Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Trujillo, Puerto Jardin

27 Months Earlier

DUSK WAS STARTING TO SETTLE, and twilight didn't last long near the equator. Finn checked his watch. Zo should have made it to San Isidro by now, and he'd be on time for his meeting. He doubled around the block, checking for a tail.

Zo believed he hadn't taken her warning seriously this afternoon, but she was wrong. As soon as she'd driven away, he'd signaled he needed an emergency check-in. Ramos wasn't the most reliable source, but if he was issuing threats, there might be another player in the mix, and it could fuck up the entire operation.

If Ramos wasn't playing some kind of game for reasons of his own.

Once Finn was sure no one was following him, he resumed his walk to the bar. He'd do a few more evasive maneuvers before he got there, but it didn't appear as if any of Ramos' enforcers or Torres' men were interested in him. Yet.

His phone buzzed. Damn, he hoped there wasn't a change in plans. Finn lifted it and checked the screen, but he didn't recognize the number. The area code was Puerto Jardin, though. "Yeah?" He kept his tone neutral.

"It's me. Zo."

That stopped him in his tracks. He'd never given her his number. Finn didn't like it. "Are you calling to let me know you made it to the inn safely?"

"Not exactly."

"Did you have an accident?"

"Nooo." She dragged out the word.

Finn's gut twisted. This was bad; he knew it. "What's going on, loquita?" The even tone came with effort.

"There was a car blocking the road on my way to San Isidro. I tried to turn around, but another car blocked the road behind me. I didn't do anything crazy." She said this matter-of-factly, but it told him a lot that she'd opened with this explanation.

He dropped his head forward and swallowed an expletive. "It's okay, mi alma, I believe you," he said gently. "Where are you?"

"Se?or Torres has invited me to join him and Se?or Silva for dinner. We're at his estate."

To anyone who didn't know her, they'd hear calmness in her voice, but Finn had spent enough time with Zo to pick up on the tension. She was scared and hiding it. His admiration for her strength grew at the same time that his concern leaped into the stratosphere. There was a muffled male voice Finn couldn't quite make out.

"Se?or Torres said he would like you to join us, too. That it would ruin my evening if you don't show up."

The threat was clear—they were using Zo as leverage against him, and if he didn't cooperate, she'd pay the price. Again. This was worse than bad. "What does Se?or Torres want me to do?"

The muffled voice came again before Zo said, "There will be a limo at your motel in ten minutes. It will bring you to the estate."

"Tell Se?or Torres I'm too far away from the motel to make it back there in time. I need twenty minutes." Finn turned and started jogging.

A pause, then, "He says you have fifteen minutes, and that if you're not there, I will have an unpleasant evening."

"I'm running to the motel right now."

"Hurry," she whispered, and then the phone disconnected. He picked up his pace.

This was a fucking mess, and the blame was completely his. He should have stayed far, far away from Zo. He knew better. From the instant he'd seen her, his brain had switched to the off position, and he'd been operating on desire.

He made a call.

"Stony, what the fuck?" Ski said when he picked up.

"I won't make the meeting." He explained that Torres might believe Finn was dealing arms behind his back. "In about ten minutes, I'll be in a limo headed to the boss's compound."

"No, you won't."

Finn ignored him. "He's not convinced I'm guilty, so I should have a chance to persuade him I'm not involved."

"The Big Dog would tell you—"

"It's not his call." Even if the captain gave him a direct order, Finn was going in. He wasn't deserting Zo.

"Listen to me, dude, you are not getting in that car. It's too dangerous."

"I'm going. They have Zo."

"Who?"

"Zofia Parker, the archaeologist."

Ski let loose with a string of profanities. When he finished, he said, "It's my turn to tell you that you're a fucking moron. What the hell were you thinking, Stony?"

"I wasn't thinking, okay?" Fuck this shit. Finn ended the call.

He didn't need Pienkowski to tell him he was an idiot. Finn knew it already. Zo was probably cursing him, too, and ruing the day he'd walked into her life. If he'd kept his distance, the bastards wouldn't have kidnapped her today.

