Garrett looked over at Brady in irritation.
“Do you really need to ask that right now? I’m going to a fucking hotel in the Dominican Republic to ask the staff if they’ve ever seen my dead best friend there. I’m two fucking steps away from finding out the man I thought I knew was a stranger and a criminal,” Garrett said angrily as he put his eyes back on the road.
“Yeah, I get why you’re pissed about that. But that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s certainly not why you’re white-knuckle driving nor is it why you keep checking your personal cell phone every two seconds.”
Garrett ignored Brady’s comments and kept his eyes on the road. He was in no mood to have this discussion with him or anyone right then.
“I swear to God if the two of you don’t get your shit together soon, you’re both going to regret it,” Brady mumbled as he turned away from Garrett and looked out his window.
Brady had never seen two people who were more stubborn than Garrett and Parker. They were going to kill each other before this was over.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Garrett asked.
“You and Parker. I’m guessing the reason for the extra attitude right now is because you got into a fight with her. Am I right?” Brady questioned.
Garrett scoffed. “Parker and I are friends. We fight. Not that big of a deal.”
The lie rolled off of Garrett’s tongue easily, but he made sure to avoid looking at Brady when he said it.
“Right. Friends,” Brady said with a snort.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Garrett asked angrily.
“It just means that I’ve seen the way you two are around each other. I’ve seen it for years. Shit, everyone has. And I get that Milo was your best friend and that she was his fiancée, but come on, Garrett. Milo is gone. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for you guys before, maybe neither one of you was in the right place, but you’re here now. Together. What the hell are you waiting for?”
Garrett let Brady’s words sink in and tried swirling them around in his mind to make them fit together with all of his previous thoughts and wants. He was too angry to make anything come together or make sense. He didn’t need someone who had no idea about his and Parker's relationship making assumptions.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re friends. End of story. Neither one of us wants anything else.”
Garrett ended the conversation by turning on the radio so Brady wouldn’t feel the need to give him any more unsolicited advice. Talking about Parker as just his friend sounded foreign to his ears all of a sudden. He thought back over the last couple of days and the changes he saw in her. He watched her transform into an entirely different person right before his eyes. Yet, underneath she was still the same amazing woman that she’d always been —putting everyone first and to hell with what she needed or wanted. She’d done it with her father, with the CIA, with Milo, and now with him. She stood there in that room trying to get him to understand that things might not have been what they seemed, letting him yell and make accusations because she knew he needed to let it all out. Garrett took her patience and support and turned right around and practically called her a whore.
He was lying to her and he was lying to himself, but he just couldn’t seem to stop.
Garrett pulled into the Occidental El Embajador’s parking lot, turned the car off, and got out without a word to Brady. The two men walked into the lobby, glancing around for the best person to talk to.
“You don’t want the front desk or a manager,” Brady whispered next to him. “They’re the most likely candidates to be on Fernandez’s radar and payroll.”
They walked further into the lobby and followed the signs leading to the restaurant in the back of the building.
“We need someone who spends a lot of time here and sees things other people might miss. Someone who struggles to make ends meet and watches people throw money away and abuse power. Someone who would readily trade information for a little cash,” Garrett said as they walked by the elevator just as the doors were opening.
A woman in her mid-fifties wearing a hotel maid uniform stepped out a few paces behind what looked to be the manager. He was speaking angrily in rapid Spanish to the woman, admonishing her for not having one of the suites ready by the time the high level guests arrived that morning. The man finished his rant and walked away, leaving the woman to stand there fuming.
“Bingo,” Brady said softly.
Garrett and Brady made their way over to the woman and stopped her right when she turned and began walking away.
Brady asked the woman in Spanish if they could have a few moments of her time to ask her some questions. She looked nervously between the two of them and wondered if she was going to be in more trouble for being late to work. The woman glanced behind her to the retreating back of her manager, not wanting him to see her standing around doing nothing.
“It’s okay, ma’am, we won’t tell anyone you spoke to us. We just want to show you a picture of a man and have you tell us if you have seen him here in the hotel before,” Brady explained to her.
In her time working there at the hotel, she had learned not to trust American men when they visited. She may not have understood what they said when they spoke their English, but she knew they were up to no good. They treated her and all the other cleaning staff like dirt. They liked to forget that while they came and went, she was the one to clean up after them. She saw what they left behind, she saw who they brought to the rooms, and heard what went on behind the closed doors.
These men, although obviously American, looked nicer than the others. They had pleasant faces and sincere smiles. They talked to her like a human being and not like a slave put there just for their use. She made a tentative decision to hear what they wanted before deciding if she could trust them.
Garrett held his breath while the woman looked back and forth between Brady and him and then glanced once more behind her. He was afraid they lost her, and she would go running to management.
After contemplating their genuineness for a few more seconds something in their faces must have convinced her that they were trustworthy enough. She motioned with her hand for them to follow her as she turned and quickly headed down a hallway behind the elevator bank.
The men casually followed her, making sure not to look suspicious. They walked behind her until they came to the end of the hallway and a door that said: Staff Only. She glanced behind them down the long hallway and then quickly pulled a key out of her pocket to unlock the door.
They stepped inside and she closed and locked the door behind them.
Brady thanked her again for agreeing to talk to them, and Garrett reached into his back pocket to pull out the picture he’d shoved in there earlier. It was a five by seven print of Milo and Garrett from their SEAL graduation. He smoothed out the creases and stared at the picture in his hand. It had been a beautiful day in San Diego. The sun had been shining, not a cloud in sight, and Garrett and Milo had their arms around each other’s shoulders, staring into the camera with huge smiles on their faces while Parker snapped the picture. They each just had the golden Trident pinned over their hearts and had tossed their caps into the air. After the caps hit the ground, they wound their arms around each other’s necks and Parker called their names so they would look up.
