Chapter Eighteen
“Are you okay?”
Santos pulled her tight in a hard embrace, then released her.
Rose gasped out, “Yes. Enrique…he’s under there,” she managed, pointing to the crawlspace. “And he’s got a knife.”
Santos threw himself to the ground and started to crawl, ready to kill the man with his bare hands.
Rose cried out another warning. “Wait! There’s a rattler, too. I think it’s dead, but watch out.”
Stopping where he was, he peered under the house, his gaze leading his gun. Frozen in the dim light, Juan Enrique lay in the dirt, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling from the effort. A knife shone dully a foot behind him. Beyond the bloody weapon was a coiled diamondback, his head hanging by a ragged thread, his body still jerking. The snake was alive, but just barely, his dying rattle an empty threat.
“Get me out,” Enrique begged him. “La serpiente de cascabel—it’s right behind me. It’s already bitten me. Please!”
Santos wondered if he could live with himself if he abandoned the man and simply walked away. Enrique’d had no problem torturing Concepción DeLeon until she’d died. Some people might have said he deserved a death as painful and hopeless as hers—especially her mother. Then Santos had another idea. Enrique couldn’t see the snake; he had no idea it was almost dead.
“Why did you kill Concepción DeLeon?”
“Get out of my way or pull me out!” the drug dealer screamed. “It’s going to bite me again—”
“Tell me the truth and I’ll help you,” he countered.
“Who the hell are you?” the dealer screeched. “Just get me out.”
“Tell me,” Santos pressed.
“Yes, yes! I killed her, okay? She threatened to tell everyone about Carlos—her brother—and Bennie. I had to get rid of her before anyone found out I hired them, now please—”
“Who the hell’s Bennie?”
“He was at the trailer park with Carlos.” He lifted his head and tried to look around him, his panic reaching a near explosive level. “I wa—wanted them to grab the sheriff and make everyone think Ortega had done it. Now get me out of here before I die!”
“And the dead man at your house? Was that Bennie?” Santos asked calmly.
“Yes,” Enrique howled. “I killed him so the sheriff would think it was me and stop looking for me! And I wanted to shut him up so he wouldn’t tell anyone about the trailer park.”
“The candle, and the boy with the knife?”
Enrique gasped. “Yes! Yes, I did it all, now p-please… I-I’ve told you everything. You can’t leave me here! Help me out, Mother of God—”
Santos wanted to abandon the drug dealer even more than he had before his confession, but he couldn’t. With a muttered, “Shit,” he reached in and grabbed Enrique’s arm, dragging him over the gravel as roughly and painfully as he possibly could.
The minute he cleared the crawlspace, Enrique pulled out a wicked boot knife, jumped to his feet and launched himself at Santos.
He cursed himself for not being faster as they both went down, Santos sprawling in the dirt. The Glock went flying. Enrique sliced out with his knife, and his cheek erupted in a fiery sting. He swiped his hand back the other way. The blade was at Santos’s throat before he could block it. Grabbing Enrique’s wrist, he barely managed to deflect the knife’s trajectory. The blade jumped from his throat but kept coming, and this time it sliced across his forehead. On the downward swing it pierced the skin of his throat.
Then Enrique went unaccountably still. Santos raised his gaze. Rose stood behind him with Santos’s gun pushed into the back of Enrique’s neck. Her hands were completely steady.
“Drop the knife,” she said evenly. “Drop it now or you’re a dead man.”
…
The gunfire down the road stopped soon after they had Enrique hugging one of the beams at the corner of the house, his hands tied securely around it. By the time Rose had walked around the corner with Santos by her side, the ACES team was riding up, Dan’s truck on their bumpers. Jessie got off her bike and strolled toward the two as if nothing had happened. She gave Enrique a casual glance. “Really? Only one bad guy? We’ve gotten rounded up down by the gate.”
Shaky and filthy, Rose managed a laugh. “We’ll do better next time.”
“I’m sure your deputy will appreciate credit for the arrest, regardless.” Jessie grinned. “Somehow he got an anonymous tip two motorcycle chapters were shooting at each other down by Las Lomas. Unfortunately, he’ll only find one gang when he gets there. The others just…rode off into the sunset.”
“Good job.” Santos tilted his head toward the falling-down cabin and told Jessie, “Take the team over there and let Enrique hear you brag about beating another gang. I want him thinking I came out here to make a deal with him. Drop a few names. Enrique will think his brother sent us. He owns this place.”
Santos watched her leave, then he faced Rose. “Thanks for the help back there.”
“One good turn deserves another. You’ve helped me out a few times here lately.”
“Let’s call it a draw.”
Unsure of where the conversation was heading, she hesitated. If they didn’t handle this moment right, everything between them could be lost forever. It was probably lost anyway, once Santos realized her mother had escaped.
She procrastinated with a simple question. “How did you figure out what happened to me?”
