by Unknown
“Thank you for contacting him.” Natasha studied Brooks, her features still drawn and tight. “Christie needs him after a scare like that.”
“Of course.” He unfolded her fingers and gripped them in his hand. “I care about her. I care about you. Now you need to let me do my job and get everyone out of this mess.”
Natasha hesitated and then nodded slowly. “All right. If you think you can do it without anyone getting killed, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”
He felt a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t going to fight him anymore when it came to helping her.
“I am going to need your help.” Brooks didn’t like the idea of Natasha having to do anything that could put her in more danger, and he’d do his best to minimize that potential. However, he would need her.
“Do you have any ideas?” She looked hopeful. “What do you need me to do?”
“Right now the best thing is for you to hold tight.” He gripped her fingers. “Keep the status quo so that Okle doesn’t get suspicious.” He paused. “Trace is going to get Christie and the baby out of town, so they’ll be safe.”
Conflict warred in Natasha’s gaze. “I’m glad they’ll be safe. What about our grandparents and Trace? Mark threatened them, too, if anyone acted suspicious, which would include any of them leaving town.”
“You’re going to have to make Okle believe that it had nothing to do with you.” Brooks considered it. “You could tell him that Christie’s nerves are shot from the near miss, so she’s going to Tucson. I don’t know where Trace is sending her, but it’s not there. It’s better we don’t know.”
“I could tell Mark that Christie said she’s going to visit a spa to get pampered and to relax, but I don’t know which one.” Natasha tilted her head to the side. “Do you think a spa in a resort with a daycare, with a room reserved in her name, would work?”
“That’s good.” Brooks nodded. “I’ll arrange it and have a Tucson agent stay in the room in Christie’s place so that someone is using it if Okle checks out your story. The agent can wear a red wig and carry a doll wrapped in a blanket or in a stroller.”
Natasha’s shoulders sagged, as if in relief. “That’s got to work.”
“It will.” Brooks gave her a gentle smile. “Our agents are the best.”
She put her free hand over his. “Thank you for everything.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers before drawing back. “We’ll get this bastard.”
CHAPTER 19
By the time Brooks left Natasha’s, it was after two in the afternoon. It was a mild January day with only a hint of a chill.
He made it up the hill and to his truck, certain he hadn’t been seen. A different car was parked where her tail had been, and even from a distance, Brooks could see the asshole had binoculars, directed right at Natasha’s house.
Brooks was careful, so he wasn’t worried he’d been seen in her home or leaving it. However, he didn’t like it one damned bit that Okle had people watching Natasha. And he didn’t like this fat bastard behind the wheel just waiting for a chance to get a peek at her. Natasha was keeping the curtains drawn, so Brooks didn’t think the man would get even a glimpse of her. Still, Brooks clenched his jaw. He couldn’t raise Okle’s suspicions, and kicking the ass of one of the man’s employees wasn’t going to help in that regard.
He tossed his hat onto the passenger seat before he climbed into his truck and jammed the key in the ignition. He put his foot on the brake and started the vehicle so the truck’s engine rumbled. A sharp pain went through his thigh when he made the motion.
It was true he didn’t think his femur was fractured, but his leg hurt like a sonofabitch. Hiking up and down the mountain hadn’t helped at all.
Sex with Natasha—fucking amazing sex—had made him forget about his injuries. When he was with her, this kind of pain didn’t exist. She was a witch who had cast a spell on him the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and her magic took all hurts away.
He let the truck idle as he checked his phone. Damn. Two missed calls from his RAC, two from Trace, and one from Jase. Brooks connected his phone to his truck’s speakers via Bluetooth and gave the command to call Sofia Aguilar.
“Where the hell have you been?” His RAC’s voice was hard when she answered. “Between Jase’s reports, Christie Davidson nearly being run down, and you having gone missing, I’m bordering on way past pissed. You know damned good and well you should have reported to me the moment Trace’s wife was nearly hit.”
