Chapter Six
Santos climbed on his Harley and headed back for the ranch. His mind spun as fast as his tires as he thundered down the highway. If he couldn’t get Rose to help him, and soon, they were all going to be in more trouble than he knew how to handle. And that was saying a helluva lot.
His phone began to chirp as he unlocked the door of the ranch house and walked inside. Austin Wills answered his hello. “Can you talk?”
The agent had gone across the border to check out a serious card game, hoping he could pick up some info at the same time. He spoke in Spanish, and Santos answered in kind. “Fire away.”
“Bad choice of words.”
“You might be right, especially considering what happened early this morning.”
“I heard. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“What about Rose?”
He and Rose had had a small circle of friends when they’d been together. Austin had been in it. He hadn’t told Rose the agent was in Smokin’ ACES to protect her, but also to maintain their cover as long as possible. “Bumps and bruises. Nothing close to what Nasty gave me the other night.”
“She probably would have handled him better than you did.”
Santos grinned, the moment of levity sorely needed. “You want something specific, Wills, or did you just call to bust my balls?”
“Both,” the agent replied. “I’ve given you the hard time, so now here’s the rest. I just found out Dos y Tres is having that chapter meet tomorrow night, then they’re heading for the roadhouse. You in?”
They’d been trying to get a meeting with the Dos y Tres bikers for weeks. They did protection runs for Ortega when he had a lot of cash to transport. Hooking up with them, even just to party, would put ACES one step closer to their goal. “Have we been invited?”
“More or less. Bentley’s after this slick little blonde who rides with them, and she implied we’d be welcome—or at least he would be.”
“Sounds good to me as long as Nasty and his gang won’t be there.”
“Don’t worry about him, buddy. I’m sure you’ll win next time.” Santos heard a quick inhalation. “They’re coming. I gotta go.”
The phone went dead. He hoped no one else ended up that way, too.
…
The minute Santos had left, Rose phoned the station and asked King for an update. He gave her advice instead, telling her to stay home and take it easy. She told him to mind his own business and tell her what was happening. She shouldn’t have bothered to call. They’d learned nothing about the weapons or the dead man.
Hanging up, she took another two aspirin, then gingerly pulled on a clean uniform and tried to make herself presentable.
Ten minutes later, with a fresh cup of coffee in the cup holder and a piece of toast in her mouth, she pulled into the station’s parking lot.
Lydia looked up as Rose walked in. “What are you doing here? I thought you went home to rest.”
“I don’t need to rest. I need to find out who was shooting at me.”
“King has got everyone in the county out looking, but he’s had no luck. Go home,” she begged.
“Info back on the dead guy’s fingerprints?”
Lydia looked at her with resignation. “Surely you aren’t serious to ask me a question like that?”
Rio County was so far down the totem pole they normally didn’t get that kind of information out of headquarters for days. “How about the autopsy? Do we know when it’s scheduled?”
The nearest medical examiner’s office was in Lubbock County. It was an all day affair just to get the body transported. Getting results from there was an even bigger nightmare than the fingerprint situation.
“We have a little problem there.”
“You mean worse than usual?”
Lydia cut her eyes toward her computer panel, avoiding her gaze. “A state trooper took the body so they can do the autopsy in Austin. You know how they are—they think they can do it better than anyone around here. ME said they would copy us on the report—whenever it was done.”
She might never see that paperwork. The idea something like that might happen hadn’t even crossed her mind, but should have. How could she have been oblivious to Santos’s connections in Austin?
“Have you gone to the clinic yet?” Lydia asked.
“I’ve got too much to do. And I’m fine anyway.”
“Then at least call your grandfather. He’s phoned me three times because he’s too stubborn to call you directly.”
“I’ll do it as soon as I can.”
Three hours passed before she could call her grandfather’s number. In the meantime, Santos’s words continued to rattle around inside her head.
They like chopping off heads with machetes. You’re risking your own life and everyone’s close to you.
Her grandfather answered on the first ring. The sound made her want to climb into his lap and cry like she had when she’d been a child and skinned her knee. But a kiss and a hug weren’t going to help this time.
“I take it you’re alive,” he drawled.
“Sore, but okay.”
“I hear one of the other guys is not doing too good.”
