The gang appeared to be on premises with a purpose. Their matching scowls conveyed that whatever their reason for being there, it wasn’t recreational—unless murder and mayhem was considered sport.
Other passengers glanced at the gang, but minded their own business. Lela doubted any citizen would get involved. Even without the insight she had about vicious gangs, the men’s demeanor was frightening. So far, the men hadn’t actively threatened, but their presence was alarming enough.
The mother pulled her kids closer, and the businessman squinted at his computer screen. The room seemed quieter, as though each waiting passenger held their breath, praying for the gangsters to leave, and quickly.
Lela tried to stay calm. She had enough happening without any unwelcome encounter with the drug purveyors of the city. But she wasn’t naïve enough to assign the gang member’s appearance to mere coincidence. The reason she was being ushered onto a train, headed toward protective custody, was because she was scheduled to testify in a drug-related case.
Could these thugs have any connection to that case?
The feds were on alert, though outwardly staying cool. Robertson stood up and positioned his body in front of hers. He said in a low voice, “We’ve got our eyes on them.”
Why didn’t that make Lela feel any better? If she’d been the only one perceiving a threat, she could have brushed it aside. It was a nerve-racking day to start with; she was worrying without cause. But if the feds were on high alert, there was a greater chance that trouble was about to find them.
A group of passengers stood up and grabbed their luggage, momentarily blocking Lela’s view. Then they moved toward the gate, leaving the three gang members in full view. The gangsters were too close for comfort.
Lela’s heart raced. The gangsters were within smelling distance when they made their move. The tall one shouted, “Grab her!”
The thin guy had his arms around Lela before she could move. The feds engaged with the other two gangsters. A glimmer of a gun barrel caught her eye. Then the first shot was fired.
Chapter 2
Six months earlier ~
Deadlines loomed, but Lela Cabelo was up to the task. In her role as one of the paralegals in the law office of Ortiz and Associates, she was trusted with high-profile cases. All morning, she’d methodically prepped for an upcoming meeting with the staff. Her desk was piled with paper and files, but she had each categorized. What might look like a mess was really organized documentation. Computers only went so far; sometimes hard copies were required.
Senator Raimundo M. Ortiz had dedicated his career to bringing about needed changes to the adult and juvenile criminal justice system in the state of Texas. Stronger enforcement and penalties for violent crime offenders was called for, while the constitutional rights of the individual should be protected.
That had been his campaign message, and his constituents had agreed with fervor. It had been the reason Lela had sought employment in the senator’s law office. After college, she’d aspired to becoming an FBI field agent, but her eyesight hadn’t been good enough. A childhood virus had compromised her vision enough to disqualify her.
Her ten-year marriage to Tomás had derailed her career, but she’d gotten back on track and had devoted four years to getting her degree before the split with him. Her husband hadn’t been keen on his wife working outside the home, which was one of the reasons for their breakup. With her degree, she’d had no trouble finding employment in her field.
If she couldn’t work for the FBI to catch the criminals, then she’d support legislation to protect the city from them. The violent crime rate in Houston was higher than for the rest of the state. It wasn’t hard to understand why. The Houston area was a major distribution hub for illegal drugs. Its major highways, access to waterways, and strong international trade made it a magnet for trafficking.
His role in the Texas legislature gave Senator Ortiz power to influence the drug problem for the better. Lela was inspired to support him, as well as to seek employment in his law office.
The senator’s devotion to constitutional law was another mark in his favor. As one of his paralegals, Lela had the opportunity to assist in causes she cared deeply about. It was a way that she could make a difference, and she needed that on many levels.
Currently, the crime issues garnered attention from key sectors. It was encouraging that federal, state, and local law enforcement collaborated to proactively fight violent crime across the greater Houston area. The goal was to reduce the amount of violent crime and improve the quality of life for the citizens.
It had been an intense morning. Lela was valued for her attention to detail, and she didn’t intend to disappoint the team. When it came to constitutional law, the little things mattered. And she was good at putting it all together in a clear picture.
The preparation was complete, except for making a few copies to hand out, so she took a coffee break. The office brew left much to be desired. No matter what blend was selected, or what new equipment was purchased, the coffee from the lunchroom tasted bitter.
Lela took the elevator to the lobby and ordered an Americano. She took a sip, relishing the fresh-roasted taste. Then her phone vibrated, so she checked the screen. It was her mother. Anyone else would have texted, but her mom wasn’t into that. She preferred to actually talk, claiming that she needed to hear her daughter’s voice, not stare at text on a screen.
She did have a point. Mariana Cabelo was in her early sixties, so it wasn’t likely she was going to change anyway. “Good morning, Mamá.”
“Good morning, mi hija. I’m sorry to interrupt your work.”
“I was just having a cup of coffee. What’s up?”
“You’re still coming this weekend, right?” Her mother’s tone indicated that saying no wasn’t an option.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Lela really was. It was Cinco de Mayo, and each year her family had a big bash at her mother’s home. The day was a reason to have a party, something her family did well.
