by Carolina Mac
“Ranger Blackmore,” she hollered, “can you give me a minute of your time?”
“Sorry, Sandra, I’m late.” He pushed Farrell into the witness room and closed the door behind them. “I saved your ass. You owe me.”
“Not as much as you owe me,” said Farrell.
“What for?”
“I forget, but it was huge.”
Farrell didn’t even have time to sit down before the Bailiff fetched him to start his testimony. “Is my tie straight?”
“GQ,” said Blaine as he closed the door. He sat at the little table, alone in the room answering e-mails until it was his turn.
Lovell hissed at him as the Bailiff ushered him past the defense table to the stand. He was sworn in, sat down and nodded to the Judge that he recognized. Old Judge Bromley was trying the case. A hard-liner, but fair as the day was long. Known for not putting up with any grandstanding on the part of the attorneys, most legal beagles didn’t even bother.
Rory Lumley picked up a notepad and walked towards Blaine from the prosecution’s table. He smiled at the jury and was about to begin questioning Blaine when a shot rang out. People began screaming. They pushed each other out of the way like crazed animals to get out of the long bench seats. And then they ran for the door, screaming and yelling.
“Take him, Farrell,” Blaine hollered as his brother leaped over a crowd of panicked spectators to get to John Engels.
Farrell grabbed hold of the front of Engels jacket, twisted it in his left fist and pasted Engels in the face with a hard right. He knocked the man down and jerked the gun out of his hand. The Bailiff dashed over, cuffed Engels and dragged him bodily into the ante-room.
Blaine stood behind Benson Lovell, blocking the view of the remaining looky-loos so their phones couldn’t take pictures for You-tube or some fucking gossip rag. Lovell was dead. His brains splattered all over the defense table.
One shot in the back of his head from close range—Engels must have arrived early and secured a seat in the first row for his mission. There was no sign of Mrs. Engels.
When Blaine had taken the stand, he’d seen John Engels sitting on the side of the defense and for a second, he’d wondered about it. He should have wondered a bit harder.
The Judge banged the gavel down and hollered to be heard over the bedlam. “Clear the courtroom.”
Varmint Camp. Apache Mountains.
SANTANA packed what few clothes he owned into his saddlebags. One last glance at the sorry looking trailer he called home and he was out the door. He checked the time as he strode down the steps to his ride. Already one o’clock. Annie might be gone. He’d have to catch up.
He cruised the New Moon Motel at ten to two and her truck was gone. As he drove south down the main street of Apache Springs, he glanced at the diner and she wasn’t there either.
He squeezed the gas and burned it south to the interstate.
Stockton. Texas.
ANNIE pulled into a Mexican restaurant with a Citgo service center next door. She need to rest, get a bite to eat and gas up before she went any further. She’d stop for the night in Sonora, but she was a good two hours away from the half-way point.
Disappointed that Santana hadn’t come with her, she sat down at a table in the restaurant and ordered a Lone Star and a burrito.
SANTANA whizzed by the Mexican restaurant doing close to a hundred, then realized he’d seen Annie’s truck with the bike trailer parked out front, and he turned around. He parked his Eagle next to her truck and went inside. The hostess approached him at the door and he pointed at Annie. “She’s waiting for me.”
He walked past a row of booths, chains rattling on his Harley boots and sat down. “You got ahead of me.”
She smiled, and his heart did a flip flop. So beautiful he couldn’t process her in his mixed-up brain.
“I thought you weren’t coming. I would have waited.”
“Too much to do, but I can’t miss this opportunity. To know you, to see my madre one more time. There is nothing that important in my life.”
The waitress came to the table and he ordered a beer and two spicy burritos.
“Are you going all the way home tonight?”
Annie shook her head. Her red bandana holding her mane of black hair in check. “Sonora is about half way. That’s where I stayed coming your way.”
“I haven’t been to east Texas.”
“You don’t talk much like a biker.”
He smiled. “I can.”
“I bet you can.”
The waitress brought Santana’s burritos and he ate in silence.
“How did your crew take the news of your leaving?”
He shook his head. “They haven’t been happy since we moved to the camp—most of them only agreeing because of me—so I made the tension worse. Some of them looked ready to slit my throat.”
“Do you think you’ll have problems when you go back?”
I don’t know if I’m going back.
“Hard to say.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
FARRELL booked a sobbing and distraught John Engels for premeditated murder while Blaine sat in the Chief’s office and gave him the blow by blow of the courtroom fiasco.
Chief Calhoun shook his head, a sad look in his blue eyes. “I guess that’s that, isn’t it? Trial is over.”
“The media are swarming the courthouse and a bunch followed us over here,” said Blaine. “Do you want to say something official?”
“Hell, no. Do you?”
“I never want to,” said Blaine, “but sometimes it takes the pressure off.”
“Off who?”
Blaine grinned. “Me.”
“You’re always news, Blacky. Austin’s super cop.”
“You know that ain’t true.”
The Chief focused on him. “I’m in the best position to know the hours you put in and how much you do… and it is true.”
