Chapter 8

Oziah West always got the shit assignments when he infiltrated Vargas's cartel. A supposed mercenary who came and went from Puerto Jardin whenever he felt like it, there was no real opportunity to move up the hierarchy. He was used to working at night on jobs no one else wanted. He frequently rolled back to the hacienda after midnight.

What was unusual was not being allowed inside.

The man blocking the entrance was young, maybe in his early twenties, and carrying an assault rifle on a strap across his body. The barrel was pointed at the ground now, but it wouldn't take more than a split second for him to swing it up. Oz recognized him, although he couldn't remember his name.

"I work for Se?or Vargas," Oz said. "We shared third-shift guard duty a few days ago."

The young man nodded. "I remember, but Se?or Vargas has given the order. No one comes in and no one goes out."

Interesting. Vargas was canny and cautious, but this hadn't happened before that Oz was aware of. "Why?"

That got a shrug. "I wasn't given reasons, only my orders."

Of course, no one was going to question what they were told. Vargas would view it as disrespectful and handle it accordingly. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" Oz asked, changing tactics. "I live in the barracks on the estate."

"I'm sorry," the guard apologized. "Perhaps Trujillo?"

The kid's voice held honest regret, but also determination. There was nothing Oz could say to change his mind. Not a big surprise, but he'd hoped. "Do you know how long the lockdown is going to last?"

Another shrug. "Check tomorrow morning when Se?or Vargas and his leadership team are awake."

Before he could ask another question, the man retreated, closing the gate behind him. Oz could have made a move, could have forced his way inside because the kid wasn't skilled, but he also wasn't alone. If Oz tried something that stupid, he'd be shot so many times, he'd look like Swiss cheese.

Muttering a curse, he headed back to his vehicle. He was fucking exhausted. One of the drug lord's lieutenants had sent him to Rio Blanco as a courier first thing this morning. After he'd pulled guard duty all night. He opened the door and got behind the wheel. His ass protested. So did his legs. Driving to and from the Puerto Jardinese capital in one day was a hell of a lot of time behind the wheel especially on next to no sleep. The last thing he wanted was another ninety-minute trek to reach Trujillo.

He hadn't even been transporting anything that might help his team with their mission. Instead, he'd delivered money to another man high up in the drug lord's organization. The funds would no doubt be used for bribery, but his team hadn't been sent to stop the drug trade or clean up the Puerto Jardinese government.

Oz checked his phone. Nothing, but he hadn't expected any messages. Vargas sure as hell wasn't going to ask someone to fill him in about the lockdown. He briefly considered letting his captain know something strange was happening at the hacienda, but there wasn't enough intel to justify the risk.

He did not want to drive to Trujillo, but what other choice did he have? He sure as fuck wasn't sleeping in the car.

San Isidro. It was nearby and there was an inn there with a handful of rooms. The odds of it being full were slim. Getting the innkeeper to let him stay for the night was iffy, though. Se?or Alvarez hated the narcotics trade and wasn't fond of mercenaries.

It took longer to reach the inn than Oz had estimated, but the lights were still on downstairs when he parked the car. The two-story building was rustic. Worn. It was clear effort had been made to fix things, to patch things.

He'd never been inside the place, but he knew in addition to the few rooms upstairs, there was a tavern/restaurant downstairs. That meant there'd be some tables and likely seating at the bar. Probably a kitchen off the main room. He checked the time. The bar would have closed about forty-five minutes ago, so he only had to face Alvarez and his wife.

Maybe he should sleep in the car. Dealing with the innkeeper and his animosity was going to be a pain in the ass. He shifted, his back protested, and he reached for the handle. No fucking way was he spending the night in this tin can. He put his hand on his pocket, felt the familiar tiny bump, and rubbed it idly.

Oz walked in and stopped short. He'd expected to see Se?or and Se?ora Alvarez cleaning up for the night. Instead, he found Alvarez and two other old men sitting at a table. They didn't see him immediately, and he took in the room. The bar was decorated with bamboo across the front and there were maybe twenty bottles of alcohol on the back counter. In front of the bar, there were stools that appeared hand carved, and round tables throughout the room. Maybe fifteen of them.

The quiet conversation ended abruptly when the men spotted him.

"You, and those like you, are not welcome here," Se?or Alvarez said coldly in English.

"I'd like to rent a room for the night. I'll pay double," he tacked on, using Spanish before Alvarez could voice his refusal.

Maybe it wasn't fair. The inn was barely surviving and the extra money would help.

"No amount of money would entice me to allow one of Vargas's men to spend the night under my roof."

A ninety-minute drive loomed ahead of him unless he invoked the name of his buddy. It was a risk, but it should be small. Stony said that everyone in San Isidro believed he was a reformed gunrunner.

"Se?or Alvarez," Oz said, infusing his voice with deference, "we have a mutual friend who has stayed at the inn many times. Perhaps his good name will vouch for me."

