by Tarah Scott
“Yep,” Medina said. “Sara says the camera angle makes it easy to place as someone on the Juarez side.”
“Which means they leaked the tape hoping someone would ID me.”
“That's my guess,” the captain replied. “Are you somewhere safe?”
Ben glanced out the window and into the far pasture where a paint and a quarter horse grazed. “For now.”
“And Ms. Monahan?”
“Same,” Ben said. “Anything on the two men who followed us to The Charcoal Grill?”
“By the time our boys got there, they were gone, which didn't please Braxton and Masters. They want Ms. Monahan's statement ASAP, by the way.”
“I just bet they do—and they probably plan to use that time to pressure her about returning to Mexico.” He still hadn't figured out their angle.
“Fact is,” Medina said, “they're talking about coordinating with the Juarez District Attorney to arrest Sanchez in Juarez, then follow up with extradition.”
“What?” Ben straightened from the desk. “Just this afternoon they wanted us to return to Mexico. This must be a ploy to get Liz down to their office so they can take her into protective custody.” Which would remove her from his protection. He didn't trust them to keep her safe longer than it took them to purchase a new pair of Ray Bans. “There's been a warrant for Sanchez’s arrest in Mexico for three years. What makes the Feds think they can get the Juarez D.A. to serve the warrant now?”
“Dendy called,” Medina said. “He believes Sanchez's need for revenge might draw him out into the open where we can get our hands on him.”
Regret stabbed through Ben. “I should have arrested him last night when I had him close enough to touch.”
“No one could have guessed that Ms. Monahan would end up in Mexico with you.”
“That one caught me off guard,” Ben admitted. In all the scenarios that had played out in his head, the possibility that Liz would be kidnapped by Sanchez's men hadn't even deserved a glimmer. “But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't get Remmey’s granddaughter or Sanchez.” The Feds weren't all wrong. When it came right down to it, he had jeopardized the operation.
“Sanchez has to find you,” Medina said. “It's not just revenge. He's got to save face. If he lets this pass, it's a sign of weakness. That's how we'll get him.”
Ben remembered his original concern. “I'll paint a bull's eye on my chest, if that's what it takes,” he began, “but—”
“Relax, Hunter, even the FBI doesn't use civilians as targets. We’ll let Sanchez think you and Ms. Monahan are returning to Mexico, but she won’t be anywhere near the action. He won't try to shoot you himself, but whoever tries might lead us straight to him. Dendy is making it clear to the Feds that we'll coordinate with them, but this is our operation. They don’t like it, but we've asked the Juarez Chief of Police to make it clear that he's more likely to play nice with us than with them.”
Ben allowed the idea to sink in. “Too bad the Feds weren't smart enough to think of this from the start. Would have saved us a lot of trouble. I'm not going to forget their threats against me anytime soon.”
Medina surprised him by chuckling. “Braxton and Masters voiced their threats directly to me. I'm just the captain of Company E in little old El Paso. I'm nobody. I got the call from Dendy half an hour after the video aired. He had just gotten off the phone with Masters.” Ben could hear the amusement in his boss' voice. “I imagine that when the video hit the news, they realized Sanchez was on the offensive. That put an end to their playtime.”
“Dendy's going to get everything in detail from them?” Ben asked.
“Yeah,” Medina said. “Just hold on for a few hours. We need to give the FBI yours and Ms. Monahan's statements, but I want everything in place before you two move. Last thing we need is for someone who knows you to turn up and tell Sanchez who you are before we're ready. Our best bet to catch him is if his hit man comes after you in Mexico.”
Ben grunted. “Always happy to serve.”
“By the way,” Medina said, “we got a lead on the man you saw at Sanchez’s place. Your sketch comes close to fitting a picture we have of Ray Barrero. Born in Mexico City and a graduate of The National Autonomous University of Mexico with a degree in economics.”
