by Becky McGraw
“Not if Dave helps investigate. I gave him names of some businesses that Leland had receipts from, and he’s going to do a little research. Checking the receipts against their records to see if they match. It’s only been four years, and they have to keep records for seven years. They’ll have the receipts.”
So that’s where Dave had gone. On a wild goose chase for Ronnie. But it was already night, so those businesses would probably be closed already. And he took the men they captured with him. Maybe he was scouting for tomorrow night. That thought made him feel a little better, but with Dave gone, protecting these women and the women out at the other cabin was all on him. He should have at least left one of his guys here.
“Again, proving anything substantial could take years,” Trace said. “How long is Dave going to be gone?” That was the question Trace wanted answered.
Ronnie huffed out a breath. “I have no idea when Dave will be back. He has a lot to do,” she replied vaguely, as if it didn’t matter.
Dave had a lot to do, because she had him off chasing his tail, while he should be here helping him protect them, and getting ready for tomorrow night. Even though Trace wasn’t going with him, he would like to be in on the planning. He needed to call Dave and get some answers, and he needed to make sure he had the weapons here in good order just in case.
“We have to start somewhere, and this is as good a place as any,” she said, then had the audacity to add, “You need to have some faith, Trace.”
“Sorry, fresh out. Lost that three years ago,” he replied darkly.
“I know. And that is my fault. I’m going to restore your faith in the system. Just give me a little time.”
“I’m fresh out of that too,” he replied with a shake of his head.
Ronnie threw her pen down on the table and met his eyes intently. “I’m not going to beat my head on the wall here, Rooks. Give me two weeks. Make me a promise that you won’t take off.”
I’ll help you disappear.
Dave’s words came back to him. He knew the man could make disappearing a helluva lot easier for him. He would probably give him the documents he needed for his new identity. But Dave had asked him to give Ronnie the chance to help him too. His help might not be as forthcoming unless Trace at least gave her a chance. A couple of weeks rest to recover from his injury would probably be a good idea anyway. Being on the run when he wasn’t in top form physically would slow him down. The two weeks she asked for would give him time to heal. And plan.
“Two weeks. That’s it,” he agreed flatly. “If you don’t have something by then, I’m out.” That would give him two weeks to say goodbye to his mother too. Make him leaving permanently a little easier for her. And him too.
The next night, Trace lay awake at midnight staring at the ceiling, seriously considering getting dressed to hike through the woods, so he could steal a horse from the adjacent property. If he wanted to leave that’s what he’d have to do, because Dave hadn’t left the keys to the other two vans parked in the front yard. Trace had tried to call him fifteen times today, but the man wasn’t answering his phone.
Something must’ve gone wrong, because he was supposed to pick up Ray Brown tonight, and surely he would have called Trace, or at least answered his calls, if he had been successful. Or maybe the man had double-crossed him. Maybe he’d turned over Ray Brown to the authorities, and given them his location too. Ronnie vouched for the man, but Trace didn’t know him from Adam. He didn’t trust either one of them fully.
The man had answered Ronnie’s call that she had made to him from his mother’s cell phone earlier. That pissed him off, because it told him Dave was just avoiding him. Ronnie had been able to tell Trace that Dave didn’t have any luck so far with the businesses he visited today, but she couldn’t tell him where the man was right now, or what he was doing. That is what Trace was concerned with, not that Leland hadn’t spent twenty grand to cater one of his fancy parties.
The door knob rattled, and Trace jerked in the bed. He shoved his hand under his pillow for the pistol he had there then aimed it at the center of the door. The door opened and Ronnie stood there backlit by the bright light in the hallway. She gasped and fell to her knees on the floor. Trace’s heart pounded as he lowered the weapon to his chest.
“That’s a good way to get your ass shot, Red,” he growled as the thumbed the safety back on and put the gun back under the pillow.
“I was just coming to bring you your cell phone. You left it in the dining room earlier. I went back in there to get a file and saw Dave called a few minutes ago.”
