Page 25 of Temptation and Treachery
Chapter Twelve
The clock was pushing midnight when Gatlin walked into the office where Rio was working, carrying a filing box. Several of his men trailed behind him, depositing the load on a heavy table across the hall.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Gatlin said with a frown.
Rio looked from him to the boxes and back.
“Hang on.” Gatlin checked the labels, choosing a box of items confiscated at the ranch.
Rio pulled off the top, intending to empty the contents on the table so he could document them. They’d already cataloged the weapons, some still streaked with blood, a password-protected laptop, and a half dozen cell phones. But he stopped short when he recognized Celeste’s oversized purse.
Gatlin shut the door, keeping a hand firmly on the knob. “She claims she’s not a part of her father’s cartel dealings, though she does receive money from several custom broker’s offices inherited from her grandfather. Kris’s checking into the office and whoever runs it, but so far everything’s legit.”
Rio leaned back. If Ayala had one legal business, he had others. They’d have to dig into Celeste’s background to see what else they could find. “She gave me her phone’s pass code.” Rio reached into the purse, plucking out the phone only to find the battery dead. Sitting in a dead zone, with wifi closely guarded, not many bothered with a cell. Which meant he’d need to track down a charger. Gatlin reloaded the box, putting it across the hall with the others, then locked the room. Cataloging the rest of the belongings could wait until morning. He paused as he went by, smacked his palm on the frame. “By the way, Kris brought the thing for Parker.” Then he was gone.
Rio stared at the now empty spot in the doorway. Brought the thing. The test that would tell him what his future would hold, or not hold. He pulled a Post-It Note, wrote Celeste’s name, and stuck it on the board. The yellow square stood out among the pictures of rough men and jaded women. More so against the brutal scenes of death and destruction Ayala’s organization had left across the Mexican countryside. A dozen states had seen his and Guerrero’s bloody brand of warfare over the past few years.
Kris joined him, silently walking up beside him. “She says those aren’t his.” He pointed at Mazatlán, Tampico, and Monclova. All places where innocent blood had covered the streets.
“Of course not,” Rio replied flippantly. “I’m sure he was at a church retreat those times.”
Kris’s expression remained disturbingly neutral. “She knows what he does. Her body language says she isn’t comfortable with admitting what or who he is.”
“She does realize he pays men to do that shit for him, doesn’t she?”
Kris’s gaze moved from pin to pin. “Why choose only three incidents?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question? It made no sense, but he couldn’t afford to ignore it or the unsettling possibilities it would raise if true. Both men stared at the map as the silence stretched between them. Kris was right, obviously, but he didn’t have to like it.
Rio studied the pins indicating the locations on the map. At least one didn’t include Guerrero’s people among the bodies. He’d have to research the others. “She just volunteered information?”
“Seemed more like she had to get it off her chest.” Kris pinned Celeste’s DMV picture next to Ayala’s. He added her name and “daughter”, double underlined.
Questions danced around Rio’s head. Apparently Kris was done sharing, so he’d have to ask. Because if he had to wait for the guy to say something else, he’d likely die of old age. “How is she?”
“Pregnant.” The word was delivered in his usual no-holds-barred manner. “Other than that, fine but exhausted, according to the medic.”
She was carrying his child. The knowledge settled within him.
“You’ll be about two months behind us.”
Rio did a double take. “Tessa?” Kris gave a satisfied grin. He was a perfect example of how things could work out even when life and the cartel were against you. Kris had found Tessa in a cartel safe house, claimed her, and never looked back—regardless of the consequences. “Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks.” Kris turned back. “How are you doing with her and the pregnancy?”
Rio drew in a breath. “Well, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Turned up in her father’s ranch house. She’s pregnant with my baby. And now she hates me for being law.” Kris’s expression turned grim. “Oh, let’s not forget I not only arrested her father, I shot him for good measure.”
“Ah, shit.” Kris shook his head. “Under any other circumstances I’d be congratulating you.”
“Yeah.”
“This place is yours to run,” Kris said, setting one leg on the corner of the table. “But why did you bring her here? This is supposed to be a black site. You’re not set up for interrogation or detention.”
Rio stared into space, remembering the drive. “I asked myself the same damn question the whole trip back.” He exhaled, bending his head and running his fingers along his temples. “Nothing makes sense when I’m around her. I do the stupidest—”
“Ohhh, man. You have no clue how deep you are or the shit-storm that’s about to hit.” Rio frowned, looking up to find Kris chuckling. Amused. “Get used to the idea you’re gonna be apologizing to the woman on a regular basis. You won’t even know why yet. But if you don’t want to lose her, start thinking about how you can make things right.”
“What?” Rio cocked his head. Had Kris lost his mind? “She’s one of them.”
“Is she? ” Kris waited, letting him absorb the question. “For now, get some rest. You’ve got a lot to do. Talk to her. See what you can find out.” He crossed his arms. “I was going to turn Ayala over to the locals tomorrow, but I’ll figure out some way to stall. Damian is going another round with him, then he’ll upload the video for you. Give me a call once you see it.”