Farrell wasn’t finished with Engels, so Blaine trudged through the waiting area towards the door alone. He didn’t notice her hunched over in the corner of the room until she called his name.
“Mrs. Engels, I didn’t know you were here.”
Her sobbing garbled her words and choked her. She held a wad of Kleenex over her face and pointed.
“No, I’m sorry, you can’t see your husband. Wait for the arraignment and you can see him then. I’ll have someone take you home.”
She shook her head.
Blaine beckoned to one of the Rangers in the corridor. “See that Mrs. Engels gets home, Syd, and take her out the back way. She needs a neighbor or somebody to stay with her before you leave her residence. Don’t leave her alone.”
“Right, Mr. B. I won’t.” Syd helped Mrs. Engels to her feet and escorted her down the long hallway to the back of the building.
They lost their daughter, and now she’ll have no one.
Blaine walked through the glass doors and stood alone on the steps. He let the hoard move in closer then he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, today was a sad day in our justice system. When something this tragic happens, it propels us back years to the days of lynch mobs and firing squads.”
Questions were shouted at him and he held up a hand.
“Yes, I believe Benson Lovell was guilty of murder, multiple murder, but he was a citizen of this state and was entitled to a fair trial, the same as every one of you.”
The shoved mics forward and he ignored them all.
“Y’all can sensationalize this as much as you want to, but the murder of Mr. Lovell as he sat at the defense table was a tragedy. We should lament that a regrettable act like this happened in Texas.” He turned his back and went inside.
Industrial Mall. Airport Road. Austin.
JESSE and Fletcher sat in the dark green surveillance unit a couple of blocks away from Five-Star Security. Fortified with large Starbuck’s coffees they waited for the Koss clan to arrive.
Wearing headphones, Fletcher heard a door slam. “Somebody is in
the office.” He put the audio on speaker and Koss senior was cursing.
“The assholes kept me overnight and didn’t give me a phone call until this morning. I’m gonna sue their asses and make them pay. You’ll see.”
“Dad, maybe we should…”
“Shut up, Doug. The bastards were in here yesterday and chances are they have this whole building bugged.”
“Don’t think they had time for anything like that, Dad, and besides its illegal.”
“I’m buying one of those sweepers tomorrow at the electronics’ store. Let’s lock up and go home. We need to talk, and I need a beer.”
“That amounted to nothing,” said Jesse. “Have the vans been tagged?”
Fletcher nodded.
“I’ll put Jack and Greg on them in the junk truck.”
“I saw that cube van in the drive at the Agency,” said Fletcher, “and wondered if we picked up junk. Boss said he’d introduce us to those other guys, but we haven’t had time for a sit down or nothing. Been too busy.”
Jesse tried to explain about the junkers without giving away too much. “Four extra guys that are on Blacky for security. That’s their main purpose.”
“The junk truck is just a cover. I get it,” said Fletcher, but Jesse didn’t think he did.
I-10 heading east.
ANNIE left the Mexican restaurant in Stockton after Santana loaded his bike onto the trailer beside hers and secured it. He’d had a bit of trouble with it coming from Apache Springs.
“Don’t think I’ve ever ridden in a pickup with a woman at the wheel before,” he said. “A lot of firsts coming down for me.” He groped for the release and eased the passenger seat back a little to accommodate his long legs.
Already tired from the trip as a whole, Annie drove silently. She had a lot to think about.
“Tell me about George,” said Santana. “I was only eight years old when he turned eighteen and left home. He told me he was going to Canada and I didn’t even know where that was.”
Annie smiled at him across the console. “Okay, I can do that. When I met George, he was a gunsmith with his own shop in the east end of Toronto—in Scarborough, a suburb, but a city in itself. I had no clue about the Regulators, or any other details of his life. He was just a man who was kind to me and helped me when I needed help.”
“By the time I found out who he was and what kind of power he wielded in the city, it was too late for me. I was already in love with him and he turned out to be my soulmate, my teacher and most of all, my protector. He taught me how to ride, to shoot and a lot about life in the real world.” Annie choked on the last couple of words, teared up and wiped her face with the back of her hand.
“I made you cry. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I want you to know about your brother—the way I knew him and not as a tough gang boss—which he was—but as the man that made me his first priority. He called me his baby girl, I guess because he was twenty years older than me, but he always put me first.”
“You look tired,” said Santana. “I can drive for a while.”
“Sure. We’ll stop for a Coke and change drivers.”
“Umm… I was wondering what you were thinking about the overnight room thing.”
“All the rooms have two beds. You don’t have to sleep with me.”
Santana smiled. “That wasn’t exactly my concern. I don’t know you well enough to read you, so I just wanted to throw it out there—whatever you’re comfortable with is fine for me.”
Comfort Inn. Sonora.
SANTANA grabbed a couple of items out of the saddle bag on his bike while Annie retrieved her single case from the back of the truck.
She checked them in at the reservation desk and they found their room on the third floor just past the ice machine. Annie inserted the card and opened the door.
“Nice room,” said Santana. “Not the lower comfort level I’ve grown used to lately.”
