Chapter One

by Judith Rochelle

Peter’s pulse picked up speed as his adrenaline level rose. “And the woman? Did you find her, too?”

  “Not yet, but she can’t be far away. Not with the condition of the vehicle.”

  Peter frowned. “What do you mean? Where did you find it?”

  “In a repair garage in a little town just outside of San Antonio.”

  “And?” Peter prodded impatiently.

  “It’s been dismantled and the parts sold. The guy who owns the garage said it was abandoned on the highway, wouldn’t run, and he towed it in. No papers. No indication of ownership. He waited a day and claimed it as salvage.”

  Peter thought a minute. “Any chance the guy who owns the garage knows more than he’s telling?”

  “Nah. He’s an old guy who’s lived here all his life. He doesn’t need the money, just does this to keep himself busy.”

  “You don’t think you could have used a little more persuasion on him?” Peter asked.

  “Are you crazy? You don’t go roughing up a solid citizen in a town this size. You get more attention than you know what to do with.”

  “Shit. So we’re no further ahead than we were before.”

  “At least it pinpoints more closely the area where you might locate your female. If she had to ditch the car, she can’t be far away. There’s no bus service out of this town, for one thing.”

  That meant Kathryn would have had to find more transportation, although Peter was learning, unpleasantly, how resourceful she could be.

  “Look around every place. Tell everyone to do this as quietly as possible, but be thorough.” He rubbed his forehead. “Do your job. Keep your eyes open. Ask the right questions. I have an extra bonus for the person who locates her.”

  “I’ll pass it along. These little towns aren’t any bigger than a flyspeck. A stranger’s sure to stand out.”

  “Keep in touch.”

  At least they had something concrete, for a change. Thank God for that. It might get the brothers off his back for a while. He held out little hope for Salazar’s trip to the library. A useless waste of time and in the end sure to cost them more than it was worth.

  Anyway, Salazar wasn’t his call. People who thought they were so much smarter than he was had stopped listening to him. He had become a pariah in the organization, a situation he was damned determined to remedy.

  He decided to hold onto the information about the car until he had something more concrete—like Kathryn herself. A rabbit he could pull out of his hat. No sense putting himself through the wringer for nothing.

  He was doing a little experimenting on the computer, playing around with the best way to set up the financials and flow charts again, when Esai stormed into the den. Rage hung around him like a solid cloud. He jabbed the remnants of his cigar into a crystal ash tray with a vicious gesture.

  Peter raised an eyebrow. He knew he was baiting the bear but he couldn’t help himself. “Something else go wrong?”

  “That fucking Salazar.” He began pacing the confined space. “He’s given us a little problem. Again.”

  “Oh?” Peter swallowed a smile of satisfaction. He was sure his instincts had been correct.

  Esai stopped pacing and planted himself in front of the desk. “We gave that idiot pictures to work with. Pictures that showed the woman with different looks. He probably threw them away.”

  “What happened?” Peter down-sized his document and leaned back in his chair.

  Esai pulled out another cigar which he rolled between two fingers. “He gave the people at the library the story we put together. Nothing complicated, so he couldn’t screw it up. He was supposed to be looking for his missing sister. His family had gotten an email from her and traced it back to one of the library computers. They’re worried about her. You know. All that shit.”

  “And?”

  “The people there were very nice. Not suspicious at all, he said.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  “The woman he spoke to became very excited. Told him how fortunate he was, because his sister was back again this very day. Even pointed her out.” He made a rude noise. “Salazar swears she looked just like one of the pictures of our little bitch.”

  Peter was sure what was coming and his stomach knotted. Not again. “Let me guess. It wasn’t her.”

  “Not even close.” Esai flung his hands in the air.

  Peter felt the bitter taste of bile in his mouth. “So when she turned out to be the wrong person, he...disposed of her.”

