He turned the page. “Look at this list of numbers.”
“I know. I’m wondering if those are actually the dates and the numbers on the other page are something else.”
She studied the list.
Brock shook his head. “Doesn’t look like dates to me although I guess they could be.” He rubbed his chin. “This shouldn’t be that complicated. I think we’re making it harder than it is.” At her expression, he held up a hand. “I’m not saying all drug runners are stupid, but it looks like it made the rounds, passed from one member to the next. Surely they’d have to have some kind of common code or something so that whoever had the book could easily decipher it.”
Gisella tapped a finger against her lips. “Agreed, but it would have to be complicated enough so that if it fell into the wrong hands,” she wiggled her fingers at him, “such as yours truly, they wouldn’t have to worry about it being decoded.”
He grunted. “Okay. True.”
“And look at this.” She reached over, her fingers brushing his as she flipped the pages until she reached the back of the small book. Ignoring the wave of butterflies that took flight in her stomach when she touched him, she pointed. “Here are some symbols. This one takes up the whole page.”
“Weird.”
“I’m wondering if it’s some kind of land form. Could be a lake, but we had our forensics person run it through the computer database to see if it matched up with anything around this area. It didn’t.”
He flipped the page. “What’s this?” He referred to a series of lines that crisscrossed each other.
“Beats me.” She shrugged and sighed. “Another symbol we don’t have a clue about. We thought it might be a map of some roads. See the Y here? And here it almost looks like a U-turn that leads back to the main road leading from…well, from wherever it started. Our forensic people actually came up with a few possibilities, but when we checked them out, they were dead ends.”
His expression stilled and he closed the book in a casual move. “We have company.” His low voice snapped her from her calculated musings about the numbers, letters and symbols.
Glancing toward the door she saw three men in uniforms headed their way. Pulling her drink toward her, she relaxed and pasted a friendly smile on her face.
The three men took the table next to Gisella’s and Brock’s booth and the man who was obviously the sheriff leaned back in his chair and adjusted his hat. He placed his right ankle on his left knee and nodded in their direction. “Howdy, folks.”
“Hello,” Gisella answered. “Sheriff?”
“I am. Sheriff Kip Johnston.” He pointed to the man on his left. “Meet Niles Vernon, a Border Patrol agent working out of the Boot Hill border crossing station, and Chris Locke, one of my deputies.”
Gisella offered him a smile. “I’m Ranger Gisella Hernandez,” she said, “and this is Agent Brock Martin with the DEA. I think you two have met before. We were just saying we needed to come over to your office and let me introduce myself.”
Brock nodded his greeting and held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Sheriff.”
The sheriff and Brock shook hands. “Yep, I remember you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“I haven’t had any more escapees who headed this way.”
Sheriff Johnston gave a small laugh.
Krista came by and took the men’s order then disappeared again.
Chris Locke settled into his chair then shot them a narrow-eyed look. “So let’s get right to it. What are you in town for? I mean Boot Hill’s so small you’d miss it if you blinked. What brings a Ranger and a DEA agent to our fair town?”
Gisella decided she wasn’t so sure she liked this deputy and focused her attention on the friendlier Niles Vernon and Sheriff Johnston. “We’re here investigating a possible connection with the Lions of Texas. Have you heard of them?”
The sheriff took a swig of his drink before saying, “Nope. Who are they?”
“We believe they’re responsible for a lot of things, the main one being the death of a fellow Ranger. We think our friend found out something about the Lions and they killed him.”
The sheriff winced. “Sorry to hear that.”
Gisella swallowed hard. She always got emotional when she thought about Captain Gregory Pike. She pushed her sadness away and said, “Anyway, we also believe they’re running drugs big time. These drugs are finding their way throughout the state of Texas and Boot Hill is a possible entry point from Mexico for them.”
Chris snorted. “Boot Hill’s not perfect and not crime-free, but we keep the drugs out. If they make it over the border, they get stopped here.” He shook his head. “The drugs spreading through Texas aren’t coming through Boot Hill.”
Instead of commenting, Gisella simply nodded. “What about you, Sheriff? Do you have any reason to believe these people are working out of Boot Hill?”
Before the sheriff could respond, Niles interrupted with an irritated look at Chris. “Regardless of what my buddy here thinks, it’s possible some drugs do get into Boot Hill. But Chris’s right about one thing, it would be mighty hard. We’ve got the Border Patrol station and we police the fence closely with agents and K-9s.”
The sheriff didn’t lose his scowl. He did raise a thoughtful brow. “In spite of Chris’s protests, we all know that in spite of our best efforts, the drugs slip through.”
“I will say that if it’s coming across—and I’m not saying it’s not—it’s coming across on somebody else’s watch,” Niles grunted.
“Not on mine.” Chris rolled his eyes, shrugged then gave a sneer. “And we don’t need some fancy-pants Ranger or DEA agent coming in and stirring up trouble.”
“Cool it, Locke,” Sheriff Johnston ordered softly.
Chris rolled his eyes, sat back and gave his recently delivered food his full attention.
