by Dana Marton
The driver must have seen them in his side mirrors because he rolled his window down and started shooting.
“Drop your weapon!”
Mo shot back and kept running forward, dodging bullets as he went. He reached the door the same time as Jamie did on the other side. They both aimed their weapons at the man’s head.
“Hands up! Throw out your weapon and get out of the cab!”
The man had no way to escape and he knew it. He only hesitated a second before complying. He swore up a storm in Spanish as he opened the door and dropped to the ground, then onto his knees.
His clothes were wrinkled and lived-in, his face unshaven. He smelled like beer. He shot a murderous look at Mo, but put his hands on the back of his head without having to be prompted.
“He knows the drill,” Jamie said, coming around.
Right. Sure looked as if he’d run into trouble with law enforcement before.
“Who are you?” Mo asked in English first, then in Spanish, holding his gun on the guy while Jamie patted him down for hidden weapons. He came up empty.
The man kept quiet, looking straight in front of him. He was probably more scared of the people he worked for than the border patrol.
As Mo cuffed the driver, Jamie shot off the lock from the back of the truck. The gate creaked as it opened. “Empty,” he called.
Mo dragged the man to his feet, took him over to his SUV and locked him in the back. Jamie was climbing into the back of the truck. Nothing but a couple of empty water bottles and a rag in the far corner. He headed for that, kicked it.
“Anything interesting?”
“Just a dirty shirt.” He came back and jumped to the ground.
“Human cargo. He brought them over the border then let them off when the truck broke down.”
Jamie nodded and scanned the ground, too stony for footprints here. He walked a few yards away and kept looking.
Mo pulled out his cell phone and called in the find, asked Ray to let CBP know to be on the lookout for illegals. A daylong hike could be deadly in this heat.
He walked up to the cab as he hung up, turned off the engine, found nothing but snacks and more empty water bottles. No registration papers for the truck or any other documentation in the glove compartment. He was willing to bet they weren’t going to find ID on the driver, either.
He checked the GPS unit and hit pay dirt. “Last address entered was the Hullett sheriff’s office,” he called out to Jamie. “You take the driver in. I’m going to drive over and see Sheriff Shane.”
He lucked out, caught the sheriff right in his office.
The man received him with a smarmy smile and an assurance of his full cooperation with whatever Mo’s problem was, and listened as Mo filled him in on the truck. “Any idea why the GPS would be programmed for this office?”
“Now, don’t you start on that.” The sheriff glared at him, taking a toothpick from his mouth and shoving it into his shirt pocket. “Just because you can’t do your job and now you’re getting desperate, don’t think you’re gonna go after my people.” It was pretty clear he was tired of outsiders meddling in what he thought of as his business.
“I’m just here to see if you might know what that GPS is all about.” No sense pissing off the local law until he knew something for sure. But if the sheriff and/or his staff was dirty, he was going after them with a vengeance. “All I’m asking is your opinion.”
The sheriff flashed him a hard look. “My guess is they were coming to someplace in town. Put the station in the GPS so if they get caught nobody is the wiser about their true destination.”
Mo thought about that for a second. Maybe. “I wouldn’t mind seeing whatever files you have on smuggling cases you’ve had over the years.”
The sheriff’s face darkened another shade. Not that surprising. Nobody liked it when strangers messed with their business.
Better put a positive spin on it. “I’m putting together some statistics for the budget recommendations we’re writing up. Who knows, maybe Hullett will get a chunk of federal money.”
The man didn’t look overly excited, but he did nod after a second. “I’ll have my secretary gather up what we have.”
Mo slid his card across the desk. “She can email me the files. I’d really appreciate it.”
He left the Hullett sheriff, thinking about the exchange, about what the chances were that the man was involved. He hated to think that someone sworn to uphold the law would trample his oath into the mud like that. Then another silver star caught his eye. The Pebble Creek sheriff going past the receptionist with a nod. A professional visit?
An annoyed frown crossed Kenny’s face as he spotted Mo. “Moses Mann.” He even said the name with derision.
“Sheriff Davis.”
“I hear you’ve been spending time at the Rogers ranch.”
Okay, he hadn’t planned on bringing up the subject, but as long as the sheriff had... Mo gave the man a level look. “I hear you’ve been doing the same.”
“Molly is a friend. I don’t like the idea of her out there alone,” the man said easily, but his gaze hardened. “I don’t like the idea of her being harassed, either.”
“My concern exactly,” Mo countered.
“I thought you were supposed to be watching the border.”
“That and the people who cross it with bad intentions.”
“And how long is this assignment of yours?”
“As long as it’s necessary.”
“Is it? Necessary? I’d hate to see taxpayer money wasted. I’m sure whatever you’re investigating, Molly is not connected.”
“Just keeping an eye on her to make sure she’s safe.”
“How about you let me worry about that?” The sheriff’s gaze hardened.
Getting into a confrontation with him would serve no purpose. So, as much as it burned him, Mo simply nodded and walked away from the man.