Brooks dragged his palm down his face. “I’ve been working the case, Sofia. I should have called in, but there have been developments.” Like me fucking the former suspect. He continued before Sofia could interrupt. “I got Natasha to talk and we have a serious problem.”
He put his truck into drive and gave Sofia every detail necessary as he headed back down the hill and on through Old Bisbee. He made it clear he was certain Natasha was an innocent being used, and Sofia expressed her agreement, based on all that had happened.
The anonymous phone call backed up Brooks’s convictions, although that could have been done to throw them off. Brooks and Sofia concurred that was likely not the case, and that Natasha was being used by Okle.
Brooks passed the fenced-off open pit mines as he told Sofia the plan he’d been working on in his mind.
“I need to pull a select team together, and that includes Trace.” Brooks knew that wasn’t going to go over well, and Sofia didn’t disappoint.
“Out of the question.” He could picture her shaking her head as she spoke, and the hard line of her jaw. “Trace is to stay out of the loop.”
“He knows something’s going on.” Brooks worked to keep his tone even. “His wife was almost run down in the street. I had to tell him to get Christie someplace safe because something’s going on with Natasha. He deserves the whole story.”
A long pause and he imagined wheels turning in Sofia’s brain. She was an intelligent woman, one of the best agents and RACs he’d ever worked with. When she made a decision, she calculated all options and risks, and he knew that was what she was doing now. She wasn’t one to be too full of pride to change a decision when other facts or alternatives were presented to her.
“Agreed.” Sofia’s voice showed she was still in control when she spoke. “Trace is at home with Christie. I’ll call him and discuss the case.”
“It might be better if I talk with him face-to-face.” Brooks dreaded the meeting, but he knew in his gut that was how it had to be dealt with. “He’s not going to be pleased with the situation, but it needs to be done.”
“All right.” A sound like the shuffling of paper came over the line. “In the future, apprise me of any further developments immediately. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Explain the plan you alluded to.” It was an order, not a request.
“I’d like to get a Title III wiretap to record Okle’s phone calls.” Brooks gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We have what we need to get the request through. The surveillance images and video of Okle dealing with individuals who are known associates of the Jimenez Cartel contributes to our case, but we need more.”
He continued, “I’d also like to monitor Natasha’s cell phone as well, but with her permission.”
Another pause from Sofia. “You have your team, but we’ll discuss your plan when you get into the office, after you talk with Trace.”
It was the best he was going to get at the moment, and he could live with that—for now.
Sofia disconnected he call and Brooks drove to Trace and Christie’s small ranch where they kept four horses and several head of cattle. Christie had never lived on a ranch, but she’d taken to it like she’d been born and raised in the country.
With the demands of Trace’s job, he had hired a ranch hand long ago to take care of the animals and chores. Christie had insisted on jumping in and they’d increased the size of the herd as well as buying two mo
re horses and adding a small garden.
Brooks took the turnoff from the highway onto Double Adobe Road before turning down High Lonesome, a dirt road at the base of the Mule Mountains. Dust roiled in his wake as he drove down the road flanked by mesquite bushes on one side and tall yellow grass on the other. When he reached the ranch, his truck tires rumbled over a cattle guard before he guided his vehicle onto the driveway.
His gut turned over when he saw Trace’s Ford Explorer parked in front of the slump-block ranch-style home.
This wasn’t going to be easy, not one damned bit.
Trace pushed open the wrought iron screen door to the sun porch as Brooks parked. Trace had a hard set to his jaw.
Brooks climbed out of his truck and shut the door with more force than he’d intended. When he reached the house, he greeted Trace. “How’s Christie?”
“She’s shaken up, but otherwise she’s fine.” Trace closed the screen door behind Brooks and went to one of the cushioned patio chairs on the porch. He gestured to a chair closest to his and Brooks took it. “At least she says she is.” Trace snarled, his Texan accent stronger than normal in his anger. “She won’t let on, but I know her hands have to bother her when she holds the baby.”
