Page 10 of Wicked Suspicion

“I have thought of that,” the merc said. “The problem remains. Señor Torres is taking things slowly. I’m not in a position to force his hand.”

Vargas stared at the merc. Even though it was hot and humid, Nyx felt goosebumps rise on her arms. “I think,” the drug lord said slowly, “I have a way to encourage you to work harder to establish a connection with Señor Torres and acquire the new rifle to sell to him.” His lips quirked up the tiniest amount. “You and your charming fiancée will be my houseguests until I receive the weapons.”

Chapter 5

Nyx stood in the middle of the room and watched the mercenary pull electronics from hidden locations. They’d been escorted to a suite inside the hacienda, not the small casita next to it. Maybe the guest house lacked enough security for prisoners. And that’s what they were. Prisoners.

Their cell was spectacular, with bamboo floors polished to a high sheen, a tray ceiling with recessed lights, and the area rugs, chairs, and bedding were a pristine white. They were on the second floor, and outside, she could see a thick wall with razor wire strung along the top, negating the luxury surrounding her. A shudder went through her, and she brought her gaze back to the room itself.

A glass door led to outdoor space. Nyx couldn’t call something that large a balcony. But while it theoretically would be an enjoyable location to have morning coffee, there were two men with assault rifles stationed on it, making sure they didn’t escape.

The mercenary tossed the latest eavesdropping device he found onto the bed. There was quite a collection.

“Are there going to be repercussions for yanking this stuff?” She gestured toward the bed.

He stopped. For a moment, the merc studied her, and then said, “I think we’ll be okay. If it was a problem, someone would have come in here and stopped me.”

Nyx nodded. The circumstances meant she had to rely on him and on his judgment. A mercenary. A man whose loyalty was for sale to the highest bidder. He checked the area around the light switches, and she watched him work. Something about him made her believe she could put her trust in him, but that was probably hormones.

She was more than a little attracted to him and had been since she sat at his table at the market. Once his blue eyes had connected with hers, she’d gone warm. And now? He’d taken off the long sleeve camo shirt and the olive drab T-shirt hugged his chest. She was mesmerized by his biceps, the play of muscles in his forearms.

His dark-blond hair was shaggy, tousled, and Nyx wanted to run her fingers through it. Whether to smooth it down or muss it up more, she wasn’t sure herself. His bottom lip was fuller than the top one, tempting her to nip it. Lick it.

Forcing herself to move on, she continued to study him. He was a couple inches over six feet with broad shoulders, muscular but with a lanky build. He appeared young. His beard was noticeably sparse on his cheeks, but Nyx knew better. She’d sat at a table with him, she’d spoken with him, had seen the little lines at the corners of his eyes. If she had to guess his age, she would put him closer to thirty than twenty.

She’d also bet he used that baby face to his advantage.

Gunrunning. Damn it. She hated arms dealers. Her dad had retired from the US Army, but her brother was still active Army, in Special Forces, and these illegal arms deals put him at greater risk. The idea of anything happening to Dylan made her feel sick.

Nyx had known blond and gorgeous was involved in either weapons or narcotics trafficking. It was disappointing anyway. Not that she was looking for a relationship. Not while she was in school. She wasn’t missing out on her dreams, not like her mom had.

Sitting in one of the white chairs facing the bed, she shifted so she could keep her eyes on him as he continued his search. He’d already gone through the sitting room off the bedroom and the enormous bathroom, pulling listening devices and cameras. She’d followed him around, watching him work.

The sitting room matched the bedroom for décor, but the bathroom did not. The first two were warm, welcoming, and comfortable. The bathroom was enormous. It was elegant, with marble tile on the floor, in the shower, and surrounding the tub. It was also cold, lacking any sense of style. Why the difference?

Nyx watched the mercenary continue his search. She wanted to question him and learn more about him. Maybe he’d stepped in and saved her at the ruins, but she needed to know if, when push came to shove, she could trust him to have her back. The thoughts that came to mind had to remain unspoken. Then there were the basic questions she couldn’t ask because a fiancée would already know these things about the man she was marrying.

Like his name.

He knew who she was because the drug lord had asked, but all she had was a surname and it was likely an alias.

Walking to the bed, he added more items to the collection. “I think I got everything,” he said, turning toward her.

“How sure are you?”

That one shoulder shrug she was growing accustomed to. “About ninety-five percent.”

Which meant she still couldn’t ask him any questions. The danger was too great and their situation too precarious. At least her situation was precarious. He might be in a better position since Vargas wanted something from him.

“Why the hell did you get involved with arms? Isn’t being a mercenary enough for you?”

He gave her a warning look and Nyx took a deep breath. She couldn’t go off on him, not when she needed his help to get out of this situation alive. Not when they might be monitored by the drug lord. If he found out they’d lied to him about an engagement, neither one of them might be around to see tomorrow’s sunrise.

Her chest was tight, but her tone came out moderately as she asked, “Do you think we’ll really be stuck here until you complete the arms deal?” It was more difficult to keep her expression neutral, but she made an effort in case there was a stray camera the mercenary had missed.

“I hope not.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted to lean his hips against a dresser. “You heard enough to guess I’m having trouble connecting with the arms dealer I need to sell to. That’s going to eat up some time. The bigger problem is getting the weapons Señor Vargas wants. They’ll be nearly impossible to get my hands on. Personally, I don’t want to be a houseguest for months.”

Her brain jumped from item to item before settling on the last one. “Months?” Nyx felt her stomach bottom out. She couldn’t be here for months. When she missed her promised check-ins, her teammates would begin to worry. That would morph into full-fledged anxiety when she didn’t show up at the hotel tomorrow as scheduled. It would only take a day or two before Frankie and Ellis would come looking for her and they’d get themselves in trouble.

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