Under Cover Of Darkness

by Elizabeth White

  “Arrangements made,” Manny said quietly. “We move tonight.”

  “Tonight? Why so little notice?”

  Manny shrugged. “Arrangements are made,” he repeated. “We have to be in Eagle Pass by two a.m. or miss the cover. Pick me up at eight.”

  “El Lobo will be there?”

  Manny flinched as if the name struck a raw nerve. “I don’t know. He stays in the shadow.”

  Jack had seen the same reaction when Vernon Rook had walked into the laundry three weeks ago. Instincts on end, he said offhandedly, “He’s somebody local then?”

  Manny stepped back. “They don’t tell me much,” he said. “I am small potatoes in this pot of soup.”

  Certain this quiet, capable man knew more than he let on, Jack decided to let it go for the moment. He had a six-hour drive to pick Manny’s brains.

  “All right. I’ll get the truck and meet you at the church.” He climbed behind the steering wheel of the truck. “I’ve got to move this thing, and I don’t want to run over the stakes for the concrete. Direct me?”

  “¡Como no!” Manny tucked his clipboard under his arm and backed down the hill to make room for Jack to navigate the truck.

  Jack checked the rearview mirror. Here the lawn took a beautiful, steep incline, sweeping between terraced retaining walls, which would later be landscaped with flowering shrubs and ground cover. He’d give kudos to Meg for the clever design, but it was a tricky place in which to maneuver heavy equipment.

  Watching Manny’s minimal gestures in the side mirror, Jack released the emergency brake and began easing the truck and its still-loaded trailer backward down the hill. In the rearview mirror he caught a glimpse of Meg’s truck. He wondered how she was going to handle the inevitable crash of her career when the company went down the tubes. She was going to have to start all over with a new boss, a different web of interoffice politics, and a major dent in her faith in people.

  Good thing he wasn’t going to be around to watch it happen. He’d be back where he belonged, doing what God had appointed him to do. Guarding the borders. Making sure people like Meg were—

  Jack could feel it when the brake failed. Felt the pedal clank onto the floorboard, felt his stomach turn wrong side out, felt the death grip of his hands on the steering wheel as the truck accelerated down the hill.

  The stone-laden trailer swung a wild arc to the left. Sickening paralysis pounced, as it had when the tree was about to smash into Tomás. Manny ran sideways, stumbled and rolled. The truck lurched, and the loaded trailer wrenched the steering wheel out of control.

  Events unfolded so fast, Jack couldn’t tell what had happened to Manny. The trailer crashed against Meg’s pickup, halting the truck with a grinding of gears and motor.

  Meg had been in the cab with the door open, seat belt off.

  Aftershocks jolted Jack’s body. He fumbled to open the door, fell out, spat dirt out of his mouth, then pushed to his knees and looked wildly around. Manny lay a short distance up the hill, clutching a leg bent at a weird angle.

  “Meg!” Jack shouted. Not seeing her, he staggered to his feet, a hand on the open door of the truck for balance. “Meg!”

  He skidded the last few feet down the hill, past the trailer imbedded in the back of the little Toyota. Clambering over the trailer, he hit the ground on the other side. The door was still open. Relief blindsided him when he saw that Meg wasn’t inside.

  Head spinning, he leaned against the buckled-in bed of the pickup. He had to get to Manny. He was vaguely aware of the rest of the crew running toward him. Shouts, both English and Spanish, blew past him, as the men ran to help the injured crew leader.

  “Meg, where are you?” Jack’s stomach heaved, and he put the back of his hand hard against his mouth.

  Suddenly there she was, flinging her arms around his waist, burrowing her head against his chest. “Jack, are you all right?”

  “Meg!” He enfolded her, held her strongly until she squealed in discomfort. “Sorry.” He eased his hold. “I’m okay, but Manny—”

  “I’ve already called an ambulance. Jack, you better sit down.”

  He stared at her, hands on her shoulders. Reality crashed down. It was his own fault Manny was injured and Meg had nearly died. He’d been thinking about her, not paying enough attention to operating the truck.

