Page 6 of Wicked Ambition

“Your sister is down here?”

Her hand fisted around that ridiculous straw hat, and Oz swallowed a sigh. She didn’t trust him—he couldn’t blame her—but it was a pain in the ass. “Did I do anything to hurt you that night?” She shook her head. “Did I do anything that scared you?” Another shake. “Then haven’t I proven you can trust me?”

The answer took a while to come. “Maybe. I don’t know. You told that gang you were a mercenary. Are you?”

Oz fought off the urge to grimace. He couldn’t share the truth about who he was. He didn’t know her, not really, and the risk to his team and to their op was too great. Until he was back in the States, he was a merc. “Does it matter?”

“Of course, it matters. Mercenaries have no loyalty, no honor. I can’t trust you with information that might put someone I love at risk.”

“Your sister?”

Her lips tightened, but Ayla remained silent.

Oz made an assumption—her sister must have wound up in some kind of shit. Easy enough to have happen in Puerto Jardin. He nearly suggested Ayla could hire him to handle it for her, but resisted the urge. He had a job to do. BD would understand him getting her out of the trouble she’d been in, even if it meant losing the man he was supposed to tail, but the captain wouldnotunderstand Oz jumping in to offer his help.

“Pollita, I promise you that night we shared guarantees that I won’t betray you or your sister.”

Her cheeks went red again.

“Trujillo is a dangerous city. There are a lot of areas you’ll need to avoid. Those limitations will make it hard for you to helpyour sister. If you fill me in, I can offer some suggestions on what your next moves should be.” The words didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t want her out on her own. She could find herself in over her head before she realized it.

“How dangerous?” She sounded suspicious.

“This is where out-of-work mercenaries wait to be hired, and since a lot of contracts recently expired, there are more in town than usual. That’s in addition to the usual gangs, drug cartels, and assorted other criminals who call the city home.”

“Why are all these people in Trujillo? Why not somewhere else?”

She really didn’t trust him, and strangely enough, Oz liked that. As he fought off an urge to smile, he shrugged. “Maybe because it’s the largest city in the southern half of Puerto Jardin. Maybe because it gives them access to the rainforest. That’s where the illegal mining and logging are centered. Maybe because there are two rival drug lords in the area. As for the mercs, I don’t know for sure, but it’s neutral ground. Both the rebels and the government can come in and hire men.”

“Would I be safe on my own? Would any woman be safe alone?”

He curbed the instinct to say no. It wasn’t exactly the truth, and while it would be easy to manipulate her, he resisted the urge. That wasn’t who he was. Not anymore. “I don’t know, Pollita. Depends on how street-smart you are. It takes a lot of savvy to read a situation early enough to avoid it, and even then, it might be too late. It also depends on where you go and on who you talk to.”

A look of concern settled on her face and she shifted uneasily.

Quietly, Oz said, “It might be best if you went back home. I think you’re in over your head down here.”

Her expression immediately turned stubborn. “My sister—mytwinsister—is in trouble. I’m not leaving without her, no matter what.”

His assumption was right. It wasn’t a shock. At least she’d trusted him enough to actually admit why she was here. If she had shown up in Trujillo to rescue her sister, he’d never get Ayla to leave, no matter how hard he tried. Oz’s stomach twisted. He didn’t want her to get hurt. “Why did your sister travel to Puerto Jardin?”

“For her job.”

Which technically answered his question while giving next to no intel. “Want to expand on that?”

There was a long pause, and it was obvious she was debating whether to tell him anything. Oz waited, biding his time. If she decided not to share, he’d prod her a little.

At last, Ayla said, “She’s a photojournalist.”

Again, an answer that told him very little. “And she received an assignment down here? What was the assignment?”

“She’s supposed to photograph the ruins near San Isidro and do a feature on the society that abandoned the site.”

Oz’s heart skipped a beat. The ruins were a problem. His former boss, drug lord Julián Vargas, used them for meetings sometimes. Fuck, less than two weeks ago, the man had met there with Lurch, and his teammate had ended up as an unwilling guest to protect an archaeologist who’d been found at the site.

He didn’t volunteer that intel. It might send Ayla racing to the ruins—or to Vargas’shacienda—to find her sister and that would put her in a world of trouble. He had more questions, though. “What publication is interested in a story about some obscure ruins in Puerto Jardin? Who hired your sister?”

This pause dragged out even longer and Ayla scrutinized him intently. At last, she said, “She works for the Paladin League. We send out a quarterly magazine to our donors.”

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