No Mercy

by Cheyenne McCray

  “I agree.” She smoothed her hair away from her face. “The sooner you get all of the postcards, the better.”

  “Yes.” Dylan looked up from the note. “You and I have a lot to talk about that has nothing to do with Nate.”

  She let out her breath. It was clear that she wanted to avoid any discussions, but she said, “I know you’re right. It will just be…difficult.”

  “I need to drive to Sierra Vista to stop by Leon’s office and pick up his card.” Dylan slid Christie’s and Belle’s cards into his shirt pocket. “Why don’t you come with me? His kids are older than Marta’s and a couple of them work for him. They might be there.”

  A touch of surprise flickered over her features. She paused, as if not sure what she should do, then nodded. “I’d like to see him again and perhaps meet his family.”

  Dylan scooped up his hat that had fallen to the floor and waited for her to slip on her black blazer. The blazer covered the cream sweater that hugged the soft curves of her breasts, and he loved the gentle way her waist flared out to her hips. She lifted her dark hair, pulling it from where it had caught in the collar of her blazer, and then picked up her purse.

  He opened the door for her and followed before using the big brass key to lock the door behind them. He handed the key to her and she dropped it into her purse before swinging the strap over her shoulder. Finding any excuse possible to touch her, he put his fingers to her lower back as he escorted her out of the hotel. Even through the blazer, he felt a shiver go through her.

  They walked across the street to the plaza, then headed to the parking lot behind the building. When they reached his truck, he unlocked it and helped her into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s side and starting the vehicle.

  His cell rang and he left the truck in park as he un-holstered his phone and saw from the screen that it was Trace.

  Dylan answered the call. “What’s up?”

  “Edmund’s Salcido’s blood at Nate’s place, along with his disappearance, got us the warrant to search Salcido’s home,” Trace said. “We’re on our way now.”

  “Text me the address.” Dylan glanced at Belle. “I’ll be right there.”

  “You’ve got it.” Trace disconnected the call.

  “I need to make a detour that’s part of the investigation related to Nate’s death.” Dylan considered dropping Belle off back at her hotel, but decided he’d prefer to keep her close. “Mind tagging along? You’ll need to stay in the truck, but I don’t know how long it will take. I could be in and out or it could be an hour.”

  Belle appeared to be considering his question. “I don’t have anything else to do, and I want to see you get to the bottom of what happened to Nate.”

  His phone vibrated and he looked down at the screen to see the address Trace had texted. He started to have second thoughts when he saw where the home was located, and he looked at Belle. “The house is in Galena.”

  Her face paled. The Galena subdivision was where her stepfather lived, and where she had lived before she ran. “What’s the address?” she asked quietly.

  Dylan gave it to her and she visibly relaxed. “That’s on the opposite side of the subdivision.”

  “You don’t have to go.” He studied her. “I can take you back to the Copper Queen.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  Despite his growing misgivings, he put the truck into gear and headed away from Old Bisbee, on the road that hugged the fenced-in pit mines, on around the traffic circle, and then to Galena.

  During the drive, he was incredibly aware of her sitting next to him, a familiar sense that he’d missed all these years. When he glanced at her, he saw her watching him and wondered if she was feeling the same kind of connection.

  It didn’t take long to reach Salcido’s home. A number of law enforcement vehicles filled the street in front of the house as agents performed their duties.

  Over the years the neighborhood had fallen mostly into disrepair. Dylan pulled up behind a black DHS SUV in front of the home. The house was one of the few that were in good shape. It had a white exterior and green shutters that looked recently painted.

  A Hispanic woman stood on the porch next to a swing, talking with Trace. She looked furious and was making angry gestures with her hands as DHS agents went in and out of the home.

  “Hang tight.” Dylan looked at Belle as he opened the door of his truck, letting in the sound of voices. “Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

  “No worries.” Belle pulled a flat device out of her purse and held it up. “I have my e-reader. I’ll just continue where I left off in this mystery I’m reading.”

  “Lock your door.” Dylan gave her a quick kiss and squeezed her arm. “You have my number in your phone from yesterday. Call me if you need me,” he added before he climbed out of the truck, shutting the door firmly behind him. He waited for her to lock her door before turning away.

  He strode past agents carrying boxes of paperwork and computer equipment out of the house. When he reached the top of the stairs, the woman was still yelling at Trace, rattling off her anger in Spanish.

  Trace put his hands up in a “slow down” gesture. “Mrs. Salcido, we have a warrant.” Trace spoke in fluent Spanish. “As I explained, we need to find out what happened to your husband.”

  “Why are you taking my husband’s belongings?” Her Spanish was rapid, almost hard to keep up with. “You are destroying my home.”

  She started to go into the house, but Trace stepped in her way. He continued speaking in Spanish. “You cannot go in. You must wait out here.” He gestured to Jennie Ortega, a young DHS agent. “This is Agent Ortega. She will stay with you, Mrs. Salcido.”

  Mrs. Salcido swung around to face Jennie and started in on her. Jennie was tough and never put up with anyone’s B.S. She, too, spoke in Spanish. “If you do not calm down, I will put you in the back of one of our vehicles and you will wait there.”