He explained the phone call from the tech in Austin. “Your neighbor saw the license plate on the SUV, and we traced it to Marcos Enrique.”
“But how did you find this?” She waved her to indicate the isolated landscape. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
A reluctant acknowledgement flashed over his harsh features. “Dan knew where it was. He has a hunting lease on the ranch next door.”
Rose couldn’t help but grin. “I guess we owe him one, too.”
“I’m afraid so.”
A silent pause came, and then Rose spoke again, her amusement slowly fading again. “I heard Enrique tell you what he did. He boasted about it to me, too. His grandmother would have been devastated. She was a good woman.” The morning air held the scent of cedar as a sudden breeze made the nearest tree shiver. “He wanted us to think Ortega was behind everything.”
A look came into Santos’s eyes that made her shiver, too. “I’ll find him,” he promised, looking toward the shadowy mountains. “Ortega got away this time, but sooner or later, I’ll find him. I’ve come to realize something, though—”
Jessie came around the edge of the house, slapping her riding gloves against her chaps. “Enrique got the story. Unless you need anything else, we’re going to leave before King gets here.”
“We’re good. Tell the guys I’m buying the beer tonight.”
Saluting Santos and giving Rose a quick nod, she walked away. The Harleys grumbled to life and the ACES team took off.
Rose turned back to Santos, a sudden concern coming to her. “You think your cover’s still good?”
“Even if he finds out anything, Enrique will keep quiet, if he wants to stay alive. He’ll be more worried about his ass than mine, because if they ever find out the truth, Ortega’s men will hunt him down and kill him for messing with their boss’s reputation. He’s a lot of things but he’s not an idiot.”
He took a step toward her, and suddenly she was paralyzed. His gaze was filled with unspoken questions, his face etched with an unreadable expression. She could feel the tension coming off his body, and it enveloped her. He looked like a man who had come to a decision. What was it?
“If I fight, drink till I pass out, drive like a maniac…no one gives a shit,” he said quietly. “I don’t care how I have to act, if that’s what I need to do to stop Ortega.”
“I’m not so sure it’s an act anymore,” she said.
“You may be right.” He lifted a hand toward her cheek but dropped it before he could touch her. But I warned you, Rose. I told you how much I want to put the bastard away. I said I’d do anything to get him, and I still mean that. I’m just not sure I’d do it the same way.”
“What about my mother? She—”
He suddenly looked uneasy. “She knew what she was getting into. I gave her every opportunity to pull out.”
Rose nodded. “She confirmed everything you said. How you urged her to take her chances and plead out. How she insisted on going undercover instead. How you promised her you wouldn’t tell me. Even the arrest she knew would come. I just wish it could have been played another way.”
“I do, too,” he said simply, his admission surprising her. “If I’d had any idea it would end like this, I would have refused to let her go undercover, no matter how badly she wanted it. I should never even have let her hear my boss’s offer. She should have taken the chance and left Ortega behind.”
“I don’t think she would have, no matter what you said or did,” Rose countered, now surprising herself. “The man she saw Ortega kill—he wasn’t a stranger. He was her lover after she’d realized what kind of man Ortega really was. He wouldn’t let her leave, but he couldn’t make her love him. She wanted revenge as much as she wanted anything.” She’d admitted that at the hospital. “But I’m not sure who used who in this deal.”
He didn’t seem shocked at her words. In fact, he looked as if his mind were somewhere else. His expression made her think again, and she considered his words, her thoughts swirling in confusion until they narrowed to a single sharp point.
Immediately, she questioned her realization, second-guessing herself. She couldn’t possibly be right. Then slowly and carefully, she accepted the truth.
Her mother hadn’t escaped. Santos had looked the other way, and allowed her to leave.
Rose suddenly understood his dedication to his work, his black and white ways, his shoot-now-ask-questions later routine had all been abandoned because he loved her. He’d been willing to forsake the very foundation of who he was because she meant more to him than anything else. Possibly even his life.
Her breath caught in her throat as she contemplated the enormity of what he’d done.
He’d let Gloria go. He’d bent the rules.
All for her.
…
Rose’s eyes widened in shock, and Santos knew exactly what was coming, but for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t lie. Even if it made a fool out of him, he had to tell her the truth. The time had come when he couldn’t do anything else.
“She didn’t escape, did she?” A tiny intake of breath accompanied her words. “You let her go.”
“Yes. I let her go. It was the only thing I could do, no matter the consequences. I love you too much to make your mother pay any more than she already has.” Capturing her gaze with his, he spoke softly. “I love you, Rose. I loved you when we lived together, I loved you when you walked out the door. I’ve loved you every minute since then. And I’ll never stop loving you. Never forget that, no matter what happens between us.”