“He’s dead and forgotten.” Frustration bubbled up inside her. “The troopers carried him off.”
“Good. They’ll do the autopsy faster, and you’ll find out more.”
“Not likely. I’ve contacted Austin, and they’re already giving me the run around.”
“You’re not letting your personal problems with Santos get in the way, are you?”
“There is nothing personal between us, so there are no problems to get in anyone’s way.”
“Santos told me the whole story. He just left a few minutes ago.”
“He what?” she sputtered. “I can’t believe— He actually went to your place?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not the first time he’s been out here.”
She thought back to the previous conversation she’d had with Silas. She should have realized what was going on. “Did you two old women talk about me behind my back?”
Her jibe was ignored. “He still loves you.”
She couldn’t speak. Her throat actually seemed to close, and her lips refused to move. “No. No, no, and hell no. That’s crazy talk. Santos and I are over. Way over.” She took a breath. “Did he say that? That he loved me?”
“He didn’t have to say it.”
She felt a perverse tick of disappointment. “So you read his mind?”
“It’s plain as the nose on your face, girlie.” His voice turned deeper and more strident. “It’s your duty to help him find your mother, Rose. I don’t like this anymore than you do, but Santos’s story is good. Not iron-tight, but good.”
“I don’t trust him.”
She could hear Silas’s old yellow lab snuffle as if he agreed with her. The sound hung in the air for a second, then her grandfather spoke quietly. “Why would he lie to you, Rose?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“So? People lie to get what they want. Sometimes in our business, it’s the only way.”
When she didn’t answer, he spoke again. “What would be the point of coming to Rio if he wasn’t sure Gloria could help?”
She still didn’t have an answer.
“You took an oath, Rose. You have an obligation to uphold the law.”
Obligation. Duty. Oath.
His words stayed with her the rest of the day.
…
Tugging off his cowboy hat but leaving on his head wrap, Santos entered Aqua Frio’s only café that evening and headed for the booth his agents had commandeered. The scent of onions and cumin made his mouth water despite the dagger-like stares being thrown his way. The diners lining the counter and sitting at the scattered tables didn’t welcome him or the others, and Santos understood. He had felt the same way about bikers once upon a time. But not all the ones he’d met in the past few months were like Nasty. Their chapters were their family, and they were fiercely loyal. Plenty of them rode in charity rides when they couldn’t afford the gas, and he’d even been to a church service just for bikers. They loved God, their country, and their friends, and they made sure everyone knew it.
Just like any other faction in the world, there were good ones and bad ones.
He slid into the booth as the waitress approached the table. She wasn’t the typical weary woman he was accustomed to seeing in places like this, and he’d eaten in quite a few of them. This girl was young and pretty, and her smile was artless as she looked down at them.
“I’m April. What can I get you gentlemen?” She nodded toward Jessica. “And lady?”
“Got any recommendations?” Bentley asked with a grin.
“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “The restaurant one block over.”
Austin chuckled, and she smiled, her blue eyes crinkling. “Actually the tacos are pretty good.”
“Tacos it is, then,” he said as they all nodded. “And if you have it, a round of cold beer for my friends.”
“We might run out of tacos, but we never run out of beer.”
She retreated to the swinging doors at the end of the bar, and they began to talk over the last few days, stopping to joke with the waitress when she brought their drinks. The conversation ended abruptly when King Landry pushed inside the eatery.
Santos groaned. The deputy wore a frown, and it was coming their way. If the locals had ears that could swivel, they would have pointed them toward their booth.
King stopped in front of them and let his gaze swipe over the agents, but his stare landed on Santos and stayed. Putting his palms on the table, he leaned forward. “You ought to be in jail,” he said softly.
“Probably so,” he drawled. “But not because of what happened earlier.”
“If I’d been taking your statement, you’d be behind the bars right now.”
He understood the man’s hostility. The deputy clearly felt Rose was being threatened in some way. If Santos had been in King’s boots, he might be even worse, especially if he was halfway in love with her, which King struck him as being. Every man who had ever known Rose, for one reason or another had wanted to protect her. And that was the last thing she wanted. Or needed.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the sheriff. And I’ve answered all the questions from the person who is. It was an accident, after all.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Well, that’s too bad. Because she’s the one in charge.”
