Chapter 3

The road closest to the ruins was so rutted that Case needed to hold the steering wheel with both hands. He'd have to park and hike in the rest of the way, but he was looking forward to that. At least when on foot, he wouldn't worry about his spleen being jolted out of his body. It wouldn't be much longer. The place where he planned to leave the SUV was right around the next curve.

Case eased up on the accelerator. There was a Jeep already parked there. That was unexpected. Vargas's hacienda was on the other side of the ruins. This wasn't a road he'd anticipated any of the drug lord's men would use. It was why he'd chosen it.

Pulling to a stop behind the other vehicle, Case shut off the engine and got out. A quick walk around told him the Jeep was a rental, but that was all he learned. He tried the doors.

Locked.

He rested his hand on the hood. Cold.

The four-wheel drive had been parked here for a while. Vargas's men were watching this side of the pyramid and drove here rather than walk across the clearing, it was the only thing that made sense. He would have had his men in position hours before Case arrived.

But why a rental?

Case messaged Ski and Baggs. They wouldn't be near the ruins, but the captain had insisted someone be in the vicinity. As if he'd have a chance to send a mayday if things went to hell. Maybe they'd be close enough to hear gunfire. With a shrug, he headed toward the rendezvous point. None of Vargas's lieutenants would appreciate tardiness.

The air was heavy with humidity and the ground was thick with vegetation. It made walking difficult, but there was supposed to be a path.

It was another fifty yards or so before he found the track. There were signs someone had walked through here recently, but after spotting the Jeep, that wasn't a surprise. He moved as fast as possible until he neared the ruins.

He felt eyes on him.

Case slowed his pace, walking more cautiously and scanning the area. A man stepped onto the path, blocking him. Two others emerged from the undergrowth and flanked him.

The first guy gestured with his weapon, and Case raised his hands over his head.

Quickly, efficiently, they searched him. They didn't miss a single weapon, or anything Case could use as a weapon, but then Vargas hired pros.

"I will escort you to the clearing," the leader said in Spanish.

It only took moments before they exited the trees. There wasn't much space clear of undergrowth. The rainforest was trying to reclaim the site and winning the battle.

The man left him in the center with an order to stay put. As if he was going anywhere. Not only did his two cohorts remain, standing menacingly on either side of him, but Case knew there were more men, concealed and waiting for him to make a wrong move.

Casually, as if he was merely curious, Case looked around the ruins. A large step pyramid to his left loomed over the small clearing. Trees and other vegetation nearly swallowed three sides. To his right was a low rock wall with carved figures decorating it. If all hell broke loose, it was the only cover he'd have. The odds of reaching it before taking a bullet were slim.

Case felt twitchy. Exposed. Surrounded. He sensed Vargas's men on every side. He eyed the stone wall again. No, he'd never make it if shooting broke out.

Low clouds gathered in the distance, suggesting it would rain soon, but for the moment, it was sunny. He wanted to be finished with this and back in his vehicle before the skies opened up.

"What are the chances we'll be out of here before the rains come?" he asked in Spanish.

"That will be up to Se?or Vargas," the man on his left said. "He'll arrive shortly."

Adrenaline surged. Vargas was coming here in person. Not one of his lieutenants. This was a surprise, and it raised another question.

Why the fuck had Vargas set the meeting out here? The last time they'd talked in his office. Case was reasonably confident this wasn't a plan to murder him. It was too elaborate, and he'd been given too much notice. It would be easy enough for someone to put a knife in his side in Trujillo.

He cooled his heels for about twenty minutes before Vargas made his appearance, coming from the direction of the stone wall. He was surrounded by a phalanx of bodyguards. Case turned to face him, putting his back to the pyramid.

Julián Vargas was approaching fifty. His build was slender and wiry. He stood a few inches shorter than Case. His hair was shaggy, hitting his jawline, and wavy. There was a jagged scar on his face, so old it was a white line. His brown eyes had a coldness to them, a flatness.

"You're punctual," the drug lord said. "I like that."

"I didn't want to keep you waiting," Case said, as if he'd known Vargas would be making a personal appearance. "Why are we meeting here and not in your office?"

"You don't appreciate the beauty of the rainforest?"

Case shrugged. "It's a curious choice, given what happened here last year."

"Not so curious when one considers the message the location sends." His facial expression never changed, but the man's eyes became harder.

"That life is fragile, and it can end at any moment without warning."

Vargas inclined his head. "Even violently, if a man should anger the wrong person."

"Understood," Case said. The threat was loud and clear, but he didn't believe it was the only reason they were at the ruins. He considered pushing, looked at the drug lord's expression and thought better of it. His curiosity wasn't worth angering the man. "What can I do for you, Se?or Vargas?"

"I thought you had a pipeline to weapons. I thought you wanted to work with Se?or Torres to make your fortune. Apparently, I thought wrong."

