Page 61 of Fast Fury

Trying her best to pretend he had no effect on her, she took the chair next to his and faced Taggart as he seated himself behind his desk. “So the woman in question is here somewhere?” she asked.

“She’s in the boardroom right now with her attorney and some other agents. She’s refused to talk anymore to us about her situation without someone from your office being present.”

“And what does she want from me?”

“To find out what deal the government can offer her.” He leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the surface of the desk, the muscles in his shoulders and chest bunching with the movement. “She showed up this morning with her lawyer right as the building opened and marched in here demanding to see me. Says she’s got intel we need about theVenenocartel. This is off the record, but one of my guys is in Maui and we just learned last night that the cartel has reissued a bounty on his head. They’re looking for him there, already gunned down his cousin, and took shots at my agent. If this woman knows anything about the current situation or insider information about the cartel, I need to know it fast. You get what I’m saying?”

“Yes. Can I see her now?”

Taggart shared a look with Malcolm for a moment, then nodded. “Right this way.”

She followed him down the hall and up an elevator to the top floor, where the conference room was located. With every step she was conscious of Malcolm behind her, a silent, magnetic presence that was impossible to ignore. Was he still angry with her for breaking things off? Surely now he could see she’d done them both a favor by ending things when she had.

At the conference room, two middle-aged male agents stood flanking the door. “She won’t talk,” one of them said to Taggart. “Hopefully you can get something out of her.”

“We’ll take it from here.” Taggart pushed open the door for her.

A slender woman somewhere in her mid or late-twenties sat at one end of the long table, dressed in jeans and an expensive-looking top, her long, chocolate-brown curls drawn back from her face in a sophisticated knot. Her makeup was classy and flawless, and Rowan noted the trademark red soles on her stilettos. Louboutins.

Whoever this woman was, she was polished and had money. Her middle-aged male attorney sat beside her, dressed in a business suit.

Rowan walked up to them with a professional smile in place. “I’m Rowan Stewart, with the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

They shook her hand, the woman’s gaze darting suspiciously to Taggart and Freeman, who stood behind Rowan. “Hi.” She didn’t offer her name.

Rowan sat two chairs down from her while Taggart and Freeman sat on the opposite side of the table. “How can I help you, Miss…”

“My client needs protection,” the lawyer said.

She focused on him. “Protection from what?”

The lawyer nodded at the woman, who then answered. “From people within theVenenocartel. You give me and my mother protection, and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Her English was flawless, but spoken with a marked Spanish accent.

“Your mother?”

The woman nodded, swung her gaze to Taggart. “Can you do that?”

“Are you talking WITSEC?”

“I don’t…I’m not sure.” She glanced at her lawyer uncertainly.

“That’s handled by the U.S. Marshal Service, not us. And whether or not they’d be willing to take you into the program will depend on who you are and whether you have anything useful to give us. Sowhoare you?”

She set her jaw, her blue-gray eyes flashing with annoyance. “I’m Oceane Nieto.”

Stunned silence met her words.

Surprised, Rowan glanced at Taggart and Malcolm for some guidance. The name meant something to them, because they were both staring at Oceane intently now.

“As in, Manny Nieto?” Taggart said.

Rowan didn’t know that name either, but clearly something big was going on here.

Oceane’s chin came up, quiet defiance written on her face. “He’s my father.”

Taggart sat back, never breaking eye contact with her. “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I need—”

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