Alvarez's eyes narrowed. "Who is this man?"

"Finn Rowland. I call him Stony."

The innkeeper's expression never changed, but the atmosphere in the room amped up. "You could have heard that name anywhere."

"Sí, I could have, but I've known him for years. We were friends before he met his wife."

"How did he meet her?" Alvarez asked.

Fuck. Oz knew the answer, but he wasn't sure Alvarez did. Stony had claimed to be married to his woman for years before they'd had a ceremony. He decided to go with the truth. "His wife was tailing Silva, the second in command to the arms dealer, Jorge Torres. She was searching for her best friend who was missing at the same time Stony was meeting with Silva."

The vibe in the room changed dramatically and immediately. The old men shared a glance. The oldest of the three nodded and the other two nodded back. When Alvarez looked at him, he had a feeling the innkeeper knew who Oz really was. US Army Special Forces. Shit, hell, and damn.

"I will give you a room, but first, join us." Alvarez gestured toward the empty chair at the round table.

Reluctantly, Oz sat down. Something was up and he wasn't sure what it was. "What did you want to discuss with me?"

The men exchanged another glance, but it was Alvarez who spoke. "What has Vargas been up to today?"

"I don't know. I was assigned to make a delivery in Rio Blanco this morning. I returned less than an hour ago."

"Se?or…" Alvarez let his voice trail off.

"Waters," Oz said, using his alias. "Oz Waters."

"Se?or Waters, you should be spending the night in Vargas's compound, not searching for a room. Why are you here and not his hacienda?"

Something in his voice had Oz sitting up straighter in his chair. This wasn't an idle question. "What happened?"

There was a long hesitation, before Alvarez said, "I have a guest. An archaeologist. She went to the Huarona ruins this morning and hasn't returned."

Shit, Lurch was supposed to meet Vargas there today. Oz's mind spun through scenarios, but what he said aloud was, "She might be injured at the site or in the rainforest."

"Sí, that's most likely the situation."

"Except?"

"Except your boss has used the ruins to conduct business in the past."

"He rarely goes there." But he'd visited there today. If they'd found her at the ruins, would an archaeologist cause the lockdown at the hacienda? Oz didn't know.

"Rarely does not mean never," the oldest of the three men said.

Oz nodded. If Vargas had brought the archaeologist to the compound, the question was why? If she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, they'd simply kill her and leave her body in the rainforest for the scavengers. There was no reason to haul her to the estate and go into full lockdown.

His stomach roiled. What if she was inside the compound?

"Why are you here?" Alvarez asked. "Why are you not at Vargas's hacienda?"

Taking a moment to weigh his options, Oz decided to go with the truth. "It's locked down. No one is allowed in or out."

The three old men shared another glance.

"That doesn't mean she's on the property," Oz said quickly. These men had rescued Alvarez's wife from the compound last year.

"No, of course not. You're correct when you say she's most likely injured. I suggested she not go to the ruins alone, but I could not stop her."

"You would have talked her out of it if she didn't seem capable."

Alvarez nodded. "Sí, I would have. I believed she'd be fine."

Oz didn't ask why. The man had been in the presidential brigade, Puerto Jardin's special forces. He'd be a good judge of who could and couldn't handle the trek to the ruins. Accidents could always happen even to the savviest and most skilled outdoors person, but when Oz considered the lockdown… He let the thought trail off. Yeah, his instincts were pounding on the walls of his stomach.

"Do you know where she went in?" Oz asked.

"Sí, I gave her directions."

"In the morning, I'll drive out there and look for her." It went without saying that Stony would want Oz to protect the innkeeper and that meant keeping him out of the rainforest.

"We'll go with you," the oldest man interjected.

"I can move faster alone."

"Sí." The old man nodded, but he appeared sad.

Alvarez pushed his chair back from the table. "I'll get your key."

As soon as he reached the second level, Oz checked out the floor. One communal bathroom without a lock. There was an occupied sign to hang on the knob and nothing else. The archaeologist's room was secured, but the other doors opened easily. The rooms were small, clean and well-tended. He went to his room and sank down on the bed.

Before he could get his boots off, his phone vibrated. The Big Dog. Why was the captain calling him?

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude, what are you up to?"

In other circumstances, Oz might have grinned because the captain never spoke like that, but it was the team's code for is it safe to talk? "I'm clear. What's happening, BD?"

"Lurch is missing."

"Shit." He'd been afraid of that. "He didn't check in after his meeting at the ruins?"

A short silence. "No. Ski and Baggs waited. No contact. They went out to the site and looked around but didn't find anything there."

The banging in Oz's stomach became jackhammers. "BD, I'm staying at the inn in San Isidro because Vargas locked down his hacienda. I can't get in." The captain started to talk, but he cut him off. "I found out from Se?or Alvarez that one of his guests went to the ruins today. She never returned to the inn."

Nguyen rarely swore, not that Oz heard, but one word came loud and clear over the mobile. "Fuck."