Santerra's Sin: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Donna Kauffman

  She moved out from behind the desk. “See you tomorrow, then.”

  Diego shifted to let her pass. He purposely did not look across the room where his knife was still twisted into the poncho. He’d come back immediately after she’d headed up front to talk to Tejo, but had thought it wiser to listen in to their conversation.

  And now good ol’ Flaco was going to put a damper on his planned after-hours unguided tour.

  At least the increased mess in her office hadn’t raised any unwanted concern. If all went as planned, Blue would never know she was under his protection. Or that her life was in jeopardy.

  Or that her father was the cause of it.

  “Diego?”

  He turned at the sound of her voice. Which sounded way too good speaking his name. “Right behind you.”

  He pulled the door shut behind him, tugging a bit to make the warped wood settle tightly in the frame. “You don’t lock up?”

  She kept moving down the hallway and she shook her head. “Nothing in there to steal, really. Not that they could find it if there were.”

  He didn’t ask where they kept the day’s receipts or petty cash. She wouldn’t give that information to a new employee. And he already knew the answers anyway. “Business so good you don’t have time for office work? Maybe you should hire someone.”

  She stepped behind the bar; Diego crossed in front of it.

  “Office work doesn’t get done because I hate it. And the only new employee I can afford is you. Unless of course you want to moonlight.”

  “No thanks. I’m just a cook.”

  She looked him over with obvious speculation. “And a damn good one too.”

  Her praise hit a string that had been out of tune so long he had to stifle his heartfelt response. “It’s a living.”

  Tejo and Flaco’s voices echoed from the basement storeroom. Diego took in the bedroll on top of one of the pool tables, then scanned the rest of the room quickly before turning back to Blue.

  She was staring at him again and didn’t make any effort to stop when he caught her. He said nothing, just stared in return. Never make the first move unless you have no choice.

  “You’ve done it for a long time, then?” she asked.

  “You asking for references?”

  She shook her head. “Your cooking is your reference. And as long as you follow the rules, you’ll have a job here.”

  In other words, she didn’t trust him—not yet, anyway—but was fair enough to give anyone a decent chance. Diego didn’t want to think about what would have happened if one of Jacounda’s men had discovered that particular streak of hers and taken advantage of it.

  She’d be living on borrowed time. And Del would be dead.

  Because Diego knew if it came to it, his boss would sacrifice the trial and his life for that of his daughter. He already had thirteen years earlier for his wife, Blue’s mother. Only that time he’d lost. Lost it all. His wife had died and his only child had lost her father for a second time. Only this time she truly believed him dead. There had been no other way to keep her safe.

  But safety was an illusion. So was security.

  Del had divorced her mother when Blue was barely seven. But his wife had eventually been caught in the deadly web of her ex-husband’s career anyway. This time Del had officially died the same night his wife had. Tejo and his wife took over the job of keeping Blue safe. And they had.

  Until Hermes Jacounda managed to discover Del’s true identity.

  It was only a matter of time before Jacounda found the one bargaining chip he had in the trial that would almost certainly put him in prison for life. Blue.

  “I can live with your rules.” He had to get back in here tonight and find out what—or who—had happened to Blue’s office earlier. And get his knife.

  “Why is it I get the impression that you only abide by rules if they suit you?”

  He gave her his full attention. “Because you are a smart woman.”

  “Are you in any trouble I should know about?”

  “No.”

  “Quick answer. Would you tell me if you were?”

  “I wouldn’t involve anyone else in my business.”

  “Interesting answer.”

  “I’m just a cook.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, right.”

  For some reason he had a hard time not smiling back. “See you tomorrow.”

  An hour later Diego pulled the Jeep behind the pueblo that was at the center of the small town of Villa Roja. Blue’s Place was about a hundred and fifty yards down the main road, the last building before the highway disappeared into the desert. There were no buildings behind the cantina either, but the rocky terrain leading out to a crumbling mesa provided cover for any one of a number of predators.

  Diego shook his head. It was way too vulnerable. He’d set up surveillance of her place shortly after his arrival, but it hadn’t been easy. Del had originally put two men on the job, but they had decided early on that the town was simply too small to absorb the presence of two men without drawing attention. Fellow teammate John McShane was still close by in Taos if Diego needed assistance.

  He slid noiselessly from the truck and just as silently crossed behind the row of buildings fronting the main drag. He moved farther back toward the mesa when he neared Blue’s. The second-story light illuminated her bedroom window. Having her live over the bar did help matters considerably.

  The quarter moon provided an equal amount of light and shadow. Diego made good use of both. He’d managed to scope out the immediate area behind the cantina when he took out the trash while closing up. There were footprints in the dirt lot. Too many, in fact. But none directly under Blue’s office window. Which meant the intruder had either been clever enough to remove that evidence or they had come in through the front door.

  And it was the possibility of the latter that had caused Del to send Diego inside.

  Intelligence back in Miami had no direct proof that anyone in Jacounda’s organization had headed west. But they were also smart enough to know that he or someone who worked for him could have hired outside talent for this job.

