Page 5

Mentioning he’d been employed by Vargas was a strategic move, but Oz wished he’d kept his mouth shut when he saw Ayla go pale.

She’d already been uneasy about the fact he was a mercenary, but it was likely she imagined him fighting in Puerto Jardin’s civil war.

Working for a drug lord was clearly a step too far for her.

The urge to confess the truth, that he was Army Special Forces and not a mercenary at all, shocked Oz mute.

He knew better.

Just the fact she was in this country was suspicious, especially given the night they spent together. He couldn’t risk his team by blowing his cover.

Hardening his resolve, Oz ignored her stricken expression.

Ayla needed to know he wasn’t bullshitting when he told her the ruins were dangerous.

If her fear and loathing of him convinced her he knew what he was talking about and that prevented her from traveling out there, then her low opinion of him was worth it.

It wasn’t only Vargas. Oz didn’t believe she could manage the hike from the road to the site, not as rough as the terrain was.

Ayla was corporate. She was city. She probably went to the gym four or five days a week, followed her training plan for weights and cardio, and called it good.

He suspected she’d try to reach the ruins anyway, and to hell with it being beyond her abilities.

Oz recognized stubborn when he saw it and Ayla was hellbent on saving her twin. He admired the loyalty.

“Are you sure your sister made it to Trujillo?” he asked.

Ayla didn’t look at him for a moment, then she straightened and said, “Yes, I know she arrived here.”

Call him skeptical, but she didn’t seem aware of much. He wanted proof. “How do you know that? Maybe she never left the capital.”

“I know.” Ayla’s voice was resolute, but she didn’t tell him why she knew.

He considered pressing her, but her expression suggested that would get him nowhere. Oz decided to circle back later.

It was clear Ayla would never manage the trip to the ruins, but what about her twin? Was she capable? “What kind of physical condition is your sister in? Could she handle a long hike over rough terrain?”

“Probably,” she said at last. “Io does things like rock climbing, kayaking, surfing, hiking, and competing in Ironman races. She’s into challenging herself.

” Ayla’s lips curved, but there was a hint of ruefulness there.

“She’s been talking about training to compete in some five-day bike race that takes place in the mountains. ”

From her tone, Oz gathered Ayla didn’t understand her sister’s interests. He did. There was something about setting ambitious goals and meeting them that was addictive. It was part of what originally drew him to Special Forces.

“She could have made it to the ruins then,” he said when he realized Ayla stared at him expectantly. “ If she ever left Trujillo, of course. This city is dangerous.” And if she made it from Rio Blanco to Trujillo, but he left that part unspoken.

“You said something about street smarts earlier. Io has them. She’s always had a sixth sense that’s kept her out of trouble.”

“Not this time,” Oz said. “Not if you flew down to save her.”

Ayla nodded and a worried expression settled on her face. “It had to be something unexpected, something she didn’t see coming.”

Oz shrugged but didn’t comment. Dodging muggers wasn’t the same as evading the men working for a drug lord or an arms dealer. If she’d hired the wrong guide to take her to the ruins, she could have been robbed and murdered on the way to the site. Or robbed and abandoned to fend for herself.

It didn’t even need to be human trouble. Maybe she’d tried to hike to the ruins and encountered a venomous creature or she’d injured herself severely enough that she couldn’t walk out. Without a satellite phone, she wouldn’t be able to call for help.

He didn’t point out any of the possibilities to Ayla, not when she was already concerned. Adding to her list wouldn’t help anything, and it might hurt if she hared off into the rainforest to find Iona. “You don’t plan to go to the authorities, right?”

“I read up on Puerto Jardin before I arrived. I know about the corruption and that the police and military can’t be trusted. Going to the authorities might put Io at greater risk.”

“It would put you at risk, too,” he growled.

Ayla seemed to care more about her sister’s well-being than her own.

That stubborn expression Oz was becoming accustomed to settled on her face again.

He changed the topic slightly. “So, the sum total of your plan is to go to San Isidro and ask questions?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Yeah, he did. She should return to the States, but he already knew Ayla wouldn’t do that.

It wasn’t as if she could hire someone to look for her sister.

With the situation in Puerto Jardin, whoever she picked could take the money and do nothing.

The idea of offering to help her himself roared back, but his team was on an op.

If she were in imminent danger, he might be able to get involved without angering his captain, but she wasn’t.

A voice in his head whispered that he could tell her he’d look for her sister while she returned to LA, but Oz pushed it away.

It wouldn’t be true. He’d only be able to keep his eyes open while he did his own job.

If there was a threat to Ayla, he’d lie his ass off if that’s what it took to keep her safe, but all he had were his own worries.

It wasn’t enough to backslide into how he’d behaved when he was younger.

He needed to think about a plan to get Ayla out of the country and keep her from returning. Sticking her on a plane without her agreement wouldn’t work. She’d turn around and come back. Oz would have to come up with something that didn’t require lying.

“Do you feel up to walking now?” He could mull things over while they moved.

“Of course,” Ayla agreed, sitting upright on the bench.

“Are you positive? Because I’m taking a roundabout route to the hotel to make sure no one is tailing us.”

That startled her. “You mean the gang?” Her voice dropped to a whisper on the final two words and her gaze darted around the park.

Running a hand over his face to hide a smile, Oz said, “Yes, I don’t want the gang to know where you’re staying. It’s unlikely that they followed us, but it’s better to be safe.”

“Definitely,” she agreed. “I can make it. I feel normal now.”

