by Carolina Mac
killer took the phone. Why?
Blaine took a bite of his sandwich and opened the file called ‘little princess.’ Listed were all of Fabiana’s numbers. Home, cell, street address, tag number of her old blue junker, her birthday, her mother’s full name and social security number.
Under the heading of assignments were the words:
Tibando and several other case names, but the details had all been deleted. No dates. No locations.
Under the ‘Current’ heading there was only one word.
Hernando.
Hernando. I think he’s in South America.
For the next two hours, Blaine Googled everything he could find on Hernando.
First name: Lucho.
Age:Forty-seven
Spouse: Maria. Deceased.
Children: Two. University of Columbia in Bogotá.
Country: Columbia.
Bodyguard: Roberto Alvarez.
Residence: Santa Boria.
He pulled up Google Earth and searched for Santa Boria in Columbia. “Near the top, just south of the jungles of Panama. The closest airport would be Jose Maria Cordova International in Rionegro.”
I need a meeting with the boys.
BLAINE PARKED IN front of the Smithville Steakhouse at seven. “You hungry, bro?” he asked Farrell.
“Starved. Hope we can get a table.”
“I called ahead,” said Blaine, “we should be okay.”
They were almost to the front door when Travis pulled in and parked. He and Logan jumped out and caught up. “Good timing when you called, Blacky,” said Travis. “Didn’t know what I was doing for dinner.”
The hostess seated them, and Blaine ordered a round of draft. While they waited for their drinks, Blaine laid it out. “We need to go to South America tomorrow.”
Travis looked surprised, but Logan didn’t.
“That handler give you the low down, boss?” asked Logan.
“He’s dead.”
The server returned with the beer and Blaine brought them up to date on everything he knew. “It’s not much, but something is going down. The DEA says she doesn’t work there one day, and her handler is executed the next day.” He drank down half his beer. “Any thoughts?”
“Just one,” said Logan, “and it ain’t a pretty one. Somebody is doing a cleanup. Might already be too late for your friend.”
AFTER DINNER, Blaine left with Farrell. He gave orders that the team was to pack and get a good night’s sleep.
On the way to his truck, Travis asked Logan, “We still on for the roadhouse?”
Logan checked his watch, “Quarter to nine. Sure. Let’s have a couple, but we better cut it short if we’re leaving in the morning to start a new job.”
“Blacky’s buying the tickets when he gets home, and he’ll text us with a time.”
BOOTS AND SADDLES on a Monday night wasn’t packed to the rafters with a sell-out crowd like it always was on the weekend, but it wasn’t empty either. Most of the dark wooden booths had a couple of bikers sitting together, sharing a
pitcher of suds. The stage was vacant. No live band during the week. Country music was supplied by wall-mounted speakers, or the jukebox in the corner, but the decibel level was equal to that of a band, and that’s what counted for the dancers. And a few couples spun around on the shiny plank floor.
“Down there,” Travis pointed to an empty booth near the back corner. As soon as they were seated, Julie, the waitress who’d worked there a long time, stood at their table smiling at them. Slow night.
“What’s your pleasure, boys. My name’s Julie.” She tossed down a couple of coasters and a tiny bowl of nuts.
“Shiner,” said Logan and Travis nodded his approval.
Julie hurried off and Logan helped himself to a handful of nuts. “What’s your opinion on Blaine finding his ex? She
already toast?”
“Undercover in a cartel in Columbia, and nobody’s heard from her in months?” Travis shook his head. “Don’t like her chances.”
“She a nice girl?” asked Logan. “If she’s an agent she must be older than the boss. Can’t believe I’m taking orders from a kid barely old enough to drink.”
“Blacky was twenty-one in January,” Travis waved the empty pitcher in the air to catch Julie’s eye. “But he’s smart. A genius—like a real one—and he knows more than all of us put together. He has a degree in criminology and he’s an
attorney. Jesse told me they kept a lot of the stuff he wrote at the U and they use it in lectures. Shit, hauling around a brain that big would fuckin kill me.”