She seemed to collapse against him. “Oh, God, Santos—I love you, too. I don’t know what I was thinking when I doubted you. I didn’t understand, but I do now.” She paused. “What made you change your mind? How did she…” She stopped, the ability to express herself escaping in light of her revelation.
“I was listening outside the door when you went to see her at the hospital. I’d gone there to formally charge her, then I heard the two of you talking about Mike Slider.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I pulled the hospital watch, and told Jessie to go home.”
She opened his arms, folded them around her, and held on so tight he found it hard to breathe. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I was willing to give up my identity and pretty much everything else in return for keeping her—and you—alive, until I could locate her and catch Ortega. I took too many risks. And realized I had to accept what I’d been trying to push away all along. If I really loved you as much as I knew I did, there’s one thing I couldn’t do any longer—to be dishonest with you. The only way I knew to convince you I had changed and you were getting the truth was to put my money where my mouth was. I had to let her go.”
The wind shifted and the piercing cry of a mockingbird came to them. The sound seemed out of place. Then again, maybe not. The bird didn’t have a song of its own, all it did was sing others’ tunes.
Nothing was what it seemed in West Texas, not even the animals.
He tightened his hands against her back. “I have no idea where your mother is, and I don’t want to know. All I hope is that it’s somewhere good. She deserves a second chance.” The sound of his pulse echoed in his ears. He’d faced stone-cold killers with less trepidation. “I hope you’ll give me one, too.”
She pulled back to look at him, her eyes filled with tears. He was struck by how they glistened, and he realized he’d never seen her cry before. Not in all the time they’d been together. Not even when they’d parted before.
She grabbed his hands, and suddenly his breath was trapped inside his chest. “Oh, God, Santos, I’ve made such a mess of things. I’m the one who should have realized you were only doing what you thought was right. All you’ve ever wanted was to do your job, and all I ever did was try and stop you. I was so wrong. I— I don’t know what to say.”
“‘I love you’ was good enough.” He grinned. “You can’t top that.” He looked down at their entangled fingers, his heart thumping faster than he thought was possible. “But I’d really appreciate if you let me stay in Rio County and finish what I came here to do.”
“Of course, I’ll let you do that. I love you, too. Too much to ever to let you leave. We can’t ever let that happen again. And that’s a feeling that’s never going to change, no matter how much trouble life may throw at us in the future. No matter the arguments, no matter the troubles, no matter what. All that counts is we found each other again. You’re staying here, even if I have to arrest you to make it happen.”
“Even though the night we made love you said it didn’t mean anything?”
She smiled. “Maybe you’re not the only one who doesn’t always tell the truth.”
He pulled her back into his arms and held her against him, a fierce wave of love washing over him. His embrace said everything he didn’t have the words to describe, and he realized from her tremble that she understood. He cursed himself again for the conflict that had almost stolen from them the most precious thing anyone could ever have—their love. All he could do was pray that time would heal the hurt. Something told him that restoration had already begun in her heart and his.
He tightened his arms and cradled her closer. “Can you stand being known as the sheriff in love with the biker?”
“Can you stand being known as the biker who fell for the sheriff?”
“I can handle anything, as long as I know we’ll end up together when this is all over.” He covered her lips with his and kissed her over and over, leaving no question that he meant every word. “You’re right, Rose. Together is the only way we can end up because you’ve got my heart—the heart of the man I used to be, and the heart of the man I am—in your hands.”
“I’ll keep your heart safe,” she promised. With a soft smile, she brought his head down to hers and kissed him again, her hands knitting in his hair. “But when this is over, you’re not getting it back. That heart belongs to me—now and forever.”
Follow the Cowboy
The west Texas sky looked endless overhead, pinpricks of starlight decorating the vast darkness for as far as Kingston Landry could see. His horse picked his way through the scrub brush with confidence. She knew every inch of his ranch better than he did. The midnight ride was a ritual they’d shared over the years, and lately, he had needed it more and more. Sometimes he needed it to clear his head, sometimes he needed it for entertainment. More often than not, he needed it to escape the demons that seemed to follow him everywhere except out here.
Tonight was one of those nights.
The terrors had been closer to him than ever before in the days following the arrest of Juan Enrique. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn about the drug dealer. But seeing the trail of destruction Enrique had left behind had made him realize something important—there were people he loved, and some of them might die if he didn’t act soon.
If he’d still been in Washington DC, he would have washed away the hollowness with a bottle of Jack and a woman he didn’t know. Waking up in the morning with a hangover, he would have successfully pushed the feelings away, at least temporarily. He was tempted to handle this the same way, but things had changed. He couldn’t permit himself that kind of selfish response now. His goal wouldn’t let him.
They went another hundred yards before the horse stutter-stepped abruptly, almost unseating him. Tightening his thighs and pulling lightly on the reins, he spoke softly, trying to reassure the animal. “Whoa, girl, hang on. What’s the problem?”