Oz stood, held out a hand to help her to her feet, and reached for the handle of the suitcase before she could grab it. “I got it, Pollita.” Ignoring her protest, he said, “I’m going to walk slowly, but if I go too fast for you, let me know, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “It was adrenaline. I can walk just fine. I go to the gym, you know.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. What? I remember the tone of your muscles.” Her cheeks went red, and Oz hid a grin. He enjoyed her reactions when he reminded her about their night together. Fuck, he just plain enjoyed her.

This was a problem. He was dealing with desire and memories of how good it was between them.

He believed she told him the truth about being here to save her sister, but he couldn’t trust his instincts when it came to her.

Lust had a way of blinding a man to things he should see and his reaction to Ayla in Los Angeles had been strong and immediate. Nothing had changed since then.

“Come on,” he said, inclining his head in the direction he planned to go. “I’m taking you to Palacio Monasterio . It’s the nicest hotel in Trujillo.”

Ayla stopped in her tracks and Oz was forced to turn and walk back to where she stood. “How expensive is this place?” she asked when he reached her.

“As long as you’re in a regular room, it’s affordable. Maybe a hundred US dollars a night, including the fees and taxes.”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Okay. That’s doable.”

If it wasn’t, Oz would spend his own money. There were two hotels she’d be safe in, and the other was priced similarly. He wasn’t letting Ayla stay at a cheaper hotel in some sketchier area of the city.

Sketchy. Yeah. Now he needed to come up with a plan to keep her out of trouble while she searched for her twin.

San Isidro was mostly fine. Senor Alvarez, the innkeeper in town, would watch out for her.

It was Ayla at the ruins that made his gut clench.

Check that. It was the idea of her hiking from the road to the ruins that made his gut clench.

She’d never survive the trek.

He glanced at her profile, saw the determined look on her face as she walked beside him, and swallowed his arguments. Damn, he needed some brilliant idea to pop into his brain, but nothing he’d thought of so far would work.

Oz was still running scenarios when they arrived at Palacio Monasterio.

Part of the hotel was a historic monastery, but there was a low-rise building attached that held the vast majority of the private rooms. The architects apparently tried to match the exterior of the two sections, but it wasn’t a successful attempt.

“Are you sure I can afford this?” Ayla asked.

“I promise. Come on.” He led her into the hotel.

Within a few feet of crossing the threshold, she stopped again, looking around.

The lobby was large and elegant with carved wood paneling, ornate chandeliers, and seating areas with plush sofas and chairs grouped around either a coffee table or a side table.

The concierge was nearly directly in front of them, but the front desk was to their right.

With his free hand, Oz encouraged her to move in that direction.

She shot him a skeptical glance.

“Pollita, if you don’t believe me about the cost, ask the front desk clerk. It’s only the suites that are outrageously priced.”

He stood slightly behind and off to the side while Ayla checked in. Her Spanish was good, but the few seconds of mental translation bothered him. A moment’s hesitation could be dangerous if she needed information quickly.

When the desk clerk signaled for a bellhop, Oz said, “I’ll bring her luggage to her room.”

With a nod, the man handed Ayla the small folder with her keycards.

The lobby was mostly empty. A group of men sat around a coffee table and another man was off to the side, reading a newspaper.

His face was concealed as he held the paper up, but Oz recognized the brand of watch the man wore.

It was among the most expensive in the world.

Likely some businessman from a neighboring country.

He led Ayla to the elevator, and when they got on, she pressed the button for the fourth floor. “What’s your room number?” he asked.

She opened the folder and glanced down. “412.”

When the doors opened, the carpeting wasn’t as plush.

Instead of rich wood paneling, the walls were painted.

It was obvious this was the hotel’s new wing.

Ayla stopped in front of a door and reached to put her key in the lock.

Oz picked up his pace. “Hang on, Pollita. Let me check out the room before you go inside. I want to make sure it’s secure. ”

For a moment, Oz thought she might argue, but she shrugged and handed him the keycard.

After setting down the suitcase, he said, “Stay in the hall until I give you the all-clear.”

It didn’t take much to check the room. It was small.

There was one full-sized bed taking up most of the space, a dresser at the foot with a flat-screen television, an upholstered chair in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the bed with lamps.

Two paintings with a historic feeling hung over the headboard.

The bathroom was utilitarian, and its size matched the room.

He returned to the hall. “It’s safe.” Oz picked up the suitcase and gestured for Ayla to precede him.

“It’s tiny,” she said as she tossed her hat on the bed. Oz set the suitcase down between the dresser and the foot of the bed. He turned in time to see her shrug. “But I did ask for the cheapest room they had, and it’s just me, so I don’t need a lot of space.”

Oz nodded. “Make sure you keep the door locked all the time.” He took a few steps away from the bed, but his body brushed against Ayla’s and they both froze.

The floral scent of her shampoo teased him, reminding him of the night they spent together.

Her warm skin seemed to radiate right into his being.

The shallowness of her breath told Oz he wasn’t the only one reacting to their closeness.

For an instant, he thought she was about to lean into him, and his heartbeat quickened. But Ayla merely took a step away and turned to face him. “Well, thank you for the rescue. I’ll be fine now.”

“Ayla—”

“I appreciate your help. Really. Thank you.”

“Be careful,” Oz warned her, “and be damn careful who you trust.”

“I will. Thanks.” Ayla closed the door to the room behind him. Oz stood in the hallway until he heard her turn the lock. It felt wrong to leave her, but he was on an op and she couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.

Shaking his head, he walked down the hall and around the corner to the elevator. He pressed the button and then realized he hadn’t told her to use the bathroom door wedge to help secure her door. Ayla wouldn’t like him returning, but he headed back to talk to her.

As soon as he rounded the corner, he spotted two men outside her room. One knocked. He picked up his pace as the door opened. Oz recognized both of the dudes.

They worked for Yaromir Ivanov, a notorious Russian crime boss.