Wild Fire
Page 67
“Keep it up, you look very cool and calm and just that little bit disdainful. My guess is the feed from the videos is being reviewed right now. She’ll be intrigued by Sobre’s interest in you. There’s no way they’ll miss Conner prowling in the shadows.”
She smiled up at him and touched his cheek affectionately, looking as loving as possible. It was strange. She knew Elijah’s background, what he’d come from, what he’d done in his life, most of it not good, and yet he had a clean scent. Depravity clung to Philip. It was difficult to avoid looking toward Conner as Elijah led her back to Marcos, who greeted her by raising his wineglass and telling her a joke. She was very aware of Philip joining them, standing next to her, which told all of them that despite the clear warning Elijah had given him, he felt very safe under Imelda Cortez’s protection.
Cortez definitely ruled here. Signs of her were in the security system and the guns Philip’s guards possessed. The weapons were too sophisticated for the men who held them. This was Sobre’s personal army, not Imelda’s, and Philip was too lazy, or too cheap to employ mercenaries or ex-soldiers. Maybe he didn’t believe he needed security in the same way Imelda did. But Imelda and Philip definitely were affiliated, or he wouldn’t have the guns and security system. As chief of tourism, he was in a position to help her get her drugs out of the country. And he got a fat paycheck for his services.
Isabeau was aware of Philip working his supposed charm on Marcos. Marcos was an older man and Cortez probably thought she could seduce him or blackmail him into going into business with her if her business offer wasn’t as sweet as he’d like. Elijah was a different matter. Young. Virile. His reputation was that of a ruthless dictator in his cartel. His men were loyal to a fault and his enemies tended to die fast. None of them had expected him to be with Marcos.
In another hour Imelda would be there and the tension would skyrocket. In the meantime, the team would try to get as much information out of Sobre as they could without ever asking about Cortez. He had to bring her up and Isabeau was certain he would. He was already dropping the names of celebrities who he’d had to dinner or one of his parties. He was a vain, pompous man, but she wasn’t going to underestimate him. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid.
“You have a lovely home, Mr. Sobre,” she said. “It was . . . unexpected.”
He preened and strutted a little. “We’re quite fashionable even here in this place.” His eyes held hers. “We make our own rules here and live the way we choose.”
She gave him her sweet, empty smile over the rim of her crystal glass. “Well you seem to be doing a fine job. Where in the world did you find all these servants?”
Deliberately she used the word servant, making her tone a little dismissive when she indicated the uniformed women. Almost all of them were women, but she noticed a few men moving throughout the room. She was certain they weren’t part of his security. Their eyes were downcast as they replenished the trays of food and moved through the guests. A few of the expensively dressed women ran hands over the men, touching them inappropriately. She would bet that the men and women going upstairs were taking advantage of other services his servants were required to give—and most likely the guests were being filmed secretly while they enjoyed themselves.
She knew the team believed they only had an hour or two before Imelda arrived. Everything Isabeau knew about the woman pointed to someone who would deliberately make those around her feel small. Imelda would be cold and cutting and even cruel to those she believed less than she was. If Imelda really was the one giving orders to Philip, he had only until the woman showed up to convince Isabeau he was someone important. After that, Imelda would undercut him.
Because he thought she was Elijah’s cousin, Sobre banked on her knowing what Elijah did for a living. As head of a dangerous family-owned cartel, Elijah would be regarded in the same vein as Imelda. They all had to wonder if Marcos was related to him and part of that cartel or whether they were coming together to work out an alliance.
Marcos patted one server’s butt and the woman averted her eyes and allowed him a closer inspection. Isabeau kept her expression the same when she wanted to throw her glass at the older man. What did she know about him? What were the others doing allowing him to behave like that? She forced herself to inhale, to take in the scents around her for her cat to process.
Fear was uppermost. Hatred. Rage. All boiled beneath the surface. She certainly smelled lust, but not coming from Marcos. He was playing a part. Just as she was. Just as Conner would be doing. She had to believe that.
She looked at Elijah. He had known. They’d all known. This was more than drugs and kidnapping. They hadn’t told her the things they’d expected to run into. She would never have been able to smile at Sobre had she known coming in. She was made deliberately to look like the innocent in the middle of a jungle full of predators. She’d bet her life that they’d discovered some of the precious tourists Sobre lured to his part of the rain forest disappeared without a trace. It would be so easy.
What was she thinking? That the suave man handing her another glass of wine was really a serial killer of young men and woman? That he used his position for his own sadistic pleasure? To cover her frightening thoughts, she lifted the glass to her lips. She actually took a sip before the scent hit her. It was drugged. She moistened her lips and looked again at Elijah. This time he reacted, smiling back at her and taking the drink from her hand, bringing the contents to his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly shouted at him to stop.
