Diego blinked at his father’s old friend and tilted his head thoughtfully. Yes, he thought, a smile of remembrance creasing his face. Like his father, Aquiles. This was who Ian reminded him of as well. A strong, proud man. A warrior, an innovator. That was his son. Yes, perhaps Saul was right; for now at least, they would follow Ian’s directions.
Ten
SHE NEEDED HIM.
A week later Kira admitted to the real reason why she had followed Ian to Aruba, why she had decided to stick her admittedly curious nose into his business, and it was why she was ignoring his piercing gaze seven days later as she sat in one of the open lounge sections of the Fuentes club, Coronado’s.
The club was one of the most popular on the island, filled with tourists and regulars, hard-driving music, and undercurrents of the shadowy world that existed within the center of the popular gathering spot. It was a hotbed of illegal practices and shady deals and Kira was sitting smack in the middle of Sorrell symathizers posing as Fuentes contacts.
Being here had nothing to do with protecting the DHS interests in keeping Diego Fuentes alive and upholding their agreement to allow him to escape capture and prosecution. She was here because of Ian. Because of what he made her feel, made her hunger for.
She flicked a look beneath her lashes in Ian’s direction. She could feel his fury even across the distance of the booths separating them.
Of course, the fact that she was sitting with two of his own suppliers couldn’t be comfortable for him. Or the fact that for the last few days, several of Sorrell’s contacts had made a point to inform her that they knew of her association with the Fuentes cartel heir.
Sorrell knew she was aligned with Ian, and it appeared he believed the McClane heir could become an asset he could use.
“Kira, it was a surprise to see you here after your accident last year.” Martin Missern, the beach boy weapons broker, smiled his most charming smile as icy blue eyes flicked over her bare legs revealed by the bronze stretch silk dress she wore. His gaze then lifted to the now barely noticeable scar close to her shoulder which was revealed by the thin strap that held her dress over her breasts. He and his brother had joined her without invitation based on an introduction made more than a year before.
The bullet she had taken in Atlanta last year in her role as the friend of a senator’s daughter had nearly taken her life. Thankfully, Ian’s and her uncle Jason’s quick responses had saved her. A premier plastic surgeon had removed the unsightful scarring later.
“I was rather surprised myself to be moving so freely,” Kira admitted with a smile. “But Jason has several business interests here that required my presence. And Daniel looks after me.”
Daniel was presently hovering over her like a warning specter from behind her seat. He took his duties as bodyguard very seriously.
“I saw you conversing with Ian Fuentes last week.” Martin finally broached the subject Kira had felt coming for the past half hour. “You are good friends, yes?” His smooth French accent did nothing to fool her. Charming he might well be, rather like a cobra, just waiting for the right moment to strike.
“We’re acquaintances,” she admitted. “We met in Atlanta last year.”
“Ah yes, you are dear friends with Senator Stanton’s daughter.” Martin nodded as though that point of information were important. “He was a SEAL at that time, was he not?”
“I believe he may have been.” She arched a brow inquisitively. “Though it appears he isn’t one any longer.”
A smile shaped the weapons broker’s full, sensual lips.
“This is true.” He nodded. “He has shaped up his father’s cartel excellently in the past months. He’s giving many of the other cartels a run for their money, quite literally.”
Kira let a sneer shape her lips. “The advantages of knowing how the enemy works, perhaps?” she pointed out, referring to the fact that it was widely known that Ian had worked several missions involving drug and weapons trafficking.
“Ah yes.” Martin smiled. “This was an excellent advantage. Would it be safe then to say that you are not friends? Perhaps friendly enemies?”
“Perhaps.” The smile that shaped her lips was deliberately mysterious. “Why do you care, Martin? The last I heard your import-export business had nothing to do with the cartels. The Fuentes cartel shouldn’t concern you.” The Misserns’ very legal, very profitable business was no more than a front for their weapons cargos.
“Ah, but the Fuentes cartel affects many of us,” Martin’s twin, Josef, pointed out from beside his brother. “It is a well-known fact that Ian Fuentes is shifting his home base from Colombia to Aruba, or perhaps even one of the smaller islands. He wishes to avoid the American and Colombian authorities, yes?”
“Well, he is a deserter. And a drug lord,” she pointed out. “I would guess he’d have to be rather careful. SEALs tend to get a little irked when one of their own turn dirty.”
She was talking the talk, walking the walk, but something inside her felt as though it were splintering. She knew better. Ian was dodging former friends as well as the criminals salivating to see him taken down. He was treading water so deadly, so dangerous, that she wondered how he would escape the consequences. Or even if he could.
He was going it alone, on his own, attempting to identify and eliminate a terrorist that no one had been able to identify in nearly twenty years of investigations and missions to do just that.
But Ian was in a position no one had ever been in. He owned the cartel Sorrell needed to gain access into the United States. The Fuentes operation had, over the years, managed to create a secure underground operation to move its drugs and people through the United States, into Canada and Mexico.
Two generations of master chess players. Diego Fuentes and his father had begun what Ian was now strengthening. Even the drug enforcement agencies were scratching their heads over how he was managing to bypass their security, their snitches, and their determination to catch him.
Martin Missern glanced past her then, his smile turning smug before he moved the hand resting on the back of the leather booth and brushed a long lock of her black hair over her shoulder, once again revealing the cleavage that the deep cut of her dress left bare.
Kira’s gaze flicked to his hand, then back to his eyes.
“Touch me again, Martin, and you might have a stub where that hand used to be,” she warned as Daniel’s shadow fell over him, causing Martin’s bodyguards to tense as well.