Cold Day in Hell (4 page)

“Ve-very, um—” he coughed, swallowing past a constriction in his throat. God, just her eyes on him, her concerned attention, made him fumble like a damn school boy. The woman was dangerous to his control. “Unbloody confrontations. If those two assholes are the best Cruz has, his rep has been exaggerated.” He turned away from her detailed scrutiny, shifted the running vehicle into first gear and pulled out of the parking spot.

“What did you do?” She touched his forearm, practically petting him.

His muscles flexed in response to her stroking fingers. His body yelled “more.” It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to pull the vehicle over and order her to touch him all over, especially the part of him throbbing behind the placket of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

“I talked.” He shot her a frowning glance then looked at his arm where she stroked him. She withdrew her hand. He breathed easier. “They listened.”

“Uh huh, sure.” She sniffed, a cute, very feminine sound which both amused and aroused him.
Shit, I’m in deep, deep trouble here.

The fingers which had stroked him now ruffled through her glorious hair, lifting it from her neck then allowing the silk strands to fall over her almost naked shoulders. One long curl lay over her breast. He fought the urge to move it.

“Are they dead?” She asked the question in the same tone someone might ask about the chances of rain.

While her voice might be calm and cool, her beautiful gray eyes still held all the stress and fear he’d observed earlier. She’d been living on adrenaline since she’d arrived two days ago. She’d crash soon, but he’d be there to care for her, protect her.

“They’re breathing,” he finally responded to her question. “It’s hard to send a message with dead people.”

“Very funny.” She sighed, the sound so heart-wrenching he wanted to wrap his arms around her and promise nothing and no one would ever bother her again. She shuddered so hard he could almost hear it. “Cruz won’t listen.”

“How in the hell did you ever run across Cruz?” That issue had bothered him since Keely and Tweeter had briefed him on the case. They hadn’t given him all the background, just the exigent circumstances. He doubted if they even knew it themselves.

All the Walshes had cared about was their sister-by-choice was in severe danger.

“I didn’t run across him. He found me … in Chicago.”

He stiffened. This was different than Cruz’s normal modus operandi of kidnapping female tourists. He clenched the steering wheel. “How? I wouldn’t think paramilitary leaders crossed bases with fashion models all that often.”

“Yeah. Trust me, I didn’t know who he was when I first met him. Just thought he was one of those guys who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I didn’t figure him or the situation out until after I arrived in Colombia. Dumb, huh?”

“No.”

Her lips quivered into a small smile. “Thanks.”

“What
have
you figured out?” He knew from the background Keely provided that Callie had undergraduate degrees in Accounting and Economics and had just finished work on her Master’s in Political Science, all from the University of Chicago. So, Callie definitely was not dumb. Keely also said Callie had a highly analytical mind—coming from Keely, a genius, that was lofty praise. Plus, Callie had real-world knowledge from having lived on marine bases. He’d bet his favorite fishing rod she’d examined and re-examined every single second of her interactions with Cruz
ad nauseam
.

“I’ve concluded this cluster fuck was a set up. Cruz had seen me somewhere. Who in the hell knows where or when.” She twisted a curl around her finger, smoothing it out, and then did it again. Obviously, a habit she used to calm herself. “I began modeling six years ago. My picture has been plastered all over the damn world since then. Strange men approach me all the time.” He shot her a glance. She wasn’t bragging, just telling it straight. “Whenever it first happened, Cruz decided he wanted me—and set about getting me.”

“Okay, I can see that. Lots of men probably fantasize about having you on their arm and in their beds.”
And I’m right there with them.

She shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah, trust me, it’s not fun having men declare their undying love and following me home. It embarrassed my brothers when they were little and now that they’re older, they think they have to protect me.” Good for her brothers. He’d like to meet some of those stalker asswipes and teach them a lesson. She’d been scared more than once, he could tell.