  Esai nodded. “We have to hope that he got rid of the body successfully enough that she won’t be found for a long time. Miguel was right. The man is losing his touch. I should have listened to him and gotten rid of Salazar long ago.”

  Peter raked his hands through his hair. “Christ, now what?” He turned back to his keyboard and closed the document he’d been working on. “So now we had to get rid of another dead body.”

  “That’s the fucking truth.” Esai took down a bottle of brandy from the bar on one wall and poured himself a generous amount. “He damn well better make sure he doesn’t leave any traces when he does it.” He slugged down the brandy in one gulp. “Now more than ever we have to make sure she hasn’t hooked up with the feds. Call Pendera. Tell him it’s time to pay up.”

  ****

  “Pendera here.”

  “It’s Fleming.”

  Peter leaned back in his chair, visualizing the swarthy Efron Pendera in his prosecutor outfit—well-fitting suit, crisp pale blue shirt, and conservative tie. He always thought the man had a handbook on how prosecutors should dress. From the background noises he assumed he’d caught him out on the street.

  “What do you want?” The hostility and resentment in his voice were as sharp as a knife.

  Too bad, Peter thought. The man doesn’t mind taking our money. Now he needs to work for it.

  “It turns out our target has very nicely stumbled into the San Antonio area. We need to know if she’s contacted anyone in your office. Tell me exactly what’s going on there right now.”

  “Cristo! I’m out here on the street, for God’s sake. Let me get to a more private place, and I’ll call you back.”

  “Five minutes,” Peter warned.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Peter propped his feet on the desk, and thought about Efron Pendera. The man had a gambling addiction for which there was apparently no cure. The Osunas had bought up his markers and very carefully explained that now he belonged to them. They’d had him on a short leash ever since. The problem was, he’d provided them with precious little in all this time, especially now when they really needed it.

  Ten minutes later, Peter’s cell rang. “That’s a lot more than five minutes,” he accused.

  “I had to get to a place where I could talk.” The strain in the man’s voice vibrated across the connection. “The street is too open for this kind of conversation and there was no convenient place safe to duck into.”

  “All right. It’s time to earn your money. God knows you’ve taken enough of it without giving much in return.”

  “I keep telling you,” Pendera whined. “They don’t tell me a lot of things.”

  “Then find a way to get them,” Peter growled. “Now listen. We want to know if they’ve mentioned any woman who might be connected to the Osunas. Or me, God forbid. Someone who might have...something to give them.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Something that could send us all to prison. Does that shove that stick up your ass a little further?”

  “Madre Mia!” The man’s voice cracked. “What the hell does she have?”

  “First I want to know if anyone’s been talking about her. A witness. Whatever.”

  “I haven’t heard anything.” There was a pause. “I meant to tell you this, but I knew you’d be pissed off. They’ve taken me off the major group for the strike force and given me other cases to handle.”

  Peter wanted to hit something. “Did you manage to fuck up in some
way? Are they suspicious of you?”

  “No, no, no, no. Please, Pedro. I’m doing the best I can. They just decided to pare it back to the core team.”

  “Your best bet at this point is going to get you a nice place at the cemetery if you don’t end up in prison first. I don’t care how you do it, but I need that information. Now. This woman disappeared from Tampa less than two weeks ago. Her car has been found in this area, which puts her far too close for comfort.”

  Silence hummed over the connection.

  “Efron? Did you hear me?”

  “Okay. Here’s something. I haven’t heard a word about finding a female or anything like that. But something did happen this morning. I swear I was going to call you about it, but I was waiting to see if I could find out more information.”

  “What are you talking about? Damn it, Efron. You know better than to hold back.”

  “All right, all right. There was a meeting this morning between Jake Garza, Dean Morgan, and Lane Barton. Since then the three of them have been quieter than a church, talking only to each other. And everything behind closed doors.”

  “And you didn’t see fit to call us and tell us at once? Are you nuts? I specifically told you anything out of the ordinary you were to report.”