  Diego found his gaze drawn back to Blue’s window. Complex woman, Blue Delgado. What in the hell was she doing out on the edge of nowhere? He knew about her marriage and subsequent divorce. Much of that had been documented. It had been rough on her. Her husband had been a fraud, a user. He’d talked her out of the police academy and into a higher-paying job, then over the next five years while she climbed the corporate ladder, he’d proceeded to bilk her out of almost everything she owned.

  She didn’t strike him as the type of woman who’d allow something like that to happen to her. She struck him as a survivor. Much like her father. Would a philandering liar of a husband really be enough to send a woman like her into seclusion?

  Diego didn’t know the answer to that. Love did strange things to people. He had no experience in that kind of relationship. Not even close. And given that stories like Blue’s seemed all too frequent, he intended to keep it that way.

  He stood perfectly still, watching her window, keeping his senses on full alert. He stood just like that until at last, some ten minutes later, the light went out.

  He let out a long sigh he’d had no idea was inside him.

  Yes, his life was exactly how he wanted it.

  He carefully picked his way to the back door, not disturbing so much as a stone to mark his path. He was inside in less than sixty seconds. He swore under his breath, hating both Blue’s lack of security and the threat that would rob her of that naive trust.

  He moved cautiously toward the front. Flaco was snoring soundly on top of the pool table. He’d observed Tejo leave for his home and wife shortly after his own departure. That left Blue. He listened closely but heard no movement overhead.

  The sudden urge to climb the backstairs and check for himself that she was safely asleep in her own bed was surprisingly strong. And alarming. The urge had nothing to do with her safe
ty. He knew she was up there. Alone.

  He turned away from the stairs, resolutely shutting out the images of Blue lying in her bed, and slipped into her office. Using a tiny beam of light, he edged his way to the coatrack. Seconds later, his knife safely tucked by his side, he moved cautiously back to the desk. Pulling one of Del’s little toys out of his jacket pocket, he quickly ran a scan over the room. No electronic devices. Detonating or otherwise.

  He lifted the phone, dismantled it with ease, flashed his beam of light inside both the receiver and the base unit. Clean.

  Diego’s initial impression seemed to be correct. Whoever had been in there had been looking for something, not leaving something. What, though? Proof they had the right woman? No, Jacounda’s men were too thorough. There were too many ways to check that out without running a careless B&E during business hours.

  That last little part had been bugging him too. He was given no time to analyze the puzzle. A whisper of noise from the kitchen caught his full attention.

  He moved as swiftly as he dared in that direction, stopping, back flat to the wall, just outside the swinging kitchen door.

  There it was again. A soft whoosh. The freezer door, he deduced as he edged closer. He could still hear Flaco softly snoring, which narrowed the identity of the early-morning raider to two. Blue. Or an intruder. The soft groan of pleasure he heard in the next instant narrowed that field down to one.

  He ignored the tiny race of pleasure that shot down his spine at the throaty sound, even as he found himself placing his fingertips on the edge of the door, intent on a quick verification that Blue was indulging in a night treat. But another sound, a low rustling followed by a muffled thump, sent him retreating swiftly down the hallway to the rear exit. He eased the door open in time to see a black shadow stooped by the window of Blue’s office. Moving silently, hands loose and ready, he’d almost closed the distance when the intruder suddenly stood and swung around.

  “What the—”

  Diego lunged, but the other man, smaller and wiry, darted unexpectedly to the side. He dashed off into the moonlit desert. Diego knew better than to give chase and possibly lose him in the desert. The knife was out and perfectly balanced in his hand in a natural motion. He centered his weight, pivoted, and took a bead on the running man. The knife was winging through the night air bare seconds later.

  A high-pitched scream ripped into the silence, followed by a loud grunt and thud as his target tripped and fell to the ground. Diego had closed half the distance to the fallen man when the back door slammed open. Damn, Blue had heard the scream.

  Diego barely had time to take a dive around the side of the building when the bright light of a halogen lamp lit up the entire rear area of the cantina.

  That was immediately followed by the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

  “Who’s out here?”

  Diego swore under his breath. Stupid question, Blue. Not like you. If he hadn’t been certain the intruder was out of action with a knife in his lower left shoulder, he’d have taken her down in a flying tackle. As it was, he stayed in the shadows.

  “Blue?” The word was more croak than shout. “That you?”

  Diego’s attention jerked back to the wounded intruder. There was movement and moaning, but it wasn’t threatening. He looked back to Blue. She took a half step forward, then stepped back again. Smarter. She kept the gun steady and shoulder level, her eye never leaving the site.

  “Answer me!” she shouted. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Le—” He broke off on a cough and a long moan “Leroy,” he eventually rasped out, the sound barely carrying over the quiet desert night.

  “Leroy?” Blue walked toward the fallen man, but kept the gun up.

  Diego’s respect for her bumped up a small notch.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” she asked, concern for her former employee’s health not in evidence. Give him hell, Blue. He was glad to see her generous streak didn’t extend to being gracious to ex-employees breaking and entering.

