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“Tim’s going to invite you to the ambassador’s gala dinner in San José. If you care about him, you won’t go. You’ll leave. Now. You’re bad for his image. No ambassador should be seen with a woman like you. You know how politics are, and if you don’t care, which I rather think to be the case, then fuck him so you can get over it and leave. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. No one can take him for very long. Tim is…” her smile was knowing, “…a handful.”
“I know exactly how he fits in my hands, and it’s more than two hands full.”
Frida pulled her mouth into a firm line. “That’s what I thought. You don’t care about Tim.”
“Tell Tim I look forward to the gala dinner.”
Frida squared her shoulders. The delicate collarbones stood out, making her seem frail and vulnerable, but Maya wasn’t deceived. Frida was a force to be reckoned with.
“I’ll send you your invite, and a word of advice.” Her eyes moved over Maya. “Wear something that doesn’t make you look like a slut.” She turned on her heel and followed the path to the beach.
Maya cursed under her breath. A jealous competitor. More complications.
When Frida was out of sight, Maya checked her watch and started jogging as Tim passed through town and continued to a popular beach area known for its luxury timeshare houses. Once she reached town, she took a taxi and got off a block from where her smartwatch indicated Tim had stopped. As she neared the location, an impressive, pink, double-story house that stood on a hill overlooking the beach came into view. Tim’s buggy was parked on the circular driveway in front. There were guards everywhere. Bingo. If the place was this heavily guarded, it meant she was on the right track. There were no high walls and her smartwatch didn’t pick up infrared alarms. It was the kind of luxury holiday home that was part of a rental scheme, not a fortress built for an arms lord.
Sneaking around the side, she checked for dogs. Her luck was in. No hounds patrolled the premises. From her hiding place behind trees that stretched beyond the garden, she scanned the windows. Figures passed in front of an upstairs window. It was the largest room on the upper floor, and, like all the other rooms, it had doors opening onto a balcony that stretched across the width of the house. The roof was constructed of tiles that sloped toward the balcony, the back end nearly touching the low cliff that formed one side of the hill. From the back, she could jump onto the roof.
She moved fast and silently. After slipping her gun into the built-in holster of her suit, she rounded the hill and climbed it. There was a gap between the hill and the roof, so she took enough distance and broke into a sprint. When her foot hit the edge, she propelled her body forward and stretched her legs into a split, landing with a soft thud on the roof. Swiftly, she made her way toward the side of the house and used a gutter pipe to lower herself to the balcony. She crouched in a dark patch in the corner where the spotlights from the garden didn’t reach. From here, she had a clear view of the window.
Tim sat on a sofa with Lee next to him. Three men sat on the opposite side, but she could only see the back of their heads. The man on the left had brown hair that curled over his nape, and the one on the right had spiky blond hair. The one in the middle caught her attention. He had salt-and-pepper hair, and his arm was draped over the back of the sofa. A white cuff with a silver bullet cufflink showed under an Armani suit sleeve.
“I don’t appreciate having to cross the Atlantic and Indian Oceans to clean up your mess, Tim,” the gray-haired man said.
“I had it under control. It wasn’t necessary.”
“If you knew you had a rat in your organization, why didn’t you take care of it?”
Tim leaned forward. “I had him tailed. We were this close,” he pressed his forefinger and thumb together, “to finding out who he was leaking info to when you decided to shred him to pieces.”
“I won’t tolerate sloppiness.”
“I won’t tolerate meddling in my business, Ilano, not even from you.” There was a threat in Tim’s tone that, even if his voice was calm, left no room for doubt.
The gray-haired man, Ilano, lifted his hands. “I’m not questioning your loyalty, but if a rat infiltrates your team, can you blame me for questioning your efficiency?”
“As I said, I had it under control, until you interfered. I was using him to lead me to his source. Of course, with his insides minced, I can’t do that any longer.”