Garrett had remembered the words their Commanding Officer spoke as he attached the pin to each of their chests. The Trident symbolized that they were brothers in arms―that they train together and fight together. The eagle’s wings on the insignia were wide open to represent courage and strength, both of which the SEALS would need in abundance during their stint with the military.
Never, in his entire career, had Garrett felt the lack of courage, strength, and abundance of doubt in hisbrotheras he did right at that moment while he slowly handed the photo to the woman, pointing to Milo’s face as Brady asked her if she recognized him.
The room was shrouded in silence while Garrett and Brady held their breaths as the woman stared at the picture.
One word was all it took for Garrett’s faith in everything he believed in to come tumbling down.
“Sí.”
Parker had just ordered her third dirty martini when another shot glass filled with murky brown liquid was placed in front of her. Parker shook her head and raised one eye brow towards the bartender. He shrugged his shoulders in a friendly manner and waited for her to down the shot.
For some reason each time Parker asked for extra olives, it got lost in translation and she was instead given a shot of the moonshine looking stuff.
“I see you’ve been introduced to Mamajuana,” a deep voice said beside her.
Parker turned to see Cole standing next to the empty bar stool to her left, motioning to it with his hand, questioning silently if he could sit down.
Parker smiled and nodded and Cole sat down, motioning to the bartender for a drink.
“So this rotgut is called Mamajuana?” Parker asked as she held the shot glass up in front of her face and stared at the dark liquid, making sure she didn’t see anything floating in it. She’d seen the bartender pull the bottle out from under the bar and didn’t miss the leaves and other sediment floating in it. She’d been to the Dominican enough to know that it would be considered rude to turn down a drink when it was given to her.
“That is correct,” Cole said with a laugh as a bottle of Presidente beer and another shot of Mamajuana was placed in front of him. “It’s made with rum, red wine, and honey. They let the liquids soak in a bottle with tree bark and herbs,” he explained as he held the glass up in front of him, mirroring Parker.
“Ahhh, so I was correct when I thought I spied a tree branch in the bottle earlier,” Parker joked.
It felt good to laugh after feeling sorry for herself for the past two hours. She wouldn’t let herself feel guilty it wasn’t Garrett she was laughing with. She was pleasantly buzzed but nowhere near drunk enough to forgive him yet.
Cole leaned in closer to Parker and spoke softly, “They say Mamajuana is considered the Dominican aphrodisiac.”
Parker laughed at the absurdity that something that tasted like dirt and church wine could be a turn on. She could feel Cole’s eyes on her and the heat from his body warming her arm, but she ignored it. Cole was sweet and made her laugh on the few occasions they’d been in each other’s company, but that was all. Parker could see out of the corner of her eye that Cole was still staring at her. She shifted her body slightly away from him, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. She had no intention of giving him the wrong idea, even if she was still incredibly upset about the night's events andwas well on her way to being so drunk she felt like reenacting that rainy night long ago with Garrett, where she stripped in front of him, as soon as she saw him again.
She turned to face Cole and raised her shot glass a little higher.
“Well then, to the Dominican. Let’s hope they find a better aphrodisiac soon,” she said with a laugh as she choked down the shot.
Cole laughed with her and swallowed the drink with ease. He could sense her distance and that was alright with him. He could tell from the first time he was in the same room with Garrett and Parker that Garrett would probably knock him out if he attempted any kind of move on her. He always wondered why he never got the same vibe from Milo but just figured he was more of a laid back kind of guy. Parker was beautiful and smart and a total bad ass CIA agent, but he was in no mood to get his face rearranged over a woman.
Cole and Parker spent the next hour drinking and sharing stories.
Parker never noticed the eyes that had been watching her from the moment Cole sat down next to her at the bar.
Garrett yanked open the mini fridge in the room with so much force it slammed into the wall, denting it with the handle.
He shoved aside the old fashioned bottles of Pepsi and 7UP and reached in and grabbed the complimentary bottle of Barceló Imperial Rum from the top shelf. Kicking the door closed with his foot, he unscrewed the cap and took a long swig.
All Garrett wanted to do after the woman at the hotel confirmed she had seen Milo there on several occasions over the years was to race back to the resort and apologize to Parker. All of the awful, ugly things he said to her played on a loop in his mind. The look on her face after she smacked him popped up every time he closed his eyes.
Parker had been right to suspect Milo, and Garrett should have kept an open mind with her. She lived with him and spent more time with him than Garrett had. He’d been one person with Garrett and another with Parker. And obviously, he’d been a third person with both of them. Garrett had no idea which Milo was the real one. All this time he wanted Milo to be the same man he grew up with, slightly troubled but with a big heart, willing to do anything to make a better life for himself than the one he had growing up. A good friend and partner, someone he could trust with his life and always depend on. He’d given up on any dreams he harbored towards Parker because he knew Milo was perfect for her. He knew Milo would take care of her.
Now he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
The maid at the hotel remembered seeing Milo every couple of months routinely for the entire seven years she worked there. He always arrived alone, stayed one night, and left the next morning with a girl. She stressed that they were girls, not women. The maid never saw the girls arrive, so she didn’t know when they came or if they came alone. She never recognized any of them.
Until the last one: Catalina Olvera.
She’d recognized the girl’s picture when an article was printed in the paper about her death. Several months prior to the article, she’d seen Milo walking out of his hotel room with his arm wrapped around the teenage girl’s shoulders. She remembered the girl because it was the only time one of them ever made eye contact with her, the only time one of them looked terrified and desolate. It was the first time she felt the need to tell someone. Her manager told her if she valued her job, she would keep her mouth shut about the man and his girls. The American had connections that could ruin all of them.