Capsized

by Sharon Sala

  Suddenly there were too many footsteps coming back into the dining room to bode well. He glanced about the luxurious room, eyeing the elegant fixtures and the scent of perfectly prepared food, and knew that this lifestyle was over. What he had to consider now was if he would have a life left to live.

  Four men in dark suits entered the dining room ahead of a frantic butler.

  “Señor Ortega, I tried to—”

  “It’s all right, Emilio. This is none of your concern.”

  One of the suits stepped forward. “Dominic Ortega, I’m Agent David Harwell with the FBI. You are under arrest for the attempted murder of DEA agent Kelly Sloan, as well as the murders of Javier Sosa and Mitchell James. You are also being indicted on charges of the sale of illegal substances, racketeering and blackmail. You have the right to an attorney. Should you not be able to afford one, one will be made available to you.”

  The agent continued the Miranda Warning, but Ortega had heard it before and blanked it out. His thoughts were focused on Sosa and James, two men who’d made the mistake of getting in his way. It was ironic that he was being charged with those murders only, when there had been so many before and after. And if it hadn’t been for his weak-kneed brother-in-law and the woman who’d put a knife in his chest, he would still be riding the wave. As it was, it was time to focus on what he could do to get out of this. There was still the bounty out on Kelly Sloan, and if his luck held, she would never make it to the courtroom.

  Chapter 8

  Never in her wildest dreams would Kelly have imagined herself sleeping in the Lincoln bedroom, let alone with the man who’d stolen her heart. The past three days in the White House had been heaven compared to what she’d endured the month before. But never had she wanted anything to be over as much as she did this trial. Once her testimony went on record, her connection to Ortega and Gruber would be severed. They might hate her guts. They still might want her dead. But it was not going to change their fate. And that was what she was holding on to with all her might. She couldn’t bear to think that she would be a target forever, or that Ortega would want revenge so badly that he would continue the bounty after he was convicted. And yet, because she couldn’t ignore that possibility, she wouldn’t let herself think of a future with Quinn.

  President Barrett had been emotionally supportive, and to her knowledge, no one, not even her boss or the prosecutor in charge of Ponce Gruber’s trial, knew where she was. That was something else for which she had the President to thank. She’d been sheltered behind the impenetrable wall of security that protected him on a daily basis, protected without anyone’s knowledge but a special few.

  But it would soon be over. She knew Dominic Ortega had been arrested. Today she would appear at his arraignment. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face. It would be all the justice she needed for what she’d endured at his hands.

  Two days ago a team from the FBI had gone to her local post office in Maryland, where her mail was being held. They’d confiscated the lot, including a large, paper-wrapped package that she’d sent to herself while still in Mexico. Inside were documented invoices, taped phone calls, and copies of both personal and business correspondence pertaining to Dominic Ortega’s illegal activities. Everything had been turned over to the Federal prosecutor without explanation, other than to say that when the time came, he was to call Kelly Sloan to the stand. The prosecutor had begged for more information. But the agents only knew what they’d been told and repeated their message one more time before leaving him to deal with a box of new evidence.

  Within the hour she would be leaving for the Federal courthouse, and it was all she could do to face herself in the mirror. She’d taken on the persona of a biker babe to stay alive, but the need for a disguise was over. The only problem was, she still had a butchered haircut and a limited wardrobe. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?

  As she was bemoaning her appearance, Quinn knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Kelly…honey…it’s me. Can I come in?”

  She ran a brush through her hair again, then groaned in dismay when it spiked back up into short, unruly tufts. The only saving grace was that she’d abandoned the red hair spray that had adorned it before.

  “Only if you’re carrying superhold hair spray,” she mumbled.

  The door opened. “I’ll go you one better,” Quinn said.

  He handed her a half-dozen boxes from an exclusive D.C. boutique.

  “For me?”

  “Yes, unless you’re hoping I’ll bend my gender. Besides, they’re not my size.”

