Aztec Treasure
Three Views

Christian Portman’s POV

Law Office, Suburban Denver

Julie buzzed me on the intercom. “Sir, there’s a call on Line 2 from a Mr. Vic Knightly. He says it is urgent.”

I didn’t recognize the name, but it could be a new client. “I’ve got it.” I punched the button for Line 2. “Christian Portman, Attorney at Law,” I answered.

“Mr. Portman, my name is Vic Knightly. I’m the Beta of the Arrowhead Pack in Minnesota, calling at the direction of Alpha Rori King.”

My stomach dropped; I knew they were werewolves, and I knew who they were the enemies of the Club. I tried to remain calm. “What can I do for you, Mr. Knightly?”

“Maria is in danger. The FBI’s task force figured out your car registration scheme, and they know Maria is alive and the car she is driving. A team from Los Angeles is on the way, but they may not be the only ones after her.”

“I see.” No one but me knew where she was hiding out.

“I don’t think you do, Mr. Portman. Some of the people looking for her will not respect attorney-client privilege. They might take you somewhere and fill you with drugs until you give up her location. These men have no qualms about using your family as leverage to get the information if they have to. You saw what happened to Julio; there are no lines these people won’t cross.”

He was confirming the CIA was after Maria and that I was in the way. “If I say I can warn her, under the law, I’m admitting I know her whereabouts. I don’t. Even if I did, as her lawyer, I’m protected by my attorney-client privilege.”

“That only matters who those who follow the law. These men don’t give a shit about your law or your privilege, Christian.”

“I still don’t know where she is.”

“I don’t believe you, and neither will they when they take you. You made a mistake, Counselor. You know she’s alive, which few people do.” If they knew about my title transfers, they’d know her new name too. “Alpha Rori wants the innocent protected from what is going on in the country right now. If you happen to come across Maria in your travels, please pass along Alpha Rori’s sanctuary offer within her Pack. She will protect her like her own children.”

There was no way in HELL that Maria would accept that. “As I said, I don’t know where Maria is. If by chance I were to speak to her, I can pass on your offer. Given the history between your Club and hers, I doubt she will want to accept your hospitality.”

There was a pause. “It was never about Maria or the baby, Christian. Families are strictly off-limits for us and always have been. Besides, the Brotherhood had no beef with the Sons until they tortured and killed two of our members.”

“We’re a little past that now that, Vic. Chase ruined her life and killed her family.”

“The government agency with the drone and the missiles killed her family, not us. The same people who did that Do whatever it takes to keep Maria safe.” He gave me a direct number to call if I had any questions, then hung up.

Maria didn’t have a phone; she had a computer but no email or social media accounts. It kept her safe, but it also meant that I couldn’t warn her without going there in person. I hit the intercom for my secretary. “Julie, I need you to pick up my tuxedo from the dry cleaners right now,” I told her.

“Yes, sir.” It was a code I’d worked out with her months ago when I first put Maria at the cabin. She had an envelope in her purse; inside were directions and a note. If I turned up dead or told her to pick up my tuxedo, she was to open the envelope and do what it said. I trusted her to warn Maria while I took care of the rest.

Next, I called home. “Judy, take the kids and go to visit Grandma.” She started to protest. “This is an emergency, Judy. Just do it. I’ll catch up to you later.” I told her I loved her and hung up.

I opened my safe and pulled out everything related to Maria and Pedro’s estate, putting it along with the flash drive into a padded envelope I’d kept for this event. Sealing it up, I took it out and put it in the Post Office drop box at the end of the block.

I went back into my office, locked the door, and started clearing my schedule for the next few days. Ten minutes later, three men kicked the door open.

I’d waited too long to run.

Julio Salazar’s POV

Decommissioned Oil Platform #328, Gulf of Mexico

The smell of this place turned my stomach. Crude oil, diesel fuel, sweat, seawater, and urine all combined into a disgusting mix.

The guards locked me in this storeroom shortly after my arrival. Before I got tossed in here, one of the guys lit me up with a cattle prod. As I laid there twitching on the ground, a man in a lab coat clicked a metal collar around my throat. The collar was uncomfortable, with metal studs on the inside that pressed into my skin without breaking it. The purpose of the studs became apparent when I was able to stand again. “Prisoner 87, you will refer to me as Doctor. The collar you wear is similar to those used to train large dogs. Like an invisible fence, if you get too far away from the platform, it alarms. Unlike the invisible fence, the collar is filled with enough plastic explosive to take your head clean off.”

That sucked.

“I hope you don’t lose power,” I said.

Doc continued. “The receiver is activated when one of the guards pushes this button on their belt, does this.” He pressed the button, and the collar made a loud beep. “That is your warning. If you continue to misbehave, or the guard holds the button down, you get this.” He pressed the button again, and my body seized up as the shock as the electricity shorted out my brain.

I woke up on the metal decking, drool running down my face as the pain of the shock wore off. The Doctor took the surgical tubing off my upper arm and gathered the blood samples in his left hand. “Feed him and let him rest. We’ll start in the morning.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the guard said. He guided me to a metal hatchway and pushed me inside the cell. Another guard tossed in a sandwich in a paper wrapper, then they closed the door and dogged it down. I heard a padlock click closed on the outside. I walked back to the door, feeling around. The operating lever was gone from the inside of the door, so it didn’t matter.

The only lights in the room came from the heavy steel grating in four places. Two of them were high on the wall, letting in air from the Gulf. The other two were twelve-inch-square drainage openings in the front corners. There was a water pipe with a pull cord over one of them, so it must be the shower. That would make the other the toilet, which the smell verified. I kicked at one, replaceing it welded to the steel flooring and beams, and the opening was too small to get through.

The rest of the room was solid steel. There was no getting out.

A welded steel platform held a thin mattress covered in a white sheet, a small pillow, and a wool blanket. Looking towards the dark ceiling, I could see the faint glow from the infrared emitters. The cameras covered the room and likely had microphones to listen in on me. “Nice place you got here. I love the décor.” Sitting on the bed, I unwrapped the stale sandwich and ate.

They would make a mistake, and I’d kill them all.

Maria (Meztler) Gonzales’ POV

Colorado

I ran out to the garage, buckling Maritza into the car seat and tossing her diaper bag onto the floor in front of her. I made three quick trips back into the house, zipping up the bags of clothes and supplies I’d kept ready for just this moment. I had my father’s Glock in my hand as I opened the garage door, using all my senses to make sure no one else was around.

I dropped the pistol into the center console and started my Ford Escape. Pulling out to the road, I used the remote to close the garage door as I waited for an opening in the traffic. I’d thought a lot about which way to go; I figured trouble would come from the Denver direction, so I turned left and kept going west. It would take almost three hours to drive north to Laramie and pick up Interstate 80 if I went through Denver. Taking the back way on the mountain roads would take twice that long and bring me closer to the Pack, but it was worth the risk.

I hoped.