It would take ten to twelve minutes for the guards to find the bag, assuming they drove the mile to the oak tree, then walked the hundred yards to the hedge. Give them a few minutes to look, though they might locate it immediately if they were competent. They’d call it in. By that point, Kane should be out of the room and with Jesse.
Thirteen minutes had passed, according to Sean’s internal clock, by the time Dominick’s phone rang. He didn’t say anything, just listened.
“Very good,” he said.
He smiled at Sean. “We have the bag. It appears intact.”
“I’m also a man of my word. You can bring my brother down.”
“I’ll wait.”
“For what?”
“To ensure that you don’t have a team ready to storm the fence when my men return.”
Sean laughed. “Okay, I suppose that wouldn’t have been outside of reason. But there’s a storm coming in at dawn, and I don’t like flying through storms.”
“I’m sure you can handle it. Or stick around for the rest of the night. I have plenty of room.”
Sean wasn’t positive he was joking.
There was some commotion in the foyer and Sean jumped up.
“Sit,” Dominick ordered.
Sean tensed. He complied, only because he needed to give Kane more time. Two more minutes.
The doors opened into the atrium. A striking woman with dyed honey-blond hair walking in heels that could kill a man strode through the cobbled floor right over to Dominick. Jose was behind her along with another man—Alberto, most likely—who had his arm around a young blonde carrying a baby. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty, and she looked physically sick.
Sean recognized all of them from Siobhan Walsh’s photos. This woman, the one Lucy suspected of selling black-market babies, was Jasmine Flores.
In that moment, Sean put it all together. Carson Spade’s urgent trip to Mexico came the day after Marisol de la Rosa left her baby at the church. Jasmine moved all the girls out as fast as she could, suspecting what? That Marisol would go to the police? Or maybe the fear came after Siobhan Walsh started asking questions. They would know that if the FBI was involved, they might be able to burn a few of their shell corporations, so they’d need their accountant and lawyer—Carson Spade—to create a new set of corporations. And because they wouldn’t trust him—no one wanted to be working against the clock when the FBI was breathing down their neck—they wanted to keep an eye on him. It would also be easier for Spade to set up bank accounts from a home base in Guadalajara than from a home base in Los Angeles.
There’s no way that Carson told Dominick that Madison had sent Sean down here … in fact, Madison didn’t tell Carson who she’d sent because otherwise Dominick would never have agreed to this meeting.
Unless it was a trap.
Sean watched the Flores family carefully. They weren’t overly concerned with him; Dominick was focused on Jasmine.
But he spoke his first words to Alberto. “Take the girl and your kid to your suite. I’m in the middle of a business transaction, and they’re a distraction.”
Alberto sneered at Sean, but he was focused more on the blonde. “It’s a boy, Dom. The first Flores heir.”
Dom was more than a little angry, but he said, “Congratulations, Alberto. We’ll arrange for the christening next week.”
“Marcus,” he said. “Marcus Alberto Donald Flores.”
Dom glared at Alberto until he walked up the stairs opposite from where Kane was being held—or had been held, if all had gone well.
“I’m not happy,” Jasmine said.
“Can we discuss this in the morning?”
“No. Where’s Carson?”
“I assume sleeping. It’s after one in the morning.”
“Wake. Him. Up.”
“He’s set up a parallel structure, moved all the money, shut down the compromised corporations, and I verified the funds were transferred. What is the fucking problem, Jasmine?”
“The fucking FBI is the fucking problem, Dominick,” she snapped. “Some bitch photographer turned over her photos to the FBI. Including one of me. They didn’t have a photo of me! Until now.”
“They don’t know it’s you.”
“They will. You know people won’t keep their fucking mouths shut. It’s just a matter of time. They raided the law office this afternoon. They’ll eventually trace the companies to me. My name has been clean for years. Why do you think I kept the King name?”
“Your name is Flores; it’s never been clean, so don’t play the innocent card, Jasmine.”
“And then I land here after a horrific flight and get a call—Lance is dead. So is his entire team. The fucking FBI found both houses where we stashed the girls after I had to shut down the safe house. So not only did I lose my investment, I have no fucking staff!”
“Jasmine, we have company, calm down.”
Jasmine turned to Sean and scowled. “I don’t know you.”
“And,” Dominick said, “you won’t see him again after tonight. I had Flora prepare the Rose Suite for you. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”