“It is nice,” said Annie. “Wish I wasn’t so tired.” She sat down at the round table in the corner of the room and popped the tab on a can from the six pack they’d picked up at the convenience store.” She offered one to Santana. “These are still cold.”
He sat down in the other chair, fiddled with his beer and seemed uncomfortable. “I need to shower.”
“Before you shower, relax and have a beer with me. You seem tense, sugar.”
“I don’t remember ever being so tense, Annie. Since the moment you came charging up the steps onto my deck, I’ve been as tightly strung as a goddam trip wire.”
Annie chugged half her beer, then moved from her chair into Santana’s lap. Her arms entwined around his neck and she kissed him, gently, slowly until she felt him loosen up enough to kiss her back.
A moan escaped his throat as he explored her mouth with his tongue and pulled her tighter to his muscular body.
His erection hardened under her leg as she moved her hands into his mop of black hair and deepened the kiss.
“I better shower,” he whispered, “We don’t have running water at the camp.”
Annie got up and moved to the bed. “Go ahead, I’ll check on things at home.”
Santana walked out of the shower naked and Annie had to do a quick inhale. A good percentage of his olive skin was inked, but beautifully done. Even the rat on his shoulder wasn’t too repulsive. His six-pack rippled as he walked towards her, his long black hair damp and slightly curling around his neck.
“It’s been a while for me,” he said.
Annie pulled back the duvet and turned out the light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saturday, November 3rd.
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
LEXI had maintained a constant barking protest since dawn at the media vehicles outside the front fence and Blaine had been forced to confine her to the backyard.
They didn’t usually stalk him at home but today proved to be an exception. Blaine pulled back the curtain in the room Misty called the front parlor and peered through the new trees planted across the front of the property. He tried in vain to count how many were parked at the curb.
Wonder if they’ll be out there all fuckin day?
“Why’s Lex barking?” Farrell strolled into the room with a mug of coffee in his hand.
“Media people outside the fence.”
“Fuck, on Saturday?”
“They don’t care what day it is,” said Blaine. “Let’s take the new guys to the range at the ranch today and get the hell out of here.”
“Great idea,” said Farrell, “I’ll round them up.”
Comfort Inn. Sonora.
SANTANA woke and for a second didn’t recognize the room, but thoughts of the beautiful woman sleeping next to him and the wonderful night they’d shared, flooded his mind with happiness. He’d never been a happy guy, always searching for something and not able to put his finger on it—anything to find his purpose. Now he’d found it. The search was over.
He sat up slowly on the side of the bed trying not to disturb her. He needed the bathroom and a smoke.
Annie stirred and turned her head towards him, the gray eyes sleepy and tired. “Are you getting up?”
“I need a smoke, and if they have one of the breakfast rooms, I’ll get coffee.”
Annie nodded. “I could use coffee. I’m hungry too.”
Santana smiled at her, reached over and touched her hair. “You used up a lot of energy.”
“You were worth it.”
“No one has ever said that to me.” He stood up, stretched and searched for clean clothes. “I won’t be long.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
BLAINE parked the big diesel in front of the six-bay garage and hopped out. The sun shone brightly above from an autumn Texas sky and there wasn’t too much wind. A good day for target practice. Time to see how the new hires measured up.
Jackson ran outside when he saw Blaine’s truck. “Hey, Blaine, I was getting lonesome without you and Farrell and with
out Mommy.”
Blaine turned and looked down at the little guy. “What do you mean without Mommy?”
“She had to go on a mission for Abuela Bianca.”
That’s George’s mother.
“How long has Mommy been gone?”
“Couple days.”
Farrell moved closer with a couple of guns in his hands and a backpack of ammo slung over his shoulder. “Where did he say Annie was?”
“On a mission for Bianca.”
“Mom never said anything to me,” said Farrell.
Blaine shook his head. “Not to me either. Hope she’s not doing anything crazy.”
“Everything all right?” asked Hammer. He stood ready with his pistol and box of ammo in his hand.
“I wanted you guys to meet Annie, but she’s away.”
“Is she part of the team?” asked Fletcher.
“Umm… in a way,” said Blaine.
Farrell rolled his eyes and led the way to the range behind the house.
“Big house,” said Hammer as they walked around the exterior, past the garage and the music studio and then past the guest cabin at the edge of the pine woods.
“Here we are.” Farrell laid his guns on the picnic table and opened an outdoor storage bin where Annie kept new targets, noise mufflers and cleaning kits. He strode down to the far end of the range and put the targets up for the boys.
“Can I watch?” asked Jackson.
“Sure buddy,” said Blaine, “Might want to wear noise mufflers.”
Once Farrell had the boys set up, Blaine stepped around behind the cabin away from the noise and called Annie’s cell.
“Hey, Mom, Farrell and I are here at the ranch taking some target practice and Jackson said you were away for a couple of days.”
“Umm…I am. I was, but I’m on my way home now. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple hours.”
“Where did you go?”
“I had to go to Apache Springs. I’ll explain it to you when I get home, sweetheart. I’m doing something for Bianca.”
