“Yes.”
“They would have been close to the driver when they stopped. Their guns would have been up in a threatening position. To get someone out of the car, you have to pose a threat.”
“True. But the other two? I’ve never met a woman who could shoot like that. Especially the fourth target. That would be a tough shot.”
Sanchez walked back over to the window and gazed outside. A vulture circled in the warm currents half a mile away. “I’ve met women who could shoot like that.”
“But with an AK? Those aren’t exactly easy to fire.”
“No. No, they are not. Which is why I’m afraid we could be dealing with a highly trained assassin, probably brought in by one of the other cartels, or worse.”
“Worse?”
“The Americans have been trying to shut us down for a long time. It would fit their style to send in an assassin like this. And it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Fleece everyone. If there’s a leak. Find it. Reach out to the other cartels, and find out what they know. If someone is trying to send a message, odds are the messenger is still here. We need to find them.”
“And what if they know nothing? What then?”
Sanchez anticipated that question and already had the answer. “If no one knows anything about it, that means it probably came from the outside. And if the United States wants to play rough, we can do that too. I’d rather it not come to that. So find out what you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sanchez ended the call and dropped the phone on a nearby writing desk. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring out across the scene. His hand involuntarily rose to his chin to rub it as he considered the situation. Espinoza doesn’t know about this yet. The realization set in. If he’d known about it, he would have already called. There was still time to cover all this up. He picked up the phone and called another one of his associates.
“Yes, boss?” the man on the other line answered.
“Tomas, shut up and listen. Some of our men were killed on the road to Ameca this morning. We can’t let Espinoza hear about it. Police are all over the place right now. I need you to make sure none of this gets out, understand?”
“You want me to kill the cops?”
Sanchez shook his head. These were the type of people he worked with.Their first inclination was to kill and ask questions later. Sometimes, that wasn’t a bad thing, but in the case of dealing with the police, honey always worked better than vinegar.
“No. Pay them. Give them whatever it takes. Just make sure they cover this up. No press. No leaks. Understood?”
“Yes, boss. I’m on it.”
Allyson’s voice echoed through the room. “Everything okay in there?”
He turned around and looked through the opening. She was in the bed, propped up on her knees in a beckoning way.
“Yes,” he stuttered. “Just taking care of some business. Everything is fine, though.”
He walked back into the bedroom and set the phone down on his nightstand. She ran her hand along his shoulder and spun him around, pressing him onto his back.
“Sounded like you were a little stressed out,” she said as she rolled on top of him.
He forced a fake smile. “Nothing I can’t handle. You know what it’s like in this business. Comes with the territory. Things happen that need to be taken care of. I have good people working under me.”
A wry grin eased onto her face, and her eyes narrowed. “You have someone good working on top of you too.”
He snorted. “You make a good point.”
She changed the subject, “What time do we need to get ready for the party?” She knew there was something he wasn’t telling her but also realized there’d be no getting it out of him.
“Not until much later. We have the rest of the day to do whatever we want.”
Her grin stretched into a full-on smile. “Well, in that case, I have an idea.”
23
The last sliver of the blazing orange sun dipped below the mountains in the west. Monique and Adriana exited the back of the luxury sedan with the aid of the driver, who hurried around the vehicle to open both doors for the ladies.
Monique wore a white 1940s-style dress with a top that wrapped around her neck and dropped down into a flowing white skirt. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a tight bun with a thick strand of it swooping across her forehead. She stepped away from the car, a matching white clutch in one hand as she reached up and patted the back of her head.
Adriana strode casually around the front of the car and joined Monique. The two approached the entrance to the twenty-five-thousand-square-foot mansion with an air of elegance and determination. Two men stood on either side of the front door underneath an awning made of steel pillars and wooden rafters. It was a style that had become more common in the Craftsman homes in the United States but seemed out of place in a house designed to look like a Spanish mission.
Behind them, the two bell towers at the front gate loomed high above the surrounding wall. The gate clicked, effectively locking them in. Or so Espinoza and his security team would have people think. They’d clearly never dealt with the best.
Adriana’s eyes carefully dissected the area in the courtyard and the enveloping walls. If she had to escape in this direction, that might prove difficult, but her plan wasn’t to go out the front door.
In her analysis of the property, she discovered a worn path that wound its way down the cliffs near the security shack. Upon arriving at the estate, Adriana parked her SUV amid a thick outcropping of sagebrush and small trees. A few large stones also helped to keep her vehicle hidden from other guests who might be arriving fashionably late.
Normally, she would be carrying something in which to tote her wares: a bag, tube, or worst case, a satchel of some kind. Tonight, assuming everything went according to plan, she’d be carrying two paintings, one in each hand, which would mean running into issues would be problematic.
Her mind was getting ahead of itself, though. Focus on the moment, Adriana reminded herself.
They stopped at the door so the two large men could check them thoroughly. The one on the right had a goatee and a long ponytail. He was much larger than the guy on the left, weighing close to three hundred pounds at minimum. The other guard’s muscles nearly bulged out of his suit. His hair was cut short, almost completely shaved. It reminded Adriana of the four men she’d killed the night before. All of them had the same shaved-head look she’d heard many gangsters sported.
The two men didn’t skimp on the search. They ran their hands along nearly every inch of the women’s bodies, most certainly for both pleasure and duty. At one point, Monique almost said something about how invasive their technique was, but she suppressed the urge. On top of that, it was what they’d expected considering the events of the previous night.
Adriana breathed calmly. She felt the guard’s fingers inch dangerously close to her garter belt where one of her tools was fitted snugly against her skin.
“Monique,” a voice from just inside the open double doors called out. “Gentlemen, you don’t need to be so thorough with them.”
A man was standing just inside, wearing a navy blue blazer, white dress shirt, and gray slacks. “Monique will not be any trouble, I can assure you.” His head swiveled to the left,and he took in the view of Adriana in her black dress. Her bare shoulders and low-cut top beckoned his eyes to linger. “Her guest, however, looks like she might be trouble. Fortunately, it is the kind of trouble I enjoy.” He winked and raised a glass of champagne he’d been loosely holding.