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Wayne Killington looks as confused as I am. He’s sitting on one side of the sofa. His skin has more color since I saw him last, but his off-white Tommy Bahama shirt with brown and green palm fronds across the front highlights his wrinkles and sallow complexion.
A dignified older man with a shock of white hair on top of weathered brown skin sits in an armchair to the right of Killington. I recognize him as Alejandro Toro.
Rafael sits in the armchair across from his father, his back to me, but he turns when Killington addresses me.
“You know Sophia?” Rafael asks.
Gemma steps past me, shoes in her hand. “We just stopped by for me to change my shoes. We’ll be gone in just a minute.” She rushes down the hall to what is presumably a bedroom.
Ivan is to my back, near the door of the suite. I don’t see any of the other members of Rafael’s entourage, but they must be near.
One man behind me. Three in front. The three in front don’t appear to be armed. Ivan is.
“Why is she here?” Killington asks. He sinks into the cushion on the couch, making him appear lower. A subservient player on the chessboard.
“Why are you here?” I direct the question to Killington, ignoring all others in the room.
My senses elevate. Awareness piques. I hear the air conditioning. See the red dot of a plane light passing in the distance through the window. My fingers tense. Ready.
Confusion crosses his expression. He’s looking between me and the Toros. He gives a half-laugh. “I’m guessing you guys don’t know she’s FBI?”
In my periphery I see Gemma appear in the hallway, sparkly platform Golden Gooses on her feet.
Alejandro sits like a king on a throne. Calm. Dark brown eyes taking it all in.
“We met her in Canada.” I can’t see Rafael’s face, but his tone sounds skeptical.
The CalTan team has to be hearing this. No one wants a shootout. Voices from the courtyard waft in through the window.
“Sophia Garcia.” Rafael turns his questioning gaze my way.
“Hate to break it to you guys, but this is Sophia Sullivan.”
Alejandro’s eyes narrow. “Why is that name familiar?”
“Cassandra Sullivan. Remember her?”
Killington has the Toros’ attention. An object presses against my spine. Ivan’s spicy cologne fills my nostrils.
He’s standing too close. I can take him. When I need to.
“What does my mother have to do with this?”
Killington’s smile falls. He looks to Alejandro, then to me.
Recognition lights Alejandro’s face. “She’s the woman who knew too much.”
My mouth opens. It’s an involuntary reaction. I need to breathe, and my lungs are contracting.
Slowly, I open my clutch. The movements are tiny, so as not to alert Ivan. My fingers wrap around the smooth handle, the index finger around the trigger. The clutch falls to the floor.
Gemma gasps. “Sophia, what’re you doing?”
I point my gun at the back of Rafael’s head. If Ivan shoots, I’ll take Rafael with me.
This doesn’t add up. There’s no reason for Killington to hold back now, so it’s question time. “I thought you worked for the Moreno cartel?”
“The Morenos worked for us,” Rafael says.