  Like Rico had been distracted, worried about getting home to Isabel, just before the snipers in Eagle Pass had mown him down.

  “I said I’m fine.” He sent Meg away and turned to walk up the hill. “I’ll sit down later.”

  Meg watched the ambulance scream away toward the hospital. It had felt weird not to go with Manny, but she’d made the tough decision to send Diego instead. With Jack still looking like a pasty-faced caricature of himself, Meg knew she needed to stick around. She’d go see Manny after dealing with the trauma onsite.

  Meg turned to find Jack moving into the open door of the truck, where he collapsed onto the seat. Concerned, she bent to study his face. She wanted to touch him, but was held back by the stiffness of his body. He was a man apart right now.

  “Okay,” she said on a deep breath, “tell me what happened.”

  “The brakes went out.” Jack lowered his head. “I could have killed you and Manny both.”

  “And yourself.” She shuddered.

  “Maybe.” He gripped his thighs, and she saw that his hands shook. “Meg, I want you to quit this job.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m just about to get my promotion.”

  “Then take a vacation. It’s not safe while I’m here.” He looked up, eyes fierce.

  Her breath left her. “This wasn’t an accident, either, was it?”

  His mouth was a hard, grim line. “I’ve made somebody really mad, and until I find out who—” Abruptly, he stood up. “Listen, Meg, it’s time we laid our cards on the table. I’ve spent more time with you than any woman in my adult life. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.” He cut himself off, then continued as if the words were ground out of him. “I’m not going to let you stick around where people keep arranging accidents.”

  “You’re not going to let me?” she demanded, half angry, half amused. “What do you propose to do about it?”

  Before she could blink, he’d hauled her close, taking the back of her head in his hand to tilt her face up. He covered her mouth with his, absorbing her shock, kissing her with frustrated tenderness and deadly purpose until she had no choice but to kiss him back.

  A long moment later, Jack pulled away and laid his forehead against hers. She waited in vain for a declaration of love or explanation or…well, something.

  She cleared her throat. “That—um, that’s the way to chase me away.”

  “Meg.” His voice softened. “I told you if this happened, there wouldn’t be any going back. But I have to do my job. And I need you out of the way.”

  Meg gulped. If what happened? The accident and that kiss had been just about on a par for cataclysmic events.

  “Would one of you two lovebirds like to explain what’s going on around here?”

  Meg’s glance jerked up and over Jack’s shoulder. “Sam! Boy, are we glad to see you.” She put her fingers to tingling lips. They probably glowed like neon.

  “What is all this?” Sam thundered, the sweep of his arm encompassing the two trucks sandwiched together and the crew milling about the site like discombobulated sheep. “I get a call that one of the men has been run over by one of our own vehicles. Then I get here and find you two—”

  “It’s not what you think,” Meg said, wincing at Sam’s snort of disbelief. “Jack was moving the field stones, but the truck’s brakes gave, and Manny couldn’t get clear fast enough. My truck was in the way, too, but I got out.” She crossed her arms. “I was—we were just relieved. A lot.”

  Sam removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a mercy nobody was killed,” he muttered. He moved to survey the wreckage. “All these vehicles are serviced and
checked regularly. How could the brakes have gone out?”

  “They were fine this morning when we came on-site,” Jack said.

  Sam held up his hands. “Meg, get your crew and equipment rounded up, knock off for the day, and both of you meet me in my office in an hour.”

  “But I wanted to go to the hospital to check on Manny,” Meg protested.

  Sam sighed. “I know. But we can’t leave this without investigating its cause. There’ll be a pile of reports to fill out, and since you were a witness I need your input. And Torres—” Sam paused with a grim look “—keep your hands to yourself.”

  In Sam’s office, Jack watched Kenneth Warner come unglued.

  After interrogating both Jack and Meg for nearly an hour, Sam had paged Warner. Most unhappy about being called out of an executive finance meeting, Warner had listened to Sam outline today’s accident in brutal detail.

