Page 42 of Wicked Intention

Finn nodded. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“That’s all right, I can—” A hard look ended her refusal. “Okay, thanks,” she said instead.

Standing, he offered a hand to help her to her feet and then put his jacket on. They paused near the coat rack, and she dug out her rain jacket from the collection hanging there. It shocked her when he held it for her. Discomfited by his politeness, Zo dropped her hands into her jacket’s pockets.

Her head came up in a hurry as she touched paper. Her pockets had been empty when they’d arrived at the coffee house. She withdrew her hand, a note curled in her fist. Slowly, she unfolded it.

Zoey, I’m safe for now. Stop looking for me, or that will change.

“Who is that from?” Finn demanded, voice low.

“Mari. No one else has ever called me Zoey.”

Chapter Sixteen

Trujillo, Puerto Jardin

27 Months Earlier

DUSK WAS STARTING TO SETTLE, and twilight didn’t last long near the equator. Finn checked his watch. Zo should have made it to San Isidro by now, and he’d be on time for his meeting. He doubled around the block, checking for a tail.

Zo believed he hadn’t taken her warning seriously this afternoon, but she was wrong. As soon as she’d driven away, he’d signaled he needed an emergency check-in. Ramos wasn’t the most reliable source, but if he was issuing threats, there might be another player in the mix, and it could fuck up the entire operation.

IfRamos wasn’t playing some kind of game for reasons of his own.

Once Finn was sure no one was following him, he resumed his walk to the bar. He’d do a few more evasive maneuvers before he got there, but it didn’t appear as if anyof Ramos’ enforcers or Torres’ men were interested in him. Yet.

His phone buzzed. Damn, he hoped there wasn’t a change in plans. Finn lifted it and checked the screen, but he didn’t recognize the number. The area code was Puerto Jardin, though. “Yeah?” He kept his tone neutral.

“It’s me. Zo.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He’d never given her his number. Finn didn’t like it. “Are you calling to let me know you made it to the inn safely?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you have an accident?”

“Nooo.” She dragged out the word.

Finn’s gut twisted. This was bad; he knew it. “What’s going on, loquita?” The even tone came with effort.

“There was a car blocking the road on my way to San Isidro. I tried to turn around, but another car blocked the road behind me. I didn’t do anything crazy.” She said this matter-of-factly, but it told him a lot that she’d opened with this explanation.

He dropped his head forward and swallowed an expletive. “It’s okay, mi alma, I believe you,” he said gently. “Where are you?”

“Señor Torres has invited me to join him and Señor Silva for dinner. We’re at his estate.”

To anyone who didn’t know her, they’d hear calmness in her voice, but Finn had spent enough time with Zo to pick up on the tension. She was scared and hiding it. His admiration for her strength grew at the same time that his concern leaped into the stratosphere. There was a muffled male voice Finn couldn’t quite make out.

“Señor Torres said he would like you to join us, too. That it would ruin my evening if you don’t show up.”

The threat was clear—they were using Zo as leverage against him, and if he didn’t cooperate, she’d pay the price.Again. This was worse than bad. “What does Señor Torres want me to do?”

The muffled voice came again before Zo said, “There will be a limo at your motel in ten minutes. It will bring you to the estate.”

“Tell Señor Torres I’m too far away from the motel to make it back there in time. I need twenty minutes.” Finn turned and started jogging.

A pause, then, “He says you have fifteen minutes, and that if you’re not there, I will have an unpleasant evening.”