Fuck. Trace threw the covers back and got up. He walked over and helped her up, then took his cell phone from her hand. Sure enough, Dave had called him. He quickly redialed the man’s number. When Dave answered, Trace’s heart kicked into overdrive. “What’s going on? Why the hell didn’t you answer my calls?”
Dave laughed and Trace was about to blast him when he said, “I’ve kind of been up to my eyeballs in alligators, man. Things are breaking loose, but I had one more thing I wanted to follow up on before I talked to you.”
“What?”
“Leland’s campaign manager has been questioned by the feds. I wanted to talk to him too, but I couldn’t find him. I did find out that both he and Leland heard about Conner Lucas pulling those files. They’re nervous. I think Conner needs to be careful. Maybe stay at the lodge until this is over. He definitely shouldn’t do any other obvious digging.”
Talmedge Bartlett had been questioned? Excitement built inside of him, because as far as Trace knew the trail of evidence the feds had stopped at Ray Brown. That’s why after six months at the ranch, they still hadn’t done a takedown. Trace wondered what they had gotten out of him. Probably nothing. That man was as slick as Leland.
“I agree both he and Ronnie need to be careful. It’s probably too late to worry about that though, if Leland and Talmedge already know they were doing it.”
“I don’t think they know Ronnie is involved yet, but it won’t be long before they figure it out. Anyway, I still have men trying to track Bartlett down, but he went on a convenient vacation. I’ll let you know if I find him.”
“What about Ray Brown?” Trace asked.
“We’re on our way to meet with Mr. Brown right now. His friends are very anxious to see him. They’re handcuffed in the front seat and one of them is driving. I think he won’t be as happy to see them once he sees who is traveling with them. I’ll call you back in a couple of hours to let you know what happens.”
Relief washed through Trace. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re a long way from finished tonight.”
They talked a minute more, then Trace disconnected the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. He heard the door click shut and looked up. Ronnie was leaning against the door looking at him strangely.
“What?” he asked and set his phone down on the dresser.
“You,” she replied simply then pushed away from the door to stand.
“What about me?”
“You need to get with the program. Everyone in this house is trying to help you, and I’m tired of busting my ass to help someone who has one foot out the front door.”
“I didn’t ask for your help, Ronnie. In fact, I don’t need it. As soon Dave captures Ray Brown I’m probably leaving. It sounds like you’ve got Leland on the ropes, and Dave can help you finish the job. You’ll be fine. My Mama will be fine. The state of Texas will be fine, once that happens.” Trace didn’t think he couldn’t be any blunter about his plans than that. He would be fine too, even though he wouldn’t be around.
“Coward. Don’t you care if people continue to believe you’re the scum of the earth like your daddy?” she challenged.
“Honey, I quit caring what people thought of me when the good people of Texas sent me to jail for three years.”
“The good people of Texas didn’t send you to jail. I did. Your daddy did. You should want at least the satisfaction of s
eeing him put in prison where he belongs.”
“I lived for that day, plotted my revenge for the last three years, but I’ve come to the conclusion that taking care of myself first is more important. He’ll get his, and I’ll have to watch it vicariously from wherever I end up. If I stay here, I’m going to jail again, and I’m not going to be his cellmate.”
“You promised me two weeks,” she reminded. “I can clear your name, Trace. You deserve to have your name cleared. You didn’t do a damned thing wrong four years ago, and I’ll prove it.” Ronnie took a step forward and put her hand on his chest. “You didn’t do a thing wrong out at that ranch either, and I’m going to prove that too.”
“How do you think you’re going to do that?”
“Who was the lead dog at the FBI? The person you were working with that got you out of prison early?”
“Susan Whitmore, SAIC at the Dallas office,” he replied. “Why?”
