Russian Mojito (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 7) by Carmen Amato

Author:Carmen Amato [Amato, Carmen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Laurel & Croton
Published: 2019-06-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

“How did it go?” Kurt asked from the living room.

Emilia closed the front door to the penthouse behind her. “Don’t ask.”

She dumped her shoulder bag next to the door. Kurt sat on the sofa, glass in hand. Everything was off—lights, television, stereo. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Come watch the sunset with me, Em.”

Emilia sank onto the sofa next to him. The white linen curtains were open and the floor to ceiling windows showed the full glory of yet another spectacular Acapulco sunset. Ribbons of gold and purple transformed the twilight sky into stained glass only to dissolve into the gently rippling ocean.

Kurt offered Emilia his glass. She took a sip of whiskey and coughed as it seared her throat.

“I have to go to London,” Kurt said as he took back the glass. “Corporate isn’t too pleased about a murder in their flagship hotel and me being involved in the Porchenko shooting.”

A prickle of fear raced up Emilia’s spine. “Are you getting fired?”

“This is business, Em,” Kurt said. “They’d fire me over the phone, not pay for a first class ticket to London. No, this will be a face-to-face to talk about Andropov’s murder and crime in Acapulco. What we’re doing to shore up our security practices.”

“When?”

“The day after tomorrow. I’ll spend a couple of days there before heading to Las Vegas to meet with the accountant and get the papers signed. I know you need that money.”

“Hostage Negotiations hasn’t even pitched an opening offer, as Plano calls it.”

Kurt finished the drink and put the empty glass on the coffee table. “They will.”

“Thank you.” Emilia pressed against him. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Run a luxury hotel in the middle of a combat zone and never lose your cool.”

Kurt pulled her to her feet. “That sounds like a woman who needs a good meal.”

“I’m starving,” Emilia admitted.

She grabbed her shoulder bag, Kurt scooped up his phone, and they rode the elevator down to the lobby level. The doors opened with a whispered whoosh and they stepped out.

Into chaos.

Half a dozen uniformed police officers in full combat gear and long guns ran by, heavy boots pounding on the tile floor. Shouted commands and startled cries of guests and staff combined into a frightening cacophony.

“What’s going on?” Kurt exclaimed in English. He shot across the lobby.

In the midst of the dark uniforms, Emilia saw Silvio. He was in jeans and a black blazer that covered his shoulder rig.

“Luis Soto Rivera?” Silvio thundered above the tumult as the phalanx of cops in SWAT gear surged toward the concierge desk.

Handsome face tight with shock, Luis spun around and sped through the doorway leading to the administrative offices. Two cops vaulted over the desk and pounded after him.

“Lock it down,” Silvio barked into the radio clipped to his lapel. “We’ve got a runner.”

Radios crackled. Multiple voices checked in. Silvio came with an army, Emilia realized, and had all the hotel exits covered.

Kurt broke through the circle of cops to confront Silvio. “What the

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