Damian (The Caine Brothers #3) by Margaret Madigan Read Free Book Online Page A

dresser were full of men’s socks and underwear—not useful. In the middle drawer she found button down shirts, and sweaters filled the bottom drawer. Several men’s suits and a camo jacket hung in the closet. For now she chose the smallest of the button down shirts she could find—a crisp white one—and put it on, rolling the sleeves to her elbows. It was a disappointment not to find shoes.
    She hadn’t worked on any drug-related projects recently, and unless there was a mole somewhere, nobody knew she was even an agent. So who had taken her and why?
    The only way she’d find out was to talk to someone, so she marched over to the door and turned the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. However, out in the hall two men with the ever-present AK-47s guarded the door. Seemed like overkill to her, but whatever.
    “Por favor, señorita…” one of them started.
    Elena spoke enough Spanish to be moderately fluent, but letting on that she did gave away an advantage. “No hablo Español,” she said in her best American accent.
    He held up a finger for her to wait and said, “Un momento.”
    The two of them discussed that El Jefe—the boss—wanted to talk to her when she woke up and about whether to bring him here, or take Elena to him.
    They decided to fetch him so the other guy took off to find him, while the one who’d talked to her stayed put. He smiled and made a shooing motion for her to go back into the room.
    She complied and spent the waiting time watching the guards outside to figure out their routine, if they even had one. They looked pretty bored, but well-trained and well-armed. Given that drugs and guns often went hand in hand, she wondered if El Jefe bought and sold both.
    Before long the rattle of the door handle preceded a man and the guards from outside her door entering the room.
    The man stood somewhere around five nine or five ten, about her height. Broad in the shoulders and thickly muscled with dark skin, black hair, and a thick mustache, his features gave away his Hispanic heritage.
    He smiled and offered his hand to shake.
    This had to be the most bizarre kidnapping ever. Elena accepted his hand. “Do you speak English?” she asked.
    “Si, querida. I do.” His accent was thick, but she understood him. “Please, have a seat. You must be very confused.”
    She sat in one of two chairs opposite the bed. He settled into the other, while the guards stood by the door.
    “I am. Who are you?”
    “My name is Renaldo Ramos. I’m known as El Jefe. I’m the leader of the Los Reyes cartel.”
    Shit. Not a great development.
    “Can you tell me what’s going on, please?”
    “Certainly. Your father is an American senator, is he not?”
    “Yes.”
    “We do a lot of business in America, especially through Texas, and your father has always been a friend, for a price.”
    Elena froze. No way her dad took payoffs from a drug lord. What for? Blocking drug legislation? Keeping borders open? Turning a blind eye? Being eyes, ears, and a voice in America for a Latin American drug cartel? Good God, the idea left her queasy. But how well did she really know him? Nobody in Congress was clean, and her dad had been putting a lot more energy than usual into fundraising, so maybe he’d tried to change his arrangement with this guy.
    “I don’t believe you,” she said. Whether or not she really did, she’d be better off playing the role he expected of her, which seemed to be meek senator’s daughter. She’d probably survive this a lot easier in that role than as a CIA agent. She had no illusions that despite his courteous façade, he was ruthless enough to kill her where she sat.
    He shrugged in a way that suggested his sorrow for her lost innocence. “We never really know those we’re closest to, no?”
    “Even if what you say is true, why would you kidnap me?”
    “Kidnap is a strong word. You’re my guest until your father responds to my request to talk.”
    “Guest implies I can come and