The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

and shave before I could start the long drive out to the restaurant. I didn’t have to wait long for her response as she quickly agreed to the change of time and said she looked forward to dinner.

I set my phone aside and then looked around me. I needed to put away the Fritos, finish my coffee, and organize my notes before I could get ready. I wanted to continue with my research, but two heads would be better than one, and I was sure that the Brazillian bombshell would have new information about the Everson Juvenile Detention Center.

The terrible facility would be taken down, and I would get Camilo out of there.

Chapter 15

“Yo, where you headed?” the young goon outside of my apartment asked as I walked into the evening air.

He leaned against the hood of his black car with a bottle of water in one hand and a book in the other as he stared over at me. He had his legs stretched out in front of him, and there was a pack of cigarettes behind him on the hood of the car.

“Dinner,” I responded while I unlocked the door to my car.

I’d showered and changed into dark wash jeans, a light-blue button-up, and my black suit jacket. It had taken me half an hour to pick the outfit since I didn’t know what I was going to do about Eloa, but I eventually decided on business casual.

“Where at?” he asked as he tossed his book through the open driver’s side window of his car and into the passenger seat.

“A steakhouse,” I said with a glance back at the young man. “I’m going to meet Eloa.”

“That hot reporter?” he questioned with a smirk.

“Yes,” I huffed. “Are you going to be joining us?”

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’ve got some stuff to do. Have fun.”

“You, too,” I said before I slid into my car and cranked the engine.

My shoulders released a little tension, and my smile spread a few inches as I realized that I wouldn’t have an escort. I was sure that the brilliant reporter would notice that a black car followed me everywhere if it kept turning up wherever I was, and I didn’t feel like explaining who my boss was just yet.

Icy tendrils of air pushed the heat back as I pulled out into traffic. It was the tail-end of rush hour so I made it to the highway in record time, and soon I was speeding down the road on my way to the steakhouse with my favorite rock station as a soundtrack to my drive.

The sun had begun to sink behind the tall pine trees that lined the road to my left. Golden light poured between the branches to glisten on the asphalt and make it look like there were diamonds scattered across the black surface. The sky above was painted in the pale purples and dusty rose of a perfect Miami sunset while the sky ahead of me was a pale blue with fluffy white clouds that drifted into new shapes as I watched.

I took the exit to the restaurant and followed my GPS to the end of a small road. The restaurant was situated on a tributary that flowed slowly past the building, and a wraparound porch provided those waiting for a seat with a perfect view. Floor-to-ceiling windows let those inside the restaurant enjoy the beautiful wetlands that came right up to the cabin-like building.

There weren’t many parking spots left since the dinner rush was in full swing, but I managed to find a place as another car pulled out. I parked and climbed out into the last rays of daylight. I could already smell the garlic, butter, and fresh-baked rolls as I walked toward the double-door entryway, and I was still some distance away from the door. My stomach rumbled, and I felt myself start to trot across the lot.

“Good evening,” the host said with a bright smile as I walked in.

He was in his early twenties with dark-brown hair and hazel eyes. His uniform was a black button-up and slacks, and an earpiece in his left ear that he used to talk to the wait staff. He had an iPad in his hands as he looked at me, and his fingers hovered over the screen as he waited for my name.

“Good evening,” I said with a grin as I stopped at his podium. “I’m meeting Eloa Kimura.”

“Okay,” he said as he nodded and picked up his iPad. “Here she is. She’ll be by the porch. Give me just a moment, and I’ll find someone to take you to her.”

“Sure,” I responded as I stepped off to the side while he talked to someone in his earpiece.

Behind the host’s podium, the restaurant opened up into one vast room that glittered in the natural light that poured in through the wall of windows.. Long bulbous lanterns hung over each of the circular tables as well, and as the sun set, their softer light started to fill the room. Pristine white linen tablecloths added to the bright atmosphere, and I tried not to read too much into the fact that most of the tables were occupied by couples.

“Hello,” a young waitress said a few seconds after I had moved away from the podium. “I’m here to take you to your table.”

The woman had long brown hair that she’d pulled into a ponytail that swung behind her. It was long enough that it brushed against the small of her back, and drew my attention down to the swell of her butt. She weaved through the tables toward the wall of windows where Eloa sat like a goddess on a throne.

The Brazilian bombshell was bathed in the string lights from the porch. She was dressed in a black off-the-shoulder dress that hugged her ample curves, tan platform shoes