Wiring Elle up and sending her into the wolf’s den wouldn’t end well. In the unlikely event she managed to get a confession out of Maldonado, she would never live to see it put to good use.
“That’s for me to decide, asshole,” she yelled.
“No.”
“Wrong again! I demand you stop right this frigging instant. I want to know where we are going. Then I’ll decide if I go or not.”
Tough shit. He floored the accelerator.
“So, why are you here?” Exxum asked, after they stepped out on the patio to smoke, his bodyguard by the door. “You come to pay me for that last couple of shipments of guns? Because I’ve known you for a while now and you don’t give a rat’s ass about abandoned dogs.”
True. He couldn’t care less. He’d fought them for scraps in the street.
“I’m still strapped for cash,” Maldonado admitted. It wasn’t as if he could walk to an ATM machine and withdraw a couple of million dollars to settle the score.
Exxum’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Unfortunate what happened to Aalto. Did you have a talk with the witness?”
Maldonado was not too thrilled to have Exxum in his business, but he’d had to give some explanations as to why he needed more time to pay for the guns. “Not yet. Nico is on it. She’s under federal protection, but not through the official channels.” He would have found her by now if that were the case. Too much paperwork and too many ears. Whoever had her was keeping everyone in the dark.
“Well, I wish you all the luck in the world with that. As for the money you owe me, this is not a good time. I’ve withstood some heavy losses myself.”
Maldonado didn’t know any specifics, but several of Exxum’s deals had fallen through, the police intercepting the supply lines. Which garnered him a measure of comfort. At least he wasn’t the only one going through difficulties.
“So if you’ve come for financial aid,” Exxum continued.
Maldonado shook his head. He wasn’t here for handouts. “I came to propose a deal. I have some logistical issues you could help me with. After all, a big part of the humanitarian relief operation is taking care of the logistics.”
David Exxum, apart from being a huge advocate of animal rights and doing sports like a nut and eating the weirdest things, was a very influential, respected, well-connected businessman who devoted himself to sending humanitarian relief to countries in need, Maldonado’s included. And selling guns to whatever faction needed them. Or both.
His cargo containers went through customs in a much-expedited protocol.
“What’s in it for me?” Exxum asked.
“Aside from helping an old business partner?”
Exxum made a scowl. Yeah, Maldonado guessed as much.
“Once the product has cleared customs, my cash-flow problems are gone, which means I can pay you what I owe you. Plus an increase of, let’s say, ten percent for the help provided.”
Exxum stared at him cockily. “Twenty-five.”
Maldonado gritted his teeth, but before he could answer anything, they were interrupted.
“Mr. Maldonado? There’s a gentleman outside who wishes to talk to you. Mr. Nico Grabar. He—” Nico was already walking toward them, Exxum’s bodyguard moving to intercept him. “You can’t—”
“It’s okay,” Maldonado said, “he’s with me. What are you doing in Boston? You already tired of Hawaii?”
Nico greeted Exxum with a nod and waited for the hotel security guy to leave. Then he said, “The person we are searching for is from Boston. Elle Cooper. Closest relatives are a mother and sister. Father and older brother deceased in a car accident over two years ago. The Coopers own Rosita’s, a small Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town. She’s the one that dispatched your flight. Marlene had a family gathering and they switched IDs.”
“So that’s the loose end,” Maldonado murmured, looking pleased. “Switching IDs. How cleverly stupid of them.”
Nico handed Maldonado a copy of Elle’s driver’s license. “Now we just have to find her.”
Maldonado stared at the picture. Son of a bitch. “I think we just did.”
Chapter Fourteen
They were headed up north. At some point Elle had realized yelling at him wasn’t going to do squat. He wasn’t going to answer or stop, or drive slower for that matter. Jumping out of the truck wasn’t an option and even if he stopped for gas and she managed to slip away from him—which she doubted she could because judging by the murderous look in his eyes he would only walk away from her after cuffing her to the wheel—she was dressed in a ball gown and had no money or decent shoes for walking. So she did the only thing she could: cross her arms and give him the silent treatment. Not that it seemed to bother him in the least.
Asshole. Making decisions that concerned her behind her back. And now they were going under, whatever the heck that meant.