  At that point Mrs. Salcido burst into tears and dropped onto the porch swing.

  “I’ve got this.” Jennie spoke to Trace as she switched to English and gestured to the front door. “Go do your thing.”

  Trace gave Jennie a nod. “Thanks.” He and Dylan walked into the house.

  Dylan wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Salcido was upset. Agents were going through the house, leaving no stone unturned. He walked with Trace through the house, passing agents who were busy combing the place. “Hopefully we’ll find some answers here.”

  “What we’re finding are more questions.” Trace led Dylan to a closet, its door ajar. An open safe was in one corner on the floor. “The safe wasn’t locked, and inside we found a slip of paper and approximately ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills. Presumably for Mrs. Salcido. According to her, she never messed with the safe and didn’t think to look to see if it was unlocked.”

  “Ten thousand. That’s some stash for an accountant to leave behind.” Dylan looked from the safe to Trace. “What did the note say?”

  “Lo siento.” Trace shook his head. “That’s it.”

  “Who is he saying ‘I’m sorry’ to?” Dylan stared at the safe again before answering his own question. “Likely to his wife.”

  “Probably.” Trace looked around them. “Ten grand and a house. Guess he figured that was enough to take care of Mrs. Salcido.”

  Trace and Dylan walked out of the office and to the living room as Dylan added, “If he intentionally left on his own and wasn’t forced.”

  “That’s the million dollar question.” Trace reached the front door and looked out, Dylan following.

  Through the front windshield of the truck, Belle could be seen staring at her e-reader.

  Trace nodded toward the truck. “You brought company.”

  Dylan started down the porch stairs while Trace remained on the top step. “If you’ve got everything under control, I have someplace to be.”

  “I can handle it.” Trace made a gesture with his hand. �
�Take care of what you need to.”

  Dylan turned back to the truck and headed across the street. Belle glanced up as he opened the truck door, climbed in, and shut it behind him.

  He looked at her. “Good book?”

  “It’s twisted but compelling.” She shrugged. “And it’s better than facing what’s going on now. I don’t like our real life mystery.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Dylan threw the truck into gear.

  She tilted her head to the side. “Did you find anything that could help shed light on Nate’s death?”

  “Not yet.” He shook his head as he backed up the truck. “But I’m hopeful we’ll find something.”

  “I hope so, too.” She turned to glance out the window, clearly lost in her thoughts.

  The drive to where Leon lived outside of Sierra Vista was a good half hour from Bisbee. Belle continued to stare out the window as he drove, as if hoping Dylan wouldn’t want to talk. He did want to ask her more questions about the past, but he figured he’d stick with the present.

  He steered the truck down the empty highway. No one ahead and no one following. “Christie mentioned you’ve been in the restaurant business for some time.”

  Belle turned her gaze from the window and looked at him. “I started from the bottom up. I began as a dishwasher and moved on to bussing tables, then hostessing, waitressing, and on from there. Over the years, I transitioned my way to restaurant manager.”

  He felt a knot in his chest when he thought about her having to wash dishes just to survive after running away. “You manage a restaurant now?”

  “I did.” She let out a long sigh. She explained the circumstances leading up to walking out on her job.

  “What kind of ass—” Dylan let out his breath, “—idiot would refuse to let an employee leave for the death of a friend?”

  “Now I have job hunting in my future when I return to Houston.” She looked tense as she shifted in her seat. “But I’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure if she added the last words to reassure herself or him.

  He didn’t like the way it made him feel to think about her leaving and returning to Houston. A very big part of him wanted to claim her and tell her he was never letting her out of his sight again. He’d loved her with everything he had then, and now his heart wanted her back.

  What the hell was he thinking? She left once. What was to stop her from running again?

  But that had been because of her stepfather. She was an adult now and the bastard couldn’t hurt her.

  Dylan ground his teeth. It was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to drive straight to Harvey Driscoll’s home and beat the shit out of the sonofabitch. Dylan had always had a temper and it was only hard won control that kept him from acting on it.

  It took effort, but Dylan turned his thoughts to the present and the fact that they’d arrived.

  Leon Petroski’s business was located on a property near his house, which was one of the nicer homes in the area. Dylan pulled his truck up to a huge workshop where Leon was talking with a couple of men. They wore shirts with logos on the back that read Leon’s Pump and Well Service.

  Leon said something to the men who nodded, and walked to a truck bearing the same logo on the doors as they had on their shirts. The men were driving away by the time Dylan and Belle parked in front of Leon and his shop. The place was filled with heavy equipment, drilling and pump supplies.

  After Dylan helped Belle out of the truck, she hugged Leon and Dylan clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Leon, who was tall and lean, adjusted a ball cap, pulling it down on his sandy blond hair. “It’s been crazy around here, and getting back to Bisbee over the next couple of days to give you the postcard would be difficult.”

  “Not a problem,” Dylan said.

  “G.I. Joe is up at the house.” Leon nodded in the direction of his home. “He seems to be settling in well.”

  Dylan nodded. “I appreciate you taking him in.” He looked over the shop and at the office building attached to the much larger workshop. “Some setup you have here.”

