Page 83 of Wicked Intention

That shook her out of her idiocy. Finn only used her full name when he was irritated or angry with her. Either would fit the situation.

After running her thumb over the disk a final time, Zo stepped forward quickly. Too quickly. Al’s guards went on high alert, and multiple weapons pointed at her. It slowed her down, and she carefully held the artifact in front of her so they could see her hands. When she was an arm’s length away, she froze and offered it to Ramos.

As soon as he had it, the guard nearest to him used his rifle to gesture for Zo to back up. She obeyed immediately.

She didn’t know what she expected from Al once he had the disk, but giving it a brief glance and tossing it in the top left drawer of his desk wasn’t it. She gaped at him. And then she got angry. His men had chased her from Rio Blanco to San Isidro. They’d searched Tio Luis and Tia Izel’s inn looking for her. She’d had to run from them in the rainforest. And now that he had the relic, he didn’t even care enough to examine it?

Behind her, she heard a shuffling sound. The reminder that they were in Al’s office, under his power, with his men ready to shoot at any provocation, had her taking a deep breath. Maybe he didn’t want to show his men how much it meant to him. Ruthless drug lords had an image to protect.

It was Finn who got to the bottom line. “You have what you wanted. When will you release Izel Alvarez?”

“Not quite yet,” Al said.

Her muscles went rigid. She glanced at Finn, but he appeared as relaxed as if the conversation was about something bland, like the weather. His control helped her find her own center. Unless he wanted her help, she had to let Finnhandle this. He was the expert, and she’d make things worse, but damn, it was hard. Her first inclination was to protect the people she loved.

“Do you have a timeline for her to return home?” Finn asked, and Zo admired how easily he could pull off casual.

“It depends on you, Señor Rowland.” Al leaned back in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“How?”

There was a hard note in Finn’s voice that Zo hadn’t heard in a long time. She held her breath, scared of Al’s reaction, but he only rocked his chair back a fraction farther.

“I have a job that requires your skill. Once you complete it to my satisfaction, I’ll have my men escort Señora Alvarez to the inn in San Isidro.”

“When is Zo freed?”

“She leaves when you leave.”

Finn’s lips quirked up. “And I get to leave when your job is done?”

“Correct.”

“And I should believe you because…?”

Al sat up straight, his relaxed pose gone. “Because you have no other choice. I have your wife, and I have Señora Alvarez. I hold the cards. You either do as I ask, or I hurt the women.”

Finn paused, sending the message he wasn’t frightened. At least that’s what Zo thought the quiet meant. She had to bite her lip to keep from jumping into the silence, to try and appease Al before he could become furious.Finn has this. Finn has this.

“Which of my talents did you need, Señor Ramos?” he asked, vague interest in his voice.

Leaning back slightly, Al said, “I need someone who’s previously dealt with Señor Silva to broker a deal.”

“You have an arms broker.”

Mock sadness settled on Al’s features. “Unfortunately, Ernesto has passed away.”

Something in his voice sent a shiver down Zo’s spine.

“What was the cause of death?”

“Theft.” Al’s voice was harder and colder than Zo had ever heard it. Even his men shifted uneasily at the tone. “He wire transferred money to his accounts for weapons deals that never happened.”

Finn didn’t react. “There are plenty of gunrunners in Puerto Jardin.”

“That is truth, but they don’t fit my needs. I want someone I trust not to steal from me, and Señor Silva refuses to deal with anyone he hasn’t worked with in the past. That left me with you.”

“You trust me?” Finn’s tone was provoking. She remembered the indolent, almost-fuck-you voice from two years ago. It was pure Tom Finley.

---