Free No One Lives Forever by Jordan Dane Page B

eyes and sent a clear message.
    This was not a man to mess with.
    According to the research on Brazil Christian read on the jet, corruption had become a major thread woven into the fabric of this country—an accepted practice to supplement low wages. Was the man standing before him getting his fair share, or fighting against others who did?
    One thing was certain. Cuiabá was his town.
    Christian considered Duarte's invitation and shut the taxi door, with Jasmine grimacing at him from inside. With reluctance, he walked toward the man's car.
    "How could I refuse such hospitality?"
    Once Christian slid into the passenger seat, the man introduced himself, without offering a hand in greeting. This was not a social occasion. "My name is Captain Luis Duarte. I wanted us to have a moment alone, you and I. Your female companion and I have already had the pleasure."
    As the man spoke, he turned off the red cherry and pulled from the curb, heading for town. With the windows rolled down, Christian rested his elbow on the car door. He glared out the front windshield, only his peripheral vision on the man behind the wheel.
    Once beyond the airport terminal, a canopy of stars filled the night sky, fading near the horizon with the lights of the city ahead. Headlights drilled the blackness, luring insects from the gloom. And Duarte's face ebbed in and out of shadows, silhouetted by the eerie light from the dashboard.
    As it usually did, darkness closed in on Christian, weighing heavy like a vise around his chest. It squeezed tight, a constant pressure. To distract himself, he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead, glancing in the side mirror at the taxi following close behind.
    With effort, he tapped into his senses, almost a heightened meditative state. Hot wind whipped through the car, buffeting his hair and shirt as Duarte drove. The hum of the engine and the drone of road noise absorbed the lull in conversation. His thoughts drifted to Raven, his calming mantra ritual. Eventually, the essence of this strange world washed over him like cleansing rain, invigorating his spirit.
    "Yes, Jasmine mentioned your interest in her . . . activities." Christian heard his own voice like an out of body experience. "Do you always greet visitors to your country with such a warm reception?"
    "No, but I made an exception for you. Then again, you are not just any tourist. You are here in Brazil to search for Nicholas Charboneau, are you not?" He didn't wait for an answer. "How do you know him?"
    Christian took a gamble that the police captain didn't know everything and skirted the truth about his relationship to Charboneau.
    "Actually, I've come because of Jasmine. I've never met the man." He didn't exactly lie.
    "So you are not connected to his ... organization? The syndicate in Chicago?"
    Duarte had definitely done his homework.
    "No, not at all. I have my own company, Delacorte Protective Services, but I'm here because I owe her a favor."
    "Such a huge favor. You must owe her quite a debt to repay it in this manner." The man's dark eyes cut through the murky black. "She does not strike me as a woman with many friends."
    "I didn't say we were friends." Christian returned the lawman's stare. "Besides . . . she wouldn't exactly take no for an answer."
    Duarte found amusement in that. "No, beautiful women seldom do."
    "Have the kidnappers provided any proof of life evidence? They can't possibly expect payment if they haven't shown he's still alive."
    "It is true most abductions communicate such things, usually a photograph of the victim holding a current newspaper. But I have not seen such proof. Has the bodyguard been contacted?"
    "No. She would've told me."
    "Are you sure of that? She seems to be a woman of many secrets."
    Christian shifted his gaze to Duarte. The man's face drifted in and out of the dark as he kept his eyes on the road. He had asked a simple question, one Christian couldn't answer in good faith. By his silence, he gave the police