“Yeah, I Googled him before I applied for the job,” said Logan. “I know who he is and how loaded he is. I asked you how old his ex was.”
Travis paused for a moment, not sure if he liked Logan’s aggressive questioning. Maybe he should watch what he was saying about his team. They were his family. His only family, and he wouldn’t betray them for anything. He drained his glass and set it down. “I think Fabiana is twenty-five or six. She’s tiny. Five feet tall on a good day.”
“Oh, yeah? Sounds cute.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why don’t you finish telling me the story about you and Annie Powell. Bet that’s an interesting one.”
“Don’t know how interesting it is, but it’s painful. I can tell you that much.” Travis refilled his glass out of the new pitcher Julie had just set on the table. “Race Ogilvie—I think that sums it up in a couple of words. Everybody’s worst nightmare. At least he was before he came out of the Colorado River brain dead.”
Logan glanced up and grinned. “Put that thought on hold. Our other boss just walked in with somebody and they’re coming our way.”
“Hey guys, got room for two more?” asked Jesse.
“Sure, boss, have a seat,” said Travis shoving over. “How’s it going, Ty?”
Jesse introduced Tyler to Logan.
“You two look like brothers,” said Logan. He sounded a little drunk, but that didn’t stop him filling up his glass.
“How long you guys been here?” asked Tyler.
“Hour or so. Leaving soon.”
Logan leaned closer to Jesse sitting next to him. “Travis was just telling me how things got messed up between him and Miss Annie, but I didn’t get to hear the end of the story.”
“Shut up, Logan,” barked Travis. “You’ve got a big mouth.”
“Maybe we should sit somewhere else,” said Tyler. “Move over there, Jesse.”
“I ain’t moving. I want to know what Travis was saying about him and my wife.”
“It was nothing, boss. Just telling Logan how Mr. Ogilvie screwed all our lives over. That’s all it was.”
“Yeah, well that’s a fact nobody can deny.”
Julie brought another pitcher and two more glasses. “Hey, Tyler, nice to see you.”
“Hi, Julie.”
Logan emptied another glass and stared at Jesse. He wouldn’t give it up. “So, tell me, if that Ogilvie dude is a huge trouble maker, why’s he living with you and your new bride?”
Jesse glared. “Is that any of your business, Logan?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Can’t say that it is. Just curiosity.” He motioned to Jesse that he wanted out of the booth. “Need to take a piss.”
Tyler watched Logan stagger towards the washrooms, then said, “Can’t say I like your new guy too much, Jesse. Seems like a bit of a jerk.”
Jesse sat down and moved to the inside of the booth. “Have to agree with you, Ty. He’s being a jerk tonight.”
“Where’d he come from anyway?” asked Ty. “Is he a PI?”
“Homicide cop in Houston, then he got his PI license when they fired him,” said Travis. “He’s okay when we’re working.”
“What did he get canned for?” asked Tyler. “Mouthing off?”
“Excessive force during an arrest,” said Travis, “Think he beat up a guy real bad.”
Several couples were dancing to the recorded
music and Logan, not too steady on his feet, made his way none-too-gently through the crowd on his way back from the men’s room.
“Hey, watch who you’re pushing,” said a big biker doing a fancy two-step with his girlfriend.
Logan stopped and turned around. “You talking to me?”
“Damn right, I am. Apologize to my girl.”
“Fuck you,” said Logan and turned away.
The biker grabbed Logan, spun him around and landed a big fist in his face.
“Shit,” said Travis jumping to his feet. “Guess I should help him.”
Tyler got up and turned to Jesse, “Stay there. You can’t fight.”
Tyler and Travis grabbed hold of Logan and pulled him away from the biker and his girlfriend. “Sorry about him, man. He’s drunk. We’ll take him home.”
“If I see his ugly face in here again, I won’t be so fuckin
gentle,” roared the biker.
Travis dragged Logan back to the booth and pushed him into the seat. “Sit there until I finish my beer and I’ll drive you home.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go home yet. Maybe I want to
party hard with my boss.” He held his glass up to Jesse.
