Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Alfonso Ramos' Estate

Present Day

IT WAS LATE when Finn got back to Ramos' compound, and later still by the time he made it through the gate. Security had stripped him of his weapons—he'd known they would—but it would look odd if he didn't try to smuggle something inside.

"Gracias," he said to the houseman as he entered the hacienda.

Finn had his foot on the first stair when Ramos called to him. "Come, join me for a cigar, Se?or Rowland." It wasn't a request.

Reluctantly, he pivoted and did as ordered. Finn wasn't sure what to label this room. Den? Lounge? It wasn't as formal as an office, but he sure wouldn't call it a man cave. Ramos opened a wooden cigar box and extended it toward him. "No, gracias," Finn said. "I don't smoke."

Ramos shrugged, removed one for himself, and closed the box. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward the four brown leather chairs arranged around a circular table.

Finn took the chair that gave him the best visibility of the room and which exposed his back the least. Ramos was edgy, and Finn prepared himself to deal with the drug lord's mood. Fuck, he wanted to go back to the suite, take a shower, and crawl into bed beside Zo. He swallowed his impatience. This man was dangerous and needed to be placated, so he'd mollify him and make sure his loquita would be safe here tomorrow when he was off the grounds.

Cigar smoking involved ritual, and Ramos rushed none of it. He used a cigar cutter to carefully trim the end. Then, he flicked open his lighter, and there was a ping. Finn might not smoke, but Tom Finley had gotten around and learned a few things. Like the fact that there was one brand of lighter that made that sound, and it cost over a thousand bucks.

He toasted the end of the cigar over the flame, rotating it so that the entire tip was heated. Ramos continued to turn it until there was a burning ring, then he blew on the embers and brought it to his lips. One outward puff, and then he took a draw.

"Cuban?" Finn asked.

"Nicaraguan," Ramos said. He moved to take the seat across from Finn.

"I'm surprised you smoke. Zo said you're into physical fitness." The cigar smoke drifted his way, but he'd been surrounded by cigarettes in the bar, and his hair and clothes couldn't smell any worse.

"Every man must have a vice," Ramos said, his lips curving slightly.

Finn resisted the urge to point out that running a drug cartel was probably a big enough sin.

Ramos enjoyed a couple more puffs on his cigar before he spoke. "You were out late tonight."

"I met up with some buddies of mine from before. "

"Before? Ah, before Zofia, I see." He nodded. "Why waste time with them?"

Finn leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's good to see old friends again." Before Ramos could voice the irritation that crossed his face, Finn continued, "And mercenaries keep their ears to the ground. They hear things. Sometimes they hear helpful things."

Ramos appeared skeptical. "And did they share something helpful with you?"

Quirking up the left side of his mouth, Finn said, "Helpful? I don't know, but it was definitely interesting."

The drug lord stopped mid-puff. "How interesting?"

Pausing only long enough to pique Ramos' interest, Finn said, "It seems there's a new high-tech weapon on the market. One that can fetch a hell of a lot of money if there was an international auction. Chinese and Russian agents have already started trawling the waters, looking to make the buy. Or so I was told."

Ramos' good humor disappeared, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Finn through the haze of smoke. "Did they say anything else?"

"No, that was all they knew." He tried not to think of his captain's reaction if he heard this conversation. Everything Finn had said was the speculation that he himself had laid out at the bar, but it was guaranteed to light a fire under Ramos and speed up the arms deal. It was a calculated risk. If the drug lord called Silva, and the man denied it, he'd either believe the arms dealer was lying to him or that Finn's information was wrong. Neither one should rock the boat too much.

Finn was pushing. Hard. And things could fall apart fucking easily at the speed he was aiming for, but it also wouldn't allow either Ramos or Silva time to second-guess what was happening. And it might help keep those arms in Puerto Jardin .

"Auctioning my weapons?"

Finn shrugged one shoulder. "Could be. Or it could be the ARADs. Those are newer, too, and a lot of players want their hands on them."

