Page 21 of Four Cards Exposed

“I will look for you tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

“In an apartment, a few blocks away from Moore’s bar. With three other women.”

“Do you feel safe?” If she said no, he wouldn’t hesitate to blow the whole operation out of the water right now.

She nodded quickly. “I do. I’m okay.”

“Tomorrow. Ten a.m. The park. Look for the ducks.”

“Is that safe?”

“Believe me, people will be sleeping tonight off.”

“Get the fuck away from her,” a voice said from the doorway. Daniel Guerrero stormed into the room. He was as tall as James, but much bulkier. James bared his teeth and moved forward to intercept the man before he could reach Susan. He would die before he let somebody hurt her.

“Guerrero, this is Jay,” Susan said, moving out from behind James. His arm itched to push her back behind them, but he held himself back, knowing that would be out of character for Jay.

“I know exactly who he is,” Guerrero snarled.

“I was just introducing myself to the new waitress,” he drawled. “Is that a problem?”

“No problem,” Guerrero said, “as long as you keep your hands to yourself. She’s under my protection.”

“He wasn’t bothering me,” Susan piped up quietly. The vodka bottle had made its way back into her hands again. “Miguel Mendoza asked me to bring this to him.”

She was shyer, as Milena, than he’d ever known her to be.

Just like you, she’s playing a role.

Remember that.

“I’m out of here. Sean expects me to smooch up to his guests. It was a pleasure meeting you, Señorita Milena,” James drawled.

He turned left in the hallway, moving towards one of the multiple metal staircases connecting each deck. He looked out at the sea. It was so dark he couldn’t see the line separating the water and the sky. As his eyes got used to the darkness, he saw the dark shadow of something that could only be another, smaller boat, moving away from their ship—silently enough that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been right there.

Looking behind him to make sure nobody was watching, he raced to the edge. His bruised hands gripped the railing tightly, but it was too late to see much. Just a shadow, disappearing into the night.

Could the drugs be on board?

His heart sped up. He had to find out how frequent these trips were. This might be exactly the kind of break they were looking for.

8

* * *

James

In the three months and one week he’d been undercover, James hadn’t missed a single morning of running.

Maybe because your life depends on it now, more than ever before.

Every few days, he faced a new opponent in an unsanctioned, illegal fight—fights that were not over until one of the two stayed down. James’s physical integrity, but also his usefulness to Moore, depended on his muscle memory—on being able to throw a well-timed punch, and on being able to move back fast enough to avoid the other guy’s punches.

Every week, as his reputation in the circuit increased and more and more money went into his fights, the fights got harder.

The money he was earning was currently hidden under his mattress, to be handed over to his team once the operation was over, and Moore and the Mendoza Cartel were history.

Which would hopefully happen soon, because one of these days, his luck in the fighting ring would run out—he’d get clocked hard enough to knock him unconscious, or break his hand while throwing a punch, and Moore wouldn’t have any use for him anymore.