Page 54 of Midnight Embrace

But beneath it all, they were greater predators than the terrorists. And the estimated 150,000 deaths due to cartel violence, at least 30,000 people missing, made terrorists look like pikers.

They knew no mercy and they knew no law and no god beyond money and power. They were among the most ruthless men on the face of the earth and Emma was right in the middle of something that touched drug cartels.

He was terrified.

A drop of sweat rolled down his back.

“Raul?” Emma touched his hand and he grasped it, hard. Usually, he was careful with women because he had strong hands, but right now he clung to her hand because he felt like he was the only thing between her and a violent death. As long as he was holding her, close to her, she couldn’t be taken away.

“Raul, are you okay?”

Raul had no idea what he looked like but he was scaring her. She tugged at her hand and he opened his. Surreptitiously she shook her hand out. He’d held her hand hard enough to hurt.

Fuck.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Emma. He wanted to protect her. Only the nasty surprise of a drug cartel possibly touching her life, however remotely, could have made him lose control like that.

“This is bad news,” he said, throat so tight his voice came out strangled and hoarse. Colin and Toby were watching him, too. “The very worst.”

Toby turned to Emma with a frown. “So, what would Whittaker be doing with a drug lord?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. I can see him with a corrupt politician or a scumbag businessman, but drugs? I just don’t see it. Could it be a coincidence? I mean are we sure this guy is who you say it is, Raul?”

He didn’t react to that. She couldn’t know. Yes, he had every single drug lord’s face, and most of their lieutenants, committed to memory, in his head through a sniper rifle’s scope, in the crosshairs.

“I have every single cartel boss’s face committed to memory. Sinaloa, Juarez, Jalisco, the Zetas … all of them. El Quìmico is particularly dangerous because he is so intelligent. A drug lord killed my grandfather.”

Emma’s breath caught.

It was family legend, passed down from generation to generation, so strong that not one Martinez had ever taken drugs. There were some too fond of tequila and several gambled and two ate way too much, but no drugs. Ever. Any kid caught taking drugs would have over a hundred people screaming at them.

“My –” He swallowed. “My grandfather was thealcalde, the mayor, of a small town in Jalisco. The cartels were just starting up. The head of a cartel raped and killed a young girl and my grandfather insisted he be brought to justice. In retaliation, he was gunned down in the street, and then decapitated. His head was placed outside the door of city hall. My grandmother fled with the clothes on her back and four young children. It’s the defining element of my family. I desperately wanted to join the DEA, but they said my attitude was ‘too enthusiastic’. The DEA wouldn’t take me. So, I joined the Navy.”

He grabbed Emma’s hand. “But trust me when I say I know every single head of cartel and all the lieutenants. I keep tabs on all of them. El Quìmico is not the most blood-thirsty but he is definitely the smartest. He’s an unusually dangerous man.”

He was panting, his heart beating fast.

Silence.

“So … is Hamilton what? Laundering money? Does that make sense?” Emma asked.

Silence for another long minute.

“No, no it doesn’t,” Toby said. His voice was raw, slow. He was pale, movements sluggish.

“Money laundering isn’t the kind of thing Hamilton would do.” Emma drummed her fingers on Colin’s sleek plexiglass desk. “It’s too risky, it could come back to bite him. If a dedicated forensic economist – and the FBI has many – were to study movements they can always trace back money laundering. I don’t see Whitaker being involved. Not because he’d disapprove, but because he doesn’t have the street smarts, and I think he’d be too scared.”

“The short selling?” Raul asked. “Does that fit his profile?”

“Definitely. Because technically it’s not illegal, unless he is trading on insider knowledge, which is hard to prove. I mean I don’t know why he’s doing it but it’s definitely something he’d be prepared to do. But – if a cartel boss is involved, that would have to be money laundering, right?”

“Would Hamilton know he was the head of a cartel?” Toby asked.

Emma opened her mouth, then closed it. She suddenly attacked her computer and after a minute, turned the monitor around. Raul bent down, unsure what he was reading.

Emma’s finger touched the screen and he saw the name. Brandon Rutherford. And then a time and a date. At the top: Appointments, Whittaker Hamilton.

“Hamilton’s schedule on the day,” Emma said. “The guy you say is Marin is actually a man called Brandon Rutherford. There’s a photo.” More tapping at the keys. “Born September 10, 1971 in Napa, California. Runs some kind of import-export business. Degree in –”

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