Читать книгу Desert Heat - Kathleen Pickering - Страница 11
ОглавлениеMEG PRACTICALLY TURNED her white pickup on two wheels into the quarter-mile drive for Rio Plata Ranch. A cloud of dust rose behind her. The open, arid land on either side of the road passed without notice. Meg couldn’t get her mind off the meeting at the precinct, where Tico Butler had invaded her world. Her concentration had been shot for the rest of the day while she’d stewed over what to do.
The answer had struck like lightning. Now she headed for her parents’ house. The only way she’d be able to get Butler off the case was to ask for her father’s help. Don Francisco Flores was mayor of Adobe Creek. Next to the Judumi reservation, Don Francisco was the largest landholder in the county. He also owned the Rio Plata silver mine in Mexico on which he’d built his fortune. Don Francisco knew every public official within a one-hundred-mile radius and had funded the Adobe Creek unit against drug and human trafficking years ago. If anyone could send Butler packing, Don Francisco could—and would if Meg asked him to.
Meg reduced her speed to lessen the dust as she passed the cabins for the ranch hands. Two horses were still in the split-rail corral next to the courtyard and cantered to the fence at the sight of her truck. Her parents must have been riding before dinner. Nice. They really knew how to enjoy their life now that they’d both retired from the mining industry. Well, her father would never truly retire. But Meg’s brother was doing a fine job of running the business in Mexico, which freed Don Francisco to concentrate on his twin passions—politics and Adobe Creek.
Pulling her truck up to the courtyard leading to the front door of the low-slung, rambling adobe ranch, Meg caught sight of a silver Harley-Davidson parked in the shade of a mesquite tree. Her breath caught in her throat. The bike had a New York tag.
She froze. “No way in hell.”
She pushed open the arched heavy wooden door, ready for battle. The familiar, sage-scented coolness of the living room welcomed her, but no one was around.
No one person in particular.
She headed for the kitchen at the back of the house. “Mom? Dad?”
“Señorita Flores, is that you?”
The housekeeper’s teenage daughter came bursting through the kitchen door. Her eyes were bright with excitement.
“Hola, Ana. Where are my parents?”
“Oh, Señorita. We have a guest. Such an interesting man.”
Of course. A rugged, sexy stranger rides in on a Harley looking as if every inch of him offers excitement, and any teenage girl would go gaga.
“Easy now, Ana. Where are they?”
“The veranda. Mama is preparing ropa vieja.”
No way was that creep eating dinner in her house. Meg took the few steps to the back doors and looked out. Sure enough, Tico Butler sat beneath the shade of the roofed pergola at the far end of the stone-walled veranda, holding a glass of beer, leaning back in the upholstered chair, looking very much at home in her parents’ company, attentively listening to something her mother was saying.
Damn his bones. Meg charged out the door. All three looked up at the sound of her footsteps. Barbara Flores smiled at her daughter’s approach. Once she sensed Meg’s intention, her brow creased with distress. Though her mother could read her every mood, anyone watching would know Meg was angry. Her father and Tico seemed to share the same expectant, if not guarded, look.
She smelled foul play at her expense. There was more going on here than she suspected. She pointed to Butler. “Dad, what is he doing here?”
Still wearing her riding clothes, Barbara Flores sat straighter, if possible. With her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, her blue eyes a striking contrast to her hair, her mother was a woman of sophistication who always stood her ground, especially in the world of academia, where she’d made a name for herself. She would not tolerate Meg’s impoliteness, unless she understood her daughter’s reasoning.
“Meg?”
Meg didn’t want to cause a scene, but really? Did she have to come home looking for help, only to find the root of her problem charming her parents before she even had the chance to talk with them?
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t think of anything else to say.” She gestured to Butler. “We met today and do not get along. I can’t understand why he is here.”
Don Francisco stood. At sixty-four, of medium height and build, he was every bit the dark, handsome Mexican aristocrat in his jeans, boots and crisp white cowboy shirt. He’d worked his way up from the streets to earn his fortune and carried his success with pride. He took Meg’s hands, kissed her cheek. “It distresses me to see you upset.”