“Sanchez recruited a college graduate?” Ben had heard it all. “He didn’t look like an accountant, Captain.”
“He’s not. The Mexican police questioned him in connection with prostitution and drug running. He’s new to Sanchez’s outfit.”
“Upwardly mobile,” Ben murmured.
“Yes, and he’s lucky enough to now be on our radar,” Medina said. “I want you to sit tight until we decide on our next move. Don’t take Ms. Monahan into public.”
“We’re safely tucked away, Captain.”
“Stay that way. I’ll get back to you.”
Medina hung up and Ben headed back to the den. When he reached for the knob of the den’s partially open door he stopped at hearing R.W. say, “He's willing to sacrifice his family to catch some slime ball.”
“It strikes me rather strange that you're so angry that Ben opted for a law enforcement career over ranching,” Liz said.
“Does it now?” R.W. replied.
“Yes. You backed him up at the restaurant. Not to mention, if I understand correctly, you're going to get the ranch he would have gotten.”
“Where you come from in Dallas, everything may be about money, but here in El Paso, we put family first,” R.W. said.
Liz gave a laugh that implied his jibe was juvenile and he was stupid for thinking she'd take the bait. “Is that so?” The condescension in her voice only emphasized her obvious amusement, and when R.W. replied, “That's so,” Ben knew his cousin was too thick-headed to realize he’d met his match.
“Seems to me it's about family as long as family is supporting your point of view,” she said. “You're not supporting Ben's choices. Instead, you're trying to coerce him into doing what you think he should be doing. That's not supporting family, Mr. Hunter. That's being a bully—not to mention, a jerk.”
“What do you know, R.W.?” Hal said. “She's known you half an hour and already knows you inside out.”
“You might just be defending a man who sold you out, sweetheart,” R.W. said
Anger tightened Ben's insides. He yanked the door open.
“Maybe,” Liz's assertion stopped him in the doorway, “but he's not my cousin.”
The room went quiet and Ben said, “Looks like she's got you there, R.W.”
R.W.'s eyes snapped onto him. He opened his mouth, but Ben's father interjected, “R.W., shut up or get out.”
Liz turned to Ben. “It's time I get back to Dallas.”
He crossed to the couch. “Actually, I was thinking you'd stay here for a few days.”
“What? I can't. I have a company to run. Larissa introduced me to a buyer in London. I have a conference call—” Her mouth thinned. “Why didn't you tell me you planned to leak the story to the press?”
Ben shot R.W. a dark look and said, “We didn't leak the story.”
“If you didn't, who did?”
“Someone caught us on video with a cell phone.”
Liz's “What?” came in unison with R.W.'s “Shit,” and Hal's “Damn.” His father just gave a small shake of his head.
Ben addressed Liz. “I don't have any real details, and—”
R.W. snorted. “You can't talk about it.”
“That's right, R.W., I can't.” Not with R.W., Hal, and his father listening. He intended to fill Liz in—privately. Ben returned his attention to her. “There was never any doubt you would have to enter protective custody. You're a witness to attempted murder.”
“My murder,” she retorted. “And you were supposed to be my murderer.”
“True,” Ben said with a laugh, but was interrupted by Hal's, “Whoa.”
“It's a long story,” Ben said, then to Liz, “Your testimony can put him away for life.
If you're not around, he could walk.” All true, but more important, if they didn't catch him, she would be dead within a week after leaving Ben's sight.
Her brow lifted. “So you're protecting a witness?”
“I'm protecting someone that animal will murder the first opportunity he gets.”
She paled and guilt rolled over him. The thinning of R.W.'s mouth and Hal's sympathetic glance her way didn't help.
Her expression cleared. “Catching him could take a very long time, Mr. Hunter.”
Ben shook his head. “Not this time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You plan to go into Mexico after him. That's suicide.”
