Free Enemy Mine by Karin Harlow Page B

do it again if she had to. That’s just the way Johnny affected her. He always had.
    The aromatic fragrance of fine tobacco and Napoleon brandy preceded him.
    Selena stepped back as she opened the front door. Ignoring the dozen blacked-out bodyguards circled around him, she forced a nervous smile. His dark eyes stared unwaveringly at her.
    Roberto Estefan Montoya-Balderama, head of Los Cuatro, was of modest height but was an impressive man. Dressed in an impeccably tailored Italian suit, he carried himself as if he were royalty, his deportment quietly and clearly stating, I am all-powerful, I will not show you how powerful, yet if you challenge me, you will pay for it with your life.
    “Patrón,” Selena said, nodding her head in respect. She waited until he extended his hand to her.
    “Cazadora,” he said, his voice deep and reverberating.
    Selena smiled easier at the term, and a small amount of tension left her, loosening her shoulders. He called her Huntress. He had saved her life the day Johnny tried to take it. He knew all her secrets but two: what she really was, and that she had a daughter. But despite their close-knit history, and her mother’s work with Señor, Selena was always a little in awe of him.
    “Come in,” she offered, taking his hand. As he stepped across the threshold, Selena was reminded of the power this man held. He carried himself as if he were the king of the world, and as far as the Latino world was concerned, he was God. Although most Latin nations in the New World were unaware of his existence and of Los Cuatro, hundreds of thousands of their citizens lived because of his existence.
    Balderama had created Los Cuatro, a quiet but powerful organization that represented the best interests of all Latin countries. It was composed of one representative from the richest country, one from the poorest country, one from the most populated country, and one from the least populated country. The Four was its own Latino UN, one that doggedly challenged the drug trade that had infected all of Latin America, and, by doing so, kept each country accountable to her people. Only because of Los Cuatro had the majority of countries not been completely overrun by the likes of Colombian drug czar Pablo Escobar and his successors.
    Los Cuatro had maneuvered Escobar’s ultimate surrender, then finally his death.
    Los Cuatro had backed the bloody underworld war against the infestation of drug cartels in Mexico.
    And Los Cuatro was quietly setting the stage to oust Venezuelan dictator Hugo Chávez.
    Fate had intervened. Not only was Selena hell-bent on tracking down and taking possession of the cask, but so was Los Cuatro. Thanks to el presidente Chávez’s fixation with nuclear weapons, she had been called upon to go to Kyrgyzstan, with a personal side trip to Russia, where she had seen to several serum extractions. Her Los Cuatro mission was clear—follow Chávez’s men, who would lead her to the cask, track it to its final destination, then hijack it. But she’d failed. Now it seemed both Chávez and the daemon king still had a chance to get their hands on the goods.
    Balderama was not going to like what she had to report. “Let us talk privately in my office.”
    As the door closed behind them, Selena said, “I’m afraid, Señor Patrón , I have bad news.”
    Balderama moved past her, sat down behind her desk, and steepled his big hands. She knew from experience his hands were firm, yet warm. His appeal didn’t come from classic good looks, but more from his demeanor: powerful, yet compassionate. His skin was the lighter side of café au lait. His dark eyes carried a hint of blue, maybe from a distant European ancestor? His spicy cologne wafted around her nose; his dark brows butted together in a fierce frown. “Tell me everything. Do not leave out one detail.”
    Selena drew in a shallow breath and exhaled. “After nearly a week of shadowing Chávez’s men, I was able to get the rendezvous