Her father’s patronizing tone was way too familiar. “You haven’t answered me.”
He ignored her prod. “Detective Butler told us about the meeting this morning. We understand your concern.”
“But that doesn’t explain why he’s here.”
“Because I invited him to dinner.”
Meg looked from her father to her mother, who didn’t look happy with Meg. At all. “You what?”
Tico stood, placed his beer on the low table. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’ll be happy to take a rain check on dinner.”
Don Francisco held up a hand. “Unnecessary, Tico. Meg will regain her manners, and we shall continue our conversation.”
“Dad!”
Don Francisco signaled to Ana, who hovered in the doorway. “The beer is ice-cold. I think you can use one.”
Ana acknowledged Don Francisco’s request for Meg’s beer and shot Tico a smile before leaving.
Barbara tapped the orange cushion on the wicker chair next to hers. “Sit down, Meg. We were having an interesting conversation about horses.”
Tico’s easy grin did nothing to sway her. Meg understood exactly why Butler had arrived on horseback, and it was for no one else’s benefit but his. “Maybe another time, Mom. I won’t stay. I’ll catch you in the morning.” She turned to go.
“Meg, stay. You most certainly do not want to miss our conversation,” Don Francisco said.
Her father’s displeasure wasn’t lost on her. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, he made his point. “Why not?”
“Because it concerns you.”
Tico was still standing, watching her. He stood maybe three or four inches taller than her, but his strong physique made him seem bigger. He’d lost the goofy vest, and she couldn’t help but notice how his denim shirt fit the planes of his tanned chest.
The curiosity in his eyes was unsettling. He lifted a hand as if in a gesture of peace. “I’m not the enemy, Meg. I swear.”
Oh, hell, no. He wasn’t going to win her over with false sincerity in front of her parents. “Yet you questioned my integrity in the presence of my boss and my team?”
Barbara frowned. “Meg, is this necessary?”
Her mother’s soft voice made her uncomfortably aware of the venom in her own words. She released a breath. “Look, everyone. I apologize. I’m a bit keyed up. Women are missing, and we’re getting nowhere because everyone is trying to prove who is tougher. Meanwhile, those women could be suffering. I don’t like seeing important business neglected while everyone jockeys for control. I just want to get back to work.”
Her father gestured to the seat his wife had offered Meg. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
Reluctantly, she took the seat as Ana returned with a frosty mug of beer on a tray. Meg took a long draft of the cool amber liquid and let her gaze fall past the veranda to the acres of open land framed by the mountains. The lowering sun cast a golden glow on the arid ground and low trees, the cattle in the north acres settling in for the evening. Two ducks paddled across the still lake bordering her own two acres on the back lot. The sun reflected on the windows of her cabin nestled among paloverde trees at the lake’s edge. She’d love to take Whisper on a run before sunset, but not tonight.
When she turned her focus back to the veranda, Tico was watching her. Again.
“What?”
“I’d heard this land was beautiful, but I never imagined how much.”
Adobe Creek didn’t need another resident, especially one whose rugged sex appeal was derailing her intentions. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Meg! I’ve never heard you be so unkind.” Barbara fanned herself.
Don Francisco sat once more. “No more of this nonsense, Meg. You will have to find some common ground with Detective Butler. He came to Adobe Creek at my insistence. It doesn’t help anything to have my own daughter disrespect his ability to get the job done.”
Meg’s jaw dropped. So, once again Mitchell Blake was right. “You brought him here?” She blew out a hot breath. “I can’t believe my ears! What makes you think my team can’t do our job?”
“Mi hija, in my life, I’ve already lost two sisters to human trafficking. I will not stand idle at the possibility that you could be in harm’s way, expressly because someone may want to target me to stop this investigation.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself!”
