The Ranger

by Angi Morgan

  “There’s nothing to worry your pretty head about. The guys and I got this covered. They have true incentive to find that million in cocaine now. It’ll be in their hands before we’re finished in the other room.” He tugged her up and with him toward his bed.

  Patrice followed. Sex allowed her time to think. They passed through the door, he stripped off her robe and threw her to the mattress.

  “Are you high, Rey?”

  He ripped the buttons, pulling his shirt apart. “Yeah, baby, want some? I got more in my pocket than what you’re craving.”

  Craving? He couldn’t give her what she craved, but he’d do. “I’m fine like this.” She grabbed his belt before he could toss it away.

  “Oh, yeah, baby. You’re always fine.” He buried his face between her breasts and rolled on top of her.

  While she let him have his way, she’d put together a new strategy. Then she’d have her real fun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brandie paced, turned circles, tapped her toes and then a pen, waiting on Mitch to finish fingerprinting the bags. She’d obviously been distracting since he’d set his phone in a place to record him without being held. She didn’t mean to be in such a hurry but not doing anything to get her son back was more nerve-racking than handling the drugs themselves.

  “I think I should call Rey and tell him we’ve found the bag.” Brandie watched him carefully brush away the fingerprint powder that they’d made. “We can at least set up a time for the exchange.”

  “Not until I’m finished with this.” He waved his fingers over the cocaine. He wore two layers of food service gloves, trying not to mar any prints left behind. And not leave his prints to confuse police officers later.

  “Wasn’t twenty-five of those brick things plenty? You’ve said they must have been wearing gloves. You haven’t found anything but a smudge so far.” She picked up the second paintbrush they’d found with Toby’s art supplies. “I could do a couple.”

  “It’s better if I do them all.”

  “So you said. They won’t question anything if you’re the only one who attempts to lift the prints. But you’re taking hours. I want my son back. Today.”

  Mitch didn’t say anything. He stopped the recording, saved it to the cloud and began everything again.

  “Do you have enough candle soot?” She’d blackened a plate more times than she could count with their emergency candles. If he needed more, she’d have to go to the gift shop on the corner.

  “I think so.”

  “I’m going to clean up the front then.”

  “Good idea.”

  She’d tried several times to clean up the café dining room without success. Usually a very patient person, today she wanted to get her son. Nothing else mattered. Looking at the mess in front of her dampened her spirits again. It was so overwhelming.

  One thing. Concentrate on one thing and finish it.

  She gathered all the condiments that belonged on the tables. Two were missing so she began in a corner and searched methodically. She felt like Mitch as he had checked each inch of the plastic wrapping on each brick of drugs. She found them under the fourth booth.

  The blouse that her mom had given her caught on something and ripped. She kept a spare set of clothes in the back and changed. Getting into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt shifted her attitude. Then her stomach growled.

  The thought of her little boy going hungry curled her fingers into fists. She didn’t want to think about being comfortable or about food. But if they were going to meet drug dealers it should probably be on a full stomach.

  At least the kitchen wasn’t torn to pieces. She tied a cook apron around her waist and wiped the remaining flour off the flattop. While it heated, she picked up pans from the floor and stacked them near the sink, then gathered her ingredients. Just as she put the sliced turkey and buttered bread on the hot surface, she heard a knock on the front window.

  Her heart raced, and she couldn’t breathe. Her first instinct was to run to the garage and to Mitch. Rey had to be back. Then logic kicked in. He wouldn’t knock and wouldn’t be seen coming through the front door. She kept the metal spatula in her hand and slowly peeked through the service window.

  Pete stood at the door, knuckle rapping against the glass again. “Mitch!” she called loudly. “The sheriff’s here.”

  She had to let him inside. She didn’t have any choice. Did she? No. She flipped the dead bolt and prayed Mitch had enough time to put the drugs away. “We’re not open.”

  “I know you’re not open, Brandie. We thought you needed to know what could be happening.” He turned sideways, and she could see Cord standing a few feet behind him. A café regular walked down the sidewalk, peering into her window to get a peek at the wreckage.

  “I appreciate you coming by but today’s not— I’m just really not up to...um...company.”

  “Any news, Sheriff?” Mitch asked from over her head.

  “We need to come inside.” Pete said the words, but Cord arched an eyebrow and nodded his head slightly.

  Mitch must have received the message from his boss and pushed open the door. Brandie shot him a look, silently asking if he were crazy but he missed it. He shook the hands of the two men and flipped undamaged chairs around for everyone to sit down.

  This was not how her afternoon was supposed to go. What if Rey had men watching the café?

  “Mitch, will you help me with the sandwiches?”

  “Sure.”

  “You guys help yourself to some coffee. You might have to rinse out a cup but the pot’s fresh.” She took her mechanic’s hand and kept him next to her so he couldn’t even hint at or tell either man about the cocaine.

  “The bread is practically burned.” She flipped the sandwiches and turned off the flattop.

  “It’s okay. I just need to shove something into my stomach. It doesn’t matter if it tastes good. I’ll find some plates.”

  “Just grab the box of to-go wrappers.” She accepted the thin aluminum sheets he handed her and scooped the sandwich onto it. She lowered her voice. “What do you think they want?”

