I Know What You Did Last Spring Break
*SFW*
“Leigh Ashford,” Cavanaugh said, gesturing to the left of the picture.
Guero marveled at her transformation. Even though this photo was taken several years ago, Leigh had changed from the wide-eyed coed staring back at him.
“Eva Hernandez,” Cavanaugh said, pointing to a Mexican American girl in a spaghetti-strap dress.
Guero’s eyes flipped over the rest of the image—a brunette next to Eva with a round face, making an exaggerated pucker with her lips.
“Joy Rivers,” Cavanaugh said, moving to the right of the photograph with his finger.
Guero felt his heart beating faster as he studied the last girl. Her heavily lined blue eyes were cold and calculating. Though she was undoubtedly beautiful, the last time he saw her, Gia didn’t look so put together.
It was an untidy end to a tumultuous spring break. When Leigh and Eva bartered with his boss for their exit from Mexico. Guero didn’t consider himself soft, but Rubén Mendoza made him look like a veritable teddy bear.
“Gia Moretti,” Cavanaugh said, slapping his hand on the table for effect.
Pulling out another photograph, he placed it in front of Guero.
It was a school picture of a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes. Her arms crossed, she sat in front of a backdrop of 80s-style laser lights. She reminded him of someone, but Guero couldn’t determine who.
This time around, he wasn’t successful at hiding his interest.
“You know why she looks familiar?” Cavanaugh asked, pulling the photo away. “This is Leigh’s sister, Rachel. Disappeared when she was 15.”
Guero sat very still. He knew who Rachel was. Leigh rarely talked about her. Only after drinking did she let loose. Then she would talk and talk. The story was always the same.
“We were best friends,” she would say, slurring her words. “We had to be, after Mom left. And then, one day, she didn’t come home from school. Everything changed—just like that.”
To hear Leigh tell it, things deteriorated after Rachel went missing, with her father taking solace in his guns and the bottle. Hardly ideal siblings for Leigh.
Guero offered what little consolation he could. Truthfully, he was sick of hearing about it. Not that he didn’t care, quite the contrary—because he could not bring Rachel back.
Staring at the photograph, Guero knew the terse exchange was over. The photograph was a teaser. If Cavanaugh had information about Rachel, Guero had to find out what it was. If Leigh knew he had willingly turned down information on her sister, she would go into a tailspin. She was far too irrational when it came to that topic.
No, Leigh could not know about this—not yet. Guero would protect her from whatever Cavanaugh knew until the time was right.
Guero mentally prepared himself for his next move. Leigh had become more important to him than money, honor—even his own reputation. Whatever this asshole wanted, he had to deliver.
Folding his hands in front of him, Guero locked eyes with Cavanaugh.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to work for me.”
“You mean work for the government?”
“If you want to think of it that way, that’s fine with me. After all, they’ve awarded us the contract,” Cavanaugh said, glancing at Sylvie. He patted her knee. “Don’t worry, Sylvie, if Guero was going to blow us away, he would have done it already.”
Sylvie relaxed slightly, keeping her eyes glued to Guero’s position opposite them.
Cavanaugh smiled at Guero.
“I rely on my Sylvie like you rely on Leigh. Firebrand, both of them. In fact, we’ll be working closely together. I think they’ll get along quite nicely.” He shifted noisily in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Let me elaborate on what I’m asking you to do. I oversee a task force that keeps things nice and orderly in Cancun. I need some good men under me—ones who know the right people.”
“You have funding for this?” Guero asked, knowing they would need enough of it to satiate the more powerful players—namely, his current boss.
“It’s all being arranged,” Cavanaugh said in a typical Washington non-answer.
“Let’s be clear, what information do you have about Rachel?” Guero asked, fearing he was getting ahead of himself.
“You should be wondering what I have on you,” Cavanaugh said.
“Asking what you have on rich men in Mexico is about as useless as this woman wearing sunscreen,” Guero said, as Sylvie began to laugh.
“Sí, señor,” she said, winking at him.
“Or we could frame it this way,” Cavanaugh said, discarding the thin veneer of civility as he leaned forward. “Four girls go on spring break. Only two return. One of the two is living in Mexico with a man working for a cartel.”
Guero remained silent, as a wave of panic washed over him. He knew his relationship with Leigh might turn some heads. But they had gotten away with it thus far. Besides, he had removed himself from the dirtiest parts of the family business. Guero was no different from a crooked Wall Street broker—plenty of twenty-somethings dated those.
“And where does Rachel come into it?” he asked, breaking the tense silence.
“I may have some information on her disappearance,” Cavanaugh said vaguely.
Gathering up the photographs, he placed them back in the envelope before sliding them inside a Tumi portfolio.
“You want to make this woman your wife someday, have a couple brats?” he asked, studying Guero intently. “If you do a good job, we’ll move you to the States. Give you a big house, yard, maybe a little playpen for the brats.”
As he finished, Cavanaugh stood. Sylvie followed suit, pulling her dress down as she wriggled to a stand. Guero’s mind ran a mile a minute. There was no point in accepting such a ridiculous offer without further consultation.
“I have to discuss this with my current employer,” he said, rising to see them out.
“One step ahead of you,” Cavanaugh replied, opening the door for Sylvie, who strutted through it as if it were a catwalk. “I’ve already spoken to Rubén. I think you’ll find he’s more amenable to the plan than you might be.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’ll be working for us also,” Cavanaugh supplied.
Guero nodded, his expression muted. Internally, he was panicking. Rubén was Zeus on Mount Olympus. How the hell did Cavanaugh get him to say yes?
“Here’s my card,” Cavanaugh said, handing him an expensive cardstock with purple and gold branding. “Don’t wait too long. Okay, Guero? What does that mean anyway?”
He turned to Sylvie, who stood positioned in the doorway.
“It’s slang,” she offered, eyeing up Guero with interest, “for white boy.”
“White boy,” Cavanaugh replied. “What is it with you people and nicknames?”
With that, he exited, closing the door firmly.
Guero returned to his desk, firing off a request to speak with Rubén as soon as possible.
After that, he allowed himself exactly five minutes to panic.
📚 Want to start from the beginning?
Read the first sizzling installment of Spring Break on Amazon:
👉 Spring Break on Amazon
Get the backstory, the heat, and all the delicious drama from the start. 💋