Lay It Down by Mary Calmes

Author:Mary Calmes [Calmes, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63477-131-3
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2016-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

I HAD no idea that someone could look quite so uncomfortable in such a great-looking suit. It probably cost more than my first car, was perhaps made by an important Italian designer, and more than likely was the best thing the lieutenant, who’d come to the villa to speak to Dalvon, owned. Since one didn’t show up to a billionaire’s residence in everyday work clothes, the suit had clearly been donned for the meeting. The lieutenant’s companion, Officer Goya, was nicely decked out as well. Obviously, neither man was used to speaking to men of Miguel’s stature, if the sweating, throat clearing, frequent uhs, and fidgeting were any indication. The way both men kept squirming made me edgy just watching them.

“You may proceed,” Miguel prodded from where he sat beside me on the couch on the portico. The area was shaded, and enormous cabaña fans moved the sea breeze around quickly, making it more comfortable there than anywhere else outside.

Escamilla glanced at our hands, still together, and seemed to get even more nervous. “As you know, this year we cracked down on drug trafficking here in Ibiza, as many dealers pose as tourists.”

“Yes,” Miguel agreed.

“We worked jointly with the British police, as a large amount of drugs move out of London, mostly from the gangs in Manchester and Liverpool, through Ibiza during the summer season.”

“I read about that online,” Miguel commented.

Escamilla coughed. “Yes, so you understand, we were looking for drugs, but it turned out that the dealer who wandered into your club, El Sueño, was not selling drugs, but guns.”

“Guns,” Goya repeated, just in case we missed it.

“So this arms dealer, what happened with him?” Miguel prodded.

“Well, he ended up doing business with Dalvon Barber.”

“Your boyfriend,” Goya added.

I understood then. Goya was little dog to Escamilla’s big one; it was why he had to repeat and clarify everything the man said.

Miguel squeezed my hand before letting it go. “What happened?” I asked.

Escamilla and Goya sat on the opposite couch, leaning forward, and Goya’s leg bounced as his partner explained.

“Dalvon took possession of a million dollars’ worth of AK-47s.”

“Of course he did,” I groaned, raking my hands through my hair, terrified of what was going to happen but keeping my tone level, my gaze fixed.

“He was given the entire season—the summer—to sell them, and then in November, the dealer would return and collect his profit, minus Dalvon’s commission.”

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed.

“But you should be proud of him, because what he really did was turn the firearms over to the authorities, which was us.”

“We took possession of them,” Goya chimed in.

“Oh thank God.” I exhaled sharply, so scared that my brother was going to prison for arms trafficking before Escamilla explained that last part.

“But he was supposed to be here when the dealer returned to make arrangements to deliver their money to them. Because while we know who it is we are looking for, we need to get him admitting that he gave the guns to Dalvon so we can prosecute him.

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