He had to go back to the office, but he decided to go out to the ranch and check on Molly when he was finished. He hadn’t seen her yet today. He wanted to make sure Logan had been okay going back to school.
That some bully would mess with the kid ticked him off.
He was going to offer support to Logan. He was absolutely not going to think about kissing Molly. He had no business starting something he couldn’t finish. Sooner or later, he’d be leaving. Kenny had been right about that.
Chapter Six
Molly went around finishing up her evening chores, trying not to stare at Mo in her backyard as he trained with Logan.
“Okay. So if someone grabs you from behind—” he demonstrated “—you do what?”
Logan flawlessly executed the move he’d been taught.
“And if the kid comes from the front, kicking?”
Once again, Logan was quick to block.
“Punching?” Mo’s impressive muscles flexed under his black T-shirt as he demonstrated the attack in slow motion.
She felt her temperature rise a degree or two as she watched him. Who looked like that in a simple T-shirt? Seriously.
Logan whooped with glee as he deflected the punch.
The dogs watched them with interest, too. Max from a safe distance, Cocoa doing her best to get in the way.
Mo was teaching self-defense moves only, not to attack, just to deflect blows.
“The goal is not to hurt your opponent. Just to let him know that you can and will defend yourself. You use as little force as absolutely necessary. They’ll get the message, believe me.”
Logan beamed. “Yes, sir.”
“How about you call me Mo? All right, let’s try the moves a little faster,” she heard him say as she went into the barn to do the milking.
She started with Nellie, since she was the fussiest
one. She had a tendency to kick over the milk bucket when she was in a temper. But she did all right this time, looking back toward the door as if listening for Mo’s voice outside.
He did have a nice voice, deep-timbered and masculine. His tone could cut in the interrogation room, but she was beginning to wonder if that was a learned skill. He hadn’t talked like that to her since, and he was extra gentle with Logan.
She moved her milking stool over to Holly, disinfected her udder then went on with the milking. By the time she finished with all the cows, Mo and Logan were coming into the barn.
Logan was grinning from ear to ear, eyes wide with excitement. “Mom, want to attack me from the front?”
“Ah, how about a little later?”
“Why don’t we give her a hand first?” Mo reached for the pails.
They processed the milk then Mo helped with the rest of her evening chores.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him as he collected the eggs with Logan. “Although I do appreciate the help.”
She was used to doing it alone. Dylan had too many businesses to give a hand with the day-to-day operations at the ranch.
“Actually,” Mo said as they walked inside through the back door. He waited until Logan rushed off to the laundry room to wash his hands, before continuing, “I didn’t just stop by to quickly check on you. I’d like to do a stakeout at the ranch tonight, if you don’t mind.”
A stakeout? “Did something happen today?”
Logan ran back. Mo stayed silent.
“Sure,” she said after a moment. She wanted him to catch the bad guys so Dylan’s name would finally be cleared. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be around, then.” He turned to leave.
“Would you like to have dinner with us?” she asked on impulse as she moved to the sink to clean up. He had helped her so much today. And not just today, really.
“You don’t have to feed me.” But he was smiling.
He was sexy when he smiled. She used to think his torn eyebrow made him look fierce and threatening. Now she thought it just made him look interesting. Added character.
“It’s just a couple of burgers. And we have plenty.” Why was she nervous all of a sudden? It wasn’t as if she was asking him on a date.
“Love a good burger. Thanks.”
Her fingertips tingled from nerves. Okay, this was way crazy. He was helping her out, and she was feeding him in exchange. No big deal.
Since she didn’t want him to see how flustered she was, she turned from him and busied herself with making dinner.
He came to help.
He sure had a way of filling up the kitchen.
“So how did you lose that eyebrow, anyway?” she asked, then couldn’t believe she had.
He ran his finger over the uneven skin. “I can’t really talk about that. Sorry.”
“No, I shouldn’t have pried,” she apologized. Then wondered just what kind of work he did. But she didn’t bring up the subject again, not in front of Logan. And there wasn’t really another moment of silence for a long time anyway.
During dinner, Logan entertained Mo with stories of the animals around the ranch. And how once, when he was little, he’d found a lizard in the yard, was afraid the chickens would get it while he had to take his nap, so he put it in his pocket, then hid it in the microwave.
Mo paid rapt attention and laughed at all the right places in the story, melting her heart little by little.
Then they discussed video games at length. Pretty much sounded like another language to her. The only thing she understood was that her son was way impressed with Mo’s gaming knowledge.
When Logan asked if he could read to Mo instead of her before bed, she wasn’t even surprised. They were rereading Harry Potter in the evenings, had switched to Logan reading to her a while back, instead of the other way around, so he could practice his reading skills. He also read to the dogs on occasion, which they oddly liked, but that was another story.
She had cleaned up and put away the last of the dishes by the time Mo came back down, his large frame filling the old house’s narrow staircase. Twilight settled outside. They were alone in the small kitchen, the scene suddenly oddly intimate.