“Because I’m sure she would be very interested in what I’ve found. Interested enough to drop the charges against you in exchange for that information. It would save her a helluva lot of time. I’m sure she has egg on her face for the cluster fuck that happened out at that ranch. I can make her look like a superstar.”
From what he knew of her, Susan Whitmore was a glory hound. Always looking for kudos from her superiors. A career woman so driven by that motivation she steamrolled most of the men who worked for her. Her agents were terrified of her. A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. Sort of like Ronnie Winters times ten. Trace would love to be a fly on the wall if those two women ever met. But if he was, he was sure the sparks those two set off of each other would zap him like a bug zapper.
Ronnie’s hand slid up to his shoulder, then she cupped his jaw and ran her thumb over his lips. “I love it when you smile. Always have,” she said surprising him. “You used to smile a lot. I want you to be able to do that again.”
“Haven’t had a lot to smile about in a long time,” he replied gruffly.
“And that’s my fault. You’re a good man who got a raw deal. Helping men like you is my specialty.” Her thumb made another pass over his mouth, her eyes followed it across his lips and his heart kicked in his chest. In the dim light from the bathroom across the room, Trace watched her tongue make the same pass over her plump lips.
He’d learned his lesson about trusting Ronnie Winters’ promises the hard way. Should remember that lesson. But another specialty of hers was inciting men to want to fuck her blind evidently. Because that is exactly what he wanted to do right then. Fuck Ronnie Winters until she couldn’t walk.
Ronnie leaned closer, slid her fingers into his hair and his scalp tingled. Her lips hovered near his, then she made a tentative slide of her mouth over his. Trace stifled the moan that shot up to his vocal chords.
“I want to put that sexy smile on your face again for good,” she said, rubbing her hips against his suggestively. “Make love to me,” she invited in between small kisses to the corners of his mouth. When her hand slid between them to cup his erection, Trace’s body jerked and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. The slight pain in his side was nothing compared to the pain Ronnie was causing him now.
“Not a good idea, Red,” he said stepping back.
Her former boyfriend was in a room right down the hall most likely. His mother and Lou Ellen were too. Yeah, he wanted Ronnie Winters badly, but he wasn’t going to have her with an audience present.
“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time,” she argued stepping toward him again.
He held up a hand. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you, Ronnie,” Trace said adjusting himself. “It’s pretty obvious I do. But I’m not going to make lov—have sex with you with a house full of people around in the middle of this mess.”
“So, if I get rid of them?” Ronnie asked hopefully. “Solve this mess?”
“I’ll think about it.” Trace had a lot of thinking to do where Ronnie Winters was concerned. The woman he thought was as tough as any man mentally was fast showing him there was a lot more to her than he thought. She was hard and abrasive at times, but she had a soft side too. One he was having a hard time ignoring or denying existed.
Ronnie gave a little indignant snort and stiffened her shoulders as she stepped back. “Well don’t hurt yourself doing that,” she said in a slightly injured tone. “I’m not going to beg you. I’m not that hard up,” her eyes made a pass over his body and she curled her lip. “And frankly you’re not that special.”
His rejection had evidently dragged the Shark Lady back into the room. She was trying to hurt him like he had evidently hurt her. He hadn’t meant his words to hurt her, or insult her. But it was obvious that is exactly what he’d done. “C’mon, Red. You know you want me too. I’m just not sure we should go there again. I don’t want to lead you on.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and Trace didn’t miss the flush that crept up her neck. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. You’re right, we shouldn’t go there again. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Ronnie said with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even good the first or second time we went there, and I’m not a believer in the third time’s a charm.” She turned toward the door and grabbed the knob. “You just give me the two weeks you promised me to gather the evidence, and we’ll be even. After that you can go fuck someone who has lower expectations, or better yet—go fuck yourself.” With that parting shot, she jerked the door open and walked out slamming it behind her.
