Santerra's Sin: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Donna Kauffman

  “So true. Nothing gets done right with everyone talking all the time.”

  Diego heard the softly muttered curse. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some peace and quiet.”

  “Probably too late for that. It’s amazing how fast news travels.”

  Another softly muttered curse. Diego understood his frustration. Then John said, “Let’s just hope people don’t believe everything they hear.”

  “Rumors do get out of hand. I’ll work on that here.”

  “See you in ten.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The pause was briefer this time. “The one thing I can count on, my friend.” The line went dead.

  Diego sat there for second or two longer, holding the phone. It wasn’t all that unusual for John to make a statement like that. It was the flip side of all the grief he gave Diego. John was the team member Diego worked with most often. Their styles and personal combat techniques suited each other well. Though the whole team was close-knit, the bond was strictly professional. Even life-and-death bonds were held at arm’s length. John pushed that barrier. Diego frowned. So what else was new?

  But for some reason Diego couldn’t pinpoint, this time it gave him more than a little pause. Made him feel … connected.

  Dangerous thing. Even though he’d always been fully dedicated to the team’s mission and would give his life for any one of them, they all remained doggedly independent. Of anyone, even—and to a degree, especially of—each other. Caring got you or your rescue target killed.

  The ambulance drove out of Blue’s lot, lights flashing but siren off, drawing him back to the moment. But the relief he felt in letting his mind settle into familiar strategy-developing patterns was somehow just as disturbing.

  He knew the nearest hospital was in Taos; a twenty-minute drive. John was located there, his presence easily absorbed into the much larger population. They’d have Leroy out of the hospital—and Gerraro’s hands—and in a safe house where they could question him, in under an hour.

  He’d work on ferreting out Blue’s reaction to Leroy’s news tomorrow. He doubted she’d believe such an outrageous claim without proof, something he’d make sure she’d never get. So that ruled out her doing anything impulsive or dangerous tonight. He’d waited long enough to see the sheriff’s car leave and watch her go back into the house. Leaving her alone was a calculated risk he’d have to take. That he didn’t like it … and that his problem with it was only partially case-related had him pulling out of the lot with a bit more speed than was wise.

  But then thinking about Blue tended to do that to him.

  With a harsh curse he turned his attention back to more solvable problems. Like how he was going to get his knife back. Again.

  Blue watched Gerraro and his deputy leave. The ambulance had taken Leroy to Taos and Blue knew that was where the sheriff was headed. She’d argued about heading in with them, but Vince had told her he’d call her in the morning. Blue debated briefly about following them anyway, but she finally went back into the cantina. She knew she should call Tejo. He’d undoubtedly hear about it long before he got in to work and should really hear it from her. But she was a bit more shaken up by Leroy’s message than she’d let on to any of them and she needed time to sort it all out first.

  In all the excitement, Flaco had decided to head home and try to get his wife, Sandy, to let him in. Blue knew Sandy’s fuse was short on both ends and didn’t think Flaco would be back. It also meant the grapevine would be humming by sunup.

  She put her shotgun away and trudged upstairs. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be going to sleep, she climbed between her blankets and sheets and settled her head on a stack of pillows.

  Someone wanted to kill her.

  Leroy’s claims were ludicrous. And murder was simply too ridiculous to give any credence to. But he’d been so certain.… And while Leroy hadn’t been the most dependable person in the world, he hadn’t been a liar either.

  But who would want to harm her? Much less kill her? Sure, there were people in town who thought that running a bar was a less than respectable thing for a woman to do. Especially when the woman in question was a divorcée. Though why that made a spit of difference she’d never been exactly sure. She was fully aware of the things some of the more small-minded said and the less than kind labels attached to her on occasion.

  Her reaction had always been a mixture of amusement and disinterest.

  But murder? No. No one had any personal ax to grind with her as far as she knew. Except maybe for Anthony. Her ex-husband certainly had no love lost for her, but that was only because she’d finally exposed him for the sweet-talking, two-timing, charm-you-while-he-robs-you-blind son-of-a-bitch he really was. Yet Anthony didn’t have the guts to harm, much less kill anyone. He avoided trouble, rather than looked for it. He was far more likely to spend his energy on finding a new mark and reinventing himself all over again. Blue didn’t waste any further thought on that possibility.

  Vince Gerraro was good at his job and would find out where Leroy had gotten his information. No sense belaboring it further until she talked to him in the morning. She’d try to get in before opening the cantina to see Leroy, too, if he was still in the hospital.

  Sleep finally drifted in to claim her. But one last thought before she dropped off ensured her sleep would not be peaceful.

  No matter how strange and unlikely Leroy’s claim … the fact remained that someone had knifed him. A very skilled someone.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” Blue shouted into the phone. She didn’t worry about keeping her voice down. The cantina wasn’t open yet. Tejo was the only one up front. “How could you lose him?” She swore under her breath as the sheriff explained that Leroy had been admitted to the hospital and treated, but due to some complications he didn’t fully comprehend, they’d sedated him. He’d waited at the hospital for several hours, but when he finally poked his head in Leroy’s room, the bed was empty.