His phone started vibrating in his hand. Ski. Finn snapped it back at his waist and kept running. He had a deadline, and arguing would only slow him down.

Finn arrived at the front of the motel at the same time as the limo.

ZO HAD READ somewhere that a kidnapper was less likely to commit murder if their hostage became a real person to them. She wasn't certain this applied to professional killers, but on the off chance it did, she'd hidden her distaste and tried to make some kind of connection with Torres and even Silva. She wasn't doing well with the latter, but the former had invited her to call him Jorge. They'd found a common interest.

"There's no evidence the Wari and Tiwanaku empires ever fought each other," Zo said. "It's believed they existed in a state of cold war, but these societies aren't my area of expertise."

"What is your area of expertise?" Silva asked. He was dressed in a custom-made suit with a crisp white shirt and a conservative tie. Always the businessman. Silva appeared about ten years older than Torres, although his boss was easily fifteen years his senior. Silva's prematurely white hair aged him while Torres' hair remained darker, the gray sprinkled in.

Zo finished the last bite of fish on her plate, took a sip of water, then said, "The focus of my graduate studies was on the Huarona people."

"The same as your parents," Silva said, letting her know she'd been investigated.

Had he turned up her connection to Mari? "Yes," she said, forcing a smile, "the same as my parents."

"I've never heard of the Huarona civilization," Torres said. "Tell me more."

Almost no one heard of them, and she'd given this spiel more than once. "There are only two known sites. There wasn't much at the first location, but the other one appears to be a large city. The dates that came back when my parents were working there put it approximately 600 to 1500 CE."

"What else do you know of them?" Fascination was obvious in Torres' tone. He was dressed more casually than Silva in dark trousers and a white shirt with the collar open, and he seemed more relaxed, but the country gentleman guise was belied by his reputation.

"Most of what's known is from local legends passed down orally, generation by generation. Only a fraction of the ruins were uncovered when the civil war ended the excavation, but what little we did see seemed to have been abandoned quickly."

Torres looked crestfallen, although he was likely making out like a bandit arming the rebels. Maybe the government, too. "What happened to the Huarona?"

Shrugging, Zo said, "The theory is that some catastrophic event forced them to flee their city and they were absorbed into other societies. It would explain the lore being known in the area, but what's fascinating is their art is unique. This style of stone carving hasn't been seen anywhere else in the Americas."

A few members of Torres' staff came and cleared the dishes off the table. Coffee cups were placed in front of them and filled efficiently. Quietly. There wasn't so much as a clink of silverware against porcelain.

"So," Torres said slowly, "if they did merge into other civilizations, why wasn't their influence seen in the art of those societies?"

"Exactly," Zo said and nodded. "If more work could be—"

A bodyguard walked into the room. "Se?or Finley," the man announced an instant before Finn appeared in the door. He was escorted by four burly guys.

Zo began to stand, wanting to be near Finn, but the man guarding her pressed her back into her seat. She clutched the arms of her chair to hide her shaking. Finn was here, and he'd had no reason to come.

"Ah, Se?or Finley," Torres said, gesturing to the chair next to Zo. "You've missed dinner, but you'll join us for dessert." It wasn't a suggestion.

When he was seated to her right, Finn's hand found hers and squeezed. It shook Zo's composure, and she fought the urge to cry. The only thing she could think, over and over, was he'd come for her when he easily could have left her to fend for herself.

Torres gestured toward a bodyguard, and the man disappeared for a moment. On his heels, the kitchen staff returned with dessert. Tres leches cake. It looked delicious, but Zo wondered if she'd manage to choke any down. Finn's presence was a relief, but it also added to her stress. She needed to protect him because this situation was her fault. If she hadn't claimed to be his fiancée, they wouldn't have grabbed her and used her to force him here.

"Your betrothed is a charming and educated woman," Torres said once everyone had dessert, and the staff had withdrawn. "The wonder is what she sees in you."

Finn's lips curved at the insult. "Sometimes, a man can only thank God for miracles. "

His tone made her pause before reaching for her fork. He'd sounded cocky. Not over the line to insolent, but it had her looking at Torres from under her lashes as she tried to judge his reaction. His lips had thinned, and he appeared displeased.

