by Diana Palmer
She shook her head. “If you do that, Fuentes wins. Marco missed. He thinks he’ll walk. Now Fuentes will do his best to have Marco killed, too. He doesn’t forgive slipups.”
“You think? I’m wondering why a man as dangerous as Fuentes would send a drug-crazed teenage gang member to do a professional hit.”
She felt the blood drain out of her face. She hadn’t seen it. Now she realized that it was a setup. The real killer had sent Marco in to test the water, to see the reaction time of local law enforcement, to see how Glory would react.
“It was staged, wasn’t it?” she asked, and horror was in her eyes.
“I think so,” he replied. “A test run.”
“Yes.” She managed to breathe normally again. “So what do we do now?”
Cash was thinking, hard. He wasn’t sure of anything, except that he wished he knew what the DEA was doing in Jacobs County. It had been one of Cash’s new men, the gray-eyed one who’d rushed to Glory’s aid, who’d ignored an order from the DEA to back off when a drug deal went down in Comanche Wells. Nobody knew exactly who the undercover agent was or what he was up to, and federal agencies tended not to share intel with local police unless they had to.
“What the hell is going on here?” came a familiar deep, faintly accented voice. Glory looked up and Rodrigo walked into the room. He looked at the bullet holes in the door, at Cash and then at Glory with real concern. “Niña!” he exclaimed gently, modifying his tone as he knelt beside her. “¿Estás bien?”
Her heart jumped because he’d used the familiar tense, one that Spanish-speaking people only used with loved ones or children. She met his searching black eyes and felt safe. Unthinking, she held up her arms and he went into them, enveloping her against him, rocking her, smoothing her hair. She felt tears pour out of her eyes and hated showing weakness. But she’d been scared. Really scared. Her heart was still acting up. She felt vulnerable.
“What happened?” Rodrigo asked Cash.
“It’s a long story,” Cash replied. “I’m not at liberty to divulge what I know.”
Rodrigo’s eyes narrowed. He knew this man, and his contacts. He’d been chasing a drug lord, but someone was after Glory. He didn’t know why, and he knew it was useless to ask Cash. Plots within plots, he thought irritably. But at least he was used to secrets.
“Can you tell me who did this?” he asked.
“Marco,” Glory murmured against his chest. “Marco did it. Poor Consuelo!”
“Where is she?” Rodrigo asked.
“She had to run to the store. She had a phone call. She looked very strange when she hung up, and she said she had to go out,” Glory said, her voice muffled against the clean, nice-smelling front of Rodrigo’s chambray shirt.
Rodrigo looked into Cash’s eyes, and the other man knew at once who the DEA had working undercover here. He hadn’t recognized Rodrigo, whom he’d only seen in the dark during a standoff with Cara Dominguez several months ago. He’d rarely seen that look in another man’s face, but it was all too familiar. Rodrigo was obviously involved with Glory in some manner and he looked as if he wanted to take several bites out of Marco. He seemed fiercely protective of Glory. But Cash couldn’t blow Rodrigo’s cover—or Glory’s. If the situation had been a little less potentially fatal, it would have been comedy. Both of them were keeping dire secrets which, apparently, they weren’t willing to share with each other.
“Shhh,” Rodrigo whispered at Glory’s ear. “It’s all right. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you here. Never again. I swear it.”
“I was thinking of having someone come over here to work for you, just to keep an eye on her,” Cash said.
Rodrigo glanced at him. “That was tried once before and it didn’t work. I’ll take care of her.”
It was a veiled warning. When Cash searched his memory, he began to remember other things he’d heard about this agent. The man had been involved in mercenary work for many years. He was so good at what he did that there was a price on his head in almost every country on earth. For the past three years, he’d worked for the DEA out of Arizona. He’d actually gone undercover in Manuel Lopez’s drug operation and helped bring the man down. More recently, he’d been instrumental in Cara Dominguez’s arrest and conviction. Now he was after Fuentes. Cash knew it, but he couldn’t admit it; certainly not in front of Glory.