  Mitch shrugged with a mouthful of turkey and cheese. “Why don’t we ask ’em?”

  He ambled comfortably into the other room, seeming completely at ease facing two law enforcement officers with a million dollars’ worth of cocaine in the next room. There was no way she could look as calm and collected as he did. She was more nervous than words to describe it. But she should be. Her son had been kidnapped.

  Mitch was right. All they could do was ask her and all she had to do was not answer. So she followed him. He inhaled his sandwich—burned bread and all—while she nibbled, too sick at her stomach to think anything would actually stay down.

  Mitch stopped and got them both glasses of water. Brandie stayed at the counter watching three lawmen sizing each other up. Who would break the silence first?

  “Why are you here?” she finally asked. The little bit of sandwich in her tummy turned to a rock waiting on the answer.

  “To try and talk some sense into you.” Pete flattened his palm on the table.

  Cord pressed his lips together into a thin line and flicked some imaginary crumbs on the table. Mitch twirled the bottom of his glass in a circle after he sat down and used that patience thing where he never seemed in a hurry to get anything done. Which was so opposite to all that he accomplished every day.

  “So talk.” Mitch leaned back, and the front feet of his chair left the floor. He looked totally relaxed with his arms crossed, his pointer finger tapping on his biceps.

  Pete leaned on the tabletop, his head quirked to the side looking at her mechanic. Not knowing that Mitch was much more than his outward appearance or his calm collective.

  “Don’t convince me,” he said, nodding his head in her direction. “She’s calling the shots.”

  Yep, Mitch was a man of his word and definitely her friend.

  Silence. The bite she was chewing turned into a piece of dri
ed-up jerky. And they all waited. Mitch’s finger didn’t miss a beat to whatever rhythm he was tapping on his arm. She finally swallowed but still didn’t know what to say.

  “I thought you came here to talk.” She gulped some water to get the awful flavor of burned toast from her taste buds.

  “I brought Cord out here to convince you that you need help with whatever you’re supposed to do with the people who took Toby. You’ve got to realize it’s too dangerous to work on your own.”

  “Why do you assume I’m supposed to do anything?”

  Pete pushed away from the table, slapping it at the same time he stood. “I’m not a fool and I’m not your father who’s too upset to see straight. I’m the sheriff. And he’s a Texas Ranger.”

  It took her a second to realize he meant Cord, not Mitch.

  “You can’t do anything—”

  “And yet you’ve chosen the help of a drifter mechanic with anonymous friends who post his bail.”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “If he’s a part of whoever’s threatening you, or working with whoever has taken Toby, I swear, bail or no bail, I’ll get him behind bars. Nobody should mess with a kid.” He yanked Mitch to his feet with two fistfuls of fabric.

  “Pete, please stop.” She was speaking to the sheriff but pleaded silently with the Ranger who still sat there with an unconcerned expression. “Cord? Do something.”

  He fiddled with the hat that Rangers were so famous for, changing its angle on the table, then scratching his chin as if he weren’t concerned. Mitch’s hands slowly wrapped around Pete’s wrists, tilting them backward. They were about to have it out.

  “Just stop!” she yelled to prevent the all-out fight that was bound to happen.

  “What’s he forcing you to do, Brandie?”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sakes. This is so ridiculous. I should be taking care of my son, not supervising grown men acting his age.”

  “Tell me what he’s making you do and I’ll help you get Toby back,” Pete said with a grimace of pain.

  “You can’t. Mitch knows what he’s doing. Please let him go.”

  Cord jumped up, his chair falling backward to the floor. “You win, Pete. Mitch works for me. He’s an undercover member of our task force. I’m not sure how this relates to Toby’s kidnapping, but Brandie found out last night. That’s probably why she wants his help.”

  “I knew it!” the sheriff boasted.

  Pete and Mitch dropped their hands, both taking a step in retreat, both mumbling under their breath.

  “Dammit. I said you were getting too involved.” Cord turned to Mitch. “What the hell’s going on and why does Brandie need your help?”

  Mitch shrugged. “Not my story to tell.”

  “Will someone tell me why we’ve blown the cover on a major operation?” Cord commanded with authority. “Is someone going to explain why? And it better be worth it.”

  “Oh, my gosh. You all just need to stop. Please just stop.” She stomped as loud as she could to the door and put her hand on the knob. “I get that this reveal allows you to be the best of pals. We can schedule a playdate for later. Get out. Now. Before someone sees you here.”

  “Who?” Pete and Cord asked together.

  Mitch pulled her away from the door to whisper in her ear, “We’re good. It’s still your decision. You’re in charge and I’ll do what you want even if they order me not to.”

  They looked at each other, and she shook her head. She couldn’t risk never seeing Toby again.

  “I know someone’s forcing you to do something illegal.” Pete was quiet and firm and sounded sad. “Let me help you.”

  “I’m waiting on the kidnappers to contact me. You know why I couldn’t do it at the house. Dad would have just kept getting worse.”

  Pete and Cord nodded their heads.