  “Pedro, I’m sorry.” Now the man was whining. A pathetic sound from a grown man. “I was waiting to see if it had to do with the cartel. They didn’t bring the strike force in on it so it could have been one of the other cases in play.”

  “Damn it. I told you to call me Peter.” He blew out a breath. God, how he hated that name. It reminded him too much of his real roots. He fought to control his impatience. “Listen, you asshole. When we tell you to let us know about anything—anything—that’s exactly what we mean. Now you’d better do some digging. If this involves the woman, that would be very dangerous for all of us. I want to know everything they know. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll do my best. Honest to God, you can believe me when I tell you that.”

  Peter thought for a moment. He hadn’t intended to mention the flash drive, but Pendera was so stupid he needed a road map to know what to look for. “Has anyone mentioned a flash drive? A memory stick? Anything like that?”

  “Flash drive? No. I swear to you. Why?”

  “Never mind why. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Wide open. If you hear anything at all, no matter how insignificant you might think it is, I want to know at once.”

  There was a long pause. An unsettling feeling came over Peter, a feeling that Pendera had been holding back.

  “What else? I sense something rattling around in your brain.”

  “Okay. I didn’t want to say anything, but...”

  “But what, asshole? I told you to keep nothing back. Now what?”

  Peter could almost smell the fear over the connection and he didn’t like it.

  “Since yesterday morning I’ve been getting a feeling I don’t like at all.”

  “What do you mean?” Peter was instantly at attention. “What kind of feeling?”

  He heard Pendera muttering to himself, a prayer or incantation, and ground his teeth. What the hell?

  “I-I heard Quinn’s name mentioned last night.”

  “Quinn? Christ and all the angels.” The words exploded from Peter’s mouth.

  Everyone in the drug business knew about Quinn’s vendetta against the Ramirez cartel and the ruthless way he’d destroyed it. Those who hadn’t ended up stuck in prison forever were dead. Even after four years, the story of the blood bath was a legend still whispered in the business.

  “That’s all we need.” Peter’s head throbbed and pinpricks of pain stabbed behind his right eye. “I thought after that disaster he quit his job and went off to hide in the hills or something.”

  “He did. But now it seems he and Garza have hooked up again.”

  “Jesus. If by some vicious twist of fate Kathryn’s involved with him, we’re all screwed.”

  “Absolutamente. You are right on that score.”

  “How the hell would she even meet someone like him?” Peter shifted the phone to his other ear and reached in his pocket for antacid tablets. He was about to burn a hole in his gut. If the Osuna brothers didn’t kill him his body would probably self destruct anyway. “But you’d better find out what’s happening. And pretty damn fast.” As he was about to disconnect the call, an unpleasant thought smacked Peter in the gut. “Efron, do you happen to know where Quinn lives?”

  “No. No one does.”

  “Bullshit. Someone has to. His friend Garza? Someone else in the office?”

  “I swear to you...”

  “Don’t swear. Just find out. Make it happen. You know what your options are.”

  He snapped his phone shut which a vicious click. If Kathryn had somehow found her way to that devil, Quinn, they were all royally fucked and he might as well plan his funeral now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The shooting range was like a foreign country to Kate. The small Kahr 9mm Quinn purchased for her in his name was like a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

  “What if I shoot myself instead?” She tried to grin.

  Quinn wasn’t having any. “Trust me, when I get through teaching you, that won’t even be a possibility.”

  His own guns were a .38 Smith and Wesson and a Sig Sauer 9 mm, powerful looking weapons.

  Kate eyed them hesitantly. “They look so big.”

  “That’s why we got you something you can handle. Come on. Let’s get started.”

  She hoped she could stop shaking before she actually had to shoot the damn thing. The big lunch Quinn had insisted they stop and eat was bouncing around in her stomach like golf balls. How embarrassing if she threw up all over her brand new gun.