Niles shot them an apologetic look.
Gisella wondered what the deputy’s problem was then decided to ignore it. “So, Sheriff, what do you say we team up and work together? I think if we’re sharing information and backing each other up, we’ll be able to find what we’re looking for a lot faster.”
“Work together, huh?”
“Well, we’re either working together or we’re not. To me the choice is a simple one.”
Sheriff Johnston stroked his chin while Chris Locke looked on. “This town isn’t so friendly to outsiders.”
Gisella felt one side of her mouth lift in a smile. “We noticed. Hopefully, if they see us cooperating with each other, they’ll warm up to us.”
Niles grunted and Chris ignored them.
Brock said, “We need a couple of hotel rooms. Got any suggestions?”
The sheriff smiled. “If you want to stay in Boot Hill, your only option is the Boot Hill Inn. You can walk to it from here if you don’t mind a little hike. They have twenty-two rooms total.”
“Any vacancies?”
“Guess you’ll have to go find out. But yeah, probably. We don’t get a lot of visitors except families needing a place to stay during the holidays. The Christmas rush is over so you’ll probably have your pick of the rooms.” He leaned forward and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So how long do you figure you’re going to be staying here?”
Gisella firmed her jaw and looked the sheriff in the eye. “As long as it takes.”
THREE
In the hotel office, Brock studied the man behind the counter and wondered vaguely what his story was. He’d been wiping down the counter with a rag when they’d walked in. His nametag read, STEVE.
A white scar cut a path from his forehead, down his right cheek to his chin. Prison tats decorated his fingers and his eyes had a hard glint to them. Gisella’s tense shoulders said she had her guard up, too.
Brock didn’t like the fact that Steve’s eyes had lingered a little long on Gisella’s pretty face, but Brock had to give the man credit. He hadn’t looked at her in any way that could be considered disrespectful. He simply ha
nded over her credit card and room key and said, “Thank you. Glad you’re here.”
Gisella gave him a friendly nod.
Steve said, “There’s two of us who run the front desk. We alternate shifts and cover for each other so you never know who’ll be up front. We only have one maid working right now. We’re not a big-city hotel, so if you need something I’ll do my best to get it to you, but don’t expect to get it right away.” He spoke in a flat monotone as though he didn’t want them there, but couldn’t afford to turn them away.
Brock nodded. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
Gisella said to Brock, “I’m going to step outside and make a phone call while you’re finishing up.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
While he repeated the process Gisella had just completed, Brock considered the twinge of jealousy he’d felt at the hotel clerk’s obvious admiration of Gisella and told himself to get real.
He’d only known the woman a few hours. How could he be jealous? That he was made him a little nervous. Brock signed the credit card slip and thanked the man. Steve nodded and returned to his cleaning without another word.
Brock stepped outside to find Gisella already sitting in the passenger seat with her door shut. He decided he liked seeing her there. Beside him, she tugged at the heart with occasional glimpses of her vulnerability. He admired her tough-as-nails attitude about her job.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, he looked at her. “Too cold to stand outside for very long, huh?”
She laughed and agreed.
“You get your call made?”
Gisella frowned. “He didn’t answer.”
“Who?”
“My dad.”
“And that worries you?”
She shrugged. “No. He and my mom are probably out with their friends from church. He’s left a couple messages on my phone so I thought I’d try him back. No big deal.” She gave him a wry smile. “Trust me, he’ll call again.”
Brock drove about halfway down the building and parked in the almost empty lot, not in front of a room. “Our rooms are four doors up.”
Respect gleamed at him. “I never park in front of my door, either. Why advertise what room you’re in?”
He laughed. “Exactly. I try to make sure I don’t park in front of anyone else’s room either. Wouldn’t want an innocent person to get hurt because someone was looking for me.”
“You think someone’s going to come looking for us?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. This town isn’t exactly May-berry. The sheriff and our rough-looking desk clerk didn’t seem thrilled that we’re here and from what you’ve told me, a lot of people have died because of this case. If anyone here has connections with the Lions, then they’re aware we’re here and that we’re asking questions. Why take chances?”
“I agree.” She smiled and climbed from the car.
Brock watched Gisella haul her overnight bag from the car. “You need some help?”
She shot him a wry look. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”
Inserting the key into the lock, she slipped into her room.
Brock shook his head. Stubborn. And very pretty. What was her boss thinking, sending her into this situation? In spite of the fact that Gisella was confident in her abilities to take care of herself, Brock’s gut clenched as he thought about his former partner, Paul Gomez, and his experience. Paul had had a pretty female partner, too, once upon a time. Tina Lorenzo. Paul had fallen in love with her and she’d been killed.
Brock had been paired up with the man after the tragedy. Paul had lasted three months before quitting law enforcement altogether to see if he could find himself at the bottom of a bottle.
Poor Paul. He’d been planning on asking Tina to marry him the weekend that she was killed. Had even bought the ring and shown it around the station that day. Tina had been working an undercover assignment, one she and Paul had argued about. He hadn’t wanted her to take it. She’d insisted.
