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“A margarita for me,” I tell her, scrolling through the offered items.
“Gin and tonic.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She smiles and goes to the bar located on one side of the crowded place.
“Busy,” Rowan notes.
“It usually is.” I take advantage of the opportunity to scan the room, pausing slightly when I spot the pass through into the kitchen. Through the opening, I can see Ricky peering in our direction.
Rowan studies his menu. “What should I get?”
I turn back to him, my heart pounding because I can’t screw this up. “Um… How about you get the steak tacos and I’ll get the ceviche. We can share. The boys would like the tortas. But will you order for me? I have to use the restroom.”
He looks toward the hallway in the back, probably registering the face of every individual on the way. There’s an edge to him here, where he’s completely on guard, anticipating a fight, I suppose. “Don’t take too long.”
Standing, I sigh. “I’ll be okay. You can come with me if it makes you feel better.”
“Go. I’ll order.”
Before he can change his mind and actually come with me, I go. When I reach the hall, I glance over my shoulder. He’s watching me carefully. I wave and smile, then enter the restroom.
A few minutes later, Elisa comes in. “Miss Duran?”
“I was hoping you’d show up!” I say, stepping out of the stall.
“Ricky sent me in to ask if he could speak with you.”
“That’s why I’m here, Elisa. But my husband is keeping a close eye.”
“I’ll distract your husband. Wait two minutes.” She slips out.
Tugging my cell from my back pocket, I time her. Two minutes in, I step into the hall, glancing toward the front of the restaurant. As she said, she’s at our table chatting with Rowan, who’s keeping his attention on her.
As quickly as possible, I rush down the little hall to the door that leads into the kitchen. I’m greeted with a simple nod by the staff, who’s accustomed to seeing me here.
Ricky is waiting inside the pantry, nervously wiping his hands on his stained white apron. “I have been calling jou. The Sinaloa deal fell through. They don’t want to do business with Don Fernando’s daughter without speaking to him first.”
“That doesn’t matter right now.” Though it irks me that the single biggest contract I could have gotten to show my father I’m as capable as Art isn’t going to happen, it’s not as important as the other job I have for the chef. I point out the door. “Do you know who that man is out there?”
“Rowan Kane. I heard jou married him. Jou’re crasy as fuck to bring him here. Or jou have big balls. Maybe both.”
“Neither. Both. I’m not sure anymore.”
Ricky peers around the corner as if he’s expecting someone to sneak up. “Why did jou do that if jou hate him?”
“I do fucking hate him.” Grabbing hold of his arm, I get his attention back to me. “Listen, Ricky, I don’t have a lot of time. Rowan is doing business with a man from Mexico named Falcon. He’s just signed a contract with him for cocaine. I need you to find out exactly who that is and how those shipments will come in.”
His brows knit together. “Falcon? I believe he’s referring to Esteban Falcon.”
“Is he a part of Los Diablos del Sur?” I ask, wondering if he’s associated with the cartel that controls much of the southern border.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Ricky says. “If he’s not, he might have to travel through Monterrey.”
“Or by plane,” I suggest. “I need you to look into it.”
He nods in agreement. “Where can I reach jou?”
“You can’t. The only phone I have is bugged.” I show him my new cell.
