I imagine shoving my fist into his toothy grin. “Don’t fuck around. This isn’t a game.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “No more jokes, but you know, I’d have thought that you’d be swimming in *. If I had my own private island and a boatload of cash, I’d be Leo fucking DiCaprio with my harem of supermodels to feed me grapes and rub my feet. But you, I never see you with a broad. Never. There are plenty of hot mamacitas on the island and they’d all open their legs for you in a heartbeat, but you don’t even look twice at them.”
“Rub your feet, Bennito?” Garcia has crept in behind us. “You have a dozen supermodels and you think only of food and feet?”
Garcia’s gentle mocking has the intended effect. Bennito flushes but doesn’t bring up my near-monkhood status again. He changes the subject. “I saw a picture of Leo the other day. What the hell do those women see in him?”
“Money. Fame. Power.” I tick them off.
“All of the above,” Garcia adds.
Bennito harrumphs. “You’ve got all that.”
A warning look from Garcia shuts him up, but I don’t care that Bennito believes I abstain. It’s a good lesson for him—to go without builds character. And the longer you go without, the more that you forget what you are missing. At least that is the lie I tell myself.
Across the street, Ava peeks out her peephole and then opens the door. She looks around and then at the floor. Her hand reaches out, snatches the bag, and drags it in quickly. Slamming the door shut, she leans against the wood slab and peeks inside the bag. Then she lifts it to her nose.
Damn straight it smells good. Fresh from the bakery. She hurries over to the counter and unpacks everything.
“Shit, did you buy out the entire store?” Bennito mumbles around a chip.
It does seem like a lot of food now that it is spread out. There are honey butter rolls along with fresh cheeses and meats. A couple of fruits roll precariously to the edge. There is jam along with chocolates and the macaroons.
“She didn’t eat enough,” I remind him.
“Right. So is the stuff Duval selling legit?”
She breaks apart the roll and shoves half of it in her mouth. Her head drops back and even though I can’t hear her, I know she is moaning. God, I want to hear that sound. Is it soft? Is it a short sigh or a long, extended low note that would make my cock shiver in response?
“I assume it is or we wouldn’t all be here.”
“What happens next?” Garcia leans a hip against the edge of the desk.
“From the surveillance, she has five folders in her bag. She’s presented the yellow to the buyer from North Korea. The green went to the Libya. Once all the buyers have their chance to look at it, then the auction goes down. We wait for the exchange, fuck that up, and make off with the package.”
“And if we don’t get it?” Bennito asks. “What happens then?”
“That’s not an option.” Garcia cuffs Bennito again.
“What the hell? It was just a question,” Bennito complains.
I place a pacifying hand between them. “You are new, but the vow you made when you came was to protect everyone at the Tears of God as if they matter more to you than your mother. We leave no man behind. It does not matter if God himself holds one of us hostage. A man or woman of the Tears of God knows to wait, for his family will come and save him. Isn’t that why you are with us, Bennito?”
He has the grace to look ashamed but with the exuberance of youth rallies immediately. “Well that and the women.”
Garcia slaps him across the top of his head but it’s light this time. Almost affectionate, but Bennito’s head will ache tonight from all the strikes; maybe it will drum some sense into him. As we all laugh, the monitors flash.
The door to Ava’s apartment bursts open. Fouquet is at the door. He is motioning to two others behind him. Ava has the second half of the roll halfway in her mouth when the man I saw in the hallway pulls her to her feet. They drag her out and the door slams shut behind her.
“Fuck.” I jump to my feet. “They must be moving her.”
Garcia shoves a bag in my hands—the one we laughingly call the Boy Scout bag. “I double-checked the emergency kit this morning. Go!”
I grab my two Glocks and shove them into a dual shoulder holster. I sling the leather over my shoulders and catch the jacket that Garcia tosses at me. And then I run. I don’t even know if I’m running to save Ava or the package at this point; I just know I can’t let her out of my sight.
CHAPTER FIVE
AVA
“Where are we going now?” I ask for the tenth time in the last ten minutes. There is a man on each side of me in the car, and the purse is in my lap. My wrist feels sore from where Fouquet has grabbed me, over and over again.
No one answers me. Of course they don’t. I don’t matter to them. I get my answer soon enough, though, when the car pulls up to the airport and parks in the fire lane.