Bind Me(Capture Me: Book 2)(28)
I laugh, unable to help myself. The guy’s not even trying to conceal his chauvinistic views.
“I think what Eduardo’s trying to say is that Lucas is a lucky guy,” Diego says diplomatically, kicking the other guard under the table. “That’s all.”
“Right.” I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“You bet.” Diego winks at me and gets up to throw out his paper plate. “Eduardo’s just spoiled,” he explains, returning to the table. “First his mamacita babied him, then his ex-girlfriend.”
“Shut up,” Eduardo mutters, glowering at Diego. “Rosa didn’t baby me. She was just good at domestic things.”
“Rosa?” My ears perk up at the familiar name.
“Yeah, she’s Esguerra’s maid,” Diego says. “Sweet girl. Way too good for this guy here”—he jerks his thumb toward Eduardo—“so she dumped his ass months ago.”
“Oh, I see,” I say, trying not to appear too interested. If Rosa had dated Eduardo at some point, that explains how she knows about their poker games. “Does Esguerra have many servants?”
“Not really,” Eduardo answers, getting up to throw out his empty plate. He’s frowning; I guess the memory of being dumped by Rosa is not a pleasant one. “We should get going,” he says abruptly, then glances at me. “Are you almost done with your food, Yulia?”
I nod, consuming the remnants of my omelet. “Yes.” I carry my plate to the garbage and dump it, then wash the frying pan and place it on a paper towel to dry. “All done.”
“Good.” Diego smiles at me, his dark eyes gleaming. “Then go use the restroom, and we’ll take you on your morning walk.”
* * *
As the two men lead me on a brisk stroll through the forest, I decide they most likely don’t know about my involvement in the plane crash that killed their colleagues. Or if they do, they’re excellent actors. They banter with me as easily as they do with each other, their manner friendly and relaxed. They don’t seem like killers—except I see the guns stuck in the waistband of their jeans.
If they’re ordered to plant a bullet in my brain, I’m sure neither one will hesitate to do so.
Our walk takes about twenty minutes, and then they bring me back to Lucas’s house.
“All right, chica,” Diego says, leading me to Lucas’s library. “Your boyfriend said this is your usual spot. Grab whatever book you want, and then we have some work to do.”
“Boyfriend?” Startled, I look at the guard. “You mean, Lucas?”
Diego grins. “That’s the one. Unless you have more than one around here?”
I bite back a denial and grab a book at random. Lucas is definitely not my boyfriend, but if that’s what they think, it could play to my advantage.
It could also explain why the two guards are being so nice to me, I realize as I walk over to the armchair. It’s generally smart to show respect to the girlfriend of one’s boss—even if that girlfriend is to be handcuffed and tied up most of the time.
Sitting down, I place the book on my lap, take a deep breath, and extend my wrists toward Diego. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”
33
Lucas
Our flight to Chicago is uneventful. Esguerra stops by the pilot’s cabin every couple of hours to check on things, but for the most part, he stays in the main cabin with his wife and Rosa, who’s accompanying them on this trip.
“Nora is still sleeping,” he says, stopping by again an hour before we land. His dark eyebrows are drawn into a worried frown. “Do you think this is normal, to sleep this much?”
“Pregnant women need a lot of rest, or so I’ve heard,” I say, concealing a smile. Esguerra’s acting like no woman has ever carried a baby before. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
He nods and disappears back into the cabin. Probably to watch over Nora, I think with amusement before turning my attention back to the controls.
After the crash, I’m leaving nothing to chance.
We land at a small private airport just outside Chicago, where an armored limo is waiting for us on the runway. I’ve sent most of the guards ahead of us, and they’ve scrubbed this airport top to bottom, so I know it’s safe. Still, I automatically scan our surroundings for danger before walking over to the limo and getting into the driver’s seat.
One can never be too careful in our line of work.
As I drive the limo to Nora’s parents’ house, my thoughts turn to Yulia. Esguerra is in the back with Nora and Rosa, and everything is quiet on the road, so I decide to use this time to call Diego.
