Io shrugged, completely unruffled, and Cal shook his head. He didn’t know if the lack of concern was cockiness or confidence, but either could get her killed when it came to Petrova and Ivanov.
Her attitude put him on edge. Cal made a decision. “We’ll head back to the safe house in the morning. The evasive maneuvers will be extensive, but we can’t risk giving away the location when we return.”
Her nonchalance vanished. “Why are we going back to the safe house?”
“Your part in the op is over. You can stay there with your sister while the team regroups.”
“My part in the op is over?”
A note in her voice had Cal slowly getting to his feet. He’d said the wrong thing. “Well, yeah. We can’t go back to the convent because of Petrova’s team, and there’s nowhere else to easily catch Torres’s attention. The only answer is to pull the plug.”
“Do you remember the part of the briefing where BD said I’m in charge? The part where he told you that you’re following my orders?”
“That was before Petrova’s team zeroed in on you.”
Her eyes narrowed, but her voice stayed calm.
“First, BD did not say my authority only lasted until you deemed it too dangerous. Secondly, we knew Petrova’s men were looking for me.
The only thing that’s changed is your fear.
Thirdly, my sister is still in danger. My reasons for agreeing to work with your team remain unaffected. ”
“Your life is as important as your sister’s.”
“I understand that, but I’m able to take care of myself in a way she can’t.”
She said it like it was simple. Like being capable meant being safe. But he’d seen capable people die. Smart ones. Skilled ones. He’d seen teammates die, not because they weren’t good enough, but because sometimes shit happened. He’d already buried his sister. He wasn’t burying his wife.
Cal stared at Io, trying to read her. He didn’t see any cracks in her determination.
As far as she was concerned, if her twin needed protecting, she was charging into the fray.
Something she’d said early in their relationship surfaced.
He couldn’t remember the exact phrasing, but the gist was she was tougher than her sister, and since no one else took care of Ayla, Io had stepped into the role.
She crossed her arms, raised her eyebrows, and stared back at him. Almost daring him to push her. He wanted to. Cal wanted to pull rank and drag her back to the safe house.
And if he tried that, she’d be leaving there with Ski ten minutes later.
Voice thick, choked, Cal said, “You’re in charge. What’s our next move?”
The words felt like handing her a loaded gun and hoping she didn’t point it at herself.
Io continued to stare, maybe trying to read his sincerity.
Cal had failed in the past, but he wouldn’t fail this time.
His wife was staying whole and healthy, no matter what he had to do.
If he had to take orders from her, he’d take orders because he was the only one he trusted to step in front of a bullet for her.
When she uncrossed her arms, Cal knew she’d decided he would accept her authority. Some of the tightness in his chest eased. As long as he stayed close, he had a chance to protect her.
“Torres is looking for the treasure, and the brooch was found at the convent, so he’s watching that location.
But that’s not the only place he might be keeping an eye on.
We can’t go to the regional archives—they’ll be closed on Saturday—but the treasure disappeared during the revolution.
Torres might be watching the Revolutionary History Museum.
Tomorrow we’ll head to the Museo de la Revolución. ”
And with a grin, Io pulled the elastic out of her hair and headed for the bathroom.
That grin. Damn, he’d missed it.
And it scared the hell out of him.