Trouble With the Law

by Becky McGraw

  Fuck, could things get any worse? Yes they could. Trace knew they could. That’s why he needed to talk to Susan Whitmore right now. He stopped at the payphone and shoved his hand into the pocket of his dirty jeans and came up empty. If he had fifty cents to put into the pay phone, that is exactly what he would do. Trace hung up the phone to bang his forehead against the cold metal. Pain shot through his skull and nausea made his stomach roll. He had been in such a hurry to get out of the jail, he hadn’t stopped to pick up his wallet and cash. Or his cell phone.

  Trace turned toward the curb again, and there sat Ronnie Winters in her sleek red Mercedes convertible. Trace stalked to her car and leaned into the open window. “You want to help me? Give me fifty fucking cents.”

  “I use plastic. I don’t carry cash around, especially change,” she replied then gave him a forced smile. “Get in and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  “Just let me use your cell phone,” he grumped and stuck out his hand.

  Ronnie pulled her phone out of her briefcase and handed it to him. Trace walked away to make the call. Since he was using Ronnie’s phone, he decided to call Susan later. All he needed was her to figure out who he’d called, so he called one of the FBI plants at the ranch instead. He knew Carlos would come out and get him. He was also sure, Carlos would inform Susan about what was going on, because the man was sleeping with her. When nobody else could get in touch with the woman, he could.

  Trace figured that’s why he was at the ranch. To keep her informed. The man couldn’t even ride a fucking horse. But he could speak Spanish, so that made him indispensable. Trace could speak the language too, passably at least, but he was far from fluent. But nobody knew it. He’d learned a lot by keeping that information to himself. The women that were being trafficked through the ranch were all Spanish speaking.

  Since Susan hadn’t sprung him, Trace would just have to come up with a cover story and get Carlos to help him sell it to Ray Brown. He dialed and Carlos picked up. Trace filled him in on what had happened, and Carlos said he would do his best to get away to pick him up. After he hung up, Trace walked back to the car and shoved the phone through the window. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. “Now get lost, Ronnie.”

  Trace paced at the bus stop at least an hour before Carlos pulled up to the curb in the ranch truck. He stepped toward the curb and jerked the door open when it stopped there. “Took you long enough,” he growled as he got inside and slammed the door.

  “I had to pull off to talk to Susan,” Carlos informed. “Who is Veronica Winters, and how do you know her?” Carlos asked gruffly, letting the truck idle without putting it in gear.

  “I’ll tell you on the way back to the ranch. Let’s just get out of here. She could be watching.” Trace looked into the side mirror, but didn’t see her red convertible, so he breathed a sigh of relief.

  He made Carlos go back to the jail, so he could get his stuff and they finally hit the road. Once they hit the interstate, Carlos glanced at him. “We’re on the way. Now who the hell is Veronica Winters, and why did she get you out?”

  “She’s the attorney who sent me up the river. Sold me out to Leland.”

  “So why is she getting you out now?” Carlos asked with confusion in his voice.

  “I don’t know if it’s a guilty conscience, or if she’s in bed with Leland again.”

  “Oh, man. That’s not good.”

  “I told her to stay the hell away from me. But we need to come up with a cover story, so Ray Brown doesn’t put a bullet in my head. I’m kind of screwed right now.”

  “We could put you in custody,” Carlos suggested.

  Trace’s eyes flew to his. “Hell no, I want to be there for the take down. I’ve worked too damned hard. I want to see Leland go down.”

  “You’ve done your part. It’s not worth taking a bullet, man. He’s going down, you can sit back and watch now. That’s what Susan wanted me to do. Take you to a safe house until we do the take down in a few weeks.”

  “No way. I haven’t proven that he set me up. I want to clear my name.”

  “Is that worth losing your life?” Carlos asked incredulously.

  “It’s worth any price to me to show the world what a slimy asshole my father is.”

  Ronnie watched Trace walk off down the sidewalk until he rounded the corner and disappeared. She huffed out a frustrated breath. Something was going on with Trace Rooks, and she hoped like hell he hadn’t changed teams. Gone over to the dark side for real this time. Sometimes jail did that to innocent men who were convicted of crimes they didn’t commit. Especially cops who had spent their lives trying to serve and protect the people who had wrongly convicted them.

