He walked to the door and Sabrina started to feel a sense of panic. “Jorge Salazar, let me go! Whatever may have happened to you, I never would’ve guessed that you’d let someone die just to further your own goals.”
He stopped when he reached the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll look into your friend’s disappearance. I still have contacts in the area who can help.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Nice to see how you really think of me, but I’m not a cold-hearted bastard. Just a determined one.”
He took a step out of the room and she said, “Wait, you aren’t seriously going to leave me tied up here, are you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? But don’t get too comfy. We’ll be moving locations in a few hours.”
With that, he left her.
Jorge went into the bathroom and shut the door to get some privacy. Sure, he needed to make some calls and check on Sabrina’s friend, but he also needed to work on killing his erection.
He’d never really thought about tying a woman to a bed before, but the image of Sabrina tied up and vulnerable had sent blood rushing to his cock. That woman had gotten one thing right—he was different from the man she’d known before.
Hell, before his time with the Collector, he’d barely had enough nerve to try to kiss Sabrina. Now he imagined taking her tied up on the bed.
Think of something else. If he’d had any chance at all with Sabrina, it was gone now. Especially as he was going to have to treat her more as a prisoner until either she worked with him willingly or they succeeded in capturing Watkins.
That thought kicked his head back into the game. He took out the brand new burner phone he’d brought with him and punched in his DEFEND contact’s number. The phone rang once before a woman answered, “Yes?”
“Santos, I need you to check a few things out for me.”
“Have you gotten anywhere with your assignment?”
“Nearly. I’ve tapped a few people I used to know, but one person has gone missing. I need you to check on a waitress named Yolanda from Cafe Maya. She’s disappeared, and I think it might be because of me.”
“You don’t even have a last name or address for me? I have other things to do, Salazar. Unless you can give me a concrete reason why you need to find this woman, I’m going to pass.”
Jorge clenched the phone. DEFEND had assigned Isabel Santos as his contact here in Merida, but the woman never made things easy. “I’ve got the Collector’s people to deal with, on top of being a wanted ex-Fed League member, and don’t have time for your complaints. If you have any issues, take it up with your leaders. Aislinn is the one who ordered you to help me in any way that you can.”
Aislinn was one of the co-leaders of DEFEND. Jorge might have only had a few phone conversations with the woman, but even he knew you did what she ordered, no questions asked. Santos, who’d worked for DEFEND for years, knew that even better than he did.
The line went silent for a few seconds. When Santos finally replied, her tone was unnaturally even. “Fine. Let’s say I find out information on this waitress. How can I contact you?”
“I have another cell phone I haven’t used and keep for emergencies. Here’s the number.” He gave it and then said, “One last thing. I need a safe house to use.”
“Demanding one, aren’t you?”
“Cut the shit. Just give me an address and tell me where to find the key.”
“Fine, dickwad. You ready?”
“Yes, sunshine, get on with it.”
He jotted down the information and hung up the phone before taking out the battery and tossing it on the ground. After smashing the phone with his boot, he ran his fingers through his hair and decided what to do next. Normally, he’d knock someone unconscious or use his shadow-shifting skills to transport a captive to a new location. Right now, however, he couldn’t do the latter because his powers hadn’t recharged yet, and Jorge had no wish to die trying to use them again before the twenty-four hour mark.
The former he didn’t want to do because of his fucking conscience. How that bastard had survived,
Jorge didn’t know, but he’d already tied Sabrina up. He didn’t want to see how much more uncooperative she’d become if he knocked her out.
But why should he care? Getting her to hate him more would make it easier to force her away once this was over. As long as her friend was possibly missing and those schoolchildren were still in danger, she’d do whatever it took to make both situations right—even if it meant working with him.
Jorge reached into one of the pockets of his BDU pants and took out the little assassin-slash-spy kit he always carried. He flipped it open, grabbed the small needle and bottle of drugs, and laid the case aside. As he filled the syringe with the clear liquid, he had a split-second flash of regret, but then he pushed that motherfucker aside and headed for the room holding Sabrina.
Chapter Six