Page 39 of Wicked Suspicion

“You’d really trade a billion-dollar treasure for a few million dollars’ worth of arms?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Julián scolded her. “I’m taking the weapons and keeping the Treasure of Trujillo.”

Chapter 17

After hours of stress, Nyx wanted to relax on the return drive to the hacienda—at least for a few minutes. Her brain, though, continued to spin. She’d been superfluous, a completely unnecessary arm accessory, so why had Julián dragged her to Trujillo?

She wanted to ask him, but she needed to wait until he put his phone down. He’d been messaging since they got in the limo.

They’d attended strictly to see the president. Shortly afterward, the car had been brought around, and they’d left. Soft lights were on in the back of the limo. The two bodyguards sat silent and alert.

There was a pause in the texting. “I was wondering,” she began, trying to sound deferential, “why you needed me to attend your meeting tonight? I didn’t even speak to the president.”

The drug lord appeared resigned when he looked at her. “If I approached President Cardozo without you, he wouldn’t have believed any claim I made about the treasure.”

“But I didn’t say anything, and he didn’t ask for details. Why would he believe you about the Treasure of Trujillo simply because I was with you tonight? I would think he’d be just as skeptical.”

Julián tucked his phone into his tuxedo jacket. “He didn’t believe me because you were along. He’s going to do an investigation. He will learn you work for the Paladin League.”

“I could be in Trujillo for a thousand different artifacts.”

“Do you think your foundation is airtight? That there are no leaks? He’ll be able to learn exactly why you’re here. It might take him a few phone calls, but eventually he or one of his men will find the right contact.”

They had a mole at the Paladin League? Why? Who cared about a small nonprofit? She itched to phone Archer and let him know someone in his organization was betraying them, but Nyx had to save that for later. “I know I’m missing something,” she said. “The Paladin League’s presence in Trujillo—even if it is for the treasure—shouldn’t convince anyone that it will be located, especially not Cardozo. He didn’t rise to his position by trusting slim evidence.”

Julián shrugged, the motion smooth, unconcerned. “It doesn’t matter if he has doubts. He merely needs to believe there’s a chance the treasure will be found.”

Nyx considered that for a moment, then started to connect the dots. “Because he only needs to get those weapons to Puerto Jardin. Once they’re in the country, your organization—or the man Charlie is supposed to work with, Torres—can get hold of them. Security in the United States would be harder to overcome.”

“And there’s the problem of smuggling them out.”

“Why didn’t you just give Cardozo my name and leave me on the estate?”

He stared at her as if she were a failing student.

It irritated her enough to cycle through ideas. One stuck. “It makes it appear,” Nyx said slowly, “as if I’m working with you. That I’ll betray the Paladin League for whatever you’re giving me. That bolsters your claim that you’ll have the treasure because why would I risk my job if I didn’t believe we’d find the cache?”

“The perception will help overcome the holes in the story. Cardozo’s greed will do the rest.”

“You don’t like the president.” The expression on Julián’s face had her swallowing hard. She’d inadvertently poked something.

“Once, I was a member of the presidential brigade. My unit was the elite of the elite. It was the beginning of Cardozo’s presidency. We believed he was trying to clean up the corruption, and that we were helping. Then we learned the truth.”

His voice was flat, but something about it raised goosebumps on her arms. “He was using you to get rid of his opposition, anyone who might make things difficult for him.” It was a guess. The anger on the drug lord’s face told her it was accurate.

“When we began to suspect the truth, we became dangerous to him. My wife and daughter were in our car, waiting for me. I pressed the auto start as I walked toward the vehicle. It exploded. My family died. I was left with this souvenir.” Julián ran his finger across the ragged scar on his cheek. “So no, I do not like Cardozo.”

The idea was horrifying, and in Puerto Jardin, all too believable. “He doesn’t remember who you are,” Nyx said as realization hit her.

“My unit—we weren’t people to him. We were tools.”

“You could have joined the revolution to overthrow his regime.”

Julián shook his head. “The rebels won’t succeed, and I no longer champion impossible causes.”

Nyx’s hands were clenched, her stomach tight. She could feel the man’s pain over the deaths of his wife and child. Julián might never move past the grief.

“The rebels have held their own for more than ten years,” Nyx argued.

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