“You better go on home, Logan and sleep it off,” said
Jesse. “You have to work tomorrow.”
Logan laughed and pointed at Tyler. “Guess you boys wouldn’t know what it was like to work for a living, would y’all?”
“Ranching is hard work,” said Tyler, “with no holidays, and not many days off.”
“Must be nice to have all that cash. Women must swarm all over y’all. Probably why Miss Annie dumped Travis and moved on to Quantrall Oil. I’d bet on it.”
Jesse reached across the table in a lightning move, grabbed Logan by the neck of his shirt and twisted it tight. “You’re fired. Get him out of my sight, Travis.”
“You can’t fire me,” Logan hollered as Travis dragged him out of the booth. “The kid hired me, not you. I ain’t fired.”
“You sure as hell are.”
Jesse followed them to the parking lot and watched Travis shove Logan into his truck. “I’ll mail your check. Don’t show your face at the ranch again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tuesday, March 7th.
BLAINE TOWELED OFF his long hair and tied it back with a black bandana. He was on edge. Everything seemed tilted—a fraction off center since Jesse pulled back because of his heart, and he’d taken over the reins of the agency. He’d always loved working with Jesse. They got along great and it was fun for the most part. Every case, a new adventure.
Everything felt different. Something was missing—a huge something—and he didn’t know what it was.
Maybe coffee will help.
Jesse and Annie sat at the harvest table having breakfast with the kids. They were dressed and ready for school. There was no sign of Race this morning.
Blaine poured himself a coffee and took the chair next to Annie. “I was able to get a flight to Columbia for early this afternoon.”
“You’re convinced she’s in trouble?” asked Annie.
Blaine stared into his mug and nodded.
Jesse first looked at Annie, then turned to Blaine. “I want to help you find her.”
Annie shook her head. “Nope. You can’t go.”
Jesse stared for a minute, then spoke in a firm but gentle tone of voice, “If I want to go, Ace, I’ll be going.”
Annie jumped up from the table and grabbed her cell off the island. “I’m calling Brian.”
Jesse smirked. “You’re calling my brother? What good will that do you?”
“He might talk some sense into your head.”
“You shouldn’t be under any stress,” said Blaine, “It’s too soon. Even though I’m lost without you, I have to side with Mom on this one.”
“Two against one,” said Jesse. “The odds are stacking up against me.”
“What you want for breakfast, Mister Blaine?” called Rosalie from the stove as she laid strips of bacon in a hot pan.
“Surprise me, ‘mi Corazon.”
Rosalie giggled.
“You’ll need me,” said Jesse. “The team’s a man short.”
“Nope. We’re good,” said Blaine, “and Logan speaks Spanish fluently. I’m need a translator.”
“You’ll have to get somebody else to translate for you,” said Jesse. “I fired that jerk last night at Boots.”
Blaine focused on Jesse’s face to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t. “Why?”
“For that reason. He’s a jerk and he needs to watch his mouth.”
“What would tick you off enough to fire him? You barely know him.”
Jesse’s glance wandered towards Annie and Blaine
nodded. He could feel his blood begin to simmer.
They’re all the same. I’ll kill all of them.
He finished breakfast, called Travis and told him to pack for a week. “Be here by ten. Our flight is at one.”
“Yep. Guess it will be hotter than the hubs down there.”
“Probably.”
“Umm… you know the boss fired Logan?” asked Travis.
“He told me at breakfast. You part of that bullshit?”
“A little. I shouldn’t have mentioned me and Annie. And just say’n—Logan ain’t a fun drunk.”
“Good to know. Guess it don’t matter now.”
“The fucker can speak Spanish,” said Travis. “We could’ve used him.”
“That’s what I was pissed about. Not too fond of him
otherwise,” said Blaine. “We’ll manage without him. Hire an interpreter if we have to. There are ways around it.”
“Yep, I’m packing right now. See you in an hour.”
Blaine hung up and heard Farrell hollering from the end of the hall. “Mom, will you help me pack?”
