Page 23 of Stalking His Target

But what is it?

The two men get out first, leaving us alone in the SUV. I move to open my door, but Layla takes my hand and stops me. “Babe, I need to tell you something.”

My heartrate skyrockets.

Remain calm. Stay the course.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, then opens them again. I see fear. Actual fear I haven’t seen since that night in the street when I came to her rescue.

“My uncle isn’t a farmer. He’s a cartel boss.”

“A cartel boss…?” I don’t even have to act shocked. Why is she telling me this?

She nods, clearly ashamed. “I didn’t tell you until now because–well, I don’t participate in the family business. I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t even use his last name. I try to be a good niece, only because pissing him off is the last thing anyone wants to do. Family or not.”

This is a twist I did not see coming.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Taylor. I just wanted you to know who hereallyis before you meet him.”

I’m starting to come apart inside.

Oh, sweetheart. If only you could know whoIreally am.

“I appreciate that.” I nod. “Now I’ll definitely be on my best behavior.”

Layla looks relieved. She takes another deep breath, then kisses me before we step out of the truck.

I’m tense as we cross the driveway and head into the house. This is it. This is where Pablo Hernandez lives. The boss. El jefe. The agency has been searching for this place for a long time, and so far, my mission is going just according to plan.

The two maroon-suited men lead us down an enormous marble hall, decorated with pillars and gold leaf, to the back yard where tons of girls in tiny swimsuits are splashing around in amassive pool. My CIA-honed skills kick in, and I instantly scan the area. I spot Pablo instantly, reclining in a deck chair, a cigar in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

“Tío!” Layla calls out, a smile plastered across her face. Yeah, she definitely knows how to put on that good-niece act.

Pablo turns, and I get my first look at the devil.

He’s not that tall or that muscular, but the power this man wields and the number of lives he’s taken is unprecedented. I force myself to relax. I can’t act like I know any of this. To him, I’m just the clueless American boyfriend.

“Layla!” he calls out, extending his arms for an embrace, which Layla sinks into. My soldier instincts are on high alert. I want to actnow. End this tyrant’s life where he stands. But Layla’s life is on the line here too. I must wait for the perfect moment to make my move if there’s any hope of salvaging this.

And then we’ll see what happens to our relationship.

I can only pray she remains with me when she learns the truth.

“I’m so happy you could come! And who is this man you brought with you? Not some little American wimp, I hope?” He’s speaking Spanish to her, and I don’t let on that I can understand every word.

“No, of course not, uncle,” she replies in Spanish. “His name is Taylor, and he works construction.”

“A construction worker!” Pablo remarks, switching to English. “As long as he’s not some girly perfume salesman like most American men these days!”

I force myself to laugh as Pablo cracks up at his own joke. Layla laughs too, and I smile and nod. “That’s funny, sir. I agree with you.”

Christ, I’m being awkward. But maybe that’s good. Maybe it will just add to my cover.

Two girls in swimsuits bounce up behind Pablo, each taking one of his shoulders. They giggle and flirt and ask him, in Spanish, if they can give him a two-girl, hot-oil massage. Pablo’s eyebrows go up.

“Layla, why don’t you and Taylor go up to your room and get situated? I’m sure you’re eager to rest after the flight. You can join us for dinner in say, two hours?”

“That sounds great, Tío.”

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