  “I’m not saying that I’ve been contacted. But if I am, I’ll do exactly what they say to do. I want my son back and I’ll do anything to hold him again. Period. End of story.”

  Mitch laced his fingers through hers and the steadying strength she’d felt so many times in the past day filled her being. She could calmly take a moment and believe everything would be okay.

  “They don’t know I’m undercover. Our operation hasn’t been blown. Yet.” His fingers tightened around hers. “If they’re watching this place, it’s going to be hard to explain why you’ve been here so long. So maybe it’s time for you both to leave?”

  “You going to leave this alone, Pete?” Cord asked, settling his hat on his head, ready to leave.

  “I don’t have too much of a choice. We haven’t had any hits from the Amber Alert.”

  “You think I’m making a mistake. I have to trust myself, Pete. How many times have these men attacked our town? How many times will they hurt someone in our future? I know you want to put them away forever, but I can’t risk Toby’s life with that possibility.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You can make your call now, but use my phone.” Mitch told Brandie as he zipped the duffel, mentally retracing his entire process. He’d been painstakingly slow and careful. Driving Brandie nuts while she waited, but still methodical. He hadn’t messed it up.

  Granted, he wasn’t a fingerprint expert, but he’d found no useable prints or even smudges. He’d finished up after Cord and Pete left, cursing under his breath that there was nothing to tie King to the drugs or Glen’s death. But more so that his cover had been blown.

  He was a professional who had been undercover for more than two years. He’d never blown it before. Then again, a five-year-old’s life had never been at stake. Or someone like Brandie.

  How many people did he know who could come through this ordeal without falling apart? Very few individuals had the rare inner strength that he admired in her. There wasn’t anything about her he didn’t appreciate.

  Maybe her stubbornness to trust him, but even that was explained by her past. He’d find out that entire story someday. A barrier would be crossed when she shared that part of herself. And for the first time in his life he was willing to see what was on the other side.

  “We’ve got a lot of hours ahead of us to get both places back up and running.” Brandie stretched on his cot, waking from a short nap while she’d waited.

  He looked around the garage, seeing the needless destruction but it didn’t compare to the café. Amazed that she still thought she could come back here and take up her life as if nothing happened.

  “Where’s your phone?” she asked, pulling hers from her jeans pocket.

  He handed her the cell from the shelf and waited for her to tap in the number. Then he covered her hand, delaying the conversation with King.

  “Look, Brandie, my cover’s done here. I’m taking this money and getting Toby back.” He was starting to like that cute little O shape she made when she was taken by surprise. “Don’t try to argue. You’ll tell King you’re being followed. This is the deal. He wants the cocaine, he gets me.”

  “Whoa, now—”

  “That’s the only way.” He squeezed her hand, fighting the urge to take her in his arms.

  She stood and took a couple of steps away from him. “I appreciate that you want to keep me safe, but you’re mistaken if you think you have the right to order me to do anything. I thought I made it perfectly clear that we’d do everything the way Rey tells us to. I’m following his instructions to the letter and that’s it.”

  “I wasn’t trying to order you.”

  “It’s okay.” She patted his chest as she passed by and crooked a finger for him to follow to the garage office. “We follow his instructions.”

  A petite fireball. That’s exactly who Brandie Ryland was. First the phone call, then he’d tie her up and leave her on the cot in order to prevent her from being in danger.

  Too involved. Yep, Cord had called it right. Brandie and Toby were more important to him than the case. He knew it and it didn’t matter.

  She dialed the cell. Someone a
nswered and immediately hung up. “That’s the number he gave me to call. Should I use my phone?”

  “Give him a second, then call again and tell him your name. He should realize that you can’t use your own phone because of the cops.”

  She did. Someone answered and she put the call on speaker.

  “Brandie, Brandie, Brandie. My men tell me you had visitors and haven’t left your pathetic café all day. Are you calling to tell me you can’t give me what I want?”

  “I found your bag of drugs. Tell me how to get my son back.” Brandie shook the phone like it might be King’s head.

  “We tore that place apart. Glen must have had a real good hiding place.”

  Mitch silently moaned, realizing he should have recorded the conversation. It would have cleared Brandie of any wrongdoing and would have given the Rangers enough for a warrant. He was definitely off his game.

  Sharing that he was undercover with—at the time—their prime suspect. Then staying and protecting Brandie and leaving this place wide-open... He had to set the emotional attachments aside and perform like a true professional.

  “Enough with the nice stuff!” she yelled. “I want my son.”

  “Simmer down. You and your mechanic take his car. Drive around so you know no one’s following you. Be at the south end of Nopal Road at five o’clock. Then start walking east.” King disconnected.

  “Do you know where Nopal Road is?” He pocketed his phone, knowing that he had to notify Cord about the drop and send him access to his secure account.

  She nodded. “We won’t have cell service since it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “What is out there?” He put the location into his cell.

  “Nothing. I don’t think there’s even a tree large enough to hide behind.”

  “That’s not in our favor. It’s also not good that they want the both of us in my car. He’s smart enough not to want any surprises, like me surprising them after we have Toby.”

  “If we’re supposed to drive around for a couple of hours, maybe you should fill the gas tank.”