Page 37 of Twisted Revelations

18

Dax

I’d been smiling for no reason for the past few days. Knowing Aaron was alive was the best news I’d received in a long time. I’d requested to see him for myself, so D set us up on a secure link that allowed us to talk and see him.

When we found out Aaron had escaped the farm with a Dominquez, we’d made several attempts to see if Regina could identify Santino for us. Unfortunately, she’d not had any real exposure to the Dominquez side of her family until they’d taken her and held her captive.

We’d also been successful in getting the ladies back to the centers for another visit without incident. Visiting the centers was the highlight of Beverly and Laura’s time. Other than her sneaking onto the balcony to smoke a Black-n-Mild every once in a while, it wasn’t hard to discern that being at the center was Laura’s therapy.

Her need to help people, particularly teens and children, was the one thing she coveted as much as her friendship with Beverly and Megan. They were her life, and she’d sacrifice everything to protect them. She was rarely on her phone, but whenever she was, it was with Megan or someone from the center.

She presented the Laura people needed, but she became Laura, the beast, behind the scenes to protect them from threats, some they’d never know of.

The more time and effort we poured into the mission, the more useful information we gained on DG6. The one thing we hadn’t found was an easier way to take down Santino. The man was better protected than the president. We’d been tracking his movements for a month and had only spotted him twice with his face obscured in some manner each time.

Whether it was wearing dark shades, a low cap, or a group of people’s heads blocking him, Santino always had a way to protect his face and never remained outside any building for more than a minute. Hence, his nickname: No Face.

D wanted a shot of his face so he could use it on facial recognition software that would allow us to track his movements. Santino was more than likely aware of the many ways he could be tracked, so he protected his face like an invaluable treasure.

My mind refused to relent on the internal battle I’d been fighting. It kept calling up the woman who was in my head too frequently. She was clueless I was intensely attracted to her although she was unavailable in every way possible.

I wasn’t sure why I’d said yes, but she’d argued her way into my recon mission at The Greenbrier today. The one I’d turned her down from attending a thousand times. The mission D assumed he’d talked her out of going on. My gaze landed on D who shook his head at me, his teasing smile on blast.

Laura stood at my shoulder, breathing down my neck as I packed the last few items. I shoved the binoculars and listening devices into my bag along with one of D’s laptops.

She’d surprised the heck out of me with her disguise. The long-sleeve button-up shirt, the loose-fitting jeans, and tennis shoes had transformed her into a teen boy. Unless you knew her, she hadn’t left a trace of her womanhood exposed.

The mission was simple: go in, snoop, and gather intel to see if we could get eyes on Santino.

Laura

I’d worn Dax down with my bickering, and he’d allowed me to tag along with him on the recon mission to track our target. He stood at my back, his body so close the heat made me appreciate the winding breeze that swept past my face.

On the fourth-floor balcony of a random empty room of the hotel facing The Greenbrier, we spied on a group of men who Dax and D had identified as DG6. They were the closest associates of Santino Dominquez. We’d been observing his men’s activities and the outside view of the penthouse D was certain Santino lived in, for nearly an hour.

We had no luck getting a glimpse inside the penthouse, not even when Dax had dragged me to the dusty, bird-shit-splattered top of the hotel for a better view across the distance. The drapes remained shut tight, and not even a glimmer of movement stirred inside.

I did get a glimpse of the helipad landing area on the far side of the penthouse roof. It provided an excellent escape route if forces stormed Santino’s guards and entered the protected space he lived in.

Peering through binoculars, Dax spoke into my ear, pointing out specific members of Santino’s crew. He knew their names through intel gathered by D. It surprised me to find that the men were a mixture of races versus Mexican like I’d expected for a Mexican cartel leader.

“Any of these men we’re spying on could also be Santino? How do you know he’s not in plain sight and using a shadow to keep his cover,” I glanced back at Dax.

“D has run all of their faces and more. They’ve also identified Santino by name, confirming for us who our target is. But we like to have a back-up plan,” he stated, his warm fresh breath coating my face. His closeness had set my body abuzz, but there was no way in hell I’d admit it to him.

Dax and I came down from our perch atop the building. We had to get close enough to the men so the listening devices could pick up their conversations clearly. Before we started, I requested a restroom break.

After I returned, I tugged my baseball cap low over my eyes before blending into the crowd at the hotel restaurant. I chose the table next to the group, typing useless words into one of D’s laptops. My irrational mind typed words like, “Fuck DG6. Fuck your cartel. Die all you sons-of-bitches,” as I listened for keywords in the group’s conversation about Santino.

No one paid attention to me because half of the guests scattered around the restaurant had laptops and digital devices in their faces.

The listening device Dax had clipped to the sleeve of my shirt picked up every sound down to one of the men breathing. The smaller listening device in my ear allowed me to hear what Dax heard and recorded.

Dax sat inside the lobby of the hotel around the corner from the restaurant. For the first twenty minutes, I heard nothing of importance, the men bragging about the latest high-dollar purchases and the women they’d been sleeping with.

“How long do you think he’s going to stay at the ball this year?” One of the men’s questions caught my attention. He was likely unaware, but with the listening device, it was easy to discern his tone had leveled out and softened, indicating he didn’t want anyone outside his table hearing his question.

“Probably only a few minutes as usual, but he expressed that he wanted to shake hands with Stockton. They have a big deal going on between their companies.”

---