"No, it's the new US rifle. Se?or Silva didn't want to sell it to me, you said." Ramos looked pissed.

"I didn't say he wouldn't sell it to you. I said he was unsure he had any to sell, but I believe he does. Se?or Silva is a businessman as you are," Finn said, working to soothe his temper. Finn wanted a motivated Alfonso Ramos, not an angry one out for blood. "Wouldn't you look to maximize profit if the situation was reversed?"

"Sí," Ramos agreed slowly, taking another puff on his cigar. "You believe profit is his primary motive?"

Finn nodded. "For the right price, he'd sell them without an auction. Auctions, especially those that are international in scope, take weeks, even months, to set up. The buyers have to be vetted, their finances confirmed. It's a lot of work."

"Vetting?" Ramos scoffed. "Se?or Torres sells internationally and has already investigated his clients."

Uncrossing his arms, Finn sat forward. "There will be new buyers. People who haven't worked with Se?or Torres' organization in the past. These weapons are in high demand, and Se?or Silva will be forced to open the auction beyond current customers if he wants to get top dollar."

"Much easier to sell them locally," Ramos said, his tone thoughtful. "To a previous client."

"Sí. For the right price," Finn repeated.

"You keep saying that, but I already purchased a handful of this weapon. I know what the cost will be."

"No," he corrected, "you know what the price was , but the small number available when you bought them lowered their value. Now he has enough to bring a much, much higher price per unit and interest from a slew of new players. "

With a frown, Ramos puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. "If they're sold at auction, the cost could become outrageous."

Finn nodded. "It could, especially if the Russians or Chinese want to reverse engineer them to create their own version."

Ramos' scowl deepened. "What is your plan to ensure I get my weapons?"

"We make an offer that's close to what they'd bring on the open market. Maybe with a ten or fifteen percent discount. With a number like that, why waste time and resources preparing for an auction?"

More quiet smoking, then, "Do you know how many are available?"

"I have a ballpark figure." Actually, Finn knew with a fair amount of accuracy how many were missing thanks to the briefing he'd gotten from the captain. To buy the lot would take millions of US dollars, but if the intel he'd gotten on how much Ramos raked in each year was remotely accurate, he could well afford it. The question was, would he be willing to spend that much. "I also have an estimate on what you'd have to pay per unit to get them."

"Give me the numbers."

Finn laid out what he believed the price per unit would be, how many Silva likely had to sell, and what the total would be. Ramos froze mid puff, and the moment seemed to stretch for an eternity before he resumed smoking.

"You'll need to negotiate a better deal than that," Ramos said at last.

"Then you better be prepared for Se?or Silva to tell us to fuck off and take the weapons to auction. We might be able to shave a few hundred thousand off, but I wouldn't expect the sale to go through for much less than what I told you."

Ramos' eyes hardened. "That is unacceptable."

Great. The drug lord expected an enormous discount, and there was no way Silva was going to agree. "First, these weapons are worth a lot at auction. Second, Silva and Torres want to make as much money as they can. Third, they don't have to negotiate with me or you or anyone else as long as demand is high. Fourth, Se?or Silva has already expressed a lack of interest in selling you more of this weapon. I have no control over any of these facts."

Leaning forward, Ramos flicked the ash from the cigar into a silver ashtray. The gesture was angry, but it was also controlled. "Offer twenty-five percent less. That should at least open negotiations."

Nodding, Finn said, "Sí. I'll let you know what Se?or Silva says."

"Contact him tomorrow. I do not want these weapons going to auction." Ramos turned his head. "Vargas!" The man appeared in the doorway almost immediately, telling Finn he'd been close at hand. "Escort Se?or Rowland to his rooms and ensure he stays there the entire night."

Finn got to his feet, but instead of obeying Vargas' abrupt motion to go to the door, he stopped and looked down at Ramos. "If you want those weapons, Se?or Ramos, you better be prepared to pay the full amount we agree on with Se?or Silva. I'm not going to be left holding the bag if you decide you want a last-minute discount."

