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Leeri nodded demurely, not looking terribly upset to be deprived of the pleasure of my company.
“But we can stay in Lázaro Cárdenas for a few days, can’t we, Deo?” I whined, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. “I’m tired of flying,” I said, adding a sexy little pout into the mix.
Deo sighed—a little dramatically, in my opinion, but it worked. “Perhaps, we’ll take advantage of your city’s hospitality a little while longer, Javier,” he said, playing up the role of the indulgent boyfriend.
“Of course,mi amigo. Enjoy,por favor.”
Yeah, because who didn’t love a city controlled by a cartel who dumped bodies in warehouses on the city’s outskirts? It was practically like a trip to Disney World.
Two minutes later, one of Domínguez’s men was escorting us around the vast property and back to our car. The cuddly cactus stayed with Domínguez, so I could only hope that brief glimpse she’d gotten of the ink on my arm was enough.
“Well, what do you think?” Deo asked as he sat back against the seat and our driver pulled out of Domínguez’s long, winding driveway.
I shrugged. “I think I feel like a little kid trying to send secret messages with drawn-on tattoos.”
Really, I could feel my ten-year-old self shaking her head at me.
Deo chuckled. “It’s not the most high-tech plan, but sometimes the simplest plan is the most effective.”
God, I hoped so.
It was a short, quiet drive to the villa, but the moment we stepped inside, Brute shot to his feet from the sofa in the living room.
“Well?” he said, his gaze swiveling back and forth between the three of us. He looked way too damn hopeful.
Deo and Vito both looked to me while Gabe stared up from where he sat at the opposite end of the sofa, a laptop open in front of him on the coffee table. At least he didn’t look as hopeful as Brute.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She didn’t show any sign of relief, but for all I know, I’m walking around with a tattoo that says ‘support your local LGBT leprechauns’.” Which, if there was an LBGT leprechaun community out there, I was all for supporting. But at the same time, it probably wasn’t the most helpful message in our current situation.
Brute sighed.
Gabe nodded.
Deo headed for the kitchen. The man could eat no matter what was going on. Really, it was no difficult task to picture him in the middle of a gunfight, his SIG Sauer in one hand, a turkey club sandwich in the other.
Vito sat down in one of the empty, plush chairs in the living room.
“Any luck here?” I asked from the living room’s doorway. I was too wound up to sit.
Brute sat back down and stretched his arms out across the back of the couch. He was wearing a black, button-up shirt beneath his cut and the top few buttons were undone, revealing a few inches of the wickedly jacked pecs beneath.
Not surprisingly, that so did not help with the wound-up feeling inside me. I seriously needed to get laid.
Gabe sat up straighter. “I’m going to go out and do some recon alone tonight,” he said, which had the same effect as a bucket of cold water.
I abandoned my perusal of Brute’s tanned flesh and looked at Gabe.
“By yourself?” I asked, not liking the sound of that one bit.
He cocked an amused eyebrow. “That is usually what ‘alone’ means.”
I cocked an eyebrow right back at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “And if you run into any trouble?”
He shrugged. “I’ll just call on those local LGBT leprechauns you’re supporting.”
I shook my head. “You need backup. Remember all the lectures you’ve given me about that one-man hero bullshit?” Really, I’d heard them all so many times, I could have recited them from memory.
“I’m not playing hero; I’m playing super-sleuth.”