"You aren't wrong."

He'd made it clear from the beginning of his association with Vargas that he'd only sell weapons to one man. Jorge Torres was an international arms dealer who had a stranglehold on the arms trade in South America, particularly in Puerto Jardin. Anyone who tried to nose in on his turf wound up dead.

Case and his team had been assigned to bring down Torres and end his arms dealing. Permanently. To put the plan in motion, he had to meet the man. That was proving to be a challenge.

"Then why does Se?or Torres have no inventory?"

Case took a moment to think. This had to be about the precision-guided rifles, but he couldn't leap to conclusions. "Se?or Torres is a cautious man."

"Explain," the drug lord ordered.

"I met with one of his employees a few weeks ago. There's been no word since then, and none of his men want to talk to me."

Vargas's expression remained flat, but some of his intensity seemed to ease. "You've tried to contact him?"

"Dozens of times, Se?or Vargas. Either his men aren't passing my messages along, or Se?or Torres is ignoring them." Case shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe he decided he didn't want to do business with me, and this is his answer."

"No. Se?or Torres wants the high-tech weapons," Vargas said. "If there is any chance you can procure them, he's not going to turn his back on it."

"There's almost no way I can get those weapons. As I told you the last time we talked, the US Army has been watching them like a hawk since they were recovered and returned."

"You'll get them," Vargas said, an edge to his voice that made Case go hyperalert. "I want them and Torres cannot sell me what he does not have. You like money, and Se?or Torres will pay a premium to acquire them. The man is simply being especially diligent after being betrayed by his second in command."

Case nodded. Torres's right-hand man had been stealing weapons from his boss and selling them for personal profit. From the intel reports, the arms dealer had gone from cautious to downright paranoid. He'd eliminated any employee whose loyalty was suspect and vetted anyone new to the nth degree.

"Se?or Torres might leave me waiting for a while."

Vargas's expression darkened. "That's unacceptable."

"Se?or Vargas," Case said, careful to keep his tone conciliatory. "I can't do more than I currently am to expedite the relationship with Se?or Torres. I've tried everything I can think of without success. You've personally contacted him, and still he's taking his time."

There was a pause before the drug lord asked, "With whom did you meet?"

"A Se?or Hernandez."

"Hernandez." Vargas pursed his lips. "In his fifties? Much gray in his hair as well as his mustache and goatee?"

Case inclined his head. "And he wore an expensive suit. Designer."

"You'll hear from Se?or Torres sooner rather than later," Vargas said with assurance. "Alejandro Hernandez is high up in the organization. If your initial meeting was at this level, it's merely a matter of time."

"The answer could be a refusal to work with me," he reminded the drug lord.

"It won't be." The man's attention wandered, his gaze focusing past Case's shoulder. Before he could turn to check out what was happening, Vargas met his eyes again. "I will call Se?or Torres and remind him that I'm waiting. That others are waiting. That should speed things up."

Or infuriate him, but that was Vargas's problem. As long as Case didn't get caught in the middle of a pissing contest.

"No matter the profit, I might not be able to get my hands on the rifles you want," Case warned. "Supplies remain limited, and the Army hasn't issued the weapon to any of their troops yet."

Vargas's eyes narrowed. "I suggest you and your friends in the States think of a way to circumvent any issues. I want that rifle."

Case bet he did. The drug lord was at war with a rival, and reports said they were evenly matched. The precision-guided rifle would give Vargas the edge. If Oz was right, there was a skirmish with the government coming if President Cardozo decided to squeeze the drug lords and the other illegal enterprises that called Puerto Jardin home. Cardozo was savvy. It was how he'd stayed in power for so long. He might find another way to fund the mercenaries fighting in the civil war.

"I'll talk to my friends," Case said. If push came to shove, he could string Vargas along. The most important thing was getting to Torres, and if the drug lord could help?—

A stirring among the entourage caught Case's attention. He looked past Vargas, watching them shift positions. Something was going on.

"Is there a problem?" Case asked, gesturing toward the men.

"Maybe. Maybe not. We'll know in a few moments."

Vargas looked over Case's shoulder again. He turned to see what was going on behind him. Two of the drug lord's men had a tight grip on a woman wearing a tan LA Dodgers baseball cap, a long-sleeved olive shirt, and brown trail pants tucked into hiking boots. Smart rainforest attire. A third man walked behind them, carrying a small backpack, a phone, and a pistol. Confiscated from the woman?

They drew closer, and Case stiffened. What the fuck was she doing at the ruins?

The drug lord caught his slip. "Friend of yours?"

Vargas's men drew to a stop. Case glanced down at the brunette he'd shared his table with over lunch a couple of days ago. Her face was impassive. She should be scared. Didn't she realize she was in deep shit?

"More than a friend. She's my fiancée."