  If that had happened, Ronnie would never be able to get rid of the guilt trying to burn a hole in her stomach. That hole was three years deep, and it was time for her to fill it in. God, why did she have to be born with a conscience? Life would be so much easier if she could just leave well enough alone. Forget about things like her father did. But as hard as she was on the outside, Ronnie wasn’t that lucky. If she didn’t fix this, she would never be able to live with herself again. And that is why she scrolled through her phone to see who Trace Rooks had called. She hit recall with her heart galloping in her chest as it rang.

  A man with a deep, slightly accented voice answered, “What the hell, Rooks? Ray Brown wasn’t happy, but I’m on my way.”

  Ronnie hung up the phone and glanced at the name on her screen. Carlos Ramos. Her phone rang back, but she didn’t answer it. Her hand shook as she slid the phone back into her briefcase, and put her car in gear. Ronnie had some digging to do, and she needed to be at her office to do that. Her friend Dave Logan could help her. His private investigation company in Dallas was the best around.

  He would probably know who these people were Trace was involved with, or he could find out. If Trace had gone bad for real, Ronnie could finally forget about him. If he hadn’t, she was going to help him whether he wanted her help or not. Before he got himself killed doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

  An hour later, Ronnie sat back in her chair and sighed. Trace Rooks was in trouble with the Feds now. Very shortly, kidnapping Leigh Ann Baker would be the least of the charges against him. And he evidently had no idea, because he had called an undercover agent to pick him up when he was released. According to Dave Logan, Carlos Ramos was an FBI agent planted at the Diamond Bar Ranch. A ranch that was under federal investigation for some very nasty things. Human trafficking? Drug Trafficking? A high-dollar stolen horse clearinghouse? And a helluva lot of criminals worked there, according to Dave. Trace was in that category because of her. It was probably the only job he could get when he got out of prison. Guilt shot through her again to swirl in her stomach.

  Dave had also heard rumors that Trace’s father, the good Senator, was involved out there somehow. Was Trace in bed with Leland now? That didn’t make sense, but she didn’t know who Trace Rooks was these days. He was a changed man.

  And she had done that to him.

  How Dave Logan knew all of that Ronnie didn’t even want to know. But the ex-special forces military man turned private investigator gave her the information off-the-record and told her to stay the hell away from there.

  Like that was going to happen.

  Ronnie needed to know which side of the fence Trace sat on, so she could either finally purge him from her mind, or she could help him realize what he was dealing with out at that ranch. If he was on the right side of the situation, he deserved a warning that only she could give him. He needed to get the hell out of there, before he wound up back in jail, and she couldn’t do a thing to help him.

  Ronnie grabbed her cell phone and plugged in the address to the ranch, because she knew she’d get lost otherwise. Grabbing her keys and briefcase, she headed out the door of her office with determination in her stride.

  ***

  “I put a bullet in the back of her head,” Trace repeated for the tenth time whe
n Ray Brown asked yet again what he’d done with Leigh Ann Baker. “Dumped her out in the boonies. She’s dead, Ray. We’re clear. I swear.”

  “How the hell did you get caught?” he asked.

  “I have no fucking idea.,” Trace said evenly. “I stopped at a rest stop for her to go to the bathroom because I got tired of hearing her whine, and I had to pee too. Maybe she left a note in the bathroom or something.”

  “Well, that was fucking stupid,” Ray said shoving a hand through his greasy gray hair. “We can’t afford this, Rooks. I wouldn’t have hired your dumb ass if not for your daddy. I should have just gone with my gut and sent you on your way.”

  “We’re clear, Ray. I swear,” Trace repeated tugging at the ropes on his wrists.

  “We better be fucking clear, or you’re going to be out there with her,” Ray growled and shoved a hand through his hair again. “And maybe your daddy will too.”

