35
Mecca
Corvel obviously trusted me a hell of a lot more than he trusted my uncle. His men didn’t do their usual vehicle check, and they had left me with HB. They cast hard stares at my vehicle, but none had commented on the damaged hull from the fresh bullet strikes.
The crease in my forehead deepened as my gaze shot around in every direction. Why weren’t they questioning me? Why was HB still tucked tight against that spot that Arjen liked putting his hand? What did it mean? Had they left me with my gun so they would have an excuse to kill me?
The lingering stares and roving eye movements when they thought I wasn’t looking weren’t missed. Neither was the brush of their hands over the areas that housed their weapons.
The lack of breathable oxygen in the air was tangible. Was I paranoid because of the shoot-out, or were they acting strangely?
Once the guards waved me through the gate, I drove into Corvel’s compound with the weight of the world riding my shoulders. I called the place a compound because the main house was the size of three houses merged into one.
Grey brick and beige stucco with a large fountain sat in the center of the driveway. A large pool house around the back and two other buildings sat in the distance, one resembling a garage and the other a small cottage with the same color theme as the house.
The only portion of the place that had a fence was the front. The sides and the back of the property were left open to the vast hilly view surrounding it. The front gate structure that spanned the length of the front of the property, was a command and control point, and added a certain royal element to the place.
The lawn was always landscaped to perfection, like the inside of the house and its owner. I had never seen Corvel in anything other than a suit or fancy expensive button-ups with slacks. He was who inspired me to take pride in the way I dressed when I first met him at fourteen.
The first few times I had visited with Raymond were learning experiences where I had paid attention to everything. The way he carried himself. The way he spoke. His sense of pride in what he did. He owned every aspect of his life and it was the same impression I had gotten from Silvia Cardenas, although I had never met her in person.
My stride was measured, and my steps cautious, as I crossed the threshold of the front door and entered the house. Unlike my last visit, when it was me and Corvel, this time two guards stood inside of the door. A quick scan showed their black holsters displayed over crisp button-ups with their weapons visible.
Why did Corvel feel the need for inside security? The further I stepped into the room, the more the creepy sense that I was in the middle of another setup pricked at the back of my neck.
“Hello, Mrs. Vallin. It’s always good to see you,” Corvel greeted, as he stood at his bar and poured himself a drink.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked me, glancing across his shoulder. He always asked, and I always said no.
“No, thank you.”
I kept moving and glancing back at the guards who stood tense but quiet. Once I had stepped to within a few feet of the couch, I stilled, eyeing Corvel’s every move.
He was as relaxed as he always was, and his smile never wavered, but the sick sense that something was amiss wouldn’t let up. There was a telling note of something in his eyes that reached out and touched me.
Before arriving here, I had made use of the small package of baby wipes in the glovebox to make myself somewhat presentable. I had also dusted myself off as best I could, but the moment Corvel got a good look at me, he scanned my appearance with a slow roving eye, but didn’t comment.
“Have a seat, please,” he said, aiming his head at the couch.
The choppy steps I took hinted at my state of mind as I rounded the couch and took the seat, uncomfortable with the men hovering at my back.
“Sir, you informed me that you wanted to have this meeting to update me on matters that could affect our arrangement. Will you tell me what those matters are?”
He sipped from his drink, his eyes straight ahead, looking at me but seeing through me as he gathered his thoughts.
“Yes, but now that you’re here, I’m thinking we should have scheduled this for a later date.”
I glared at him, waiting but not offering a reply. A deep sigh breezed past his lips as he took another long assessing look at my attire before his gaze lifted to mine. My tan wide-legged slacks sported dirt spots and smears and my burgundy silk blouse was just as dirty with a few small rips in various spots.
“There are some things you need to know.” Another deep inhale sounded, the action inflating his chest. “Shit,” he exhaled. “I shouldn’t be telling you this because Silvia would kill me if she knew.”
He had my full attention at the mention of Silvia’s name. Was she the one that wanted me dead, and he was having reservations about it? What could be so stressful to tell me that Corvel was afraid to speak on it for fear of being killed by Silvia Cardenas?
“Did the cartel put a hit out on me? I was ambushed on the highway on my way here and lost a guard to the men who were shooting to kill, not capture.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you. I received word of it a few minutes before you arrived.”
HB was cocked and aimed at him before I was up and off the couch. The sound of metal clinking behind me spoke for the situation my automatic reflex action had just put me in.