  But Quinn spent a long time getting her used to the heft and feel of the little weapon and teaching her how to load it. Finally he set up the paper targets he’d purchased from the range manager.

  “Here we go,” he told her. “Don’t be nervous. This will be a piece of cake.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She concentrated on breathing in and out and not heaving her guts.

  He grinned and kissed her cheek. “Hold the gun like I showed you, just like we practiced, and you’ll be fine. Now. Raise both arms, sight along the line to the target. Take a deep breath, let it part way out, and pull the trigger.”

  He reached around her, supporting her arms but not touching her hands. Sighting along the gun barrel, she drew in a breath, let it out part way and squeezed.

  “Damn!”

  She tensed, looking at Quinn anxiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Oh, hell, no. You got him right through the heart. Okay, let’s do this again and see if that was a lucky accident or if you’re a sharpshooter in the making.”

  She emptied the clip, going through the same routine each time. When she was finished, she looked at him for approval. He was grinning.

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you never held a gun before? You’re not pulling my leg?”

  “Absolutely. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Come take a look.” He walked her up to the target and pointed. “See that? We call that burning a hole. All six shots in a tight little circle, right in the middle of his heart.”

  “Is that good?” she asked.

  “Good? Are you kidding? You have no idea how hard that is to do. You can’t get more perfect than that. I’d have been happy if you got him anywhere in the chest, which is the best place to aim for. The stopping zone. But,” he took the gun from her hand, “let’s reload and see if you can do this again.”

  They worked at it until mid-afternoon. By the time they’d gone through nearly all the target ammunition they bought, Kate’s arms were trembling from the strain and her shots were beginning to stray. Nevertheless, a wild exhilaration gripped her.

  All right, Peter, bring it on. I’m ready.

  Quinn spent the next half hour on his own practice. He
was totally focused on what he was doing and unbelievably accurate. Kate watched, mesmerized. She could see what he meant about a gun becoming part of your body.

  But of course, it wasn’t just his marksmanship that had her attention. With his black T-shirt and well-worn jeans molding his body, he looked like a sculpture standing in the gravel. The muscles in his arms and back rippled as he fired each shot. If her body had reacted before, now it tingled all over.

  Finally Quinn was done, and came back to the table. “We’ll do this again soon,” he told her. “I want to keep at it until I’m satisfied you can do it in your sleep. If nothing else, it will give me peace of mind.”

  ****

  As soon as they were back at the house, Quinn pulled three steaks from the freezer. “Jake is big on red meat. I’ll defrost these and get the grill started.”

  Kate found the dishes and silverware while Quinn took down two bottles from his wine rack. She looked up and saw him watching her as she set everything out, arranging the table. The expression on his face gave her a sudden feeling of warmth. Of rightness.

  When she had the last item in place, he put his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

  “You fill this house, Kate. And my life. It’s the last thing I expected to happen, but I guess the man upstairs had plans for me. For us.”

  “Oh, Quinn.” She blinked hard at the tears that suddenly wet her lashes.

  “I haven’t felt like this for a long time. You look so right in this house.”

  When Quinn bent his head to kiss her she lifted her face to him, sliding her hands up through the silk of his hair.

  Then, like an alarm clock intruding on a dream, the telephone rang, its tone harsh and strident. For a moment neither of them registered what the sound was. Then Quinn swore, relaxed his hold on Kate, and reached for the offending instrument.

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m on the way,” Jake told him. “I should be there pretty soon.”

  “Yeah, great.” Quinn was still trying to steady his breathing. “See you in a few.”

  “Jake?” Kate asked, her face still flushed. She was busy rearranging her clothing and working on her own breathing.

  “Yes. With his usual impeccable timing.” He pulled Kate against him, tenderly this time. “It’s all right, darlin’. It’s just as well he called. I don’t think the kitchen table would be too comfortable for what I have in mind. Let’s get some iced tea to cool down.” He dropped a light kiss on her mouth. “But watch out later on.”