“I was hiding behind the door when he tried to come in,” she muttered, wiping her eyes as she pulled gently away from Rodrigo’s comforting arms. “I was going to brain him with my cane. But he started shooting instead.”
“Thank God you were behind the door instead of in front of it,” Rodrigo said tersely.
“What will you do with Marco?” she asked Cash.
“Book him, lock him up and hope the judge will set bail at a million dollars.”
Glory chuckled. “Oh, I think Mary Smith will do that if you ask her to. She’s a renegade. She hates drug dealers.”
“You know a judge?” Rodrigo asked her with narrow, suspicious eyes.
Her heart skipped. “I know of her,” she said. “One of my cousins got in trouble with the law and she heard his case,” she lied calmly.
“I see.”
“You’ll have to testify,” Cash told Glory. “You’re the only eyewitness I’ve got.”
Story of my life, she thought. “I didn’t see him, though,” she replied sadly. “I only heard him.”
“Try to get a conviction on that evidence,” Rodrigo murmured absently as he examined the bullet holes. “A good defense attorney will swear that Marco came to her assistance and was falsely accused.”
“But there’s the gun,” Glory began.
Cash ground his teeth together.
“What?” she asked.
“We didn’t find a gun.”
“There goes your case,” Rodrigo replied dryly.
“There were two of them,” Glory said. “The other one, the one who got away, probably took the gun with him when he heard the sirens. Marco was busy telling me that he’d get me next time. So you got him.”
“I’ll keep him as long as I can,” Cash promised. “But it won’t be the only attempt.”
“She’ll be safe here.” Rodrigo repeated. He looked from Glory to Cash and back again. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to tell me why my cook’s assistant is attracting hired killers?”
Cash and Glory exchanged glances.
“So we play musical chairs and twenty questions, while Marco’s boss plans a foolproof way to take her out, is that it?” Rodrigo asked.
“We think this was a dry run,” Cash said. “To see about response time, and Glory’s reaction to an intruder.”
“He’ll be wiser next time and hit in the middle of the night when she’s asleep,” Rodrigo said calmly.
“If someone would loan me a gun…” she began.
“No!” Cash said at once.
“One miserable taillight,” she began hotly.
“And a windshield,” he returned. “No gun.”
Rodrigo was aware that they were talking about something they wouldn’t share with him. More secrets. “We’ll work out something here,” Rodrigo assured Cash. His eyes narrowed. “I’d like a word with you before you leave.”
Cash felt like an entrée. He knew he wasn’t going to like what the man had to say. “I’ll wait outside.” He turned to Glory. “You sure, about the ambulance?”
She was still struggling to breathe properly. “Yes. Thanks.”
Rodrigo smoothed her hair and stood up. “I won’t be a minute,” he told her. “Lie down. You’ve already had more excitement than you need.”
She nodded. She moved slowly across her room, ignoring the bullet holes, and all but collapsed on the clean cover of the bed.
ON THE WIDE FRONT PORCH, Cash and Rodrigo stood facing each other like prizefighters searching for an opening.
“You’d better tell me what’s going on,” Rodrigo said quietly, wary of eavesdroppers.
> “The same way you’ve kept me informed?” Cash returned coldly.
Rodrigo’s black eyes narrowed. This man was intelligent, and he wasn’t the sort to accept lies. “I suppose you’ve realized who I am, and why I’m here.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all you’re allowed to know,” he replied. “I’m sorry. This isn’t my operation. I have to do what I’m told.”
“Can you at least tell me if what you’re doing has any connection with Fuentes?”
Rodrigo nodded. “We have a mole,” he said. “He’s feeding us information. I had to go undercover to work out the distribution network, and it’s formidable. I still have one cousin in Fuentes’s employ, although Manuel Lopez had one of my cousins killed for infiltrating some years ago.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “There’s a shipment of cocaine coming from Peru in about two weeks. We know how it’s coming into the country, and what the destination is.”
