Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(51)
Her hand on his arm, she followed him to the doorway, where the first guests were arriving. Anyone seeing the urbane if not handsome Latino and the gorgeous natural blonde on his arm would have assumed they were married, independently wealthy, graduates of elite universities. Successful Mexico City businesspeople welcoming a roster of international guests.
Which, in a way, was true, except the business all were involved in was uniquely lucrative. And uniquely dangerous.
Every woman wore glittering jewels and every man wore a tux. Yancy had attended fancy dinners with Emm and her Rothschild stepfather, but she’d never felt as if she fit in, with her off-the-rack dresses and cheap shoes. But tonight she sensed Arturo’s macho pride in having her on his arm, and he courteously introduced her to anyone she hadn’t met, which included most of the guests.
Yancy smiled brightly at a new arrival. Jesús. As a key distributor of both meth and cocaine, he was at the house often, and Arturo had already sent her to Jesús’s bed as a reward for beating his quotas. But she’d also read his blatant ambition and invited him several times to her bed when Arturo was away. She’d dated such men before, identical in morals and ambition; they just wore Wall Street suits when they stabbed someone in the back.
Yancy hadn’t figured out if Jesús was an undercover Mexican cop or just playing the two rival cartels against one another, which she knew was a very dangerous game. He was, Arturo had thought, totally loyal, at least until tonight. Apparently now Arturo suspected he had divided loyalties, which was disastrous news to Yancy, because Jesús was their ride out of the compound. She had to do damage control for one more night.
She’d flattered his ego and played up her hatred of Arturo enough that Jesús was enamored of her and had agreed to help her and Jennifer escape, especially as she’d promised him a hefty reward from the Rothschild side of the family and a portion of the money raised when she sold her jewels. He intended tonight to be his last appearance as one of Arturo’s trusted lieutenants, so he had little to lose. Arturo would already be out for his blood.
But she and Jesús merely smiled perfunctorily at one another as he lifted her hand to kiss it. Yancy stuck the tiny piece of paper he slipped in her palm between her breasts as she turned aside to bend, as if to straighten the strap of her shoe. Arturo glanced her way as she slipped the glittery strap higher. Something flickered in his eyes that disturbed her but then she was greeting another guest. Arturo’s cold dark eyes followed Jesús as he went to help himself to champagne, but a second later the drug lord was smiling at his new associates.
The older and shorter Chechen’s eyes were fixed on her bodice when she straightened up. Had he seen her hide the scrap of paper? Her heart skipped a beat, but she only forced a seductive smile, offering her hand as both men eyed her up and down and then back. Both kissed the air above her hand. One said something to Arturo in Russian, which, to her shock, he answered, albeit slowly. She had to greet another arrival, but the hairs rose on the back of her neck at this added proof of Arturo’s utter dedication to ruling the world of drugs. He was barely literate, so learning Russian must have been a real challenge for him, and it was also a scary sign of how much this alliance meant to him. His life’s ambition was to be included in Fortune ’s list of billionaires, like his predecessor, El Chapo. Except Arturo didn’t intend to be captured . . . no matter how many people he had to kill or palms he had to grease.
As the festivities wore on, with extreme effort, Yancy managed not to fidget with her bodice to see what time she and Jennifer were to slip out of the house to the courtyard; Jesús would plead tiredness before the cigars and retreat to his limo. The way the younger Chechen all but stripped Jennifer with his eyes and slapped Arturo’s son on the back made time, always a precious, vanishing commodity, more priceless than the jewels Yancy wore.
She figured she had about three hours before Arturo ordered her to the upstairs room or, even worse, Jennifer. Or . . . and this time she grew dry mouthed at the thought . . .
Both of them.
Back in Amarillo, Emm reveled in the slight soreness of her lips as she waited at the hostess desk for Curt. She was so tired after the session with Ross it had been an effort to show up as expected, but she’d dragged herself to the appointed dinner, knowing it was too important to miss. She fixed a false smile upon her face as she greeted Curt at the reception area. “Thanks for meeting me.” He took her arm as the hostess led them to a nice booth near the back. It was dramatically lit, and Emm realized the woman thought they were a romantic item.
They traded small talk at first, but Emm slowly ratcheted up her questions from bland to pointed. “I thought your penthouse was gorgeous when I came to your housewarming party. What else have you done to it?”
After Curt described his extensive renovations, she added, “That must have increased the market value quite a bit. You bought at a really good time, so I imagine your equity is substantial.”
Curt looked away. “Yeah, I had to pull a home equity loan to afford everything.”
That was easy enough to check. “So how do you like your new Carrera? It’s the turbo model, isn’t it?”
He nodded woodenly, eyeing her more closely. “You’re . . . chatty tonight.”
“I love my new car, just thought we’d compare notes. What did it cost you, again?”