  “We keep busy.” Leon nodded in the direction of the office building. “I’ll introduce you to my wife and get you that card.”

  “Does your wife work with you?” Belle walked on the opposite side of Leon from Dylan.

  Leon shook his head. “Jane owns a clothing boutique in Sierra Vista. She took the afternoon off.”

  He led them into the attached office building and wiped his work boots on a mat before stepping inside.

  A tall woman with short spiky hair glanced up from a paper she had been poring over as she sat behind a desk. She looked from Dylan to Belle and smiled as she stood.

  Leon made introductions. Jane had a firm grip as she greeted both Belle and Dylan. “Leon has mentioned your Circle a few times over the years.” Jane glanced at the postcard on the desk before picking it up. “I understand this was from one of your group.”

  Dylan reached out and took the card from her. On the front of the postcard was a picture of Bisbee’s Brewery Gulch. His gaze slid over the words as Belle peeked over his shoulder.

  Leon,

  Hear you’ve got quite an operation going over in Sierra Vista and that you have a beautiful wife, a daughter, and two sons who keep you busy. I’m happy life is treating you well.

  I’ll never forget that Hail Mary pass you caught to win the game over Douglas. You were one hell of a receiver.

  Take care of you and yours,

  Nate

  Dylan frowned. “You were the quarterback and you threw that Hail Mary pass to win the game.”

  “Exactly.” Leon braced one hand on a file cabinet. “That’s some mistake.”

  “Leon said you all received a postcard and each one is odd.” Jane tilted her head to the side. “What do you think that’s all about?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Not sure.”

  Jane gestured to the postcard. “We’ve made a copy, so you can take the original.”

  “Thank you.” Dylan tucked the postcard into his shirt pocket with the two others.

  Jane turned to Belle. “Leon mentioned you left while still in high school.” Jane seemed to be the type who said whatever was on her mind.

  Belle shifted her stance and looked uncomfortable with Jane’s forward statement. “That’s true,” Belle said quietly.

  Leon came to Belle’s rescue. “Anyone like a beer or a soda? We can head on over to the house.”

  “I’m on the job, so no beer for me.” Dylan figured they should probably spend a few moments with Leon and his wife.

  Belle nodded her agreement. “Soda is fine for me.”

  They drove to the house and then spent the next hour talking with Leon about his business and his kids. His wife was pleasant but continued to be very direct, and her questions often seemed to throw Belle off balance.

  Belle also got to meet Joe, and she spent some time caressing and talking to him. The German shepherd was friendly to everyone there, but to Dylan he seemed to be a little less enthusiastic than he usually was. No doubt the dog missed Nate.

  When Dylan thought he and Belle had stayed long enough, he thanked the Petroskis for their hospitality and Belle echoed his thank you. Dylan handed Leon his business card, which included his personal cell number. Dylan patted Joe one last time before following Leon to the front door.

  “You don’t think Nate was just messing with you all?” Jane said as Leon reached for the doorknob. “It might have been his way of saying ‘Let’s talk.’”

  “Could be.” Dylan gave a slow nod. “One way or another, we’ll figure this out. You can count on it.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Afternoon sunlight faded as they drove from Leon’s home to Bisbee. It had been a long day, but Belle found herself not wanting it to end. She knew she shouldn’t stay close to Dylan, not with the secret she still kept, but she couldn’t tear herself away from him. The energy between them was electric, but fam
iliar and comfortable.

  She watched him as he drove, studying his strong features and the dark stubble on his jaw that hadn’t been there when he was a teenager. He’d been a clean-cut country boy, not nearly as rough and toughened as he looked now. She wondered what he’d been through all these years, what had given him the hardness she sensed in him. It almost surprised her that he was gentle with her the few times they’d been around each other. And that kiss…it had been so sensual, almost as if he’d been communicating something through it. Yet he didn’t appear like a man who was gentle for anyone.

  She knew she had to tell him the truth, the whole truth, but she was afraid of what he might do when he found out her stepfather was partially responsible for Dylan’s father’s murder. He’d also be angry she hadn’t told him sooner. Should she wait for the right time? Would there ever be a right time?

  “Tom is working until eight tonight.” Dylan shoved his phone into its holster as he glanced from the road to Belle. “He’ll be home by eight-thirty and he’s going to text me his address when he’s there.”

  She reached into her purse and glanced at the time on her phone. “That’s another three hours from now.”

  Dylan met her gaze. “Tired?”

  “A little.” Her stomach growled. “But mostly hungry.”

  He glanced back to the road. “Do you want to go out to eat?”

  She sighed. “I don’t feel like going to a restaurant. Maybe I should order room service at the hotel.”

  “Let’s get takeout.” He pulled his phone out of its holster again. “I know the perfect place we can go to enjoy it.”

  Her belly flipped at the way he looked at her and she thought about their moment alone in the hotel room. She almost suggested they go back there but managed to bite back the words.

  He called a small dive they used to go to in Old Bisbee and placed an order for two of the place’s popular enormous hamburgers. Her mouth watered at the memory of them. They had always been the best she’d ever remembered tasting. And the place had made the most amazing milkshakes.

  After he placed the phone order, she asked. “So where are we going?”