“Sure, baby.” She finished her coffee and left the table.
BLAINE SET HIS bag and Farrell’s on the porch at five to ten, lit up a smoke and sat in one of the wicker chairs with a coffee. He had retreated outside so as not to hear Jesse and Annie arguing in the master suite about Jesse flying.
He shouldn’t be flying. And what if something happens? I won’t be able to look after him properly.
Blaine checked the time on his phone and scrolled up to Travis’ number. He was about to press ‘call’ when the big silver Ford appeared at the gate.
Farrell came out wearing khaki shorts and reflector shades, ready to go. “Mom and Jesse are into it good. Can’t listen to it.”
“Yep,” said Blaine, “I’m with ya.” He gave Travis a wave as he jumped out of his truck with his duffel. “Oh, shit, here’s trouble.”
Farrell glanced at the pickup sitting at the gate. “Thought he was fired.”
“Yeah, he is.” Blaine let out a big sigh. “Load the bags, bro. We’re leaving in five.” He strode to the gate and stood beside Logan’s open window. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not taking being fired by anybody but you, because you hired me, not Quantrall.”
“We’re the same,” said Blaine. “Equal responsibility. If he says you don’t work for us, I respect his decision.”
“Come on, man. I was drunk. What I said wasn’t all that bad.”
“I don’t know what you said because Jesse didn’t repeat it, but it doesn’t make any difference. It was serious enough that he fired you, and that’s good enough for me.” Blaine waved his arm towards the highway.
“I need this job, man. I’m gonna lose my fuckin house.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you
insulted your employer and blew off your job.”
“Oh, fuck, it wasn’t that serious,” shouted a red-faced Logan. “All I said was, Annie probably dumped Travis to marry Quantrall for his money.”
Blaine’s reflexes took over and he drove Logan in the face. “Get off my property.”
Logan clamped a hand over his nose to quell the blood gu
sh. “I’m charging you with assault.”
“Do it,” hollered Blaine. He motioned to Jose to remove Logan from the property.
“I’m going. I’m going. I’m not sticking around for any more of your Latino temper tantrums.”
“Problem, boss?” Farrell stood behind Blaine staring at Logan.
“Nope. Problem solved.”
THE BOYS WERE fastening their seatbelts in Blaine’s truck when the door opened, and Jesse blasted onto the porch with a duffel in his hand. “Holy fuck, the boss is coming,” whispered Farrell. “Mom must be going mental.”
“Jesus,” said Blaine, “this can’t happen.”
Jesse strode towards the truck, his jaw set.
“Looks like it is happening.” Travis reached for the door handle. “I’ll get in the back.”
Jesse tossed his bag to the boys in the back and they stowed it behind the seat. Now wearing a smile, he jumped in the front with Blaine. “Take off, Blacky. I can’t stand to see Ace crying over me.”
“She’s worried, Jesse. That’s why she’s crying. She doesn’t want you to die.”
“I’m not gonna fuckin die. Why does everybody think I’m on my way out. I’m fuckin sick of it.”
“Okay, you made your point,” said Blaine. “You won’t hear any more out of me. Go ahead and fuckin terminate.”
“Thanks for that.” He lowered his window, lit up a smoke and never said another word.
THE FLIGHT TO COLUMBIA was long and tedious and ideal for sleeping. The plane landed at six thirty and the Blackmore crew disembarked into darkness. Day and night shared the clock evenly near the equator and Columbia was no exception.
Blaine’s head ached badly, rendering him groggy, testy, and disoriented as he stood in the long custom’s line at Jose Maria Cordova airport in Rionegro.
He had no clue how to find Fabiana in a land of steamy jungles and an even steamier drug trade. He didn’t speak the language and knew no one in Columbia. He needed a plan and he needed to come up with it in the next ten minutes.
Jesse stood behind him looking pale and exhausted, but Blaine stifled the urge to ask him how he was feeling. Another thing for him to worry about. Annie would drown him in a barrage of texts asking about Jesse. She loved him. They both did.