Before Ramos could erupt, Finn crossed the room and headed toward the staircase.

Zo jerked awake when she heard the door to the suite open, and she curled her hands into fists. She didn't relax until she saw the silhouette of a man cross the room to the bathroom. Finn was home. With a soft sigh of relief, she relaxed back into the pillows.

A few minutes later, she heard the shower come on. Turning onto her back, she snuggled the covers up to her chin and waited. It seemed to take forever before he moved the mosquito netting aside, joined her under the blankets, and closed it up again.

"I'm glad you're back," she said softly.

"Sorry I woke you."

Finn put his arm around her waist, and Zo shifted closer, wrapping her own arm around him and turning to hook her leg over his. He wore nothing except a pair of shorts, and his bare skin was warm against hers. "I sleep lightly when you're not with me," she admitted.

"That's a good thing." His hug tightened momentarily. "You never know who'll come in."

"I know. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Zo wanted to ask him questions. Where had he been until this hour of the night? Why had he taken a shower? Why were his muscles so damn tense? But she was too aware of the cameras and microphones that surrounded them.

Before she could figure out what to say, Finn asked, "What did you do today?"

Zo frowned at the suspicion in his voice. "Not much. First, there was breakfast with Al. Smoothies, not real food. You would have liked them. I think it had protein powder and chia seeds."

"And after breakfast?" Finn prodded.

"Al gave me permission to use his gym, so I ran about three miles on the treadmill and did some work on the shoulder and chest press machines before moving to free weights. After a shower, I had lunch with Tia Izel on the covered patio by the casita. Then, we chatted while we shared a pitcher of limonada . It was nice," she said.

More than nice. It had been a long time since she'd had hours to simply sit and talk with Tia Izel. Usually, the older woman was busy with the inn, or Zo was only in town for a day or two, and there were competing obligations. She had many friends in San Isidro. And today's conversation had been light and pleasant, unlike the previous day.

"What about dinner?"

"It was a replay of yesterday evening. As soon as the dessert dishes were cleared, Al had me escorted to our suite, and I was told to stay here until morning."

"The door was locked behind me," Finn told her. "They were setting guards in the hallway when it closed."

She made a humming noise. It wasn't a surprise since they were heavily guarded at night. Zo wasn't sure why because Al had to know it would be suicide to try to escape the compound.

"And that's all you did today?" he asked, tone bland. "Nothing else?"

Zo sighed. "Nothing," she said. "I promise."

"Have the same kind of day tomorrow, but it's humid in Puerto Jardin, and you're not used to it. Don't push the workouts so hard. I don't want you to hurt yourself.

Involuntarily, her arm tightened around Finn. She got the message—he wanted her fresh and not fatigued from her time in the gym. "How are negotiations going?" she asked. Al would expect her to want to know what was happening, so the question shouldn't set off any alarms with his men.

"Things are preliminary."

Something in the way he said it made her uneasy. Working a deal with Ramos and Silva meant Finn was walking a tightrope without a net. "Don't force things before they're ready," she whispered. Fear choked her voice.

Finn stiffened. "Of the two of us, who's the most impatient?"

She grimaced. "I am."

"Is it close?"

"No," Zo admitted. "You're considerably more patient than I am."

It didn't mean he wasn't trying to get things moving, though. She knew him. Finn wanted her and Tia Izel safe. He'd also be aware that it was only a matter of time before Tio Luis would try to take matters into his own hands again. Factor in his team, and there were a lot of balls to juggle. It would make sense to try to eliminate some of them.

There was no way to pin him down, not with the surveillance they were under, but she wanted Finn to know she was here for him. Maybe his former team was working with him, but she was his partner. She wouldn't let him go it alone.

"I have a lot of experience negotiating. I could help if you need me."

If she thought he'd been stiff before, his muscles became downright rigid now. "Zofia, do I interfere when you're doing your job?" His tone was calm, but she knew better.

"No."

"Then don't interfere with me while I'm working."

Finn untangled himself from her and turned on his side. Facing away from her.