The horse answered with an uneasy snort, dancing to the right. He wrapped the leather reins tighter around his fingers and stared intently at the path ahead. Everything looked like it always did. Dried grass, skeletal scrub brush, rocks jutting here and there in the thin light of a fingernail moon. The nighttime sounds that echoed around him were nothing out of the ordinary, either. The scratching of smaller animals running over the gravely dirt, the wind whistling through a cedar tree, the dry ticking of the cicadas here and there—everything seemed peaceful and quiet. But the horse hopped again, this time almost rearing, her disquiet obviously growing.
King had come across a drug courier not too long ago, running through one of the arroyos near the back of the ranch. He’d arrested the man and thrown him in jail but he’d posted bail, then disappeared. It wouldn’t surprise King if he’d returned. Or sent one of his buddies to use the same ravine. Once the mules found a route they liked, they tended to stick with it. They usually gave a blown path a little more time before returning to it, though.
On the other hand, something else—someone else—entirely different could be to blame. If that was the case, he needed to know. It meant he didn’t have as much time left as he thought he did.
The horse tossed her head and snorted. Before she could pitch him off, he brought the animal around and trotted her back the way they’d come. Tying her to a skinny mesquite, he walked back and wondered what was going on. She was a steady mare and he’d had her for years. Something had clearly spooked her.
King only pulled his weapon if he intended to use it. For reasons he didn’t yet understand, something told him that’s what he must do. He eased the pistol from its holster and edged forward, his Glock held in a two-handed grip pointed upward.
He was halfway down the ravine when he heard a low growl. A sudden movement to his left caught his eye, and he swung around quickly, bringing the weapon down. Two coyotes, scrabbling over a scrap of cloth, froze as they saw him. They were only pups, and they’d been at it for a bit. Loose soil was scattered all over the open ground, and broken limbs hung from the nearby bushes.
Some of the larger rocks even looked as though they’d been turned over during the disturbance, the animals’ claws leaving telltale slashes. His eyes went back to the pups. Their muzzles were dark, covered with something wet and sticky. The rag they were pulling apart was wet-looking, too. Noses quivering, they took off running, their loping grace carrying them into the desert night. The smell hit King a moment after that.
He cursed, and swept the arroyo with his eyes, first one way and then the other. Frozen in place, the darkness whispering around him, he waited silently. Nothing else moved or made any noise. Even the cicadas fell silent as if waiting to see what happened next. Finally he decided he was alone, and resumed his progress to the spot where the animals had been fighting, the scrub brush pulling at his pant leg. If he’d been a fanciful man he might have thought it was trying to hold him back. If he’d still been a drunk, he might have thought it really was.
He stopped beside the coyotes’ prize and bent down to take a closer look. Rips up and down the fabric bore the animals’ tooth marks, but it was easy to tell it had been the sleeve of a dark green shirt. Black plastic buttons gleamed in the waning moonlight, and part of a cuff was still visible. A tattered scrap of fabric above the buttons flapped gently in the wind. The edge looked as though it’d been dipped in something dark and tacky. It could have been wood glue or maybe even honey, but he knew it wasn’t.
It was blood.
Leaving a dark trail behind them, the pups had dragged the material over the rocky soil from a place a dozen yards away. The path they’d taken was clear in the dim light, their paw prints muddying the way. He straightened and followed their trail. Behind him, he could hear the horse restlessly pawing at the ground, still nervous. His steps took him up the ridge and over a rocky stretch of barren desert. A low snarl brought him up short.
The pair of pups he’d seen had been routed from the real treasure and reduced to dragging away the leftovers. The true winner stood before him. Bristling with defensiveness, his snout still dripping, a much larger coyote glared at him with snapping eyes, the fur bristling along his back as he guarded his acquisition. A low growl started somewhere deep inside its chest and worked its way out, the animal baring its teeth as the sound escaped its throat.
He could have shot the animal and put an end to the confrontation, but he didn’t believe in that sort of thing. The coyotes had been in these parts a helluva lot longer than humans, and besides, they were generally harmless. At least toward people.
Holstering his weapon, King threw his hands into the air and flapped them at the coyote, stomping in the dirt and yelling “scat” half a dozen times before the animal followed the younger ones into the dark. When he was sure the coyote was really gone, he took a closer step and squatted in the dirt.
The head’s dead eyes stared back.
The rest of the body was nowhere in sight.
To be continued…
November, 2013 Follow the Cowboy by Kay David
About the Author
Kay David is the author of over thirty romantic suspense novels and holds degrees in behavioral psychology, computer science, and English literature. She has lived extensively overseas in exotic locales, including the Middle East and Latin America, but currently splits her time between Houston and Florida with her husband Pieter and her two Bengals, Jake and Elwood. Reading is her passion, and when she isn’t remodeling homes, running her business, or traveling, you’ll find her hidden in her sunroom with a stack of books and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.