Dominic
"I'll be right there," said my doe-eyed beauty. "I'm gonna, uhm, freshen up."
"Take your time." I released her and headed for the door to my room. "I have a quick call to make anyway."
"Do you want to message when you're done?"
"Naw. Just come on over. No need to knock." I winked. "I'm going to order room service. Want anything?"
"Uhm, yeah," she stopped just inside the door to her room, "tomato basil if they have it, and with some toasted French bread, sliced. If they don't have that, any soup will do as long as it's not split green pea or beef vegetable."
"Got it."
Guess the woman doesn't care for peas and beef—most interesting.
She slipped into her room and pushed the door shut. As soon as she did that, I headed into my assigned quarters, leaving the door open, then grabbed my phone. Accessing the screen, I drafted a text to Stepanovich.
—No contact from the Mexican cartel.
—Package is in my possession.
—Will work on extracting information.
—I'll send notice once released by the CDC.
Three wavy lines let me know a response was forthcoming. Stepanovich had never displayed an aptitude for patience, so I knew his was wearing thin. But I also knew that I had to keep a cool head with all the military presence. Plus, not knowing if the cartel had infiltrated any of the organizations on location also posed an issue. I had gone out on a limb by landing the plane, which had already put a spotlight on me, one I most certainly didn't need.
Another round of messages hit my phone.
—Take her to a safe house.
—Tima will text a location.
—Send updates to Tima or me only.
Timofey "Tima" Ruslanovich, the number three under the boss, was a little shit who skid into his current position when his older brother, Alexei "Lex" Ruslanovich, met his premature demise at the end of a barrel—Tima's gun, to be exact. Tima continuously uncovered so-called evidence that Lex was dipping his hands into the Pakhan's holdings. Something I'm still not sold on to this day, and I'm not sure I'll ever have that buy-in.
I drafted a reply, keeping it short and simple.
—Understood.
My single-word response was all I'd send until Tima texted unless something came up. But even then, some massive shit would need to go down before I messaged to call in the troops.
Tima's shit-eating grin came to mind. That fuckin' prick would screw his own mother if he thought it'd get him further up Stepanovich's ass.
My grandmother used to say, 'In a quiet lagoon, devils dwell.' And that fuckin' prick can't be trusted!
A thud came from Mina's room, pulling me from my thoughts and sending my dick on standby.
Grabbing the list of numbers off the nightstand, I came across a weblink for room service, then scrolled through the menu. I typed in a Ruben sandwich with chips, an iced tea, and a bottle of premium champagne, then keyed in a bowl of tomato basil soup and toasted bread for my little sparrow.
An image of her sipping hot tea on the plane came to mind, so I ordered a tea service with an assortment of flavors.
Another bang sounded, followed by a crash, and I wasn't entirely sure if it came from her room or the hallway.
More than fifteen minutes had passed, so I decided to speed things up a notch or two. It's not as if she had a lot of options when it came to freshening up—the robe or her flight suit.
Hell, at this point, I'd settle for her naked and on the middle of my bed.
I made sure my phone was on vibrate, slipped it into my pocket, entered the bathroom, then made my way to her door. Hand raised, I thought of knocking but didn't want to spook her. Plus, if Filipe or anyone else from the flight crew occupied her room, I'd need to make a decision—enter and mingle, or return to my room and wait.
Turning the knob, I eased it open and found the tip of a lampshade on the floor, peeking out around the corner.
Some movement inside the room drew my attention to different parts of the darkened areas. She was small and quick, but I seriously doubted Mina could be in two places at once.
I inched down the short hallway, then stepped around the corner to find my little sparrow pinned to the bed with a man on top of her—her loose hair fanned out over the pillow.
"Can anyone join this party?" I leaned against the wall, next to a second opened wine bottle, and picked it up as if to drink from it.
"Hey, vato, this is a closed party," said the man closest to me, wearing a Laker's shirt.
"Ju gotta go, esse." A shorter male approached, cracking his knuckles.
"Not a problem," I said, "but I'll be taking the girl."
"Check out the cajónes on this gringo, Sergi." The shorter man motioned with his hand in front of his crotch.
Sergi, the Laker-wearing Mexican, charged forward.
Grabbing the bottle, I swung, putting my arm into the motion. The impact to the side of Sergi's head made a dull thud, and warm wine sloshed onto my hand.
"What are you waiting for, Ricardo," shouted the fucker keeping Mina pinned to the bed. "Mess that pendejo up." He turned his attention back to her. "Now, where were we, mi amor?"
Oh, it's time to crack some fucking heads.
Rage grew inside me like a demon spawn from hell, and instead of containing it, I let that cold, calculating bastard within out to play.
Muscle memory kicked in, and I swept Sergi's feet out from under him, then bashed the fucker on the head a second time just for good measure, making sure he stayed down. Not to mention, it sure as fuck felt good.
"Come on, Ricardo." I waved him forward. "Or do I just call you Dick for short!"
"Hijo de las mil putas," growled the approaching dickhead.