“There’s an empty warehouse in Comanche Wells,” Cash said easily, “and it’s not where many people could notice activity at it.”
Rodrigo nodded. “We met there last night.” His eyes grew cold. “Someone in an unmarked squad car almost got me killed by refusing to back off.”
Cash grimaced. “It’s one of my new patrolmen, I’m sorry to say. He’s back from overseas duty, an officer in a front combat unit and he’s forgotten how to take orders. Actually he was special forces, working behind the lines.”
Rodrigo nodded. “We’ve had a few of those sign on with us. They’re valuable in the right position. But they’re a liability when they don’t follow orders.”
“I told him so,” Cash replied. “He won’t do it again.”
“We’re still dancing around the attempted murder here,” Rodrigo said.
“I noticed.”
“What does she have, or know, that’s important enough for someone to send a killer after her?”
Cash weighed the facts and decided that he had to level with the man somehow without giving Glory away. “She has information that could tie Fuentes to a murder. A conviction could have serious consequences on the network. Fuentes doesn’t want her talking to a jury.”
Rodrigo whistled. “Talk about coincidences,” he mused. “And she winds up here, in the middle of a drug sting.”
“Almost assassinated, as well,” Cash replied.
“Fuentes wouldn’t send Marco to do a job like that. Marco hasn’t got what it takes for wet work. No, he was sent here so that he could be used in a dry run. Next time, Fuentes will send a professional assassin and we’ll bury Glory.”
“That’s what I told Glory.”
Rodrigo eyed him. “And the case comes up soon, I gather?”
“Yes,” Cash said. “Certain people talked to the Pendletons and got Glory hired as a kitchen worker. The prosecutor in the case thought she’d be in less danger in a small town, where we could all keep an eye on her while he builds enough evidence to convince a jury that Fuentes is killing informants who rat out his drug deals.”
“Marquez and you, I assume, being the people who plan to watch her?”
“I had a guy working for you who was supposed to keep me in the loop. He’s gone.”
“I’m still working here,” Rodrigo replied. “Nothing will happen to Glory.”
“You can’t watch her around the clock,” Cash said. “Let me help.”
The other man grimaced. He felt suddenly vulnerable. He’d enjoyed Glory as a pastime, but the thought of losing her to a bullet had hit him in the gut. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might be killed. Strange how much it hurt him to think of her lying dead.
“Your prosecutor should have sent a bodyguard with her,” Rodrigo commented.
Cash chuckled. “That’s a hoot. Whose budget would pay for it?”
“Not ours,” Rodrigo had to admit. “I’m not charging them for overtime.”
“You’d never get it, if your budget is like ours.”
“It is. Nobody has money to spare these days.” He didn’t mention that he was wealthy enough to have done his job without pay. The last three years he’d worked for the DEA had been for no other reason than to be Sarina’s partner.
“Okay,” Cash said. “I’ll have someone available to tail her if she leaves the farm. Can you cover her here?”
“Yes,” Rodrigo said.
“Then maybe we can keep her alive until Fuentes goes on trial.” He pursed his lips. “Marco’s mother is involved in this. You know that.”
“Yes,” the other man said heavily. “Her husband is in federal prison. Marco just got out, and if we can prove he had a gun, it’s a violation of his probation and he’ll go right back in. Pity that Consuelo allowed herself to get mixed up in this.”
“She’d do anything her son asked her to,” Cash said. “He’s all she’s got.”
“It’s a shame.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to charge her?”
Cash shifted his weight. “On what evidence? We’re going to have hell even holding Marco on any charges that would stand up in court.”
“The sorry little sneak,” Rodrigo muttered. “I’d like to give his face a makeover.”
“Not allowed. Remember, we’re the good guys.”
“Rearranging his face would be good,” Rodrigo said pleasantly.
“You don’t want to meet up with Blake Kemp in a court of law down here. He’s just been appointed district attorney. Our elected one had a stroke and died. Kemp’s handling the job until elections, and I bet you he’ll run. He’s a legal legend already.”