  Ray’s black eyes glittered with a threat, but that threat didn’t bother him. Even if he wound up dead himself, at least he’d take Leland with him. But Trace wanted to clear his name first, and the only way he was going to do that was to convince Ray Brown he had nothing to worry about. Trace pulled against the rope binding his wrists again.

  “Untie me man. I’ve been tied up enough in jail. This shit isn’t cool.” His wrists were raw from pulling at the ropes during Ray Brown’s two hour interrogation.

  “Neither is you fucking up. I gave you one simple job, and you couldn’t manage to do it without getting thrown in jail. Those cops showing up out here to arrest you definitely wasn’t cool.”

  “They let me go. I’m out of it, Ray. They’ll never find her where I left her.”

  Ray nodded at Carlos, and Trace could see relief on the agent’s face. He walked over and pulled a knife out of his boot to slice the ropes behind the chair. Pins and needles shot through his hands as blood started flowing to them again.

  “You’re on probation. If you fuck up again, firing will be the last thing you have to worry about,” Ray told him gruffly. “Get your ass to work. A new horse is coming in tonight, and we have one that needs to get to the airport.”

  “Yes, sir,” Trace said as he stood. He glanced at Carlos then back at Ray. “You want me to take him to the airport?” Trace would have a chance to inject him with the GPS tracking chip that they had been using to track where the horses were sent.

  “Hell no. I want you to go clean out the barn, and get things ready for the new horse. You’re not going anywhere. I want to keep an eye on you.”

  That wasn’t good news. Ray had just told him that any ground he’d made here working his way up the ladder of the organization was gone. They didn’t trust him. Maybe he should have just let Carlos and Susan put him in a safe house. He was useless to them here now. Unless he could somehow prove himself again. Saving that damned beauty queen, had cost him six months of work, and probably delayed the takedown.

  A flash of red hair caught his attention at the door of the office, and he did a double take. His heart skidded to a stop when Vince Harmon, a rough ranch hand who Trace had several scrapes with in the past walked into the office pushing a very familiar redhead in front of him. He was leading her by a fist in her beautiful red hair, and she looked scared and madder than he’d ever seen her.

  “Look what I found nosing around outside,” Harmon said gruffly, with a yank to Ronnie’s hair. She flinched and tried to twist around, but couldn’t, so she lifted her foot and brought her spiked heel down on top of the man’s boot, then ground it down. He yelped and let her hair go, but then she rounded on him and brought her fist up under his chin. His head snapped back and he grunted as he fell backward. Ray Brown laughed.

  Ronnie’s shirt was torn at the shoulder, so he imagined the uppercut to the jaw wasn’t the only blow that Ronnie had delivered to the man. The thug just didn’t know what he had tied into when he got a hold of that wildcat.

  Ronnie spun around and her angry brown eyes met his. There were flames there and he knew she was about to blow things to hell if he didn’t do something. Trace stomped over to her and grabbed her arm to bring it up between her shoulder blades. He put his arm across her throat and she fought him too, but he held her tightly. “You picked the wrong place at the wrong time to stick your nose in, Red,” he growled near her ear.

  “You know her?” Ray Brown asked warily.

  “Yeah, I know her. This is the goddamn attorney that sent me up. She’s worthless, and I’d be more than happy to take care of this one for you.”

  Ronnie squirmed in his grasp, and bent her knee again. He moved his feet, before she could plant her heel into his arch. “Do it and I’ll snap your fucking neck right here,” he threatened. Her body went limp, but Trace didn’t let down his guard. He knew her too well.

  “What is she doing out here?” Ray asked.

  “I have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. She hasn’t got the sense God gave a billy goat, and she’s too stupid to live.” He heard a small whimper, and Ronnie began struggling again. Trace tightened his arm across her neck. “Settle down,” he growled.

  “I’ll take care of her, boss,” Vince Harmon said as he got back to his feet. He grabbed her arm, but Trace held on tight.

  “Back off, Harmon,” Trace growled. “This one is mine.”