  “I still don’t understand how a sedated man with a knife wound could simply get up and walk out of the hospital.” Another thought occurred to her. “Unless you think the person who knifed him came back and—” She broke off, forcing herself to calm down. “That’s ludicrous. Isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Blue. I doubt anyone carried him off, but the EMT that transported him said that several times on the way in, Leroy claimed he was certain he was being followed. More than likely he was afraid, and when he came to and got up to go to the bathroom or something, he managed to get away without us catching him. The lounge was not in direct sight of his door.”

  “Vince—”

  “Hey, it’s not like I thought he was a flight risk. I don’t know what happened behind your place, Blue, or where he got the idea you were in danger. For all we know he’s the one in trouble. More likely story, if you ask me. But if you want, we can send someone by the cantina on a regular basis. It might be wise if you call me with a description if you see anyone frequenting the cantina or hanging around town.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “I’ve got a bulletin out on him. I have a few calls in to the PD in Miami to see what we can dig up on him or in case he shows up back there.”

  That made Blue pause. “Do you really think there is anything to his story?”

  “Did he have any drug history? There didn’t seem to be any indication of that last night, but those test results aren’t available yet.”

  “No, not that I ever noticed. He didn’t seem high or anything last night either. He was in a lot of pain, but he was scared. And adamant …” she added, her voice trailing off.

  “Blue, listen, can you come down here sometime today before the cantina opens and answer some questions?”

  “Officially?”

  Gerraro laughed, the sound slightly reassuring. “Listen, this is the most excitement I’ve had since leaving Detroit.”

  “I thought that was why you came here.”
She could almost hear his shrug and fought a smile. Vince was a good man and an even better cop. He’d hinted more than once that she’d make a good one herself. If he only knew … She shoved that thought away.

  If Vince wanted her to come in and talk, she would. “I’ll be there about ten. I need to be back by eleven to get ready for the lunch crowd.”

  He laughed again. “Hey, and don’t think this won’t be good for business. Word gets out, and you know it will, you’re likely to have more customers than ever before.”

  “I’m thrilled,” she deadpanned.

  “You got that new cook now, you’ll be all right.”

  Blue didn’t bother asking how he’d heard about Diego when she’d hired the man less than twenty-four hours earlier. In a small town, your business was never completely your own.

  “He’s okay. You’ll have to stop in and try his—”

  “Salsa. Yeah, I heard. Hey, just a thought, but what do you know about this guy?”

  A sliver of a chill ran down her spine, making her shudder lightly. This was exactly the question her subconscious had buried the night before. Now she had to face it.

  “Not much.” She wanted to ignore her clamoring instincts, but realized she no longer could.

  “Just a word of caution, Blue. I know you are careful out there, but keep an eye and ear open. If you feel anything the least bit out of the ordinary about this guy, call me.”

  Blue didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. Oh, the things Diego Santerra made her feel were anything but ordinary.

  “In fact,” he went on, “why don’t you let me run a check on him for you.”

  “No,” she answered instantly. “I mean, I can handle Santerra. If I think otherwise, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t want to get into this. Not now. Not ever, if the truth be told. She just wanted a cook, she railed inwardly. Was that so much to ask?

  “Okay. For now, Blue. But if I feel that it’s called for—”

  She cut him off. “Yes, fine. Listen, I got a million things to do if you want me there in an hour.” The phone had barely hit the receiver when the door to her office swung open after a light rapping.

  She jumped in surprise and was immediately disgusted with herself. Lack of sleep, she told herself, not buying it for one second.

  Diego came into the room and slid on one of the stacks of paper she’d been making since five in the morning.

  “Sorry, watch where you step.”

  He stepped carefully to her desk. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any messier.”

  She shot him a glare that would have other men stuttering and backing up in quick retreat while they still had all their body parts intact. Diego merely looked bored.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Buenos días to you too.”

  She huffed out a sigh of impatience. “Listen, I’ve had a rough night and I have less than hour to make most of this.” She waved her arm to indicate the stacks of paper. “Go away.”

  Diego plucked a Blue’s Place matchbook from the tottering heap on her desk and offered it to her. “Won’t take five minutes, tops.”

  “Very funny.” She fought a smile, though. His sense of humor was so dry you could choke on it. “And tempting,” she admitted, and looked up at him. “So, why are you here so early?”

  “Heard about the trouble you had last night. Thought you might want some help with the lunch crowd. Figured you’d be down at the sheriff’s office pressing charges.”

  Blue made a sound of disgust. “I wish.” She shook her head, not meaning to say anything more. “They lost Leroy. Can you believe that?”

  “Leroy?”

  “One of my old employees. He was my last cook.” She paused, then added warily, “Just how much did you hear?” She’d told Tejo early this morning before he’d heard, so she hadn’t gotten the grapevine version. “I’m surprised you’re already plugged into Villa Roja’s hotline. Outsiders usually have to wait at least a day to catch up.”

