Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 Read Online Free PDF Page A

hadn't spoken. "Or we can wait for full daylight and go first thing in the morning."
    "Tonight. Tomorrow I'm returning to San Cristobal to pick up the rest of my equipment from customs."
    "Ludicrous," Montero snarled, gulping his wine. "That imbecile. I told him the urgency of your medical samples, and yet he insisted everything go through customs in the usual way. Bah! His departure will be no loss."
    "There's nothing they can open," Kyle assured him. "One more day won't make that much difference. I just want to be sure my lab is ready to receive the viruses and vaccines as soon as I return with them."
    With a frown Delanie glanced from one man to the other. "What vaccines?"
    "Everything is in readiness for you," Montero promised Kyle. "Down to the last biohazard suit and lab coat."
    "Good." A servant placed a gold-trimmed bowl before each of them. "Another thing." Kyle picked up his spoon and dipped it into his soup. "Just to be on the safe side, I'd suggest you have a chopper ready at the airfield, and you also inform your guards that I have immediate access to you twenty-four/seven."
    Montero's swarthy skin blanched. "Everything is contained."

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    "Yes," Kyle said quietly, enjoying the mushroom soup. "And I intend to keep it that way. But it's wise to have contingency plans."
    Kyle took sadistic pleasure in scaring the shit out of Montero and his business partners. Between tonight and Saturday he planned to torque the sorry son of a bitch's nerves to the breaking point.
    The surge of adrenaline pumping through him felt terrific.
    After more than four years it was finally coming together.
    They were close. So close.
    The soup tasted like nectar.
    The ratio of two waiters to one dinner guest was overkill, but then, that was Montero's style. He had a flair for the dramatic. Behind his chair, guarding his back, Montero's personal bodyguard stood with arms folded across his massive chest, mahogany head gleaming in the candlelight. Bruno could bench-press four hundred pounds without breaking a sweat. Kyle had never heard the man utter a word.
    Beyond the wide double doors, open to the slate hallway beyond, two bodyguards stood ready to apprehend anyone foolish enough to try anything with El Jefe .
    The security cameras were obvious and everywhere.
    Delanie's reserve tonight was perfectly controlled. She gave not one iota more conversation than was necessary to be polite, not one scrap more attention to him than was absolutely called for.
    Dangling red earrings brushed bare, tanned shoulders as she turned her head to listen to Montero whispering sweet bullshit in her ear. Montero, a young George Hamilton look-alike, thrived on having sexy, leggy blondes hanging on his every word. Delanie was eye candy. But any attractive blond would have suited his purpose. Montero's 'dates' had remarkably short runs. They were eliminated before they could reveal any of his bad habits. Montero took care of his enemies execution-style. His discarded girlfriends disappeared, never to be heard from again.
    Kyle raised his magically refilling wine glass and drained the excellent Chateau Lafite Rothschild '52. He knew more about the sick bastard than he wanted to. Hell, he probably knew more about Ramon Eduardo Montero than the man's own mother.
    But did Delanie know what a sick bastard she'd latched onto? Obviously she knew the man was homosexual. But did she know how brutal, how depraved Ramon Montero could be? And if she did, what in the hell was she doing pretending to be the egregious bastard's girlfriend?
    Her reasons, thought Kyle, forking up some kind of highly spiced fish, were immaterial. No matter why Delanie Eastman was here, no matter what she thought she knew about their host, she had to go. Before she left in a body bag.
    She was nervous as hell, though she covered damn well. He'd noted it at the pool this afternoon. Good.
    If she was afraid of Montero then she