Don Francisco nodded. “I believe you are, but you are my only daughter. I will not take the chance.” He gestured to Tico. “I believe with Tico’s help you will not only be safer, but more efficient.”
“I don’t need a chaperone. That’s why I became a police officer in the first place. God knows you hammered self-defense into my head since I could walk.”
“In this situation, your training does not matter.”
She knew what was coming but had to stop it. “Dad, nothing will have me taken off a case faster than insinuating to Eric that I can’t handle this task on my own. If there’s any doubt whatsoever, I’m removed. You know this.” She pointed to Butler. “He knows this. Do you want me to lose my job?”
Don Francisco grew silent. Her mother said nothing.
Her parents’ silence said it all. Holy crow. The two of them had been reluctant to support her decision to become a detective because of the dangers involved, but they had supported her. From their grim expressions now, they were about to betray her. They’d never been comfortable with the fact that she put herself in harm’s way, but they were never ones to dissuade her from her vocation. Now, because of the abductions, Don Francisco was panicking based on his own personal losses.
She scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
Barbara laid a hand on Meg’s knee. “We don’t want you to lose your job, honey. It’s just this case. It’s too dangerous.”
Meg could have been hit with a wrecking ball. She sat back in her chair, using every ounce of willpower to keep her cool. One glance at Tico and she saw he’d already had this conversation with her parents. A single line furrowed the brow on his poker face. Was that concern about her reaction? Did he like the idea of taking over her case? Was that why he was here? Was that why Eric hadn’t defended her against Tico’s question at this morning’s meeting? Was the plan to remove her already in place? How could Butler sit there so cool and unflappable? What would he do if he was in her situation?
Inwardly shaking herself, she leaned forward to keep her mother’s attention. “Mother, this is my job. I am completely qualified, with or without this so-called expert.” She hoped Butler saw the anger and distrust burning in her eyes.
His voice gentle, Tico said, “I can help, Meg.”
She sat back in her chair. He actually sounded as if he cared. What a load of horse manure. Refusing to look at him again, she glanced from her mother to her father. “I can’t believe you two have turned on me like this. What is wrong with you?”
Don Francisco expelled a breath. “I have every confidence in your ability as a law enforcer, Meg. But the Carlito cartel? They are arrogant. Ruthless. They will think nothing of infiltrating your unit and hurting everyone they can possibly reach. I already told you. Because I am mayor and I lead the Mexican task force, you are a prime target for revenge. This group has deep pockets and moles everywhere. I’d rather you step aside this one time and let Detective Butler do his job.”
“His job is in New York. My team can do this.”
“My dear, the only way I will permit you to stay on the case is if you let Detective Butler lead the squad. You follow his instructions, or Eric will pull you off. Your mother and I prefer you work this case from a desk, anyway.”
And she’d thought this morning’s meeting was bad. She’d just been sideswiped by the two people she trusted most in the world while the object of her derision watched. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “And to think I came here to ask your help to remove Detective Butler from the case.”
Don Francisco shook his head. “No, Meg. He’s our guest. I’ve invited him to stay in one of the vacant cabins.”
That did it.
She stood, placed the half-finished beer glass on the table, her insides quaking with anger. “I’ve heard enough. Enjoy your ropa vieja. Good night.”
* * *
TICO SAT IN the rocking chair on the porch of his cabin, feet on the rail, roasting the end of a Catelli cigar for lighting. The orange tip glowed in the dark as he drew on the cigar. Slowly exhaling the smoke, he relaxed his muscles, letting the stillness of the evening settle into his senses.
He’d showered off the day’s dust and bad attitude, and changed into his favorite worn jeans, black T-shirt and boots. With his hair tied back, he felt physically refreshed, but his thoughts were weary.
Once again, he was the odd man out. As much as he could have happily spent the evening alone, especially after pissing off the sexiest woman he’d seen in a very long time, he’d stayed for dinner with Don Francisco and Barbara.