“Shit.” Brooks took his Stetson and set it on a small patio table. “I’m so damned sorry she got hurt.”
“So am I.” Trace’s expression softened for a moment. “She said you pushed her out of the way and saved her. I can’t thank you enough.”
Brooks studied Trace’s features that were strained from worry for his wife. “You know I’d do anything for you and your family.”
“I know.” Trace nodded. “I feel the same about you.” He glanced at Brooks’s clothing. “Christie said you were hit. Looks like you’re a little worse for the wear.”
“I’m fine.” Brooks shrugged. “A few scrapes and a bruised thigh—nothing out of the ordinary for the line of work we’re in.”
Trace shook his head. “Just like you to be so damned modest. Hell, you were shot protecting my wife.”
“You’d do the same.”
Trace’s expression went hard and serious. “You said Natasha and their grandparents are in danger. Explain.”
Brooks leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs as he studied Trace. “What I have to say isn’t going to be easy.”
“Get it out.” Trace’s voice was rough. “Now.”
Brooks could understand Trace’s intensity, the raw look on his face and the anger in his gaze. Hell, he’d be all over Trace if the situation was reversed.
“Natasha is in trouble.” Brooks outlined what had happened and what he’d finally gotten out of her.
Trace’s tanned complexion had reddened by the time Brooks was finished. “Natasha was a suspect and you didn’t tell me?”
“I was following orders.” The useless words hung in the air.
“Fuck orders.” Trace’s face grew redder. “I should never have been left out of the loop. I should have been told what was going on from the start.”
Brooks looked at his hands for a long moment before moving his gaze back to Trace. “For what it’s worth, I agree and I’m sorry. What matters now is that we get Christie to safety, get a watch on their grandparents, and figure a way to get Natasha out of this mess without her or anyone else getting killed.”
“We’ll deal with putting them under watch first.” Trace didn’t look one damned bit happy. “We’ll deal with the other next.”
“Other” meaning Trace being left out of the team working to take Okle down when Natasha was a suspect.
Brooks explained Natasha’s idea about checking Christie into a spa in Tucson, but using a decoy while Christie was taken someplace safe, away from that city. “It will be easy for Natasha to explain—Christie shaken up and in need of some relaxation, it all fits and Okle will likely believe her.”
“Good plan.” Trace looked deep in thought for a moment. “I know who we can call to get to watch their grandparents without arousing suspicion. Joe Black and his spec ops team, Black Sky International.”
“Landon gave me a few details about BSI over a couple of beers one night.” Brooks looked out the screened-in porch to the barn and workshop. “They helped save his wife, Tori, by breaking her out of the Jimenez compound in Mexico.”
“That’s right.” Trace leaned back in his seat. “I’ll give Landon a call and see about Joe’s contact info to get someone from his team out to Florida to keep watch from a distance and protect their grandparents.”
Trace pushed himself to his feet, and Brooks stood as well.
“I don’t like being left in the dark,” Trace said, “But I appreciate you coming to tell me in person. I’m going to get my wife someplace safe and hire a couple of Joe’s men or women operatives to stay close to her and the baby, too.”
Brooks clapped Trace on the shoulder. “You’re on my team once you get Christie squared away.”
“I’ll give you a call.” Trace walked with Brooks to the front door. “Promise me you won’t let this happen again—shutting me out from anything that involves family.”
Brooks nodded. “Let’s hope to hell there isn’t another time.”
They shook hands and slapped each other on the back before Brooks picked up his western hat and left. Normally he would have gone in to talk with Christie, but he knew Trace would be packing his wife up to take her somewhere and she would be getting the baby ready to go.
It was late afternoon when Brooks left the Davidson’s home. As he drove down the dirt road, back to Double Adobe Road, Brooks’s phone rang from where he’d set it on the console tray. He glanced at the screen and saw it was Jase Wright.
He answered via the truck’s Bluetooth. “What’s going on, Jase?”