“True, but I was the one driving the truck you followed all the way out there.” King’s voice dropped. “Why don’t you tell me what that was all about? And while you’re at it, you can tell me how you knew what was happening to begin with.”
Saving him from coming up with another lie, the waitress approached with a loaded tray. “Hey, King, watch out! Coming through, coming through.”
She lowered it to a nearby stand, forcing the deputy to step back, the sizzling plates full of tacos and beans with generous scoops of guacamole on the side. She grabbed a round plastic container and set it on the table first, the steam of the flour tortillas inside seeping out of its lid. She handed out the food, glancing toward the uniformed man. “Have a seat, Deputy, and I’ll bring you the same.”
“I’ll buy you a beer to go with it.” Santos held out his half-empty bottle, the tension palpable between the two men. “I was just about to have another one.”
“I won’t be staying.”
His curt answer raised a puzzled look from the waitress, who retreated without another word. King swung a look at the other agents. “Stay out of trouble,” he warned, “Or stay out of town. Preferably both.” Turning on his booted heel, he strode out the door.
Jess watched him leave as she picked up her fork. “Great line,” she said with a straight expression. “I wonder how long he practiced it in front of the mirror.”
The others chuckled and began to eat. Santos did the same, only he didn’t taste the food. He understood King Landry’s attitude just as he understood that of the other diners. There was more to King’s attitude than concern, though, and Santos couldn’t stop himself from recalling the way the deputy had held the station door open for Rose that night and guided her inside, his hand on her back.
When the waitress returned with another round of beer, she paused beside the table and tilted her head toward the empty plates, her drawl pure Texan. “I guess all y’all didn’t like the tacos?”
She lingered as they laughed, her expression open and friendly. “What brings you guys to Aqua Frio? You visiting folks in town?”
“My mom’s nearby,” Austin answered. “Down the road a bit. I told everybody we oughta stop here and get something to eat before we went the rest of the way. She’s not much of a cook.”
“My mama’s the best cook in the world,” the waitress gushed. “I think she should open a place and give this dive some competition.” She lifted her head as the door opened, the bell announcing an arrival for the second time since they’d come in. An even bigger smile came over her young features. “Sheriff Rose! Cool to see you. How ’bout your usual?”
“I’m not staying, April. I just came in to speak to your customers, here. They parked down the road in a tow-away zone.”
April raised an eyebrow and cut her gaze back to Santos’s face. “You’re mighty popular with the law enforcement crowd today.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” he murmured.
The girl left for the kitchen as Rose closed the distance between them. Pouring through the diner’s windows, the western sun painted her hair with shimmering gold highlights catching his eye. The uniform she wore didn’t take anything away from her appearance, despite its goal to do that very thing.
She stopped at the edge of the table. Her smile wasn’t real. He’d seen the real one before, and this wasn’t it.
“Evenin’, Miz Deputy,” Santos drawled. “Wanna meet my friends?”
“I’d love to.”
He draped an arm over the back of the booth and pointed to each agent, giving Rose their undercover names. She acknowledged each one with a nod of her head, including Austin.
“You guys enjoying your supper?”
They nodded.
“That’s real good.” Her friendly attitude disappeared. “Because you’re going to pay your bill and leave right now to move your motorcycles. Otherwise, they’re gonna get towed.”
She shot a glance toward the rest of the patrons, and Santos followed her gaze, understanding immediately.
“Cut us some slack, Sheriff,” he said loudly. “We’re just getting something to eat then we’re outta here.”
“That’s exactly what’s going to happen.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s just going to happen a little sooner than you thought. Like right now.” Her amusement disappeared. “Let’s go.”
They all grumbled appropriately, then scooted off the cracked vinyl cushions. The customers relaxed noticeably when Rose said hello to one or two of them as she escorted the bikers out.
“What did April mean about you being popular?” she asked Santos under her breath when they reached the sidewalk outside.
“King was in there a few minutes ago. He’s not happy you let me go.”
“I’ll deal with him later.” A deep frown crossed her forehead, her blue eyes troubled. “We need to talk.”
“Not here.”
“I agree. Where are you staying?”
“We’re out at the ranch. Not in the big house—we’re bunking in the old place on the back ridge. But everyone’s staying there—and we need some privacy. Meet me by the horse pens on the south side.”