  Kelly laid them all on the bed, then started digging through the boxes. Almond-colored lingerie edged with silky-soft lace spilled out onto the bed, followed by a turquoise pantsuit that was a perfect blend of business and beauty. When Kelly saw the pink-and-turquoise camisole he’d picked to go under it, she started to grin. The last box held a pair of backless silver sandals with a two-inch heel.

  “Oh, Quinn, how did you know?” Kelly said.

  “It’s not that I wouldn’t have loved to see you in that black leather again, but I figured the judge would appreciate this a little more.”

  Kelly threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you a million times.”

  “Not two million?”

  She made a face. “That’s real funny, mister. Now stand back. I don’t have much time to get ready, but thanks to you, I’ll look as good as I feel.”

  He touched her hair, loving the feel of it beneath his fingers.

  “You know…this is starting to grow on me. I’m liking the look.”

  Kelly frowned as she combed her fingers through her hair again.

  “It looks like I’ve been rolling in the hay.”

  Quinn grinned. “Maybe that’s why I like it so much. You’ve got the look of a woman who’s spent the night having mind-blowing sex with the man of her dreams.”

  Kelly smirked. “And that would be you, I suppose?”

  “I try,” Quinn said. “Now hurry and get dressed. There’s one more box you need to open, but not unless we have the time.”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. She looked around for the box, then assumed he’d left it in the hall.

  “I’m hurrying,” she said, and started yanking off her robe and trading her Wal-Mart underwear for the delicate lingerie on the bed.

  Within minutes she was dressed except for the shoes, which Quinn helped her put on. Then she stepped back and held out her arms.

  “How do I look?”

  The smile slid off Quinn’s face as he looked at the woman who’d stolen his heart.

  “Like an avenging angel,” he said softly.

  Kelly knew he was thinking about Daryl, and about everything that she’d gone through.

  “I wish Daryl could be here to see this,” she said.

  “He’s here in spirit. That will suffice,” Quinn said, and then glanced at his watch. “With just enough time to spare.”

  “For what?” Kelly asked.

  He pulled a small box out of his pocket, hesitated briefly, then handed it to her.

  “This is for you, too, but only if you think it’s right.”

  Kelly took a deep breath. There was only one thing that came in a small black velvet box like this. She looked up at Quinn, unaware that all the love she felt for him was there on her face. Her hands were shaking as she opened the box. The solitaire glittered as it caught the fire from the overhead lighting.

  “Oh, Quinn,” Kelly whispered.

  “I love you,” he said. “We’ve never said the words, and you don’t have to say them back. And I’m not asking you to quit what you do, because part of what I love about you is the woman who saved herself and then saved me, too. But I am asking you to marry me. Whenever you can…whenever you’re ready.”

  Kelly handed him the box. “Put this on me,” she said. “Then ask me again when this mess is over.”

  Quinn’s heart skipped a beat. “Is this a sort-of yes?”

  �
��No. It’s a definite yes, with a rider as to when it will happen.”

  Quinn slid the ring on her finger, then took her in his arms.

  “You make me weak,” he whispered, and held her close to his chest.

  “And you make me crazy,” Kelly said. “Crazy in love.”

  Before Quinn could answer, there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s time,” she said, and then stepped out of his embrace. She held out her hand, and he took it. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. “I’ve got a life to live, and I’d like to finish it with you.”

  * * *

  Dominic Ortega looked like he’d stepped out of a men’s magazine. His summer gray suit and pale yellow shirt were impeccably tailored to fit his short, stocky frame, giving it an air of elegance that he sorely needed to play the part of an innocent man. His dark hair had been cut close to his head, lying against his scalp like a thick black cap. He kept fiddling with the collar of his shirt, checking and then rechecking to make sure his tie was perfectly centered. His lawyer glanced at him, then frowned at the nervousness of his gestures. Ortega quickly dropped his hands into his lap. He didn’t want to telegraph anxiety in any way.