They’d seemed genuinely interested in learning more about him, asking in-depth questions about his parents and his upbringing, which Tico patiently answered, though he didn’t appreciate the invasion of his privacy. He suspected Don Francisco already knew the answers, but figured the man wanted to see Tico’s take on his childhood. Tico could understand the man’s motives, which was why he’d answered. He wouldn’t have been as understanding with anyone else. As his employer and the father of the sultry team leader he’d been hired to supplant, Don Francisco deserved respect and ease of mind.
He’d worn his long-sleeve shirt through dinner because he hadn’t wanted Barbara Flores to see the rattlesnake tattoo circling his forearm. The ink was a permanent reminder of a time he was no longer proud of. But the tat? The snake’s meaning had changed with him.
Now, in the dark, he didn’t care. He needed to unwind from the day but was too wired. His newly relaxed muscles tightened up once more as he thought about Meg’s fine ass as she strode from the veranda tonight. He really liked everything about her. Felt a pull toward the woman in a way he’d never known. If the situation were different, they’d make one helluva team.
He took a moment to exhale a stream of cigar smoke. His entire left side ached from the falls this morning. He’d been so outraged at the horse after the morning meeting, he’d called Charlie Samuels and told him he’d pay extra if Charlie would send someone to pick up the horse and give Tico a ride back to his Harley. The son of a bitch had laughed on the other end of the phone, but sent Seth with a horse trailer.
A chuckle escaped his throat. The look of amusement on Meg’s face before the horse threw him had been priceless. She may have treated him rough, but he’d seen the intense way she had checked him out while all huffy and pissed. The others might have been fooled, but he could tell she was arming herself against her own thoughts in his favor.
He’d take a chance on that instinct in the near future.
Even though her father had hired him, the last thing Tico wanted was to ambush Meg as team leader of the investigation. Don Francisco had brought him in as a top detective, but not until tonight had he made it clear that his desire to keep his daughter safe from the cartel was enough for him to sanction Tico taking over Meg’s job—permanently. He’d couched his concern by saying that he wanted Tico to do anything necessary to keep his daughter unharmed. Tico had heard Don Francisco’s veiled message loud and clear, and didn’t like it. At all. In an equally correct manner, he’d replied that Meg had an excellent reputation, and he looked forward to working with her.
Tico had no desire to take Meg’s job. He wanted to get the bad guys. Period. Don Francisco’s double standard put Tico in a difficult position with both Meg and her father. Would he be able to solve this case and keep his integrity intact with either party?
In the past, Tico had never had trouble bulldozing anyone out of the way if they impeded an investigation, but Meg hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she and her team had done everything right. Smugglers had the upper hand with stealth and technology, and were terrorizing local residents to remain invisible—and untouchable. The cartel’s advantage made law enforcement almost impossible. Every detective knew that no matter how big the sting, they could only scratch the surface of the black market. The answer to killing the underworld was to have public demand dry up. People had to stop feeding their addictions—and their dark sides—in order for the good guys to win.
That would mean changing the world. Given the world he came from, Tico was determined to do just that, one case at a time. The one person he thought who didn’t need changing at all was Meg Flores. He’d seen how she had put her heart and soul into this investigation. He’d react exactly as she had, if the tables were turned. No doubt, Meg’s helplessness at her powerful father’s demands was infuriating.
He stood and leaned against the railing. Overhead, stars filled the night. Until driving across the country, he’d had no idea what the night sky truly looked like. Now the inky darkness attracted him with a haunting familiarity, though he’d never seen anything quite like the stark blackness littered with so many points of light. His imagination soared as he looked into the depths of the sky.
Maybe it was the dry, hot air. Maybe the occasional lowing of cattle on the range, or coyotes howling in the foothills. Whatever the reason, this place stirred a need in him he’d never known. He wanted to belong to an environment as wide and clear as this place. Nights like this simply did not exist in one-bedroom apartments in the lower Bronx with car horns blaring, trains clanking and kids who yelled to each other from the sidewalks. He exhaled a long breath. He could get used to life in the desert.