  Warner scowled at Meg. “How could you let this happen?”

  “Meg had nothing to do with it,” Sam intervened in his deep, measured drawl. He glanced at Jack. “I had a conversation with the mechanic a little while ago. He confirmed the brakes on that truck were fine. Now this is serious business. My people start getting injured, I’m thinking we need to call in the police.” Sam steepled thick fingers against his chin. His tone sharpened. “What about you, Mr. Warner?”

  Warner sat up in alarm. “We don’t need the police anywhere near us. We just bid on some city contracts. They’ll go out the window if there’s any hint of scandal.”

  “Scandal!” Meg blurted. “What about the poor guy who’s in the hospital with his leg in traction?”

  Warner gave her a harassed look. “Herrera will be taken care of, naturally. But since trouble seems to be following you around, I suggest you let the big boys take over from here.”

  Meg’s eyes kindled. “Trouble might not find me such an easy target if the big boys would do more than chest-bump one another on the way to the next business deal.”

  Jack was glad he had situated his chair so that he could observe both Thornton and Warner. Maybe he was about to sort out the buzzards from the cuckoos in this crowded nest.

  Thornton hid a smile, but Warner’s expression hardened. “Keep in mind, sweetheart, you won’t have a job if the company folds. Mr. Crowley seems determined to keep you on, so you might as well swallow the hard facts. Running this business isn’t all grubbing in the dirt, or even painting pretty designs on the computer. It’s winning new contracts, shuffling paper and looking good for the government agencies that keep tabs on us. And then there’s keeping the payroll under control—” Warner wrenched his tirade short.

  Jack decided it was time to weigh in. “If you don’t mind a comment from a guy who grubs in the dirt—” he looked at Meg and watched her eyes light “—we all appreciate your efforts to keep the company solvent.” Warner looked mollified. Jack continued with a slight edge. “Still, I suggest we at least attempt an in-house investigation. You know, to cover our bases.”

  Warner’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds reasonable.” He paused and fiddled with his tie. “Do you think you were the intended target?”

  “Target?” Jack rubbed his nose. “Don’t know if I’d go that far. Anyway, Herrera drives that truck as often as I do.”

  “Herrera?” Warner snorted. “Why bother with him?”

  Wanting to shake this rat by the neck, Jack shrugged. “Herrera’s a good man, and I’m not gonna stand around and watch him get run over again. Figuratively or literally.”

  Veins popped out above Warner’s pristine collar. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to cross you, Torres.”

  Satisfied that he had made his point, Jack looked at Sam. “Meg and I need to check on Herrera. Are we done here for the day?”

  Sam rolled back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “Go ahead. I’ll finish up this paperwork and talk to you tomorrow.”

  As Jack followed Meg out of the office, he intercepted Warner’s baleful glare.

  Sam, apparently not noticing, was shaking his head and muttering to himself, “Mr. Crowley’s gonna have an aneurism.”

  Warner left Sam Thornton and went straight to his office, pausing only to bark at Sharon Inge, who was e-mailing a picture of a tulip farm in Oregon to her sister. On company time.

  “But I was on my break!” Sharon protested as Warner slammed the door on her.

  He punched in the emergency number the Wolf had made him memorize. “He’s threatening me now,” Warner announced. “This thing’s out of control.”

  “What happened to your grand scheme?” mocked El Lobo. “Knocking off two birds et cetera?”

  “All I can say is, that truck should have killed them both. Herrera’s in the hospital with his leg in traction, so I think he’s scared enough to keep his mouth shut. But Torres walked away without a scratch.”

  There was an exaggerated sigh on the other end of the line. “All right, here’s what we’ll do. Send him on down to the border for the transfer tonight. There’ll be plenty of crossfire to take care of him.” El Lobo paused. “In fact, I’ll handle it myself. Should have done it from the get-go.”

  “I don’t like this,” Warner said. He could feel a tension headache coming on. “What if he’s setting us up?”

  “What if he is?” The Wolf sounded not at all concerned. “Forewarned is forearmed, right?”