“Anyway, I met Cruz at a Colombian fashion designer’s premier show and then later at the after-party held at the Colombian Embassy in Chicago. Not so coincidentally, the designer is the same one I’m doing this photo shoot for.” She paused as if to let the significance set in. He grunted and she continued with a half-laugh. “At that time, I assumed Cruz was one of the Ambassador’s staff or maybe associated with the designer’s corporation.”

“Do you get invited to a lot of foreign designer’s shows and then go to parties at their diplomat’s houses?” If he’d had the detailing of her security, those types of gigs would have been covered. Lots of nasty things could happen on embassy grounds since they were considered non-US land by treaty. Cruz would never have gotten near her on his watch.

“More than you’d think. However, if I’m not actually modeling, I don’t usually attend, even when they are in Chicago. I have a life and responsibilities outside of the fashion world.” She paused and shifted her curl torture to a new strand. “I didn’t model in the Colombian show, just attended because my agent Marv twisted my arm. He said I had the chance to end my career on a high note with Evan taking fabulous pictures of me in the designer’s beautiful clothes in,” she let go of her hair to wave her arm around, “a magnificent World Heritage City.” She let out another little snort and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She sounded so indignant. “I never thought to look below the surface. I’m smarter than this, but I trusted Marv. So did Evan. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“So, you think this Marv set you up with Cruz?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t beat yourself up.” He glanced at his mirrors. They’d picked up a tail as soon as they’d left the parking lot. Cruz had sent in reinforcements to replace the downed men.

“He was someone you’d trusted for years. You had the right to believe in him.” He’d be looking up old Marv once he delivered Callie safely home. Just a little follow up, all a part of the SSI service, to inform the man not to fuck with her again.

She shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks for saying that. I still feel stupid, but I’ll get over it.” She sighed and angled her neck one way then the other. “As soon as I can get onto a secure computer so I can do some hacking, I plan to prove my former agent—I fired his ass yesterday over the phone—took money from Cruz to get me here.”

“What makes you think he got paid?”

“Marv does not cross the street without getting paid. And because I accused him and he denied it. I can always tell when he’s lying to me—and he was lying through his perfectly capped teeth. I’ll find the money trail—and a side bennie of that is I’ll have accessed one of Cruz’s laundry accounts.” She chuckled, a throaty sound which grabbed his testicles and gave them an arousing squeeze. “Once I find that first laundry account, I’ll use my knowledge and skills and uncover some of Cruz’s other accounts. I’ll make that bastard sorry he bribed my chicken shit of an agent into betraying my trust. I’m also betting I’ll find Cruz is a silent partner in the designer’s company—another avenue to launder his ill-gotten gains.”

He’d bet she was one hundred percent correct. Cruz had a lot of dirty money to clean. He shot Callie another glance to see how upset she was, but found her smiling and more relaxed than a few seconds ago. Talking seemed to calm her, so he’d keep her talking. Plus, the more he learned about her, the better he’d know her and how she’d react if they had to resort to any of his back-up plans to get out of the country.

“What happened in Chicago when you first met Cruz?” His gaze narrowed as another Range Rover joined the first one. Damn, he was a regular Pied Piper and the rats were joining in by the car loads.

“At the fashion show, he managed to sit next to me and then proceeded to tell me how much he’d admired me all these years.” She stuck her finger in her mouth. “Ack!” Risto couldn’t help it—he laughed. “Bad, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “He was so oily. He has movie-star looks and is a total narcissist. His conversation was all about
his
feelings and how I’d add so much to
his
experience in Chicago if I would show him around. As if I had that kind of time with two younger brothers to get ready to go to college and me finishing my Master’s thesis. The jerkwad.”

Risto just shook his head and smiled. He slid his left hand into the pocket on the driver’s door and flipped off the safety on his Glock, just in case those following decided to go on the attack. He didn’t think they’d endanger Callie, but he wasn’t willing to be found unprepared. “Go on. After the show—at the embassy, what happened?”

“He put on the full-court press. He had the Ambassador praise him to the skies, probably a relative. Then the designer came up and fawned over the both of us.”

