Page 47 of Wicked Ambition

“Okay,” he agreed with an easiness he didn’t feel.

Oz tried to come up with a reprieve from this conversation, but they’d eaten dinner before checking into the hotel and there was nothing in the room to use as a diversion. Crossing to her, he eyed the coffee table. If he tried sitting on it, he’d probably endup on the floor. He detoured to grab the desk chair placing it so he faced her.

Ayla looked exhausted. However, even with dark circles under her eyes and a pale face, there was no mistaking her determination. Oz frowned, but if he tried to get her to go to sleep this early, she’d resist. He’d been all about keeping her safe from the start, but now he wasn’t only protecting her. He was protecting their unborn baby, too. The damn thing was he couldn’t load her on a plane back to the States, no matter how much he wanted to.

Fuck the Russian mafia and fuck Yaromir Ivanov and his band of murdering assholes. These motherfuckers were evil—seriously evil—and they wanted Ayla’s twin. There was no reasoning with them. There was no explaining that Ayla wasn’t who they thought she was.

“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning forward and resting a hand on his knee. There was genuine concern in her expression.

“Yeah, sorry, Pollita. I was thinking about something else. Nothing you need to be concerned about,” Oz tacked on. No, she didn’t need to worry about her safety. He’d take care of her and their baby, no matter what it required from him. “I’m the one who should be asking how you’re doing. Is your stomach hanging in there?”

Nodding, Ayla said, “I’m feeling good right now. What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

Oz wasn’t surprised she went right back to the subject she was interested in. An idea popped into his head. “I thought we’d drive to San Isidro.”

“You said the town wasn’t safe because that drug lord you used to work for is nearby and that my going there would be a waste of time.” She sat back and Oz immediately missed the touch of her hand.

“We’d have to be careful, but we should take a trip and see if she made it down there. If Iona never visited, we’ll know to focus on Trujillo. We can’t rule it out without checking.”

While there was some risk in taking her to San Isidro, it should be limited to one player. Oz would keep his eyes open for anyone and everyone, of course, but he anticipated the other assholes wouldn’t be trekking ninety minutes plus to the back of beyond. Especially when their presence alone might be enough to piss off Julián Vargas. The drug lord met threats head-on and with lethal force.

Ayla pursed her lips as she thought it over and Oz had to hide a smile. Given the situation he was in, it was perverse as fuck to enjoy watching her measure his words, but he did like it.

When it came to his teammates, he pushed buttons and got the expected reactions. Lurch was still pissy about how Oz had maneuvered him, but he didn’t think it would last long. Without his help, Lurch would have lost the woman he was in love with. Oz didn’t like this part of himself or how easy it was for him to manipulate others, but he did it when he deemed it necessary.

He was walking a fine line with Ayla. Keeping her safe was his top priority, but he didn’t want to lie to her more than necessary. Maybe it was stupid because if she discovered what he’d done, she’d fry his ass whether he lied to her two times or a hundred and two times. Nevertheless, it mattered to him.

“It makes sense,” she said slowly. “It’s too bad you took my phone. I could show the people in San Isidro a picture of Io and ask if they’d seen her.”

Oz blew out a breath. “I explained that we can be tracked via your phone.”

Ayla waved her hand, but she was leaning back now, and her eyes were half closed. “Let’s not go into this again. I understand and it’s why I didn’t argue with you about it. How are we goingto handle asking about her without a photo? Take a picture of me without the wig and flash that around?”

“We won’t need one. Since the civil war started, San Isidro doesn’t get a lot of visitors, especially not American women. If she was there, they’ll remember.” Ayla’s eyes were completely closed now. Getting to his feet, Oz moved the chair out of his way and went to the loveseat. “Come on, Pollita, let’s get you in bed.”

He helped her up and wrapped his arm around her. Ayla leaned into him as they walked. “Oz,” she said sleepily, “I’m keeping the baby.”

“I know. The way you talked made that clear. Since we’re in this together, you better get used to having me around for the next eighteen years or so.”

“Really? If you’re working as a mercenary, how often will you even be in the US? It seems like I’ll be on my own most of the time.” Ayla yawned. “Where’s my bag? I need my pajamas.”

When the door to the bathroom closed behind her, Oz sank onto the side of the bed.How often will you even be in the US?He might not be a mercenary, but he spent most of his time in Puerto Jardin. Fuck.

Chapter 19

Instead of searching for Io or Fuentes, Cal Baggnell was pulled to take a check-in. He got it. They were limited and sometimes it was necessary to double up on assignments. This was beyond a simple inconvenience, though. If something happened to his Wild Thing…

He paused inside the doorway of the bar, and as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, he scannedEl Taller. The mercenary hangout was packed for a Sunday evening. Contracts on the government side had been expiring with no renewals, and mercs were getting edgy. With a little luck, he’d be in and out before any fights started, but it was late enough to make that a coin flip.

Maybe this break in his search for Io would be good. Focusing on something else for five minutes might clear his thoughts and give him ideas for new places to look for her. But alarm bells were going off in his head, and the longer he went without a hint about where his woman was, the louder they shrieked.

Cal went to the bar, bought a bottle of beer, and looked for Lurch. He found him at the corner table the team preferred to sit at.

“Dude, what time did you get here to grab prime real estate?” Cal asked as he took a seat to Lurch’s left and put his back against the second wall.

“You don’t want to know. Why are you here, Baggs? I thought Ski was coming.”

With his baby face, Lurch looked as if he should be at a frat party. Instead, he was undercover as a small-time gunrunner and trying to make inroads into Jorge Torres, an international arms dealer and death merchant. His blond hair was more messed up than usual, and he appeared tense.

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