when we were BROKEN

Bogotá, Colombia

"We're pulling into the parking lot. Where are you?" Ikeno gestured toward the lobby building where the main entrance was, and Rémy parked in the nearest slot, cutting the engine. "We're coming in."

Ana met them in the lobby with a tall, dark-skinned man at her elbow. She was noticeably pale beneath her golden skin, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Ikeno, thank you so much for-"

"Can we skip the pleasantries?" The big man interrupted, his hazel eyes cold. Rémy studied him silently, taking in the quality of his suit, the way it was tailored to him, all the way down to the subtle shine of polish on his shoes. Deciding to let Sousa handle it, he shifted slightly in relaxation, a move the man's sharp gaze noted. Ikeno glanced at him.

"Who is this, Ana?"

"That's not important-"

"If you want my help," the big man was cut off gently, a faint razor's edge to Sousa's normally smooth voice. "You'll tell me who you are, and how you're involved in this."

"My name is Byron Evans. I travel for work and Colombia is a frequent destination. It's a cut-throat business I'm in, so along the course of my tenure, I've rubbed a few people the wrong way. It's created problematic situations that occasionally make it hard for me to conduct my business. This is one of those situations."

Ikeno's gaze never left his face. The space of a few heartbeats passed where no one moved then flat, coffee-colored eyes shifted to Ana.

"Where are the computers?"

"Here," relieved, she turned, beginning to point before slapping her hand down as a woman with a stiff expression and a hotel uniform stepped off the elevator. Supervisor was written on her nametag above Esteffi García. Her dour expression deepened upon seeing Ana and the entourage.

"What is going on here? Ana, you're not scheduled to work today."

"I came in because Celeste didn't show," Ana impressively managed a smile. "The shift manager called me."

"I didn't authorize that," waspish, the woman lifted her chin. "Next time, check in with me before you make your own work schedule."

"It wasn't-"

"I approve the pay for every shift each employee works," Señora García moved forward, accustomed to her position buying her the respect of her subordinates. "Unless you clear extra shifts with me, I won't submit your time to the payroll department. I run an efficient hotel, not a free-for-all all."

"Yes ma'am." Ana forced an appropriately humble expression, meekly lowering her gaze.

"Now, who're all these people? You know the hotel policy. Only employees are allowed past the front desk into the back rooms. I'm afraid whoever you all are, you'll have to step back into the guest area."

"Let me explain-"

"Now, Ana." A sharp, no-nonsense gaze shut her up. "I will call for security to escort them from the premises unless they are guests staying here."

Rémy moved before Señora García finished speaking, his hands stabbing forward in blunt, chopping motions at her throat and chest. With a gagging wheeze, the hotel day supervisor toppled forward. Catching her, Rémy glanced impatiently at the motionless party.

"Can we get this done before anyone else shows up?" Feeling eyes on him he looked over at the man calling himself Byron Evans. Hazel points were coolly measuring. They held a stiff staring contest for an instant.

"Bring her in here," Ana quickly led them toward the room but Rémy stopped her from swiping her hotel badge to unlock the door. Tugging the one free from the supervisor's pocket, he swiped it instead the light flicking from red to green. Evans used the fold of his jacket to open the door, waving them all through. Inside, Rémy propped the limp woman in a corner as Ana started toward the wall of computers.