“Why didn’t you just walk away from the bastard?”

“He had his arm around my waist—” She startled when he growled. Shooting him a wary glance, she continued, “And, um, I didn’t want to make a scene.” He swore in Russian. The bastard touched her, held her against her will. Her agent should be shot for putting her in such a situation.

“Um, I know filthy Russian swear words, too.”

“All Russian swear words are filthy. Do you know Finnish?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll do my worst swearing in that language then.”

“I don’t mind. You can swear in English. I told you—I swear.” She batted her lashes.

“Unlike Keely, I did not have a mom who made me pay up if I dropped f-bombs.” His lips quirked as he recalled Keely’s amusing use of frick-fracking instead of fuck.

He couldn’t remember ever having this kind of conversation with any other woman to whom he was attracted. But then, this was an unusual situation. “So, tell me how you got away from the asswipe … at the Embassy.”

“The final straw was he asked me back to his hotel after the party—for drinks. As if I hadn’t heard that line a hundred times before. Anyway, Marv, the fink, came over and did manage to extract me. He wanted me to sit down with the designer and talk about this photo shoot. Thank the Lord. Cruz was all smiles, kissed my hand. Blech.”

“Kissed your hand how?” His words came out low and mean, he couldn’t help it.

She shot him a “what the fuck” look, but answered anyway. “The palm.” He swore in Finnish. “I hope you disinfected it as soon as you could.” Her face turned solemn, but the corners of her eyes crinkled with impish laughter. “I had antiseptic wipes in my purse. I made sure he saw me use them.”

“That’s my girl. So, is that it? You got talked into doing this show and then you saw Cruz again here?” He’d bet his large Caymanian bank account, it wasn’t.

“Are you kidding?” She leaned over and examined his face. “Yeah, you’re kidding.

He tried to see me several more times while he was in Chicago. In fact, he called the day after the show. I told him I did
not
date.”

She flopped back against her seat and stared out the passenger-side window. “He didn’t listen. He’d just happen to run into me several times when I was out eating with friends or shopping. The fourth or fifth time it occurred, he asked me out again.” She laughed, and it didn’t sound like a happy ha-ha. “As I mentioned before, men ask me out all the time. I don’t think too much about it. I have a well-rehearsed and polite refusal.

And it isn’t a made-up excuse—I do have a busy life outside of modeling.”
If I wanted you, I wouldn’t let the story, true or not, stop me. I’d find a way to
become part of that life.

“Obviously, Cruz didn’t want to accept the story,” he said, staring straight ahead.

The fact he shared a personality trait with Cruz didn’t make him happy—and just went to prove neither of them deserved Callie.

He looked in the rearview mirror and noted his tails were maintaining at two to three car lengths. No shooting. Good. The Hummer was armored, but more and more of the terrorists of the world were arming themselves with armor-piercing bullets. They probably had instructions to do nothing unless he tried to take Callie out of the city.

“Yeah, he was persistent. Sent flowers. Sent gifts. Sent notes swearing his undying admiration and love. All of which I returned. Then nothing. I thought
good
, he’s taken the hint … finally.” She shook her head. “I now realize his constant contact stopped when the final arrangements had been made for this trip. Dammit.” She hit the dashboard with her hand and shot him a glance filled with self-recrimination. “I bought into the trip. I mean, Evan and Chad would be here. They’d never willingly lead me or their crew into danger. They’re my brothers’ honorary uncles; we’re family. The job looked normal. The crew was the usual one Evan used.
Elle
magazine signed on to publish the shoot. The designer bent over backwards to make modifications so the clothing would suit my looks and figure since I’m hippier and fuller breasted than most models.”

Oh, baby, had he noticed. She was a straight male’s walking wet dream.

“I couldn’t imagine Marv setting me up.” She began to play with her hair once more.

Shit, she’s stressed again.
“He knew Cruz gave me the creeps. I told him so. But he did it anyway. Just wait until I get my hands on the dipwad, I’m making him pay.”
Not if I get to him first.