  “Just relax, Dominic. We’ve got it covered,” his lawyer said.

  Ortega nodded, then smoothed down his hair, making sure it lay neatly, and leaned back in the chair. Moments later the court clerk came in, announced the arrival of the judge, and the proceedings began.

  The give and take of legalities always left Dominic feeling as if he were out in left field. He heard the words but didn’t always understand what they meant. He hated the Americans and their English-speaking courts. Everything was always so long and drawn out. It was his personal opinion that Americans should take a leaf out of Mexico’s book of justice. If enough money was spent in the right place, a powerful man could always count on the judgment he desired. And right now, he desired these charges to be dismissed. And while he hadn’t heard anything concrete about the hunt for Kelly Sloan, he felt certain that someone surely had her body and was waiting to claim the bounty. Once that happened, his troubles would be over.

  And then the prosecutor said a name that made Ortega sit up. He stared at his lawyer, who was turning pale.

  “What?” he whispered. “What did he just say?”

  “They’ve called Kelly Sloan.”

  “She can’t be here,” Ortega muttered. “She’s got to be dead.”

  The doors at the back of the room opened. Ortega turned in his seat, his gaze fixed on the opening. For a long quiet moment, no one appeared. Just when he thought it was all a hoax, she came through the doorway, then walked down the aisle.

  She looked different. Still beautiful, but strong, almost defiant, and yet it was the same bitch who’d put a knife in his chest. Instinctively he leaned forward, fighting the urge to grab her and wring her neck before she could open her mouth.

  She turned her head slightly—just enough that their gazes met—and then she smiled.

  Ortega grunted as if he’d been punched, then leaned back in his chair. That was when he knew it was over. After that, everything happened in a blur. The words that came out of her mouth ended his hopes of freedom, and when the prosecutor introduced the evidence to corroborate her testimony, he knew he would be fortunate if they only gave him life. He heard the judge binding him over for trial and denying him bail. Then the judge made an announcement that sealed Ortega’s fate.

  “Given the severity of what Agent Sloan has endured, and the fact that there is still a two-million-dollar bounty on her head, it would be prudent for all concerned to note that her testimony today will be considered valid and binding, and that the transcript of it can be used as evidence in the upcoming trial without further need of Agent Sloan’s physical presence.”

  Kelly hadn’t known that was going to happen. She looked over Ortega’s head to the back of the room, where Quinn was sitting, and saw him slump with relief. So he hadn’t been the only one who’d feared further repercussions. But thanks to the judge, the pressure on Kelly was off for good.

  The look the judge gave him made Ortega nervous. Without actual accusation, he’d laid down a warning to Dominic that he knew he should heed. Cursing the day he’d ever set eyes on the woman, he frantically whispered to his lawyer to pass the word along that the bounty had been withdrawn.

  “Agent Sloan, you are excused,” the judge said, and then added, “although it’s not my place to do so, I feel that a public commendation of what you endured to make sure that justice has prevailed should be forthcoming. Having said that, I thank you on behalf of the citizens of the United States of America.”

  Kelly nodded, a little embarrassed by what he’d just said.

  “Thank you, sir, but I was just doing my job.”

  Then she got up from the witness stand, walked out of the courtroom and never looked back.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks had come and gone since the day of the arraignment. To make sure of her safety, the FBI had given out some of her story. The rest of it was conjecture, but they let the media run with it. A woman with a two-million-dollar bounty on her head was big news, but they’d done it with the media’s assurance that they would stress the fact that the bounty had been withdrawn. The only thing waiting for someone who harmed Kelly Sloan was prison.

  The news had accomplished what was necessary, which was making sure that every lowlife who’d been playing Hunt the Fed knew the sordid game was over. And while Kelly was profoundly grateful that her life was no longer in danger, the national coverage had destroyed a part of her career. Everyone knew her name and her face. There was no way she would ever be able to work undercover again.

