Page 2 of Wicked Suspicion

“Vargas sent you to find me.” Vargas was the drug lord Oz was supposedly working for.

“Got it in one.”

Case reached for his beer and took a long swig. Fuck. The last thing he needed was Vargas on top of everything else he was trying to handle. The man was smart, and he was deadly, which meant Case needed to be on his A-game when he interacted with him. At the moment, he was too distracted by a brunette fireball and doing what he could to keep her safe.

“Señor Vargas usually sends his more senior employees when he wants to bring me in for a meeting.” Senior as in men who wore suits to do their dirty work instead of camouflage and combat boots. Case had gone for a ride in Vargas’s limo with a couple of those dudes not that long ago.

“I’m more intimidating.”

Case said nothing, but he thought the men in the dark suits were more threatening. There was something about looking professional while issuing warnings that made it more visceral.

Oz’s attention drifted. “Ski and Baggs are here.”

Following his teammate’s gaze, Case spotted the two men inside the doorway. They were both over six feet tall with brown hair and dressed in the usual merc attire. That’s where the similarities ended. Ski’s hair was nearly black, and it was getting long. Baggs was the new medic and had joined the team shortly before they’d inserted in Puerto Jardin. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, and while it was shaggy, he didn’t look as disreputable as Ski did.

Pienkowski spotted them and his brows went up. After a brief exchange with Baggs, the medic went to the bar and Ski headed for the table.

“This is a surprise,” he said as he took a seat, shifting the chair until most of his back faced the wall. “What are you doing here, Lurch?”

With a shrug, Case said, “I was looking for someone and ran into the Wizard instead.”

“I didn’t think you two were supposed to know each other.”

“I called him over,” Oz said. “Vargas ordered me to give him a message, and this saved me from having to hunt all over Trujillo.”

Ski nodded. “The rebels still after you?”

Reaching for his beer bottle, Case said, “It’s hard to say.”

“Bullshit. Try again.”

He took a sip and spent a few seconds deciding how to answer. Case hated liars. He tried not to lie to his teammates, but anything he said would be reported back to the captain. This might need to be one of those times where he omitted some intel.

Finally, he lowered the beer and said, “It is hard to say because I’ve been avoiding them.” Until today, but Ski—and the Big Dog—didn’t need that information. “Nothing’s changed that I’m aware of, so assume they remain interested.”

Baggs arrived at the table with two beers, set one in front of Ski, and took the seat on Case’s side of the table. He shifted the chair, too, protecting his back. “We have a lot of unhappy mercs,” the medic said. “They’re bitching about their contracts expiring and no sign they’ll be renewed.”

“Which side? Do you know?” Case asked.

“Sounded like the government.”

“That’s interesting,” Oz said conversationally. “I wonder if the war is taking another time out?”

Case shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything to suggest that. It’s more likely their off-the-books slush fund is running low.”

It wasn’t good news. The Puerto Jardinese government didn’t scale down. Instead, they either put the screws to their own citizens, put the screws to the drug lords and other illicit operators, or stole something they could sell for big bucks. The first two options destabilized an already shaky status quo but were the most likely to occur.

“Fuck,” Oz muttered. “That’s all I need is to be in the middle of a war between Vargas and the government.”

“Your boss wouldn’t pay up?” Ski asked.

Oz scowled. “I doubt it. When he took over the cartel, he was completely ruthless. I don’t think he’ll meekly fall in line with any extortion effort from the capital.”

They were all quiet for a moment. Case assumed everyone was envisioning the hellscape Trujillo would become if that occurred. Things had been bad enough for a few months last year, and that had been gang-on-gang warfare. Gang-on-government had the potential to be bloodier.

“Cheer up,” Ski said. “There are still treasures in the national museum the government can steal and sell. That’s the safer path to an influx of cash.” He changed the subject. “Lurch, you have anything to report on the arms front?”

“No change. A lot of spinning my wheels.”

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