Page 74 of Savage Ruin
HENLEY
The jet carrying Mateo, Raider, and Paulo, along with their security, arrives around five p.m. Paulo Costa Fontes, one of the most powerful drug lords in the world, is a surprisingly handsome man with a strong jaw, dark hair, and the darkest of eyes. His wide shoulders and lean waist are similar to Grayson’s. But the similarities end when I look into his eyes. Cold, determined, lethal. Not predatory like Thiago’s. Lethal—they remind me of Raider’s eyes. Different color, same death stare.
Thiago reluctantly introduces me to Paulo.
“Olá, so you are the one who found the thief in my kingdom,” he remarks softly.
“I’m the one who found your money, but the thief was already there,” I remark lightly. I open my laptop and show him the three identities and explain the trail I followed. “I’m not able to access the safe deposit box, but maybe you will find a Ron Silva somewhere to help you.” It’s the closest thing to telling him to send someone in using a fake identity. Or he could bribe someone. There are options. “For the two accounts, there’s roughly twenty-one million dollars in them. Once I change the password, you’ll have everything you need to electronically transfer the money to your accounts.”
“Thank you. You’re quite talented. Would you be interested in taking on a client?” he inserts the question smoothly.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m retired. Trying to stay clean, you know?” I quip.
The stern mouth lifts in amusement, but before I can blink, it’s gone. “I wish you the best of luck.”
Zane and Raider come over to ask Paulo if he’d like to see the surveillance they set up.
“No surveillance. Shut it off,” he says adamantly. “I’ll listen with my own ears. What is the security team wearing?”
Zane points to himself. “Black fatigues, t-shirt.”
Paulo snaps his fingers, and his shadow steps forward. Pointing to Zane’s outfit, he orders him to purchase the same.
Raider stops him. “I’ve got an extra set with me. Or you can order from the supply store about twenty minutes away and your team can pick it up.”
The shadow whispers in his ear, but Paulo waves him off. “I’ll take the set, thank you. My men have camouflage, but they’ll stay with the team outside where they won’t be noticed in the dark.”
Raider shrugs. “Let me get them.”
Without the surveillance, there seems little to do while we wait for the time to pass. Paulo changes into the Raider’s extra fatigues on our jet. When he emerges, he looks… not relaxed exactly, but maybe more comfortable in his skin?
He comes to stand by me while he slides the dark ball cap onto his head.
“Comfortable clothes make all the difference, don’t they? I can’t imagine wearing a suit all the time, like Thiago or Grayson. Or yourself. I get it. It’s a control and power thing. I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about it much. I mean, I do have to wear a dress for events, but… never mind.” I stop babbling when he gives me an incredulous look. “Sorry, I’m nervous. I’ll go stand over there.”
“Stay… please.” He softens his demand with some manners. “If not, I’ll have to stand here by myself while everyone looks at me like I’m the devil.”
“You’re not, are you?” I murmur. “If you are, I need a few minutes to ask for forgiveness from the big guy first. You know, to give myself a fighting chance.”
“I doubt you’ve done enough to warrant a meeting with the devil,” he says dryly. “I’m well acquainted with him, and he doesn’t accept lightweight offenders.”
I can’t contain the laughter that spills out.
The entire room stops to stare at the two of us.
Thiago, Grayson, and Mateo head toward us.
“I have a few calls to make,” he remarks quietly and strides off. When he passes the Santos men, he inclines his head and says something to them.
When they reach me, all three are scowling.
I cock an eyebrow. “What?”
Grayson leans in close. “Stop charming the damn drug lord. We don’t have time to add a rescue to our very busy plate.” His lips drop a kiss onto mine.
“All I did was speak to him. No charming. None, I swear,” I protest.
Mateo parks himself by my side and hands me an earpiece. “It’s almost time.” He points to the clock on the wall above the hangar door—fifteen minutes until eight.