R.W. opened his mouth and Ben said, “Another word from you, R.W., and I'll run you in for interfering with an investigation.” He didn't wait for a reply, but said to Liz, “Going back to Dallas like nothing happened is suicide. I plan to do my job. That doesn’t include going off half-cocked.” She lifted her brows, and he added, “If you recall, I went with Sanchez because I was looking for someone.”
Liz looked stricken. “That's right. I'm sorry.”
Ben started to reach for her hand, then caught himself. He cursed the glint that entered R.W.’s eyes, and the curiosity on his father's face. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said.
She released a sigh. “Richard must be in fits. LaRouche won't want anything to do with us after this. Nina Bruno is finished.”
“I doubt it's as bad as all that,” Ben said.
Liz met his gaze. “It is. With a video on the news of our running the border, how long do you think it'll be before word gets out that I'm wanted in Mexico for—what was it?— accessory to attempted murder and evasion?”
He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Even if they managed to conceal the fact that she was supposedly returning to Mexico to face charges, the media was sure to uncover the warrant for her arrest. The truth wouldn't matter one damn bit. Nina Bruno Designs wouldn't be able to keep her on as Creative Director. Ben fleetingly wondered if they could leave her name out of the operation. Worry ratcheted up the tension in his shoulders. He had to lose the audience so he could brief Liz on what Medina had planned.
“I've got to call Richard,” she said.
Ben nodded, glad for the reprieve. “Just don’t mention where you are. And, Liz, no promises on when you’ll return to Dallas. You can't just waltz back like nothing's happened.” She pursed her lips and he feared she would argue. “Please,” he said, “make the call, but be careful. We'll talk after dinner.”
Determination hardened her expression and he knew their discussion was going to be a doozie.
Chapter Sixteen
Liz hadn't thought the situation could get any worse. She'd been wrong.
The door between the den and the covered patio opened and she turned from the railing with her cell phone pressed against her ear to see Ben stepping through the doorway.
“Richard, I have to go. I’ll call later. Promise.” She ended the call. “You have an uncanny sense of timing,” she told Ben.
He closed the door behind him and joined her at the railing. “Yeah, I've heard that before.” He reached for the small of her back. “Let's sit down.” Ben directed her the few steps to a massive metal patio table and pulled out the nearest chair. She sat down and he took the seat to her left. “You look like you just took a punch to the stomach.”
She set her phone on the table. “I don’t think I can go back to my hotel.”
“Considering the men who followed us to the restaurant, I'd say not. Did you think differently?”
“I guess I hadn't thought about it. I have now. Richard was leaving the hotel when I called. Apparently, reporters are swarming the hotel looking for me—for us.” Tension cramped her stomach.
“I warned you Sanchez wouldn't let you walk back to your life,” Ben said. “He wants us badly and he's making it impossible for us to show our faces in public. The hotel is a perfect example.”
“But how did they find me? I was registered under an alias.” She shook her head. “Will word reach Dallas?”
Regret appeared in his eyes. “It's only a matter of time.” If it hasn’t already, she read in his thoughts. “I'm sorry, Liz.”
“I doubt you had the slightest idea I would end up in Mexico with you.” The memory of her kidnapper’s breath on her neck sent a shock wave through her.
“Liz.”
She started and saw Ben’s face before her.
His brows furrowed in concern. “You all right?”
“How will this end?” she asked.
There was the barest of hesitations and she realized he was choosing his words. “It'll end with Sanchez in jail and you safe.”
She shook her head. “Until we testify at his trial and he's put behind bars, we're in danger. That can take years.” Even then, would she be safe?
“Not years,” Ben said.
“Please,” she cut him off, “don't lie to me. My career will be over—if it isn't already.”
“One day at a time, Liz.”
“That's easy for you to say, you're—” Liz broke off, realizing what she was about to say.
“I'm younger?” he finished. “I still have most of my career ahead of me?”
“That's not what I meant.” She shook her head. “This is finally sinking in, and I'm at a loss at what to do.”
