Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 03 - Insatiable by Emily Kimelman Page A

Let’s find him someone new. That will be the best way to learn what he is doing. Man can’t keep his mouth shut or his pants zipped.” Ana Maria wiped some crumbs off a sheet of paper and passed the profile to me.
    I looked down at a photograph of a pretty woman living in Mexico City. I turned to look at Ana Maria. Her brow was creased in concentration. Ana Maria’s eyes exuded intelligence but no emotions as she questioned whether the exotic dancer described on the piece of paper in my hands was the right one to help spy on her father. I just had to ask, “Ana, are you sure you want to do this?”
    She cocked her head. “Of course.” Ana Maria looked back down at the pile of possible supporters. I kept looking at her until she continued, “Don’t you understand? They killed…” her chin wobbled and tears appeared at the edges of her eyes. She sucked in a big breath of air and continued, “They killed Alejandro. I can’t let them get away with that.”
    “But they are your parents.”
    “That does not make them above the law.” She looked up at me with fire in her eyes. Her chin crinkled but she didn’t look like she was going to cry. For a moment I thought she might hit me. Then the flame died down and she turned back to her work.
    I held up the picture of the beautiful girl Ana Maria suggested we sic on her father and said, “I don’t feel right asking anyone to do that.” I put her profile to the side.
    “Don’t be afraid, Sydney. We have to be bold if we want to win.”
    I looked over at Ana Maria. “I’m not going to ask someone to prostitute themselves for me, no matter what the ultimate goal.”
    Ana Maria bit her lip. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She turned back to her pile of profiles. They would be our ground force. Our eyes and ears in Mexico City. I wanted to know not only what Pedro and Juanita were doing, but also if Blane was still there. How his arm was doing? I smiled at the thought of Blue’s teeth marks in that perfect forearm.
    “Computer programmer,” Ana Maria said, handing me another profile. “And a man, see I told you there were men.” I took it from her. He loved me because ‘she is like a wild animal with a moral compass that no amount of magnetic pull can effect’. “I don’t know what that means,” Ana said, “but he lists his occupation as Computer Specialist. I think he might be able to help.”
    I wanted to know what Pedro was saying to his friends. What Juanita’s assistant was emailing her. But most of all I wanted into Mulberry’s computer. I didn’t know if it was possible but I wanted to know what was buzzing around in his email account.
    As I laid on my bed that night I thought about Mulberry for a long time. I verged on getting out of bed to call him. It was almost impossible to believe he set me up. Then again I never would have believed he told Robert “Bobby” Maxim about Kurt Jessup. And even if Mulberry wasn’t setting me up, someone close to him was.
    When I started working for Mulberry three years earlier he’d offered me a new identity and a job, two things I needed. The identity for obvious reasons but the job was a more subtle gift. I didn’t need the money but the training he’d provided and the distraction were priceless. When he pulled me off the beach, I was on the verge of drinking myself to death. Being a detective was large enough to block bad memories and help make new good ones.
    I never asked who I was working for beyond Mulberry. I assumed he was the big boss man. I’d only dealt with him. But now I was coming to understand that Mulberry was full of shit and that Bobby Maxim owned a piece of the business. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he was the one behind all this mayhem. He probably got me my name; it’s possible there would be no Sydney Rye without Robert “Bobby” Maxim.
    In the morning we left when the sun was just peeking over the edge of the sea. It turned the world a soft pink and left the air