His gut knotted at the realization. Inwardly, he shook himself. This place was haunting his good senses. He’d learned early on not to attach himself to anyone or anything. He’d chosen to be an undercover detective because his parents had been crack addicts. Unsupervised, with a lot of pent-up anger, he’d run with gangs until he was finally arrested in his early twenties and scared straight. Even then, working for the law, he found no sanctuary.
Tico was tough. Running with gangs had made him that way. But he was honorable and got the job done. Then, when he lost his partner in a gunfight with a gang, prejudice toward him spiked, and Tico’s defenses rose right along with his peers’ reactions. He’d learned as a kid and again as a cop that no place was home.
Yet, basking in the peaceful night on the most beautiful grounds he’d ever seen, Tico found himself wishing for the first time in a long time that he had roots—a home like this one. Maybe not so grand, but a place to belong. He hadn’t entertained thoughts like these since he was small. Now desires like these did him no good at all.
Yeah. Coming here was a bad idea.
He needed to get his job done and get out as fast as possible. He’d planned on cracking Meg’s defenses and winning her over, but he’d liked her and her team on sight. They looked like honest, straightforward folk with whom he’d like to be on good terms. Bill Mewith and he had the Judumi in common, but was his lost heritage something he wanted to explore further?
It didn’t matter. Tico had been perceived and received as the enemy. An uphill battle, one more time. It was ironic the way he’d been more accepted in gangs than in the world of law enforcement. The old adage of being judged by the friends one kept followed him everywhere he went.
Don Francisco had set the stage one more time for Tico to be the outsider. But what the hell. He’d do it. The pay was certainly worth it. He’d ignore the pull of the land, of his Judumi heritage, of Meg Flores’s soulful eyes. There was nothing here for him except a job to do.
He’d get it done.
His instincts were already giving him ideas for directions he should pursue. Only this time, for the first time in his career, he wouldn’t bulldoze the team leader. Again, unfamiliar territory. But he’d read the reports. Met Detective Flores and her team. No matter what Don Francisco wanted, he’d make sure Meg worked with him on this investigation. Somehow, he’d appease Don Francisco. Meg deserved the recognition. Tico could protect her. He had no goddamn idea why he was even remotely entertaining that thought, but he was.
Maybe it was the swirl of stars overhead. Maybe it was this excellent cigar. Whatever. At the moment he felt inclined to meet this challenge. Who knew how he’d feel tomorrow.
The pounding rhythm of hoofbeats rose from behind the ranch house. One horse. One rider. He’d watched Meg’s truck pull up to a cabin on the lake in the distance after she’d left her parents’ veranda this evening. Sounded as if the rider was coming from that direction.
A rush heated his blood. Damnation, he hoped so.
Standing perfectly still, he watched as Meg rode around the house, heading for his porch. She looked sexy and wild in the shadowed light, her hair flying behind her, the air pushing a white Mexican shirt against her body as she moved—and what a body she had. He moved the cigar to the other side of his mouth. A sweet sight in the saddle, Meg handled the horse as if they were one. The power of the gallop meant she was still fuming. That brought a grin to his face.
She reined in the horse in front of the railing, just a hair’s breadth from where Tico stood. In the small cloud of dust, the musky heat from the horse’s hide vibrated the air between them but did nothing to match the heat from Meg’s flinty stare. He didn’t move a muscle. She looked sweet as hell.
He took a draw on the cigar. “Nice night for a ride.”
Her voice thrummed with barely suppressed hostility. “As if you’d know.”
“Did you race all the way here to discuss my riding abilities?”
“You have none.”
He chuckled. “A little rusty. I’ll give you that.”
“We have to talk, Detective.”
She was still pissed. He would be, too. Time to get to the bottom of their first encounter. Tico gestured to the rocking chair next to the one he’d been sitting in. He’d like to know if his inclination to help Meg had been misplaced.
He flicked the ash of his cigar into the dirt. “You climb down off that thing, and I’ll be happy to listen.”