"As I was saying, Jorge," Zo jumped in, "if—"

"How is your cake, loquita?"

She smiled, trying to convey she got the message. Finn wanted her to keep her mouth shut. Zo took a bite of dessert and managed to swallow past the constriction in her throat. "It's delicious."

It probably was fabulous, but Zo was too anxious to taste anything. Putting her faith in someone else didn't come easily for her, and it was twice as hard to give up control to a mercenary, a man who had fluid allegiances. She'd dealt with some shady people as part of her job, but no one as dangerous as these men.

Remember, Finn didn't have to show up. She knew it, and she was aware she was out of her league in this situation. There was no choice except to trust him to maneuver them safely out of it.

No matter how difficult it was.

"I hear rumors that Se?or Bianchi has found a new source for his arms," Torres said conversationally.

Zo tensed, and to keep herself quiet, she took another bite of cake.

"I heard the same thing," Finn said, "from Se?or Ramos. Indirectly."

"Indirectly?" Silva questioned, his voice hard.

"Ramos approached my fiancée during the nativity celebration in San Isidro and made threats. Unnecessary, because I'm not selling to Bianchi or anyone else for that matter."

"You were unhappy with Se?or Torres' offer of thirty percent," Silva said.

Finn shrugged. "So I sell you more arms and make up the difference in volume. Like I said the first time we talked, Se?or Silva, I would rather earn less money and live to enjoy it. Nothing has changed."

Her stomach heaved, but it had nothing to do with fear. Finn spoke casually of selling arms to Torres as if it were nothing. Maybe she needed the reminder. Zo put down her fork and reached for her coffee.

When she'd found out Mari had become Silva's mistress, Zo had been angry. And self-righteous, so certain she'd never look past a man's character for any reason the way her friend had. Then she'd met Finn, and Zo had allowed attraction to blind her to who and what he was. If she ever found her friend, she owed her an apology for her lack of understanding. Zo got it now.

"Zofia," Torres said, catching Zo's attention. His brown eyes were guarded when she met his gaze. "What do you think of your fiancé's career?"

It was a test of some kind. Zo recognized that, but she didn't know what the correct answer was. She hesitated.

"She—" Finn started but was cut off.

"No, Se?or Finley, your betrothed will answer the question, not you."

There went her chance to cheat on this exam. Unsure what to say, Zo decided to go with the truth. "I don't like it. I want him to give up gunrunning and find legitimate work."

"You believe you can change him?" Silva asked.

With a shrug, Zo said, "I can try."

The look Silva and Torres shared made Zo clench her teeth. It clearly conveyed foolish woman . She took a long sip of coffee until a healthy dose of fear drowned out her annoyance. Had she aced this pop quiz? She glanced over at Finn, and he winked at her. It must mean she said the right thing.

"If you're not arming Se?or Bianchi, then who is?" Torres asked, dismissing her.

Finn shook his head. "I have no idea." He didn't say, how the hell should I know , but Zo detected it in his tone, and from Torres' frown, Zo suspected the older man had as well.

"Se?or Finley, I suggest you find your manners. I've had enough of your disrespect."

The note in Torres' voice and the glance he cast in her direction made a shiver travel the length of Zo's spine. Maybe she'd been unwise to think Finn could get them out of this. Putting down her cup, she clenched both arms of her chair and struggled to keep her mouth shut. No one wanted to hear from her. She was a pawn, nothing else.

"There was no disrespect intended, se?or," Finn said with more politeness. "I only heard the rumor myself mere hours before you had Zofia call me. There wasn't time to talk to any of my contacts to learn more."

A phone rang in the distance, and their host glanced at his watch. It stopped—someone had clearly answered it—and Torres turned toward the bodyguard standing at his right shoulder. "Se?or Finley and his fiancée will be our guests tonight. Please see them to a suite."

Without another word, Torres pushed back from the table and strode out of the room.

Staying the night? How bad was their situation? Zo looked at Finn, but his expression told her nothing. It must be worse than she thought.