  “I didn’t hear much. Just stopped in down the street for a couple of eggs and some coffee and overheard Flora talking to some of her regulars. Said someone tried to break in but got hurt.”

  “Stabbed.”

  “Why Señorita Delgado, I’m impressed. Handy with fire- and sidearms.”

  “I didn’t stab him. They don’t know who did.”

  “Did you find out what he was after?”

  “Oh, he wasn’t after anything, he was trying to—” She broke off. Why was she telling him this? The sheriff’s warning to find out more about her new cook echoed in her mind. “Never mind. It’s moot now that he’s gone.”

  “You don’t worry he’ll come back?”

  She shook her head. “I doubt that very much.” In an abrupt change of subject, she said, “Did you fill out the forms?”

  He pulled the folded papers from his back pocket and tossed them on her desk.

  She smoothed them open, more relieved than she cared to admit that she finally had more concrete information on the man. But for some reason, seeing his bold script filling all the lines did little to quiet her still-grumbling instincts.

  She scanned them quickly, noting he used a post office box for an address. She looked at him. “I’ll need a physical address as well.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No street, no address.”

  “Where are you living? Out in the desert?”

  “I have a trailer up in hills a bit, about ten minutes from here.”

  “It takes at least ten to get to the state route that leads back there.”

  “I just head straight back. My Jeep can handle it.” The corner of his mouth curved when she lifted a brow. “Guess I never believed the lines on the road were my friends.” He nodded toward the window and the parking lot beyond where her Harley was parked. “You always keep that hog on the highway?”

  He had her there. She lifted her chin. “Most of the time.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you want me back at three, then?”

  It took Blue a split second longer to switch gears. For a quiet man, he pulled her in easily. Too easily.

  “Actually I do have to step out for a few. I’ll be back before the lunch crowd, but I could use some of your salsa.”

  “Sure.” He turned back at the door. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

  She nodded, wanting him to leave so she could read his forms. But a flash caught her eye as he moved through the door. His light jacket lifted away from his body as he stepped over the last pile. A black clip hung on the outside of the waistband of his jeans. As if sensing her sudden attention, he looked back as he stepped into the hall. She quickly averted her gaze, and he left. But she had the unsettling feeling that he knew where she’d been looking. And at what.

  The clip was tucked on the inside of his jeans. It looked like a holster or a sheath of some kind for a knife.

  And it was empty.

  Diego sealed another container of salsa, squeezed it in the now-packed refrigerator, then began to clean up. Blue had left shortly after their chat and, three hours later, had yet to return. He’d overheard her conversation and knew she was headed to the sheriff’s office. He’d contacted John, who had followed him back from Taos after dropping off Leroy with two other team members, and knew she was being kept under close observation. He trusted John with his life—had, in fact, several times over.

  So why was he pacing the kitchen like a cat on a hot rock?

  Grumbling under his breath, he rinsed off the last of the knives, dried and stored them. He quickly wiped his hands on his apron, then yanked at the strings and all but tore it off.

  Four out of the six Dirty Dozen team members had been called into this case now. There could be no more mistakes, no more unraveling threads, and most definitely no more loose lips.

  Leroy was no longer a threat, but the information he’d given to Blue was still not entirely neutralized. John would find out what, if anythin
g, she’d told the police. Diego’s job was to find out if Blue believed Leroy’s claim. He had to talk to her.

  If she ever came back from the damn sheriff’s department.

  He balled up his apron and threw it. Tejo caught it against his chest as he came through the swinging doors.

  “Problems, amigo?”

  Diego quickly quelled his disgust at being caught in an entirely uncustomary display of emotion. “No,” he answered. “Just done what I can do here for the time being.” He reached out for the apron, but Tejo shook his head.

  “I’ll dump it in the basket for you.”

  “Thanks.” Diego finished the last wipe-down of the counter then shot the rag at Tejo, who caught it with a quick flashing smile.

  “You leaving until your shift this afternoon?” the older man asked.

  Diego nodded. “Unless you or Blue need me here.”

  “We’re fine. Blue should be back shortly for the lunch rush.” His expression tightened a bit. “Looks like we’ll be busy too.” He paused, as if debating whether or not to speak further. Then, on a huff of frustration, his accent thickening, he said, “Damn town is full of rubberneckers. One hint of trouble and—” He snapped his fingers, then snorted in disgust.

  “It’s all over now.” Diego walked over to the man. “Besides, it’s just that many more people paying to drink your cervesa. Right, amigo?”

  Tejo looked up at him and Diego had to fight the odd sense of déjà vu. Not that Del and his brother looked all that much alike. But every once in a while Tejo’s expression would match one he’d seen too many times on Del’s face. Worry.

  “Sí, Don Diego,” Tejo responded. “But there is something here that is not right.”

  “What? Have you had trouble like this before with Leroy? With anyone?”

  He shook his head. “No, that is just it. And Leroy, well he’s not the brightest boy, and Lord knew barely a cook, but he thought the world of Blue. If he thought she was in trouble—”

  “He’d travel halfway across the country to warn her when he could have picked up the phone? Unlikely for a two-bit cook, don’t you think?”