Page 92 of Betrayed

It was more like this morning. That was the first opportunity Arturo had to listen to the audio from the evening before. Adriana had nixed his plan to do that immediately when she’d come flying out of the house and raced out of the driveway, driving like a woman possessed toward downtown. Her reckless urgency and a gut feeling from both him and Cap had them tailing her all night. Including going back to her house, dragging her husband out of bed, so said his mussed hair and mismatched clothes, and onto several other stops before ending up at the meeting at the downtown warehouse.

They both made calls for backup—Cap to Rossi and Arturo to the feds—as they watched armed men arrive shortly after her. When Ray hadn’t shown up as he’d expected, his probing of her for his identity was to make sure he hadn’t been mistaken. No one had a clue they’d be dealing with two completely unrelated crimes.

As they followed closely behind Ray who was zipping around cars, crossing four lanes of traffic at a high rate of speed and scaring the shit out of him for Mari’s sake, he looked around and immediately got his bearings. Their route—northbound 610—would take them to Oak Forest.

“He’s going to her house,” Arturo predicted.

Cap immediately got on the horn to Brock. “Any sign of the other two from last night?”

“Negative. There’s been no action at all since last night.”

“You’ve got about eight minutes before you’ve got company,” Cap advised his man. “Get inside, but don’t engage until we arrive for backup—unless you have to.”

Once he hung up, he glanced quickly at Arturo then back at the road. “Where are your feds?”

“Twelve minutes out.”

Tony grunted. “They may be late to the party.”

“Have you got a plan?” Arturo asked.

“Not yet.”

“I do. Keep Mari alive at all costs.”

“That, my friend, goes without saying,” his old friend assured him as he whipped around a braking truck, but just barely.

* * *

THE BRIT-GONE-MAD ROGUEagent brought the SUV to a squealing halt in front of her house. Although scared out of her mind, the fact the asshole skidded off the pavement and ended up in her flower bed, decimating her beautifully manicured zinnias and butter daisies pissed her the hell off.

Ashworth was out the door the next second, pulling her by the hair over the center console and out his door with him. Eyes flooding with tears as her scalp burned like fire, she couldn’t see but heard the vehicles skidding to a stop behind them—Arturo and the Rossi cavalry, she prayed to God.

The muzzle of his gun pressed against her temple as he backed them to her front door, using her to shield his body. As he did, he released the torturous hold on her hair and slipped an unyielding arm around her waist. She blinked to clear her vision in time to see six doors fly open almost simultaneously and as many armed men train their guns on her captor.

“Let her go, Ray,” Arturo called, his voice cold and angry. “You’ve got no way out of this.”

“You’re wrong. She’s going to give me what I’m after and then I’m leaving with her on a plane that you arrange for me.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Then she’s dead.”

“That’s not happening, either.”Arturo stepped beyond the cover of his open door, raising his hands, palms out, gun loose in his hand. “Take me instead and let her go.”

“No!” Mari called. It came out raspy from the big baboon’s harsh treatment and fear for her man’s safety.

“Soft,” Ray scoffed, as he turned the gun from her head and took point-blank aim at Arturo’s chest. “Fuckin’ soft,” he yelled louder. “Like the rest of them. You don’t deserve to be MI6.”

Mari saw his finger move on the trigger and reacted. Screaming, she threw herself backward, head-butting him in the jaw as she pushed up with both hands on his gun arm. Arturo charged, diving and taking her down to the ground, his body weight robbing her of breath. Above them, dozens of rounds exploded, make thumping sounds as one after another found home in Ray Ashworth’s body.

Silence reigned for a split second before he fell to the ground next to them with a sickening thud. Reflexively, she turned to look, but Arturo caught her chin in his hand, preventing her. “No,minou. Eyes only on me,” he ordered.

His image wavered, watery from tears then she sobbed as the fear and panic of the last twenty minutes overwhelmed her. He rolled, taking her with him, until his back was to the hard brick pavers. Curling upright, he gathered her close, the whole time keeping her face averted from the gruesome sight of the dead man.

“Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his voice soothing, gentling her as though she were a scared kitten backed into a corner.

“I’m f-fine,” she managed through a hitching breath.

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