Her heart warmed at thoughts of her family. Lela had two older brothers, Mateo and Elias, and one younger brother, Ivan. They would be there with their wives and children. But that didn’t begin to account for the number of relatives who would be in attendance. Her mother’s sisters and their families were invited. Then there were countless cousins, nieces, and nephews.
“Bring a few extra bottles of wine,” her mother said. “You know better what the young people like to drink.”
“I’ll bring several bottles.”
“Your aunts and I have all the food taken care of.”
Lela was sure of that. Her mouth watered as she contemplated the vast array of festive dishes. There would be carnitas topped with queso fresco, pickled onions, and her mom’s homemade salsa. The ingredients would be wrapped in a homemade corn tortilla, lightly heated on a comal.
But Lela’s favorite, the treat she craved, was the lamb barbacoa that had been smoked underground in banana leaves. It was a tradition, and her family’s parties were the only occasions where she could get it made the right way.
“I should get back to work. I love you, Mamá…mucho.” After ending the call, Lela took her coffee up to the office, with a few minutes left to make copies for the meeting.
With time to spare, she entered the conference room and distributed the packets of data on the table. But her mind was someplace else. The verve she’d had for her job with the senator had fizzled. It had happened gradually, but recent discoveries had wiped out the admiration she’d had for her employer.
Her coworkers filed in, and the meeting lasted an hour or so. It was good that one of the associates directed the proceedings, leaving Lela to her thoughts. When it ended, she smiled and grabbed her stack of papers, wanting to return to the privacy of her office.
On the way, Lela bumped into her boss. He was by himself, going somewhere important, she was sure. Senator Ortiz was average height, medium build, and dressed the part of a prominent lawyer
. The expensive suit and tie were a notch above what the rest of the associates wore, flaunting the senator’s status.
His dark hair was nicely groomed. The receding hairline and dusting of gray at the temples added a touch of sophistication. It was odd that when Lela had met him, she’d considered him handsome. She’d missed the perpetual smirk pasted on his face, and the left eyebrow that was raised, as though he was questioning.
But the goatee set off the image. The dark beard on his chin was closely trimmed, then a line of hair circled his mouth. The thin trail of hair went to his upper lip, across and down, to reconnect with the chin hair. It lent him a haughty air, though he needed little help with that.
“Ms. Cabelo,” the senator said as he strode by.
“Senator.” Lela kept her voice cordial, despite her distaste for the man.
Behind the closed door of her office, Lela dumped the paperwork on her desk and sagged into her chair. She looked at the various photos of her family, arranged in one corner, and reached out to touch one of the frames. It was a picture of her parents, taken before her father’s death.
Franco Cabelo had been a good cop, and had been in line for chief of police. The Houston PD was his life, his passion. All of Lela’s young life, she’d thought of her father as indestructible. He’d protect her and fight for what was right. She hadn’t doubted that.
Then her father had been gunned down in an alley. It was broad daylight, and he’d been making an arrest. He’d been known and respected for doing his part to reduce drug-related crime in the city. A thug had taken him out, and although the criminal had been prosecuted, that hadn’t brought her father back.
Lela ran her fingertip over the top of the gilded frame. “I love you, Papá. I miss you so much.” She’d blamed the drug cartel for her father’s murder, and rightfully so. It was so unjust that such a good man had been killed in his prime, leaving his loving family behind.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away. She’d lost her father when she’d been in high school, just after her sweet sixteen birthday party. The event had crushed her and the rest of the family. She’d been especially close to her father.
Lela had been his only daughter. Her father adored his sons, but his hija preciosa, precious daughter, was the apple of his eye. He did special things with her, took her on outings, and when she was old enough, he taught her how to fight.
That might seem a strange thing to teach a girl, but not for a cop. Her father knew the dangers that were ever-present, and it was his aim to keep her safe. Yet knowing he couldn’t be with her every second of every day, he’d made sure that his precious girl could take care of herself.
Although Lela hadn’t stopped missing her father, she’d grown up and had a life of her own. The job with the senator had provided immense satisfaction, because she could finally do something about violent crime. She was actively working to reduce the threat of the drug cartels.
Looking at the photograph, her heart fell. “I’m sorry, Papá,” she said. “I won’t let him get away with it.”
In recent months, Lela had discovered that Senator Ortiz wasn’t what he claimed to be. It began with a suspicion, based on observations of his behavior. While touting all the right messages, he was doing the opposite. He’d allied with the cartel for profit. That discovery had sickened her. In the public eye, the man presented the image he wanted others to see, and even forwarded causes that raised his popularity.
Meanwhile, the senator lined his pockets with ill-gotten funds. He helped launder money, yet kept a portion of it. He used his influence to protect ruthless criminals. And as appalling as it was, he dealt drugs on the side. His greed knew no limit.
But he wouldn’t get away with it.
It had taken Lela months, but she’d put together evidence against him. Familiar with police methods, she’d discreetly followed Ortiz and obtained photos of key meetings. She’d managed to get copies of accounting records that were incriminating. Yet there was one more vital piece of the puzzle.
Lela needed the data from her boss’s computer, and was certain that he was arrogant enough to believe that no one would dare crack into it. On that score, he was wrong. The senator’s private office was locked unless he was using it. But locks could be opened if one knew how.