“How’s it going?” I ask as soon as the guard picks up.
“Well, let’s see…” He sounds like he’s on the verge of laughing. “For breakfast, she made an amazing omelet. For lunch, she fed us the best chicken I’ve ever had, and for dinner, she’s grilling pork chops and baking a chocolate cake. So I’d say it’s going pretty well. Oh, and we took her for a walk this morning.”
“She’s behaving? No escape attempts?”
“Are you kidding me? Your girl’s a model prisoner. She even taught us a few swear words in Russian at lunch. Like yob tvoyu mat’—”
“Excellent.” I grit my teeth, battling a swell of irrational jealousy. I know I can trust these two guards, but it still bothers me that they seem to be getting so chummy with my captive. Loyal or not, they’re still men, and I know how easy it is to get obsessed with Yulia. “Don’t forget to handcuff her to the bedside pole at night.”
“You got it, man.”
“Good.” I draw in a deep breath. “And, Diego, if you or Eduardo so much as lay a finger on her—”
“We would never.” The young Mexican sounds insulted. “She’s yours, we know that.”
“All right.” I force myself to relax my grip on the wheel. “Call me if anything comes up.”
And disconnecting, I turn my attention back to the road.
* * *
Esguerra’s dinner with his in-laws passes without an incident until Frank, Esguerra’s CIA contact, decides to pay us a visit. He insists on speaking with Esguerra, so I call my boss outside after first making sure our snipers are in position.
If the US agency decides to double-cross us tonight, they’ll have a battle on their hands.
Fortunately, Frank doesn’t seem to be suicidal. He sends his car away and goes for a walk with Esguerra. I follow at a small distance, keeping my hand on the gun inside my jacket. They don’t go far, just to the nearest park and back.
“What did they want?” I ask Esguerra when Frank’s black Lincoln pulls away.
“For us to stay the fuck out of their country,” Esguerra explains. “Apparently, the FBI is going apeshit—Frank’s words, not mine. They’re worried about why we’re here. Plus, there’s the whole matter of Nora’s abduction.”
“Right. So what did you tell him?”
“That we’re not here on business, and that we’ll leave when we’re good and ready. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a family dinner to get back to.” He disappears back into the house, and I head to the limo, shaking my head in disbelief.
My boss has balls, I have to give him that.
* * *
It’s late by the time Esguerra’s dinner is over. Fortunately, it’s not a long drive to Palos Park, a wealthy community where Esguerra bought a mansion on my recommendation.
“It’ll be more secure than a hotel,” I told him when we began planning the trip two weeks ago. “This specific house is particularly good because it’s fenced in and has an electronic gate, not to mention a long driveway—optimal for privacy.”
When we pull up to the mansion, Esguerra, Nora, and Rosa go inside while I check in with the guards to make sure they’re properly positioned and know what to do in case of emergencies. It takes me over an hour, and by the time I finally enter the house, I’m more than ready to hit the sack. First, though, I need to grab a bite to eat; the two energy bars I ate in the car were a shitty substitute for dinner.
I clearly got spoiled by Yulia’s cooking.
“Oh, hi, Lucas,” Rosa says when I enter the kitchen. Her cheeks flush as she looks at me. I must’ve caught her on her way to bed, because she’s wearing long pajamas and cradling a cup of steaming milk. “I didn’t realize you were still up.”
“Yeah, I had to do some last-minute security checks,” I say, suppressing a yawn. “Why are you awake?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Too many new impressions, I guess.” Her full lips curve in a wry smile. “I’ve never flown before—or been to America.”
“I see.” Battling another yawn, I make my way over to the fridge and open it. It’s fully stocked already—I made the arrangements for food delivery myself—so I grab some cheese and a loaf of bread to make myself a sandwich.
“Do you want me to make you something?” Rosa offers, watching me uncertainly. “I can whip up something in a minute.”
“It’s nice of you to offer, thanks, but you should go to sleep.” I slap a slice of cheese on a piece of bread and bite into the dry sandwich. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of cooking to do tomorrow,” I say after I chew and swallow.