Cortez definitely ruled here. Signs of her were in the security system and the guns Philip’s guards possessed. The weapons were too sophisticated for the men who held them. This was Sobre’s personal army, not Imelda’s, and Philip was too lazy, or too cheap to employ mercenaries or ex-soldiers. Maybe he didn’t believe he needed security in the same way Imelda did. But Imelda and Philip definitely were affiliated, or he wouldn’t have the guns and security system. As chief of tourism, he was in a position to help her get her drugs out of the country. And he got a fat paycheck for his services.

Isabeau was aware of Philip working his supposed charm on Marcos. Marcos was an older man and Cortez probably thought she could seduce him or blackmail him into going into business with her if her business offer wasn’t as sweet as he’d like. Elijah was a different matter. Young. Virile. His reputation was that of a ruthless dictator in his cartel. His men were loyal to a fault and his enemies tended to die fast. None of them had expected him to be with Marcos.

In another hour Imelda would be there and the tension would skyrocket. In the meantime, the team would try to get as much information out of Sobre as they could without ever asking about Cortez. He had to bring her up and Isabeau was certain he would. He was already dropping the names of celebrities who he’d had to dinner or one of his parties. He was a vain, pompous man, but she wasn’t going to underestimate him. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid.

“You have a lovely home, Mr. Sobre,” she said. “It was . . . unexpected.”

He preened and strutted a little. “We’re quite fashionable even here in this place.” His eyes held hers. “We make our own rules here and live the way we choose.”

She gave him her sweet, empty smile over the rim of her crystal glass. “Well you seem to be doing a fine job. Where in the world did you find all these servants?”

Deliberately she used the word servant, making her tone a little dismissive when she indicated the uniformed women. Almost all of them were women, but she noticed a few men moving throughout the room. She was certain they weren’t part of his security. Their eyes were downcast as they replenished the trays of food and moved through the guests. A few of the expensively dressed women ran hands over the men, touching them inappropriately. She would bet that the men and women going upstairs were taking advantage of other services his servants were required to give—and most likely the guests were being filmed secretly while they enjoyed themselves.