  Of course Diego had no business smiling. This was a development he certainly didn’t need. Leroy was supposed to be working in the Florida Keys right now. His unexpected return was not a good sign.

  “I came … back,” Leroy choked out. “Could you … call 911.”

  “Oh, I think that can be arranged. In fact, it’s been done.”

  Diego nodded his approval even as he swore under his breath. This he definitely didn’t need. The decision to leave before the local law showed up was balanced against his absolute need to know why Leroy had traveled all the way across the country to break into his former boss’s cantina.

  If he could just get his knife back. His prints were on it. Of course, he doubted Leroy would leave it alone, and so the risk of his own prints being found was minimal. But he’d just gotten it back.

  This was not turning out to be his day. He was just thankful John wasn’t there. He was probably the only human being alive who felt comfortable enough in Diego’s presence to give him a hard time. Of course the fact that John was a walking lethal weapon did tend to balance the scales a bit.

  Blue closed the remaining distance, then angled the barrel of the gun directly at the head of the still-downed Leroy.

  “Tell me what’s going on before Gerraro gets here, Leroy. What were you doing out here snooping around my place at two in the morning, and how did you get hurt?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to see me talking to you.” He groaned again. His voice was thin and whiny. “I’m bleeding, Blue. I need help.”

  Her voice gentled a bit. “It’s on the way, Leroy. Where are you bleeding?”

  She lowered the gun, but not out of range of usefulness. Diego wondered at her natural ease with the firearm. The logical assumption was that Del had taught her, but he’d been gone since she was a small girl. His reappearance in her life thirteen years ago had been tragically brief. And she hadn’t been in the academy long enough for extensive training.

  Had Tejo taught her?

  “My shoulder,” Leroy answered. “A knife.”

  Blue lowered the gun the rest of the way and knelt by Leroy’s side. “My God, Leroy. You were in a knife fight?”

  “Uh … not exactly.”

  Diego watched as Blue checked out Leroy’s shoulder. “For heaven’s sake, Leroy, this isn’t just some little switchblade here. What in the hell happened?” She didn’t let him answer. “I can’t take it out. I’m afraid it would make you bleed worse. It’s in the fleshy part of your shoulder, though, and it’s not bleeding too badly. I think you’ll be okay. The rescue squad should be here any minute.”

  Leroy’s head fell back to the ground. “Good. It really hurts, Blue.”

  Diego couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the mix of disgust and amusement in her tone. “Yeah, I imagine it does. Why don’t you take your mind off of it while we wait and tell me what you’re doing back here. I thought you were in Florida.”

  “I was. Great job.”

  “So why come back? Surely not because you missed working for me,” she said dryly.

  “It was too good, Blue. I got … curious.” His voice faded, making it hard for Diego to hear, but he didn’t dare try to move closer. As it was, he’d have to split as soon as the first squad car arrived. The sirens in the distance told him that was about thirty seconds away.

  Hurry, he willed Leroy.

  “I found out something. I had to warn you.”

  “Warn me? Leroy, what in the world could you find out in Florida that has anything to do with me?”

  “I think someone is trying to kill you, Blue.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Well, I was going to call—” He broke off when the sirens grew closer. “But I wasn’t too sure they wouldn’t have you bugged.”

  “I think you’ve lost more blood than I thought. You’re delirious.”

  “No!” He shook his head, then groaned. Cars pulled into the front of the cantina
with a loud squeal of sirens and flashing lights.

  Diego strained to hear Leroy’s next words.

  “Someone is trying to kill you. And I was right. Because tonight they tried to kill me.”

  THREE

  Diego barely bit off the harsh epithet. What in hell had happened? Someone had gotten dangerously careless. And now one skinny cook with a conscience was going to blow this whole thing to hell and back.

  They had to get Leroy out of there before he was questioned. Gerraro was not your typical small-town sheriff. Diego had been briefed on him before arriving. Vince Gerraro had been a homicide cop in Detroit for fifteen years before heading south for warmer, less violent climes. Del had toyed with the idea of bringing him into the case, but anyone not on the team could be made vulnerable too easily. The one distinguishing factor of the remaining Dirty Dozen members was that not one of them had a single attachment outside the team. No family, personal or extended. Invulnerable. Inside and out. Anything less rendered the team ineffective. The work they did was highly sensitive. And high risk.

  Diego moved to the front of the building as the two occupants of the sheriff’s car headed around back on the other side. He was in his Jeep and on a scrambled cellular line—another of Del’s toys—in less than two minutes.

  A gravelly voice answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”

  “I need to get into my safe-deposit box.”

  “It can be opened for you.” The voice was fractionally less rough and Diego knew he had John’s full attention.

  “I need help getting the stuff over there, though.” He glanced down the street at the sheriff’s car, which was now accompanied by an emergency rescue vehicle. “It’s going to be wrapped in brown paper for a while and I need to get it out first.”

  “Need any Red Cross volunteers?”

  “Nope. Already have two of them. Maybe I can get my stuff from them more easily. Worth a try.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Be there in ten or fifteen.”

  “That should be just about perfect.”

  There was a pause on the line. “I take it that would be a welcome change right about now.”