Depths of Destruction (Behind Closed Doors #1) - Maggie Cole

Prologue

Agent Andre Lòpez

In the depths of destruction, there is no moral right or wrong. It doesn't exist.

You seek to kill.

You act to survive.

You don't pause to figure out how to do less damage in order to rebuild.

When it's over, you finally breathe.

The consequences of those decisions are sometimes hidden, easy to forget. Then there are the ones you can't escape. They're right in front of you, and you're cornered. You have to pick one road or another.

No one told me beauty would be possible in the chaos. That an angel could be surrounded by sin. That the hierarchy I follow, which always made sense in the past, would no longer be worthy of my trust.

My job was simple—don't ask questions and follow orders.

For over twenty years, that's exactly what I did.

Then I rescued her. A treasure of war so valuable, her future didn't matter—at least not to the powers that be. They wanted me to deliver her to use her as a negotiation tool in their invisible battle for power. I didn't know that when I risked my life to remove her from her prison.

The moment I saw her picture, something happened to me. There was a stirring, an unveiling, an ache...it was all for her. And then I met her.

When I arrived back at camp, the intentions of my leaders became clear. I didn't save her from hell. I only rotated it in a different direction.

There are forty-eight hours until her transfer. This fork in my road will make me a traitor or a so-called hero. The last twenty-seven years of my career will be celebrated or spit on by everyone I have ever worked with or known.

But you have to look in the mirror and then close your eyes at night. It's not possible to lie to yourself about the decisions you've made.

My visions are clear. They're of her and the life she deserves to have, not the one greedy, vile men are planning for her.

1

Naomi

"These are serious accusations." My boss, Ezra Martinez, sits across from me and continues to read the notes I have on the highest-ranking officials in Belize—Prime Minister Vasquez, Deputy Prime Minister Flowers, and every cabinet minister. For years, their campaigns have been funded by the top drug lord in Belize, Jonas Torres, as well as other drug cartel leaders around the world. Another top drug lord funneling money to these officials in Belize is Santiago Gómez who runs the Colombian cartel and is in a heated war with Torres for territory.

"You mean facts. All my findings over the last two and a half years have been backed up by several different sources. All credible and verifiable."

Ezra removes his glasses, pinching his nose. "You can't run this."

The hairs on my arms stand up. "Why would you say that? The government of Belize is corrupt. Our job is to report the truth."

"You're playing with fire and need to drop this, Naomi."

Anger creeps into my voice. I lean across the desk to tap the folder of papers I gave to Ezra. "Belizeans have a right to know. They remain in the depths of poverty and crime because of these corrupt politicians."

He closes his eyes and sternly instructs, "Drop it, Naomi. You're not to discuss this anymore."

"They're using taxpayer money to fund the drug cartels."

Ezra raises then slams his hand on the desk. "I won't tell you again. You're to drop this. And I'm moving you off coverage of anything related to the drug war between Belize and Colombia. Until further notice, you're to handle charity events."

"What?"

"You heard me."

I leap out of my chair. "I'm an investigative journalist."

"You aren't anymore. Now get out of here."

"Ezra!"

He points at me. "Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, Naomi. You're going to end up dead."

My heart pounds into my chest cavity. "Why would you..."

He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Have they bought you, too?"

Red creeps up his neck and fills his cheeks. His eyes turn to slits. "Excuse me?"

What am I saying? Ezra has always been like a father to me and helped me advance my career.

His voice drops. "You better watch yourself and your accusations, Naomi."

"Ezra, please don't pull me off this," I quietly beg.

He taps his head. "Think, Naomi."

"I am thinking. The people of Belize—"

"How long do you think it'll be before they come after you?"

Time stands still as my blood runs cold. "I know it's a possibility, but we just need to do this correctly."

"There is no way to avoid them coming after you. You know how