Page 43 of Temptation and Treachery
Chapter Nineteen
Rio never took his foot off the gas, sending the car fishtailing along the roundabout like a carnival ride. He barely made the turn, and a few less daring drivers moved into the adjoining lane, horns blaring. The one good thing about the area, his erratic driving wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.
“He’s there,” Damian warned. “I just picked up the signal between two towers. Eagle’s Nest is in that narrow stretch.”
The unsub, fake Ayala, had to be at the hotel. It was too much of a damn coincidence to have the signal end up this close to Celeste. Rio pulled into the parking lot at a more controlled speed, going straight to the side entrance without drawing attention to himself. After throwing the gearshift into park, he grabbed his bag. By the time the car door slammed shut he had one foot in the building and his Ruger in hand. He cleared the narrow space then pounded up the stairs, each footfall echoing against the walls. What should have been a quick dart up two flights stretched farther with every step. He had to get to Celeste and make sure she was safe.
“I got movement in the stairwell,” Holiday’s voice whispered through his earpiece.
“He’s a friendly,” Damian replied.
Rio slammed through the door, his gun raised. “Who’s come through?” he bellowed, voice sounding raw and demanding, even to himself.
Holiday followed his every move, his muzzle pointed away. “Nobody.”
“Open it.” Rio nodded toward the room. Holiday pulled a key, unlocking the door then having enough sense to get out of the way.
“Report,” Gatlin demanded into his ear.
Rio swept the room then stalked into the bedroom while Holiday brought in his gear.
“Unsub is at Eagle’s Nest,” Damian reported. “Repeat, unsub at Eagle’s Nest.”
“Son of a bitch. How da fuck did that happen?”
The room was empty, the closet still open from the initial sweep. When he checked the bathroom, the pieces fit together. Anger and disappointment sank in his gut. Celeste had left, again.
He pressed the mic. “She called him,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“How?” Gatlin threw back with disbelief. “I got the phones.”
Rio turned around, heading to the sitting area. “Even the bathroom?” He tossed his bag on the couch.
“Who the fuck puts a phone in the can?”
“The latch is open.” Holiday pulled on the sliding door. He turned back, the corner of his mouth twisted in annoyance. “This was supposed to be a ‘keep everyone out’ assignment. Nobody said we’d have to keep her in. If I’d known, I would have cuffed her and locked her in.” He ran his hand over his forehead, frustration etched in every feature. “There wasn’t much traffic. Woman and kids left earlier. Not her. A suit arrived a few minutes ago. Didn’t come up and his SUV’s still there. I’ll send in the plate number.” He pulled his phone out and typed in the plate.
They went out to the balcony. A quick sweep of the surroundings and he spotted Celeste at the far side of the parking lot, a man’s hand around her arm. Rio tugged on the shirt, sending two buttons snapping against the glass door. “I got a camera in my bag, get Damian to ID him.” Then he grabbed the rail and went over the side.
“I got your back.” Holiday said in a low tone. Then the update came over his earpiece. “Snow White’s gone rogue. She’s making a run to Oz.”
There was no use trying to be stealthy if people were looking straight at you. So he went for speed and accuracy instead. But the nearer he got, the more the scene developed. Celeste was being dragged to an SUV, where Ayala stepped out of the back, bruised and bloody where he’d taken the shot to his leg. The driver wore the bottom half of a guard’s uniform. A red patch started at his chin, trailing down his undershirt to smear the front of his pants. The inside man that helped break out Ayala.
“Boss,” the driver called out to Leonard. “You got a tail.”
So the guy wasn’t with Ayala. Who the hell was he? One of Guerrero’s people?
The suit swung around, pulling Celeste to stand in front of him. Rio searched his memory. Had his picture been on her phone? He should have gone through every shot himself instead of handing it off. Hopefully, Gatlin had identified him. Rio brought up his weapon while the suit pushed a thirty-eight caliber revolver into her side.
“Leonard,” Ayala barked, bolting forward with a pronounced limp.
The driver caught him, pulling him back, and shoving a gun in his face. By the silhouette he was likely using a nine-millimeter Glock.
“Hello, Father,” Leonard said with cool disdain. “I trust you aren’t any worse for wear.”
What? Another one? Why hadn’t she mentioned a brother? How many secret children did Ayala have?He’d come onto ICE’s radar within the last ten years. By then, his children were grown. It shouldn’t surprise him that he’d managed to keep his name off a birth certificate, even if the mother provided it. Cartel would find a way to make something happen, by either bribe or threat.
Ayala stared down his captor with disdain. “This isn’t my blood.” He shifted his shoulder and indicated the smear on his chest. “Your man left a bloody path.”