She smiled up at him and touched his cheek affectionately, looking as loving as possible. It was strange. She knew Elijah’s background, what he’d come from, what he’d done in his life, most of it not good, and yet he had a clean scent. Depravity clung to Philip. It was difficult to avoid looking toward Conner as Elijah led her back to Marcos, who greeted her by raising his wineglass and telling her a joke. She was very aware of Philip joining them, standing next to her, which told all of them that despite the clear warning Elijah had given him, he felt very safe under Imelda Cortez’s protection.
Cortez definitely ruled here. Signs of her were in the security system and the guns Philip’s guards possessed. The weapons were too sophisticated for the men who held them. This was Sobre’s personal army, not Imelda’s, and Philip was too lazy, or too cheap to employ mercenaries or ex-soldiers. Maybe he didn’t believe he needed security in the same way Imelda did. But Imelda and Philip definitely were affiliated, or he wouldn’t have the guns and security system. As chief of tourism, he was in a position to help her get her drugs out of the country. And he got a fat paycheck for his services.
Isabeau was aware of Philip working his supposed charm on Marcos. Marcos was an older man and Cortez probably thought she could seduce him or blackmail him into going into business with her if her business offer wasn’t as sweet as he’d like. Elijah was a different matter. Young. Virile. His reputation was that of a ruthless dictator in his cartel. His men were loyal to a fault and his enemies tended to die fast. None of them had expected him to be with Marcos.
In another hour Imelda would be there and the tension would skyrocket. In the meantime, the team would try to get as much information out of Sobre as they could without ever asking about Cortez. He had to bring her up and Isabeau was certain he would. He was already dropping the names of celebrities who he’d had to dinner or one of his parties. He was a vain, pompous man, but she wasn’t going to underestimate him. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid.
“You have a lovely home, Mr. Sobre,” she said. “It was . . . unexpected.”
He preened and strutted a little. “We’re quite fashionable even here in this place.” His eyes held hers. “We make our own rules here and live the way we choose.”
She gave him her sweet, empty smile over the rim of her crystal glass. “Well you seem to be doing a fine job. Where in the world did you find all these servants?”
Deliberately she used the word servant, making her tone a little dismissive when she indicated the uniformed women. Almost all of them were women, but she noticed a few men moving throughout the room. She was certain they weren’t part of his security. Their eyes were downcast as they replenished the trays of food and moved through the guests. A few of the expensively dressed women ran hands over the men, touching them inappropriately. She would bet that the men and women going upstairs were taking advantage of other services his servants were required to give—and most likely the guests were being filmed secretly while they enjoyed themselves.
She knew the team believed they only had an hour or two before Imelda arrived. Everything Isabeau knew about the woman pointed to someone who would deliberately make those around her feel small. Imelda would be cold and cutting and even cruel to those she believed less than she was. If Imelda really was the one giving orders to Philip, he had only until the woman showed up to convince Isabeau he was someone important. After that, Imelda would undercut him.
Because he thought she was Elijah’s cousin, Sobre banked on her knowing what Elijah did for a living. As head of a dangerous family-owned cartel, Elijah would be regarded in the same vein as Imelda. They all had to wonder if Marcos was related to him and part of that cartel or whether they were coming together to work out an alliance.
Marcos patted one server’s butt and the woman averted her eyes and allowed him a closer inspection. Isabeau kept her expression the same when she wanted to throw her glass at the older man. What did she know about him? What were the others doing allowing him to behave like that? She forced herself to inhale, to take in the scents around her for her cat to process.
Fear was uppermost. Hatred. Rage. All boiled beneath the surface. She certainly smelled lust, but not coming from Marcos. He was playing a part. Just as she was. Just as Conner would be doing. She had to believe that.
She looked at Elijah. He had known. They’d all known. This was more than drugs and kidnapping. They hadn’t told her the things they’d expected to run into. She would never have been able to smile at Sobre had she known coming in. She was made deliberately to look like the innocent in the middle of a jungle full of predators. She’d bet her life that they’d discovered some of the precious tourists Sobre lured to his part of the rain forest disappeared without a trace. It would be so easy.
What was she thinking? That the suave man handing her another glass of wine was really a serial killer of young men and woman? That he used his position for his own sadistic pleasure? To cover her frightening thoughts, she lifted the glass to her lips. She actually took a sip before the scent hit her. It was drugged. She moistened her lips and looked again at Elijah. This time he reacted, smiling back at her and taking the drink from her hand, bringing the contents to his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly shouted at him to stop.