“It is what you meant,” he replied. “Don't be sorry. You're not completely wrong. Though, according to a recent article in Scientific American, women outlive men by about six years. That puts my career where you were at forty, which means you're only four years ahead of me. Not that much, when you think about it.”
Liz stared. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about my career ending just when it was taking off? Or am I to believe that the eleven year age difference between us really isn't that much?”
He shrugged. “It's not about the difference. It's about me being able to do what I say I can do. I am capable of protecting you, and,” he flashed a small smile, “and I won't die on you as early as an older man will.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Unless I kill you first.”
His eyes darkened and her breath caught.
“There are worse ways to go,” he murmured.
She broke the stare and shook her head as much to ward off the effects of his gaze as to emphasize her words. “Even if we lived in the same city, you couldn't watch me twenty-four hours a day.”
“I could give it a go.”
She snapped her head up and met his gaze.
The amusement—and desire—vanished from his expression. “I'll get him, Liz.”
At what cost? she wondered. “You don't think he's discovered your identity yet?”
“I'm hoping not.”
“‘Hope isn’t certainty. I would hate to see him get away after all we've sacrificed.”
Ben leaned back and gave her a direct look. “What did Anderson have to say? Did he fire you?”
“Of course not.”
“He knows about the warrant for your arrest in Mexico, right? You told him before the video hit the news?”
She nodded. “He plans to consult the company attorneys.”
“I imagine you plan to talk with your personal lawyer.”
“Yes. This is new territory for me. I want all the information I can possibly get.”
“So don't hold a funeral for your career just yet,” Ben said. “I know it looks bad, and we have our work cut out for us, but I won't let you down. Listen, Liz—”
The door opened and they looked over their shoulders. Hal stood in the doorway.
“Brandon wants to know if John should saddle up the horses.”
Liz gave Ben questioning look.
“You ride, don't you?” he asked her.
“Sure, but—”
“Dad suggested we take a ride before dinner. We have about an hour. Just enough time to clear our minds.”
She started to decline, but he interrupted.
“We have some of the finest horses around. You’ll have a little down time to mull things over.”
Something was up. She was half afraid to find out what it could be, but said, “All right.” Ten minutes later, she stood in a barn next to a Chestnut and an American Saddlebred, wearing a borrowed felt hat. Ben stepped from the tack room carrying a rifle in a leather saddle holster.
“Expecting trouble?” she asked when he reached her.
He shook his head and stepped up to the American Saddlebred. “No, but you don’t take even a short ride in these hills without a rifle. We run into a bobcat, we’ll be glad for the firepower.”
Liz had a feeling there was more to his caution than protection from four-legged hunters. “You don’t really think Mr. Sanchez knows I’m here, do you?”
Ben strapped the holder into the saddle, then grasped the hat he'd hung from the pommel and put it on his head as he turned. “If I thought that, we wouldn't be taking a ride.”
“But you're not taking any chances.”
Regret flickered in his eyes. “I've taken enough chances, don't you think?”
Liz sighed but didn't argue. They mounted and she followed him out of the stables. She came up alongside him and her gaze caught on the powerful thigh hugging the horse's ribs. Memory flashed back to last night’s dance, those thighs pressed intimately against hers. Warmth rippled through her. What would those muscular thighs feel like beneath her fingers…between her legs, his arms wrapped protectively around her?
“Liz?”
She jerked her head up and met Ben's gaze.
“You ready?” he said.
“For what?” she blurted, then realized her mistake. The amusement in his eyes said he had a pretty good idea what she'd been thinking.
She looked straight ahead, glad for the hat that cast enough shadow on her face—she hoped—to hide her expression. Then she realized a second mistake. To the west, orange streaked the sky in a blazing sunset above the Franklin Mountains. A breeze blew across the brush-covered desert and along the rolling hills. The waning day was spectacular. Perfect for a ride with an attractive man—no, a gorgeous man. This ride had been a mistake.