Rodrigo whistled. “I know. Damn!”
“That’s just what the lawless are saying about now,” Cash chuckled. “He’s hell on defendants.”
“He was special forces, too, I believe, along with Cag Hart.”
Cash nodded. “We’re fairly blessed with ex-military around here. If you need help, I’ll do anything I can.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you hear about your ex-partner?” Cash added.
“Sarina?”
“Yes.” Cash grinned. “She’s pregnant.”
Rodrigo felt the words as if they were a physical blow. She hadn’t said a word to him. She’d had the opportunity, at the fiesta. “It must be wonderful news for them.”
“Yes. Andy Webb at the realty company told me about it. They were going to move down here; even bought Hob Downey’s place to build on. But now they want to stay in Houston where the Hunters live, so they’re putting the property back on the market. I suppose they’re pretty much settled in Houston. I don’t know how Sarina’s going to keep up her DEA job, though, in that condition.”
Rodrigo only nodded. He felt as if a cold, hollow place had opened up inside him.
“Well, I’ll get out of here. If you need us, let me know,” Cash added. “We’ll put extra patrols out this way.”
“Tell your new patrolman that the next time he ignores an order from me, he’ll be carried feetfirst into the nearest emergency room.” Rodrigo didn’t smile when he said it, and his eyes were full of muted anger.
“Oh, I’ve already told him that,” Cash replied. He grinned. “I don’t tolerate disobedience, either.”
“But you can thank him for being on the spot today,” the Mexican added. “Even if it was a dry run, Marco’s unpredictable. Glory might be dead if he hadn’t been so quick. I owe him for that.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“And what I’m doing here is still top secret.”
“I knew that, too. Take care.”
“You, too.”
Cash drove off and Rodrigo went back inside. He felt sick all over. Sarina was pregnant. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t phoned or written. Was he of so little importance to her now, after their three years of intense friendship, that she didn’t even care enough to share her good news with him?
He felt lost and alone. All his dreams were dead. He was never going to be the only man in Sarina’s life. It was
a hard blow.
He walked back down the hall to Glory’s room and paused next to her bed. Her cheeks were very flushed and she was still upset.
He sat down beside her on the bed. She reminded him a little of Sarina. But she wasn’t as intelligent, or as brave. Sarina could shoot a gun and she’d faced off bad guys with him over the years. This poor shell of a woman was hiding out because she could put Fuentes on the spot in a murder. He couldn’t imagine Sarina hiding from anyone.
But it wasn’t fair to compare them. Sarina was in excellent health. This young woman had health problems that made her more vulnerable. He was being unreasonable because he was hurt.
He reached out and smoothed back Glory’s soft hair, watching it rainbow around her flushed face. “Feeling better?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” she said huskily. “I’ll be all right. You look sad.”
He averted his eyes. “Perhaps I am.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He looked down at her with narrowed eyes and considered the one thing he could ask her that would not only help him heal, but show Sarina that he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life grieving because he couldn’t have her.
“Yes,” he said in a conversational tone. “As a matter of fact, there is. You can marry me.”
10
“MARRY YOU?” GLORY exclaimed, and really had to fight for breath then.
“Why not?” he asked. “We’re great together in bed. We like the same things. We get along well.”
“But, we’re not in love,” she protested. She did have feelings for him, but she wasn’t going to voice them. At least, not while he was still mourning his pretty blonde.
“What is love? Mutual respect and friendship seem to me to be equally important,” he replied. His eyes narrowed. “You’re reluctant. Is it because I earn my living with my hands, working as a laborer?”
Her eyes widened. “No, not at all,” she said simply. “I admire you.”
He looked surprised. “Why?”
“Because you deal with people so well, with diplomacy and tact,” she began. “You never shout or demean the other workers. You go out of your way to be kind to women and children. You’re honest. You don’t mind hard work. And you aren’t afraid of anything. That’s why.”
