“Marcos, didn’t you tell Philip that one of the guards was your nephew?” Imelda asked.
Marcos and Elijah exchanged a knowing look. She’d made a mistake and didn’t realize it. The conversation had taken place before Imelda had arrived, which meant they’d been taped and she’d already viewed those tapes before her arrival—which they’d suspected would happen.
“That is correct. Two of them are. And one is related to Elijah.”
Imelda shrugged one slim shoulder. “You see, your help is family and no one else can be fully trusted to do the job.”
“Conner is not family, but is fully trusted,” Elijah objected. “But of course, we obviously think differently. I know my men wouldn’t betray me and I don’t worry if they overhear business discussions. They would carry the details to their grave.”
She couldn’t miss the smirk exchanged between the two men. The head of her security team had made her look foolish in front of the two men she wanted most to impress. She would not forgive that easily. For a moment, black rage glittered in her eyes, and then she resumed her mask of congeniality.
Conner emerged, his expression unreadable. “That room is not suitable for a discussion, Marcos.” There was finality in his words. A command, not a suggestion.
Imelda was clearly intrigued by the way he ordered his employer. Conner had studied every detail of her personality from information Rio had gathered and she wanted a strong male, but also wanted the control. Her men didn’t last long. And her security detail probably went through hell with her. A man like Conner Vega would appeal to her in every way. He was clearly loyal to a fault, in complete control and dedicated to serving his employer. And he’d bested her leopards.
“That’s ridiculous,” Imelda argued, more because she wanted to challenge Conner, make him notice her, than for any other reason. “We conduct all our business in that room.”
Conner’s impassive gaze flicked to her and then returned to Marcos. “The room is hot.”
There was a small silence. Marcos slowly turned his head to stare at Imelda, his friendly demeanor dissolving. Elijah put his glass down and faced her and there was no trace of friendliness. Suddenly he looked every inch his reputation. Imelda was very aware of the other bodyguards, moving into positions where they could stop anyone from coming in from any direction.
“I don’t know what that means,” Imelda said, trying to stay calm. No one had ever challenged her authority before—not and lived. Right at that moment she felt closer to death than she ever had before. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. The threat was in the burning gold of Conner’s eyes. He looked impersonal, yet so dangerous. Her body flooded with adrenaline, but also with sudden hunger.
“It means,” Marcos explained impatiently, “that the room is wired.”
“I thought we were having a friendly conversation,” Elijah said. “Marcos assured me of that.”
Comprehension dawned. Imelda had been the one to suggest to Philip that he take advantage of his sexual hobby and make his servants available to his wealthier and diplomatic “friends.” Videotaping indiscretions, especially any fetishes or sadistic traits, made for instant obedience. Money and favors poured in. Fury burned through her. She spun around on Philip.
“How dare you!” There could be no mistake that she didn’t know he was taping their conversations. Imelda had her own sexual excesses. Whipping a man or woman and watching their skin stripe while they screamed in pain was such a turn-on, and she could rarely refuse herself the pleasure, especially if she was sharing it with someone who appreciated the sight, such as Philip. He was a connoisseur of torture.
He backed away from her. “Imelda. You know I wouldn’t.”
She looked from him to Conner’s implacable mask. Who to believe? Would Philip really be that stupid as to risk everything they had together? She fed him clients. She shared his sexual proclivities. He was terrified of her with good reason. “Show me,” she challenged Conner.
He didn’t obey her command. Instead he looked at Marcos, who nodded. That put her on edge. This was her territory and between Philip and Martin Suma, her head of security, she looked weak. Damn them for this. She needed someone like Conner running her security.
Conner indicated for Philip to lead the way back into the room. Philip glanced at his watch. “I have guests. If you want to tear apart the room looking for nonexistent equipment, you’re welcome to do so, but without me.”
“Philip,” Imelda hissed between her clenched teeth. “Get in that room.” She wanted to kill him on the spot. Where the hell was Martin? Or Ottila? Damn them as well. She glared at her lone bodyguard. “Get them here now,” she snapped.
Philip reluctantly went into the room, aware that Imelda would be furious when she found out what he’d done. He didn’t understand how the security guard had known. There was no evidence, there couldn’t be. So how? He despised Marco’s personal protector. Smug bastard. Imelda was already drooling over him like the bitch she was. He stepped back to watch the man play out his little drama. There was no way he could really know. But uneasiness had set in. Even if the man wasn’t able to prove it, the seed of doubt had been sown in Imelda. And that meant he’d have to leave fast. He’d built up millions. He was prepared, but this place had been perfect for a man like him.
Conner ran his hand, palm out along the wall, his expression still unchanged. If Imelda didn’t know that the conversations in the room were taped, and he was certain she didn’t know, he hadn’t smelled a lie, then that meant her rogues hadn’t told her. Why not? Why hadn’t her leopards warned her? They had to have heard the click as the recorders came on at the sound of voices. There was a faint hum as the conversation was recorded. What were the leopards up to? And why weren’t they protecting her now? They had to have known the recorder would be discovered.
Isabeau. His stomach knotted. Were they after Isabeau? She hadn’t pressed the little panic button built into her watch yet. He snapped a quick commanding look at Elijah, uncaring in that moment if the others caught it.
Elijah waited a heartbeat. Two. He turned and looked toward the door rather casually and then down to his watch. “My cousin has been gone a long while.”
“Your cousin?” Imelda echoed as if she’d forgotten Isabeau.
Conner realized she probably had. She didn’t notice anything or anyone unless it pertained directly to her. Her world was very narrow and self-involved.
“I want her found now,” Elijah snapped at Felipe.
Felipe turned abruptly on his heel and left.
Imelda sighed. “This is insane. The girl is in no danger and there is no one recording our conversations. She’s with my grandfather. He’ll see that no harm comes to her.”