Now Lela was the one after her prey, and she’d been patient, watching for the right moment. Such an opportunity was coming up very soon. And she couldn’t wait.
A knock brought her back to the present. Her friend Ashlee Vidal peeked inside and, seeing that Lela was alone, walked in. In the looks department, her friend was the exact opposite of her. Lela had dark, wavy hair, while Ash’s hair was long, blond, and straight as a board.
Lela had her father’s deep brown eyes, while Ash’s were as blue as the sky. And Lela had curves to spare, but her friend was as tall and willowy as a runway model. Yet they had much in common, and tended to see issues in the same light.
Ash glided up to the desk in her leather heels. Her pastel designer suit and silk blouse were without a wrinkle, as was her lovely, flawless skin. “I’m starved,” she said. “Aren’t we going to lunch?” She glanced at the photos on Lela’s desk, then furrowed her brow. “What are you doing in here?”
That was the thing about Ash: she was perceptive—a bit too much sometimes. It wouldn’t do for Lela to falsify her feelings, since her expression must have already revealed her emotion. “I just miss my dad, that’s all. Some days are like that.” She stood up and grabbed her purse. “I’m up for Fusion Taco. My mother called earlier about the party this weekend, and has me drooling for Mexican food.”
Ash smiled, showing perfect teeth. “I’m in.” She made a sweeping motion toward the door. “Let’s get going, then. I have to be back on time for this new project I’ve been assigned.”
Lela followed her friend out and caught the elevator before it closed. The restaurant was right around the corner, so they should be back in plenty of time.
The place was busy, but Ash found a table. Lela sat across from her, and they ordered iced teas. Having been there so many times before, there was no need for a menu. The waiter took their orders for fish tacos and sped off to the next table.
While Lela sipped her tea and waited for the food, Ash launched into her favorite topic: men. It seemed that beauty alone couldn’t guarantee an enviable love life. She had no shortage of dates, but finding the right man had eluded her.
“So, we go on the date, and he immediately thinks he’s invited to my bed.” Ash pouted. “Isn’t there a man out there who wants to get to know me? At least have a real conversation before we get intimate?”
Lela stirred more sugar into her tea. “You haven’t found the right guy, that’s all.”
“Any suggestions?”
“I’m the last woman to give advice. You know my track record. Ten years of misery,” Lela said. “No, that’s an exaggeration. The first couple of years were good. It just all went to hell after that.”
“I’m surprised you made it as long as you did. I know you, Lela girl, and you aren’t one to play second fiddle to a man. It has to be an equal partnership or nothing for you.”
Lela smiled.
“Of course, you do present a challenge.” Ash grinned. “I love you…you know that. But, I mean, there aren’t many men who can handle an independent woman, especially one who can fight like you can.”
“I thought we were talking about you.”
Ash shrugged. “So what was up in your office? I caught you deep in thought. Is there something I should know?”
Lela took a gulp of tea, stalling. Her friend had her own suspicions about their boss. The senator had odd habits, unaccounted for meetings, and his lifestyle exceeded his income. Constitutional attorneys didn’t earn that much, and a senator’s salary for attending the legislative session every other year was paltry. Although Lela happened to know the position’s benefits made up for it, even for the honest senators.
Ash leaned forward and
lowered her voice. “You’re onto something, aren’t you?”
“There are some things it’s best if you don’t know about.”
Ash narrowed her eyes. “Just be careful,” she said. “And I could help. I’m not useless, you know.”
Lela laughed, and then the waiter came by with the food, giving her a reprieve from continuing the discussion. What she had planned was best done alone. Involving her closest friend would put both of them in a dicey situation, so she’d chosen not to share the juicy details.
*****
After work, Lela took the short walk to her apartment. When she’d divorced four years before, she’d moved close to the law office. Plus, she enjoyed the downtown area. Since she lived alone, there was no need to take on the expense and upkeep of a house in the suburbs. The loft with a view of the city suited her well.
At home, Lela turned on some music, then shed her business attire and put on her workout clothes. She had a training session later. In bare feet, she walked across the hardwood floors to the kitchen, and rummaged in the refrigerator for a snack. A carton of vanilla yogurt and a banana should fuel her enough for now. She’d eat a light dinner afterward.
She sat at the dark wood table and peeled open the container. Before moving in, she’d had the interior redone. The bright red and yellow colors were cheerful. The plush furniture was comfortable. And most of all, the place was secure. Security personnel were posted downstairs every hour of the day.
Lela had changed the lock, and added a deadbolt she closed from the inside. Living in a big city had its risks. But she’d become more safety conscious now that she’d delved into the senator’s criminal life. And she’d had a safe installed, so she could securely store all the evidence she’d acquired.
A safe deposit box might have worked, but Lela was familiar with the law. With a court order, a box could be opened, and she didn’t want that. As it was, no one knew about her hidden safe. And she’d had it installed in an inconspicuous place. A search of the apartment wouldn’t reveal it. And the safe was encased in rubber, so a metal detector would be of no use.
Grave Peril_Military Romantic Suspense Page 2