“I’ve had Okle under surveillance like we discussed earlier,” Jase said. “Followed him to his warehouse. He’s been in there all damned day. A couple of his key men have gone in and out, along with his staff.” Jase referred to Okle’s employees with distaste.
Brooks “Anything interesting?”
Jase sounded thoughtful as he spoke. “I keep asking myself what’s a gorgeous woman like that brunette, Selena Gallos, doing hanging around someone as bad, not to mention bad-looking, as Okle? The woman is hotter than the desert sun.”
“Good chance it’s his money.” Brooks pictured the stunningly exotic, leggy, model-beautiful woman from surveillance photos with Okle. Brooks agreed with Jase—how could a woman like that go for a loser like Okle? In the photos she looked intelligent and sophisticated, not like some gold-digging bitch fawning over the bastard. But then it took all kinds. “From all we’ve gathered, he’s loaded, thanks to his dealings with the cartel.”
“You’re probably right,” Jase said. “Damned waste of one fine-looking woman.”
“We need to know if Selena Gallos is involved with Okle’s drug trafficking.” Brooks frowned as he halted his truck at the stop sign at Double Adobe Road and Highway 80. “And just how deep the woman is involved.”
“I’m up to the challenge.” Jase had a note of exaggerated humor in his voice. “Just put me in a bar with her and a few beers, and we’ll be tighter than barbed wire strung to a fencepost.”
Brooks couldn’t help but laugh. “You wish.”
“I sure as hell do.” Jase snorted. “If she’s innocent. She looks like she’d be a wildcat in bed.”
Brooks pulled his vehicle onto the highway and headed toward the DHS/ICE office near Douglas. “You’d better stop thinking with your dick and see what you can learn.”
“Yes, sir.” Jase said it with mock seriousness before his tone went hard again. “Another thing is bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
“One of Okle’s lowlifes was supposed to meet Dylan Curtis yesterday, some creep named Francis Faderic.” Jase went on, “Faderic told Dylan he had information to sell on Okle—about a location for a drug shipment—but the scum never showed up to the meet.”
“Okle might have gotten wind of it.” Brooks passed a slow-moving car on the left before returning to the right lane. “If Okle did, Faderic is probably dead.”
“Or wishes he was,” Jase said.
“You could be right.” Brooks considered it as he closed in on another vehicle a good distance ahead. “Murder is just one more charge we should have against Okle by the time we’re finished. He’s had more than one employee and associate vanish. Not to mention death threats against Natasha and her family and friends, and for ordering the attempt on Christie’s life.”
“I’ll get back to this exciting surveillance assignment.” Jase spoke in an exaggerated bored tone. “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Same here.” Brooks approached the brown car ahead of him. He narrowed his gaze. “Hold on a sec.”
“All right,” Jase said, but Brooks barely heard him as he neared the car.
A damaged fender, no license plate, and an older model rusted brown Volvo.
Heated fury rose inside Brooks. “I need backup.” He gained on the car in front of him. “I’m driving behind the sonofabitch who tried to run down Christie.” He gave his location.
“Holy shit.” Jase said. “Will do.” He disconnected the call.
Brooks flipped on his grill lights and siren.
The car sped up, shooting down the highway. A more powerful engine than what the car had been manufactured with had to be under the hood.
Brooks floored the accelerator. Considering his truck had been intended for use in law enforcement, the engine had been built with more horsepower than standard vehicles. Still, Brooks had some difficulty catching up with the car in front of him.
He clenched his jaw, and closed in on the vehicle.
The driver slammed on his brakes and spun the old Volvo around on the two-lane highway, barely avoiding going into the drainage ditch. His car was small enough that he was able to make the turn without much effort.
He straightened out the wheels and swerved into Brooks’s lane, coming head-on toward the truck. Brooks didn’t waver, keeping his truck steady. Hell if he’d play chicken. His truck was bigger and the other guy wasn’t likely to come out ahead.
