Page 45 of Echoes and Oaths
Raven huffed. "Hey now, I’m a damn good photographer. It’s the subjects who’re lacking."
"Yeah, okay, we’ll go with that." Brando laughed again before quickly sobering to ask, "Jinx, what doyou want me to do about transport for Eira and her family?"
Leaning back against the rough wooden wall of the shack at the edge of the farm, Jinx glanced upward. Stars were beginning to prick through the bruised colors of twilight, scattering across the sky like tiny silver promises he didn’t deserve. He exhaled slowly.
"She'll leave," he said quietly, "but not until I can tell her for sure that things are about to get bad. I believe she wants to prepare the family to take over the business."
"Is she going to tell the family what's going on?" Raven asked. "Because that’s gonna leave a lot of questions, and if it leaks back to Ortega’s cartel, it could turn real ugly."
Jinx shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. "No. From what she told me today, she’s just working on a list of chores. Things they need to do to care for the animals on the farm."
"Yeah, that sounds like something you’d do, too," Raven teased. "I’m honestly surprised you haven’t adopted the whole damn herd of milk cows."
Jinx chuckled low in his throat. "If they were being mistreated, I’d find a way to get them back to my ranch."
Brando laughed. "Yeah, Fury would havesomuch fun with that."
Raven giggled, but the lighthearted moment snapped away when Brando’s voice cut in sharply.
"You've got a truck incoming."
Instantly alert, Jinx slipped deeper into the shadows, pressing against the cool side of the shack. The comms went dead silent. He watched as the vehicle, a black SUV, the kind Ortega’s men favored, rumbled into the front clearing of the small ranch house. Dust curled up around the tires before settling back to the parched earth.
The headlights blinked off, plunging the yard into twilight gloom. A single figure stepped out and moved to the front of the vehicle, standing still.
"He’s the only heat signature I see," Raven said quietly over the comms. She’d obviously switched to infrared.
Jinx let the silence stretch for a heartbeat longer before moving. His steps were silent on the dirt, his presence a whisper in the thick night air. He closed the distance until he was barely four feet away before Simón finally heard him and spun around, eyes wide.
"Jesus, man, you’re like a fucking ghost!" Simóngasped, hand twitching toward his side before he realized Jinx hadn’t drawn a weapon.
Jinx merely lifted his arms in a loose shrug. "Benefits of the trade, I guess."
Simón swallowed and shifted uneasily.
"Why did you want this meeting?" Jinx asked, his voice low and sharp.
Simón ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his posture edgy under the oppressive heat. "Several reasons," Simón began. "When I told Ortega you were back, he—" Simón placed his hands on his hips, searching for words. "Well, I don’t know how to explain it. The man’s paranoid. Like … he thinks the boogeyman’s hiding under his bed."
Simón chuckled nervously, but Jinx didn’t crack a smile.
"But his paranoia’s not unfounded," Simón continued, lowering his voice. "After he kicked me out for telling him I hadn’t brought Eira back, and that you were the reason why I was empty handed, I gave him some time, I went back later, hoping he’d cooled off. I caught him on the phone. The speaker was on." Simón shook his head in disgust. "The man’s a moron. Broadcasting shit like that."
Jinx silently agreed. Ortega’s recklessness had always been one of his greatest weaknesses, and adangerous liability now. Jinx studied Simón carefully, watching the man cross his arms and spit into the dusty ground.
"I don’t know who he was talking to," Simón said, his mouth twisting in disgust. "But whoever it was, that person was inside the military unit. The way they talked … it was like Ortega has a man embedded. They discussed your connections, or possible connections, and how you might be useful."
Simón paused, his gaze cutting to Jinx with a rare flash of seriousness. "The guy in the military said he needed to make some calls. He wanted information on your whereabouts for the time you were not here. About your connections … and whether you could help him withhisultimate goal." Simón stopped, shifting on his boots, dust swirling around his ankles. "Not Ortega’s goal," he added meaningfully.
Jinx stiffened. That small clarification changed everything.
"I left as soon as Ortega hung up," Simón continued. "But about twenty minutes later, he called me back to his office. He told me it would be a couple of weeks before he approached you…one way or the other. He wants to see if you're back in Venezuela for profit or family."
Jinx rubbed the back of his neck, feeling thesticky heat of the night pressing down. Two or three weeks. He could work with that. It wasn't ideal, but it bought him time.
The bigger problem was Ortega having an inside man in the military. Whether he controlled or worked alongside that man would complicate everything. Jinx made a mental note to put extra pressure on Brando to identify the unknown players.
"You said there werereasonsyou wanted this meeting," Jinx prompted, eyeing Simón with renewed suspicion.