  Which brought her to Quinn. She hadn’t seen him since the arraignment, and truth be told, she felt as if she were missing a piece of herself. The ring he’d put on her finger was a beautiful and vivid reminder of what they’d shared, but she wanted more—much more. She wanted Quinn every day, not the occasional long-distance phone call and empty-bed existence since he’d been pulled back on the job. He’d told her that all she had to do was let him know she was ready and he would come to her. But somehow that felt wrong. Why should he be the one to drop his work when she was the one who was now free?

  Ponce Gruber had waived his right to trial and pleaded out, thankful that he would not be facing the death penalty. Ortega was in a Federal prison up north, awaiting a trial that wouldn’t take place for another six months, and Kelly was still on mandatory leave.

  She had the time and she had the freedom to come and go as she chose. And the longer she thought about it, the more she realized where she needed to be.

  She reached for the phone, made a reservation on the next flight to Fort Worth and went to pack a bag. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Quinn’s face.

  * * *

  Quinn was pulling into the parking lot of the headquarters of the Texas Rangers after a two-day investigation on the south side of Austin. He’d been driving for hours, had a headache the size of Dallas, and still had a good hour of paperwork before he could go home. Then he thought of how lonesome home had become since leaving Kelly in Maryland and decided the paperwork was better than another night alone.

  The frown he was wearing deepened as he got out and started across the parking lot. On his way home from D.C., he’d called a towing company to retrieve his truck from the parking lot where they’d left it, then had it towed home. He’d managed to change the monster tires for normal ones and replace his license tag, but he still hadn’t had time to get rid of the orange-and-red flames or the Confederate flag, a fact for which he caught hell on a daily basis from the other men.

  He was halfway up the long flight of steps that led into the building when he heard a voice from above.

  “Hey, McCord…long time no see, but what’s the deal with that truck?”

  He looked up. Kelly was standing at the top of the steps, dressed in black leather. His heart skipped a beat, and then another,
as she started toward him.

  “What’s a girl to do when she goes to see her old man and he’s a no show?”

  Quinn dropped his briefcase, wrapped his arms around her and swung her off her feet.

  “Kelly, sweetheart, you don’t know how I’ve missed you.”

  She planted a kiss on his lips that sent him reeling. Someone whistled, while another man yelled at Quinn, “Hey, McCord, how’d you get a babe like that?”

  Quinn looked up and saw another Ranger grinning at him from the top of the steps. Before he could answer, Kelly turned around, tilted her hip in a suggestive thrust and then put her hand in Quinn’s back pocket.

  “It’s the truck,” she said. “Can’t get enough of it…or him.”

  The look on the Ranger’s face was worth all the prior teasing.

  “You’re kidding, right?” the Ranger said.

  Kelly leaned against Quinn, letting him feel the curve of her hip against his groin, and pushed. Not much, but just enough to remind him of what he’d been missing.

  “I never kid about my man…or his truck,” Kelly said, then turned around and whispered so only Quinn could hear, “Wipe that smile off your face or I’ll blow your cover.”

  Quinn groaned, then kissed her again. “I love you, Kelly Sloan. Have you come to stay?”

  “Yes, if you’ll still have me,” she said.

  Quinn whooped aloud, then once again, then lifted her off her feet and swung her around. By now quite a crowd had gathered to watch, most of whom Quinn worked with on a regular basis.

  “Hey, Morris!” Quinn yelled, and then tossed his briefcase to the startled Ranger who was coming down the steps. “Put that on my desk, will you? And tell the captain that I’ll be in tomorrow.”

  “You just got back, now you’re leaving again?” Morris asked.

  “Yeah, but I’m not going far,” Quinn said. “I’m taking Candy here to meet my mother.”

  Morris’s eyes widened as he looked from Quinn to Kelly and back again, trying to imagine what Quinn’s homebody mother was going to say about the biker chick in black leather.