  “Yeah, but there’s the girl. What if she goes to the police when Torres doesn’t come home?”

  The Wolf’s tone turned ominous. “Why would she do that?”

  “I’m fairly sure she knows who he is.” Warner didn’t know any such thing, but he could manipulate facts to suit his purposes. “One of my men saw her at his apartment after the first accident. And just now, the way he looked at her…” Warner swallowed the bile of envy. He had many reasons to hate Torres.

  “Then I’ll just have to take care of her, too. Where did she go after the meeting?”

  “She and Torres were going to the hospital.”

  “All right. Just sit tight, Warner, and let the pros handle the situation.”

  At this point Warner had no alternative. “Lobo, if you’re double-crossing me you’ll be sorry,” he blustered.

  The Wolf chuckled. “You might want to get ready for your own run for the border.”

  “Meg, I want you out of this mess. This situation could blow up at any minute.”

  Meg looked up at Jack, who had leaned down to prop his folded arms along the open window frame of her car. They’d just spent an hour with Manny, making sure he was comfortable. At least, Meg assumed that was what they’d been doing; more than half the conversation had been conducted in Spanish.

  “Find another job,” he continued before she could do more than shake her head. “Your dad would set you up with your own business if you just crooked your little pinkie.”

  “I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.” She looked at Jack’s mouth, barely six inches from hers. “I could put my pinkie to better uses.”

  He looked away. “Meg—”

  “Jack, we have to talk about this. I’m not going to ignore—”

  He gave her a slow grin. “Oh, you mean that little song and dance for Sam’s benefit.”

  Meg’s emotions took a cold-water bath. “What does Sam have to do with it?”

  “I figured he’d yank you into the office ASAP if he saw a little fraternizing going on.” He stood up and winked. “You didn’t take it seriously, did you?”

  “Of course not,” Meg said, swallowing. “I was just making sure you didn’t.” Her cell phone rang, and she fished for it in her purse. “I’d better take this. It might be my parents.”

  With a lazy salute, Jack walked toward his motorcycle.

  Meg blinked. The blinding afternoon sun that reflected off her rearview mirror would explain why her eyes were watering.

  The phone rang again, and she finally found it under the seat. “Hello?”

  “Meg! Where have you b
een?” exclaimed Benny. “I’ve been trying to call you for hours. My missions appointment came through this afternoon!”

  Jack decided his next move should be a consultation with his OIC. He paged Carmichael and met him at the bus station. Over a cup of coffee in the lounge, he filled Carmichael in on the truck incident and the ensuing meeting with Warner and Thornton.

  “I can’t decide if Warner was targeting me or Herrera,” Jack finished. “I just spent an hour with Herrera at the hospital. Warner knows where Herrera’s wife and kids are, and has threatened to hurt them if he talks.”

  Carmichael, who had listened without comment, rubbed his hand over his face. “Does Herrera know you’re border patrol?”

  “No,” Jack said. “But he knows I didn’t run over him on purpose. He asked me to do what I can to protect his family from the goons.”

  “That’s useful.” Carmichael frowned. “But there’s another complication. Your instincts about Vernon Rook were dead-on. I finally hit the right channel to confirm that he’s been under internal investigation. They were keeping it quiet because of all the media coverage focused on the agency lately.”

  Jack felt like he’d been hit in the stomach. “I can’t believe Vernon’s gone that far off the deep end. He’s been in the service for forty years!”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.” Carmichael looked grim. “Word is, his wife’s illness has taken its toll. People do crazy things when they’re in financial straits.”

  “So Rook didn’t believe me when I told him I’d gotten out?” Jack gripped the table, wishing the thought of his former mentor going rogue hadn’t been confirmed. “He’s the border patrol connection of this gang?”

  Carmichael shrugged. “I think that’s pretty clear.”

  “Cute little triangle they’ve worked out.” Jack released a slow breath. “They’ve got Rook controlling the crossing points, Herrera providing the coyotes and mules, and Warner taking care of distribution on this end.”