"Son of a thousand whores, really? Can't say I've been called that before." A single toss of the bottle sent Dick to the floor with a golf ball knot forming on his forehead right between the eyes. "I might not speak fluent Spanish, asshole, but I sure as fuck learned the good stuff."
"Two down, brother," I said. "Looks like it's just you and me."
A small, strangled gasp came from underneath him, and it was then I realized that while I was dicking around with his buddies, the third asshole had his hands wrapped around my doe-eyed beauty's neck.
Sprinting to the bed, I tackled the man even before he had a chance to rise fully. My main objective—get the asshole away from Mina at any cost. The intruder and I crashed to the floor on the other side of the bed and came up exchanging punches.
The door to her room crashed open, and a guard entered, barking orders that drowned out Mina's gasps for air.
A quick glance her way was all I could spare, but her partially clothed body was enough to send me into a punching frenzy.
Within seconds, five more armed men entered the room, weapons drawn like something out of G.I. fucking Joe.
"I said," shouted the guard, "stand down, Leavitt." He held a laser pointer on my chest.
I dropped to my knees, then raised my hands to my head, but I kept that beady little bastard in plain view. For such a little guy, the Mexican cartel member could take a fuckin' punch better than any man I'd ever encountered before. He was like the fuckin' Energizer Bunny and just kept going, and going, and going.
Well, until one of the guards shoved the barrel of a 9mm in his face.
"What part of stand-down did you two not understand?" Nurse Reynolds walked into the room, a guard by her side. She checked one of the men on the floor, then moved on to the other. "Secure them, then get them all out of here."
One of the 9mm carrying guards grabbed my wrist, slapping a cuff around it.
Well, this just got interesting.
"No," a hoarse cry came from the bed. "Dominic, he—"
Mina scooted to the edge of the bed, swayed, then pulled the robe tighter around her body. A series of coughs sounded, but even while choking on her words, she rose.
She managed two steps, then stumbled into one of the guards, who caught her before she hit the floor.
"Oh, don't worry. We'll take him and the others," said Nurse Reynolds. "They won't bother you anymore tonight."
"No, you don't understand." Mina shook her head. "He came to help me."
"Is that true, Leavitt?" Nurse Reynolds asked.
"Yeah," I said. "I heard something, came to investigate, and found three men attempting to assault Miss Melchor."
I shot a glance at the first guard who had entered—his uniform read T. Cross—then flicked my gaze to Nurse Reynolds again.
"I had already incapacitated two of the intruders and was working on a third when your man, Cross, walked in."
"Is this true, Miss Melchor?" Nurse Reynolds stepped to the side so that the guards could drag the three Mexican cartel members out of the room.
Mina, rubbing her neck, nodded. Slowly, she made her way behind me.
"Do you require medical attention?" Nurse Reynolds approached, but my doe-eyed beauty kept my body between her and Nurse Reynolds and anyone else in the room.
Smart girl. I suppressed a grin. Even my little sparrow isn't sure who to trust at the moment.
"No." Mina pulled the robe tighter around her petite body. "I'm good."
"How'd they get into her room—or on the floor and past the guards, for that matter?" It was my turn to ask some questions.
Cross motioned for his men to vacate the room, and Nurse Reynolds followed, but he remained.
Once it was just the three of us, he said, "Half the guards at the end of the hall went to check on a disturbance call, and when they came back, they found the post empty." Cross kept his voice low. "The missing guards are still unaccounted for."
"And those who came back?"
"They put out a fire in the stairwell." Cross made his way to the door. "Miss Melchor."
"Yes." She glanced in the guard's direction.
"The men," said Cross, "did they say what they wanted?"
She didn't say a word, and her silence made the room feel heavy.
"When I walked in, one of them said it was a closed party," I said, knowing full well the Mexican cartel wanted her for the same reason my Pakhan did, but for what, I sure as shit didn't know. "They said that I wasn't invited and had to leave, and well, that wasn't gonna happen."
"Do you want me to send a guard? A female to stay with you, Miss Melchor?"
"No," she said, nodding, then glanced up at me through those mahogany lashes.
"Well, you shouldn't be alone," said Cross, "and I'll talk to Dr. Quinn about moving you to another part of the hotel."
"Now that the quarantine's lifted, she's welcome to stay in my quarters until something more suitable is found." Like a fucking safe house far from here and from the Mexican cartel and that psycho bitch, Nurse Reynolds. "That is, if that's okay with you, Mina."
"Yes," she squeaked the single word out, then brushed her wavy locks behind her, letting them cascade down the middle of her back—the tips stopped just past her waist.
It was the first time I'd seen her hair down, and it was far longer than I had initially anticipated.
People attacking her right next door to me did nothing but pissed me off, but the fact it now made her want to stick closer to me was a plus. And now, with what just happened, I damn sure wasn't gonna let her out of my field of vision.
I clenched a fist next to my side.
I just need to find out who the little fucker was that called her, 'mi amor!'