Page 24 of Wicked Intention

As soon as he walked through the gate, two bodyguards met him. “You know what to do, Señor Finley,” the man said.

Finn raised his hands over his head, and the pat-down commenced. These bodyguards were every bit as thorough as the pair he’d met atLa Brisa Griega,and soon, he was unarmed. Again. He liked it even less this time. Torres had a rep for violence.

The interior didn’t live up to the exterior, and the office they escorted him to was dirty and dated. The parquet floor was scarred and worn, the built-in shelving was old and darkened by time, and the ceiling had two banks of fluorescent lights that appeared to be a fire hazard. No one sat behind the heavy desk, and Finn looked over at the bodyguard beside him, raising one eyebrow.

“Señor Silva will be with you shortly.” The man moved to stand beside the door, his partner on the other side of the entrance. There was another door on the adjacent wall, but it was left unguarded.

The only seat was behind the desk, and Finn wasn’t sure if this was a message or if the house was short on chairs. He didn’t think this was a property Silva or Torres routinely used. Both men liked luxury. He’d have Pruitt check out the address, but Finn doubted it would lead anywhere.

He stood there, waiting for a while before Silva stalked in the room using the unguarded door to Finn’s right. The man was angry, and Finn tensed, trying to guess what hadset him off—his trip to San Isidro to see Ramos or tailing him?

The white-haired man took the seat behind the desk, carefully adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt below his suit coat, and then leveled a hard stare at Finn. “Señor Torres is a patient man, and you’ve taken advantage of his good nature.”

Finn was impressed that Silva managed to say it with a straight face because no one had ever characterized Jorge Torres asgood-natured. “I have business partners, Señor Silva, and they expected me to already have a deal in place. They aren’t as patient as Señor Torres. They can’t afford to be.”

“I’d watch my tone of voice if I were you, Señor Finley. You are quickly making me regret our association.”

“My apologies, señor. I sometimes forget myself in my determination to do right by my friends.”

Silva’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he brought his hand down on the desk three times in rapid succession. Another bodyguard entered through the same door his boss had used. This guy was huge, taller than Finn by a couple of inches and clearly into body-building. He wasn’t alone. He had a tight grip on a woman’s arm. Zo’s arm. Some of her hair had escaped from her ponytail, and her polo shirt was partially untucked from the back of her trousers, suggesting she’d struggled, but her demeanor was calm.

“Do you know this woman?” Silva asked.

It was a test. There was no way Silva had missed the way Finn had tensed when Zo had been brought into the office. In his peripheral vision, he picked up the pleading expression in her eyes, but he didn’t look at her.

“I know her,” Finn said, keeping his voice neutral.

“She was following me. She claims it was at your behest. Is this true?”

“It isn’t, but she could have misunderstood something I said.” What else had Zo told Silva, and how bad was the situation going to turn if Finn contradicted her story? He didn’tknow her well enough to even make a half-assed guess about other claims she might have made, and it left him feeling his way through a potential minefield. At night. Blindfolded.

“Perhaps that is becauseyouhave been following me.” Silva’s voice was smooth, with no sign of any emotion.

Finn shrugged. Tom Finley wouldn’t admit anything, not yet, so he played dumb. “Following you? Why would I do that?”

Silva gestured toward the man holding Zo’s arm, and his fist connected with her face. A red haze exploded through Finn’s mind, and he took a step forward before he realized if he moved another inch, both he and Zo were dead. The men standing on either side of the door were ready to shoot.

Fisting his hands at his sides, he fought for control. It became harder when he saw blood trickling from her mouth. The bodyguard holding her knocked her hand away when she tried to wipe at it. Finn was pissed as hell, but he reined it in because there was no other choice.

But he wouldn’t forget Silva giving the order or the man who decked her.

“Every time you lie to me, Señor Finley, there will be a cost, and she will pay it. Do you understand?”

“Sí,” he managed to grit out.

Silva ignored the anger in his voice. “Let’s try this again. Why were you following me?”

“I didn’t want you to forget that I was waiting for an answer.”

“And you traveled to San Isidro and tried to meet with Señor Ramos because…?”

Staying in character meant telling some bullshit lie, but Finn couldn’t risk it. He told the cover story instead. “Just checking out a secondary market in case Señor Torres decided to turn down my offer.”

Silva stared at him for a moment. “Señor Ramos contacted me personally to assure us he will not jeopardize along-term association for a singular deal with a mercenary. You can be certain our other clients will tell you the same thing.”

“You can’t blame me for trying,” he said. The note of flippancy was Tom Finley, and Finn’s gut churned, worried it would set Silva off again. If he infuriated the arms dealer, it wasn’t only his life on the line at the moment.

The older man’s lips thinned. “I see why you asked this woman to marry you. Neither of you knows how to watch your words.”

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