They agreed on a time, then Rose spoke again. “I’ll be there—unless you’re planning on having some other company.” She lifted an eyebrow toward the diner where the waitress waved from the window.
“She’s a little young for me.” He let his stare slide over Rose’s face. It lingered on her lips before he raised it to her eyes. “I’ll wait for you instead.”
…
The crew was lounging on the other side of the street where the Harleys actually were illegally parked. Santos started toward them, then slowed his stride when a stealthy rustling sound in the darkness behind him drew his attention. Edging his hand underneath his cut, he ducked into the shadows of a nearby storefront. A fragment of murmured conversation reached him, the dry wind making it sound closer than it probably was. Two voices, he thought, off to his right. A low brick wall leaned haphazardly next to the building. Whoever was speaking was behind it.
“Make sure you aim good,” one said. “We ain’t gonna get two chances at this one.”
“Are they still in the diner?”
A short pause followed, then a curse. “They’re gone, damnit. I don’t see ’em nowhere. Do it fast.”
He wrapped his fingers around the grip of his pistol just as a brick sailed over his head, through the air, and directly into his Harley. His agents reacted identically, a variety of weapons suddenly appearing in their hands as the bike’s alarm shrieked. Leaping over the wall, he turned the corner in time to see two shadows dart away. Austin and Bent ran after them while Joachim and Jess froze in place, their eyes sweeping the darkness, their pistols following. Down the street, Bent scrambled over another fence, this one at least six feet tall, and Austin did the same, but they were back ten minutes later, shaking their heads.
They gathered around his bike where a puddle of oil was spreading beneath it.
Stepping off the curb, he leaned over and looked at the destruction. The missile had hit his filler cap, knocking out the plug and releasing all the liquid. The guy’s pitch had been perfect—unless he’d been aiming for one of the agents and had hit the bike instead.
He started to straighten, then saw a scrawled message on the back of the brick. The words, written in thick black marker, were ragged and misspelled. He read the Spanish message out loud, translating as he went.
“There’s room in the desert for more skeletons.”
…
Santos was still staring at the damaged motorcycle when Rose’s cruiser came back down the street it’d just left.
He lifted an eyebrow as she exited the vehicle and came toward him. “April called,” she explained, nodding toward the diner. “She saw all the excitement. We don’t get much of that around here.”
He glanced back toward the diner where the young waitress was standing in the window. He lifted a thumb and mouthed “thanks,” and she waved back enthusiastically.
Rose read the note. “I’d like to chalk this up to vandals, but I don’t guess that’s possible, is it?”
“Probably not.”
“Bag it and write up a report,” she wearily ordered King who had arrived just before her. “And be sure to get some photos.” She turned back to Santos. “A description would really help.”
“I’d give you one if I had it.”
He didn’t mention one of the men had an athletic form that had looked vaguely familiar…maybe like the deputy standing nearby? As if she could read his mind, Rose gave him a funny look, then stepped over to King who was already talking to the others and making notes.
Santos turned his back and punched a number into his cell phone.
“You shouldn’t be calling me on this line.” His boss, Taylor Greenberg spoke before Santos could. “This better be important,” she said.
“Where do you stand on that autopsy? I just got a visit from some folks I think might be associates of the deceased. They weren’t real friendly.”
“You want it done right, or you want it done fast?
“Yes,” he answered. “For now, just tell me what you do know. You’ve run his prints, surely.”
A child giggled in the background and a dog’s feverish barking followed. “Damn it, Santos. Why do you always cause me so much trouble?” The question didn’t require an answer, and she didn’t expect it. The sound of clicking computer keys came over the phone then she spoke again.
“His name is Carlos Hernandez, and he’s from El Salvador. The cartel connected to his tatts is where he started, but basically he’s hired help now. Roams around doing odd jobs, if you know what I mean. No loyalty to any specific group. He was wanted for questioning in the deaths of two store clerks down in McAllen. A liquor store robbery that went wrong.”
“Next of kin?”
“Sister outside Ojinaga.” She paused, and the child laughed again, this time louder. “I gotta go. Stay safe.”
Santos moved to stand next to Rose, his fists at his side, anger lacing his voice as he told her his boss’s news. “Forget tomorrow night. We need to talk now. Meet me at the horse pens as soon as you can get there.”