Trace stood there staring at the door, stunned that Ronnie had gone from make love to me to go fuck yourself in less than thirty seconds. Thank god her alter ego had emerged again. The Shark Lady was easier to deal with. He could keep his distance from her with no problem. Hopefully that woman would stick around. It would make leaving in two weeks a helluva lot easier for him. If he lasted that long.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On Friday afternoon, Trace stood outside the lodge beside the long, dark van that would take the ten illegal women off of his hands. He had never been more glad to see anyone in his life than he had Maria Sanchez the coordinator from the women’s shelter. Taking care of ten females who were little more than children, teenagers, was not an easy job. His mother had taken over most of the job, but she had only raised a son. Even she was at the end of her rope.
Ronnie had delayed them leaving by questioning the woman intensely in Spanish. The two women had talked for nearly an hour, until Ronnie finally seemed satisfied. Trace hadn’t understood half of what they said. Ronnie had just gone to go get the women from the cabin in the woods, and Trace had a few questions of his own. In English.
“So, you say they’ll receive job training, before they go back to Mexico?” Trace asked with concern. If that didn’t happen all he’d done would be for naught.
“Sí…um, yes. If we can find them a job here, we will help them apply for a work visa, if not, at least when they get back home they will be able to work.”
“And until then they’ll be taken care of properly?” he asked studying her.
“Yes, we will feed and clothe them. Educate them.”
“Who funds all this?” he asked.
“Well, we have a lot of anonymous donors, mostly from the Latin community. Some politicians donate too, but most don’t want to be identified. Supporting illegal immigration is such a controversial subject in the state…”
“Is Leland Rooks one of your contributors?” Trace asked quickly.
Her dark eyebrows lifted. “Senator Rooks?” She laughed and Trace nodded. “No, he is a vocal opponent of new immigration laws. And of our humanitarian efforts to help these women.”
He would be, Trace thought. Supporting change, or funding organizations like this would hurt his human trafficking business.
“Oh!” Maria said suddenly and her eyebrows lifted higher. “You are his son. I didn’t make the connection until now. I thought you were…”
“Dead?” Trace filled in, beca
use she hadn’t asked him if he was Leland’s son, she already knew. His unthinking question had connected him to his father.
“Yes. I saw him on television last night talking about it. They found your motorcycle in a creek,” she informed as if he didn’t know that.
Trace had to try and backpeddle, or at least cover his ass. “It’s complicated, Maria. I wanted to help the women, but nobody can know I’m here, or alive.”
She frowned and her eyebrows drew together over her dark eyes, but she nodded. “I will keep it quiet, but you should call your father. We’re not on the same side of the fight, but he seemed so sad on television last night.” Trace didn’t miss the undercurrent of reprimand in her voice.
Leland wasn’t sad, he was probably very relieved. But he was one of the best actors Trace had ever seen. He knew just how to pander to his constituents. Playing the role of the grieving father was expected, and he always gave his public what they wanted.
“I’ll deal with my father, I promise.”
“Good. And I promise I’ll take care of the women you saved. And keep my mouth shut. I’m good at that,” she said with a laugh.
Trace heard voices echoing through the woods sprinkled with girlish giggles. He turned that way and saw Ronnie lead the more petite women out of the woods like a mother duck leading ducklings. The women followed her across the yard to the van then stopped. All of them stared at him with soft smiles on their tan faces.
One separated from the pack and walked up to him. He stiffened when she put her arms around his waist hugged him. “Gracias,” she said softly then stepped back. Another separated from the group and followed her lead. The rest followed suit, until they had all hugged him and thanked him.
Trace had to clear his throat, before he could manage, “De nada.”
Maria opened the side door of the van and Ronnie hugged each girl, as they stepped inside. When Maria closed the door, Ronnie hugged her tightly and told her she would be in touch in Spanish. Trace understood, and wondered why Ronnie felt the need to contact her again. Maybe she was planning to check in on them to see how they were doing. That thought and the hugging made him uncomfortable, because it was further illustrated to him that Ronnie Winters was a soft, caring woman.