Brock blew out a sigh. Was he going to have to babysit the Ranger?
Maybe not if her saving his hide tonight hadn’t been a fluke. He still wasn’t sure how Lenny had gotten the drop on him. But he had. And Brock felt embarrassed that Gisella had witnessed it.
On the other hand, it gave him an idea of who she was. And Brock wasn’t against females in law enforcement. Not at all. He knew there were some good women cops. Had even worked with a few. But this whole situation was a different ballgame as far as he was concerned. The Lions had all kinds of connections. High-ranking ones, apparently. They didn’t hesitate to permanently remove anyone who got in their way. And mistakes were always fatal. What if Giselle’s bulldog determination to catch her boss’s killer caused her to be careless? Make a mistake? She could get them both killed.
And the powers that be in the Ranger department had sent a lone woman down here to investigate. What were they thinking?
Of course he was with her, but still…
Just as he was about to step back inside his own hotel room, Gisella appeared in the doorway next to his. “You all set?” he asked.
She looked up to meet his eyes and his blood pumped a little faster. She had beautiful big brown eyes. Eyes that made a man want to act like a brainless sap and get lost in them. He blinked.
“You bet.” She gave him a funny smile. “You?”
He nodded then said, “But sleep with your gun close by. These locks are pitiful.”
She bent to examine hers. “Actually, it’s not that bad.”
He grunted his disagreement. Gisella shook her head in amusement then said with understanding, “But I know what you mean. My locks at home are much better.” She gave him another soft smile that made his heart do things it hadn’t done in a long time. He gulped and ordered himself not to be attracted to her.
It didn’t work.
And that sent fear skittering through him. Memories of his fiancée’s betrayal flashed across his mind, but this time they didn’t seem to hold as much punch.
And it was easy to see Gisella wasn’t anything like the woman who’d left him for another man. A man with a safe job who would be home every night and wouldn’t be gone for months at a time. He’d done his best to keep in touch, doing small things to remind her that he was thinking of her—like having the florist deliver a rose to her once a week.
But it hadn’t been enough and she’d moved on.
He nearly smiled at the irony of it. Gisella would understand his job, what going undercover entailed. And she understood that because she lived it.
And yet, Brock refused to consider falling for someone he worked with, someone in as dangerous a profession as he was. Thinking about the possible results of loving someone who could be killed in the blink of an eye made him shudder. He simply knew too much about things that could go wrong, how easy it was to slip up, trust the wrong person.
Ignoring his thumping heart that didn’t seem to care what Gisella did for a living, he tuned back into her words. “In the morning we can start out by asking around about those other initials from the book. See if there’s anyone around here with the initials JZ, RP or QV.”
“Sounds good to me. See you in the morning.” He stepped into his room and shut the door.
Slowly, Gisella closed her door, absently thinking that someone needed to oil the squeaky hinges—then decided she was thankful for the built-in alarm system. She leaned against the metal door for a moment, pausing to stare at the ceiling.
Breathing out a sigh, she placed a hand over her pounding heart. “What in the world is going on, Lord? He’s just an attractive man. I work around a lot of attractive men and I don’t even notice them much other than to give them credit for doing a good job. What’s different about Brock Martin?”
Not getting an immediate answer, she finally took in the details of the room. It smelled clean. Simple and sparse and not much to it; nevertheless, the bed looked comfortable.
Part of her itched to take a dive into a pool
and do several laps to work off the stress of the day. Something she did at home on a regular basis.
Not holding out much hope, she walked to the phone and dialed the front desk. When the man answered, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have an indoor pool, would you?”
“Yes, we do. Right here beside the office.” He told her how to get to it and she hung up, surprise zipping through her. Who would have thought?
She placed her laptop on the small round table by the window and turned it on.
Weariness tugged at her and she glanced at the clock. 11:46. Morning would come early. But work beckoned. So did the swim.
Choices.
She thought about Brock’s comment about choices in life and smiled. Sometimes you chose what you had to do, not what you wanted to do.
The swim would have to wait.
Gisella picked up her cell phone and punched in Levi McDonnell’s number.
He answered on the third ring. “McDonnell.”
“Hey, it’s Gisella.”
“Yeah, I recognized the number. What’s up?”
“Sorry to call so late. I wanted to ask for a quick update.”
“It’s been kind of quiet. There haven’t been any new threats against the Alamo celebration coming up, but we don’t know if that’s good or bad. Have they stopped sending threats because they realize they’ve made their point? Or have the threats stopped because of something else? We just don’t know.”
She blew out a sigh. “Right. Anything else?”
“Nope.” His voice softened. “Get some rest, Gisella, you’re going to need it. We’re getting closer to getting these people, I can feel it.”
“I sure hope so, Levi.”
“Talk to you soon.”
They hung up and Gisella decided Levi was right; she needed to get some rest.
But first, she was going to get her swim in.
Grabbing her towel and the one-piece black bathing suit she never left home without, she slipped into her heavy coat, hat and gloves.
Should she tell Brock what she was doing?
Threat of Exposure Page 3