  “Let Harmon take her,” Ray Brown said evenly. “I don’t want anymore fuck ups.” Ray Brown’s black eyes pinned Harmon. “You hear that Harmon?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure she doesn’t give us any problems.” Trace let his hold on her go, because he didn’t have any choice. “Toss me that rope, Ramos,” he said shortly.

  Those words sent Ronnie into an adrenaline fueled frenzy. She jerked her arm from the ranch hand’s grasp. In a flurry of arms, fists and knees spiced with curse words that Trace had never heard before, she all but beat the shit out of the surprised ranch hand. Trace wanted to laugh, but he dropped his arms around hers and clamped them to her sides.

  Harmon grabbed the rope from Carlos, and wrapped it around her arms at the elbow, then he held her hands behind her back while Harmon tied them.

  “He can’t handle this alone,” Trace said brusquely. “I’ll go with him. At least let me watch her get what’s coming to her.” Please let him say yes, Trace thought, and held his breath as he waited. If Ray said no, Ronnie was a dead woman.

  Ray finally nodded, and Trace released his breath on a sigh. Carlos watched him with worried eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have come out here. I didn’t see anything. Just let me go,” Ronnie pleaded. “I came out here to talk to—” Trace clamped a hand over Ronnie’s mouth, and she bit his palm.

  “Fuck!” he growled shaking his hand, as he saw bite marks raise on the fleshy part of his hand.

  “I came here to talk to him,” she hissed then brought her head back hard against his chin. Trace’s teeth rattled in his mouth, and his jaw swung back, before he righted it.

  Stars danced behind his eyelids, as he leaned down and put his shoulder into her midsection. He lifted her over his shoulder, and Ronnie squirmed again. Trace swatted her ass. Hard. Ronnie moaned.

  “Now, keep your ass still or it’s gonna be black and blue,” he growled. She whimpered but settled.

  “Since it was such a good hiding place, take her out where you disposed of the beauty queen,” Ray said slyly. “Harmon can verify that you did the job, and we’ll be all good.” The smile he gave Trace made his insides twist.

  Trace swallowed hard. That would be kind of hard to do, since he hadn’t disposed of Leigh Ann Baker at all. “We should go somewhere else, or it’ll be obvious they’re connected.”

  “So if they catch you, you’ll be a serial killer. You deserve to be caught after fucking up like you did. Just think Rooks, you’ll be famous just like your daddy. But I better not hear you rolled on us, because if I do you won’t be alive long enough to finish your memoir.” Ray let out an evil laugh that made Trace’s insides boil. “Take her to the same plac
e,” Ray repeated firmly, as he nodded to Harmon.

  Trace didn’t know what the hell he was going to do. He was a dead man either way, because Harmon couldn’t see a body that didn’t exist. And Trace didn’t have a gun. He’d have to come up with a plan before they got where they were going. Or he was sure he was going to get a bullet too.

  One thing was for sure, he didn’t need Ronnie talking. He stomped over to the desk and picked up a rag he saw there, then set her down on her feet again to tie it around her face. She screamed and cursed, but he muffled it with the rag then gave her a smug smile.

  “Now, maybe I can put up with you for the hour it’ll take us to get rid of you.” Her gorgeous brown eyes told him what a scumbag she thought he was. “It won’t be painful, Red. We’ll make it quick,” he promised with a harsh laugh.

  Fear shot into her eyes, and they watered which made him feel like the asshole she thought he was, because he knew she was already terrified. She needed to be scared, but he didn’t want her broken. He was going to need her cooperation to get both of them out of this alive.

  Trace glanced back at Ray Brown and saw his eyes were locked on the black lace bra that barely covered her nipples. Ronnie’s shirt had come unbuttoned to her waist, and her chest was heaving with every breath she took. Trace fought the urge to button her back up. He didn’t like the glitter that came into the man’s eyes at all.

  “I have a better idea. This one will make us a lot of money in Houston. Take her to the holding pen and give her something to make her calmer,” Ray said. Trace’s heart dropped to his feet. Drugs. He wanted to give Ronnie some of the heroin they gave the women they brought over from Mexico to make them more compliant. Once they became dependent, they needed it and would do just about anything to get it.

  God, that was worse than dying.