If she ever had a husband, she imagined this might be the part when he would pull her into his arms, kiss her and then they would go upstairs together. She swallowed.
“Thanks again for dinner,” Mo said.
He really was a lot more handsome than scary. His size no longer intimidated her, not when she saw how gentle he was with Logan and with the animals around the ranch.
“You’re welcome.” Her gaze fell to his masculine lips and something deep inside her tingled. “Does this mean you’ll cut me some slack the next time you come to arrest me?” She’d blurted the first stupid question that came to her mind out of nowhere.
He did have the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t arrest you. I took you in for questioning. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you had anything to do with smuggling in the area. I haven’t for a while. Nobody is coming to arrest you.”
“Good to know,” she said inanely, then winced. Oh, great. Shoot me now. A sparkling conversationalist she was not. “Thank you for what you did for Logan,” she added, suddenly unable to stop talking. “I want him to have a good childhood. I want him to grow up and be able to reach his dreams.”
He watched her for a quiet second. “What are your dreams?”
The images that pushed into her mind were too unrealistic so she pushed them away. “For Logan to be happy and for Dylan to be exonerated.”
“Nothing for you specifically?”
She didn’t want to go there, so she went on the defensive. “How about you?”
He shrugged. “Getting on the next team, the next level up.”
She had no idea what that would be. “CIA? FBI?”
He gave her a half smile that was full of mystery. Right. If he were preparing to be some grand spymaster, he couldn’t exactly tell her, could he?
So his current assignment was a stepping stone for him. “Do you know when you’ll be leaving?”
“Molly...” He stepped forward and was suddenly too close. His gaze bored into hers.
She stood there wide-eyed, frozen like an armadillo in the headlights. The whole world seemed to stop for a moment.
She was pretty sure he was going to kiss her, and the thought nearly made her jump out of her skin.
But instead, after another moment, he shifted from one foot to the other, then turned and walked away. “I’ll be out there if you need me. Just call my cell.”
Then he was gone, and she felt a sudden wave of dizziness. Probably because she hadn’t remembered to breathe in the past five minutes.
* * *
OKAY, THAT WAS CLOSE. That couldn’t happen again. She was alone and in possible danger and no way in hell was he going to take advantage of her like that. Even if he really liked her.
The ranch was growing on him, too. Odd for a city kid, Mo thought as he walked around outside. But Molly’s place had a lot of old-country charm, everything as neat as a pin, the house filled with warmth. He couldn’t not feel comfortable sitting at that kitchen table.
Even the outbuildings were— He caught himself and shook his head. Right. Because he kept coming back due to his extreme fondness for the outbuildings. Not.
The dogs came running up from the back to walk with him.
“I even like you two goofballs,” he admitted as they stared at him, tongues lolling.
But most of all, he really, really liked Molly. Truth was, he was developing an extreme fondness for Molly Rogers. Maybe even more than simple liking. He wanted her, that was for sure. His body was clear on that every time they were in the same room together.
An
d when they weren’t together, he kept thinking about her. That was new. He wasn’t the type to obsess over a woman. But she was different, had a different effect on him than the women he’d dated. Not that he’d had a great many relationships. His job didn’t leave much time for that.
He’d always wanted family, just never thought it was time yet. Not for another ten years, according to the master plan.
Not that he knew how he would go about it once the time did come. His experience with family had been his foster father and four brothers. His foster mother had died early on of cancer. The father, a retired Marine, ran the house like boot camp after that. The five boys definitely needed the discipline. He’d raised them well. But something had always been missing, and not until now had Mo realized what it was.
Motherly softness.
What Molly had here at the ranch, her gentle care of her son and even the animals, of which every single one had a name, down to the last scrawny chicken, was special. There was something here that drew him irresistibly, and it went beyond the fact that her amazing curves made his palms itch or that her kissable lips made him space out midthought, or that Logan was a great kid, one he wouldn’t have minded spending more time with.
Of course, she probably couldn’t wait to get rid of him. All she wanted was for her life to go back to normal. She’d said as much more than once.
Mo checked the outbuildings, walked through the stables, patted the horses. Sonoma, a young bay, snorted at him in greeting. The animals were starting to get to know him. He looked in at the new horse in the back. That one had to be Kenny’s. He patted him, too. That he didn’t like his owner had nothing to do with the animal.
He checked every stall then moved outside, Max and Cocoa escorting him all the way to his pickup. Skipper was getting better, according to Ryder, who visited Grace Cordero pretty much every day. Looked as if Ryder and Grace had something good, something real.
Mo squashed the beginning of some weird longing that thought awakened inside him. Ryder was ready for that next step. Good for him. Mo wasn’t. He wanted to make it to the CIA. He wanted to make his father proud.
He started the engine and drove toward the fields instead of the main road. He pulled into the nearest mesquite grove, shut down the car and pulled out his binoculars. He could see the whole ranch from there, making it the perfect surveillance point. He scanned the house and the yard—everything was quiet.
