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    Play the Right Cards: Delta Force Short Stories, #10
    Play the Right Cards: Delta Force Short Stories, #10
    Play the Right Cards: Delta Force Short Stories, #10
    Ebook50 pages48 minutes

    Play the Right Cards: Delta Force Short Stories, #10

    By M. L. Buchman

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    About this ebook

    -Delta Force romance story #10-

    Ramiro dreams a simple dream: become a great chef to capture the heart of the best cook he ever met. Now, in just-next-door restaurants in their old neighborhood—the barrios of Medellín, Colombia—he brings a modern twist to catch her attention.

    Estela's worries center on the last gasp of the drug cartels that still haunt her neighborhood. When a pair of American Delta operators start a card game in Ramiro's restaurant, she wonders if she  too can Play the Right Cards.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBuchman Bookworks, Inc.
    Release dateJul 9, 2018
    ISBN9781386026174
    Play the Right Cards: Delta Force Short Stories, #10
    Author

    M. L. Buchman

    USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. "Matt" Buchman has 70+ action-adventure thriller and military romance novels, 100 short stories, and lotsa audiobooks. PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” Booklist declared: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” A project manager with a geophysics degree, he’s designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, solo-sailed a 50’ sailboat, and bicycled solo around the world…and he quilts.

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      Book preview

      Play the Right Cards - M. L. Buchman

      Play the Right Card

      Play the Right Card

      a Delta Force romance story

      M. L. Buchman

      Buchmann Bookworks, Inc.

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      1

      The flash of white-gold drew Ramiro’s attention from the mote de queso.

      It was a soup he’d lifted from Colombia’s Caribbean Coast and was adapting to the Medellín palate—with his own modern style of course. The thick hard cheese had been transformed to tiny floating islands that would catch in every spoonful. The sweetness of yam now came from roasted and juiced corn, and the coconut milk base was reconstructed from goat milk and white chocolate.

      It was close. So close. It needed more roasted-corn milk—and, he tried not to sigh, less salt. Nowhere in Colombia was there a love for the salt and sweet together as there was in Medellín, but the balance was wrong. The only way to put less in was to start over and he’d already been nursing this soup along for two days. Any distraction was welcome.

      The flash of white-gold was a man’s pale blond hair. Not exactly common in the heart of the Santo Domingo district of Medellín. It belonged to a big guy. Tall and incredibly broad of shoulder. The man who followed him in was darker, but no smaller. They looked like two tanks rolling into his restaurant. Ramiro didn’t need to be brilliant to spot American drug-war military.

      "Buenos días, amigos. Welcome to my restaurant." He worked hard on his English hoping for just this moment. American military liked to think they were adventurous, but they rarely were. It had taken three months for one to walk in here. If he could make a good impression, they’d tell their friends and then he’d be made. The barrio’s locals were fine, but money came from the Americans. Also if the Americans came, then the trendy Paisas from lower Medellín would start riding the tram or the escalator up into the barrio and they too had money.

      Hey there. The blond man offered one of those odd, meaningless American greetings as they looked around.

      The barrio of Santo Domingo had changed so much since the days when Pablo Escobar’s drug money had ruled here, that the neighborhood of his youth was almost unrecognizable. There were still alleys and streets that even he didn’t walk into, but no longer did everyone spend whole days cowering out of sight as gun battles raged along the Fronteras Invisibles that had divided the drug militias’ territories. With new parks, libraries, civic centers, and even massive outdoor escalators that climbed right up into the hills of the upper comunas, the neighborhoods had slowly quieted and were regaining cohesion, like a fine

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