Chapter 6 #5
Raines had said it would be a good idea for her to visit Big Spur and see JJ, and it would have. But she had no way to get
there unless Raines gave her a lift, and she couldn’t just show up at the ranch out of the blue. Not without raising even
more suspicions in that blond giant who didn’t like her in the first place.
She worried about the old man’s daughter who was so sick. It was risky to call her boss, and she didn’t dare involve the Everetts
in this dangerous cloak-and-dagger game she was playing.
She watched him come in the door. He was wearing a uniform.
He was tall and well built without exaggerated muscles.
He wasn’t really handsome, but his lean face was attractive and appealing.
He had jet-black hair, conventionally cut, and pale eyes.
His cream-colored Stetson was cocked over one eye.
He was wearing hand-tooled leather boots—expensive ones—and no rings.
In a low-slung leather holster at his hip he wore what appeared to be a .
45 Ruger Vaquero single-action pistol. She recalled what the old Ranger had told her about the Single Action Shooting Society.
It was Friday and they had a meet the following day.
She really wanted to go and watch the matches.
She’d been briefly an IPSC competition shooter, and she’d won matches.
Not that it would be wise to advertise that at the moment, she mused.
The sheriff’s pale eyes swept the bar. There were only three people in it, two cowboys at a table by themselves, and Josie.
The sheriff ordered a sandwich and a beer and suddenly wheeled and pulled out a chair at Josie’s table, an action so quick
and unexpected that she caught her breath.
“Sorry,” he murmured with a grin. He had a pleasant voice, deep and clear. “Place is so crowded, I thought I’d take up less
space if we shared a table,” he added, tongue-in-cheek. His pale eyes twinkled with amusement.
She laughed. “I know what you mean. Amazing how many people can squeeze in here at lunch time.”
“Dunn Marlowe,” he said, introducing himself as he sailed his Stetson into an empty chair beside his.
“Josie Blake,” she replied.
The bartender brought his sandwich and a beer, nodding and smiling as he went back to the bar.
“And what are you doing in Percell, Josie Blake?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“You’d never guess,” she mused, her own pale eyes twinkling.
He cocked his head. His pale eyes narrowed. “I play chess with your boss,” he murmured under his breath.
She gaped at him.
He shrugged. “I was spec ops. Amazing how those skills carry over into civilian life.”
She caught her breath and sipped coffee. “Amazing,” she agreed. “And here I thought I was doing so well at keeping my identity
undercover.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he murmured. “You’ve got our visiting vermin foxed, at least.” He stared at her as he lifted his sandwich. “Dangerous game you’re playing. You have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Guess again,” she said under her breath.
“They don’t pay us enough,” he added as he took a bite.
“You can put sugar on that,” she agreed. She sipped more coffee. “There’s a sick woman near a bar just over the border at
El Paso. The bartender killed her father in cold blood.” She put down her cup. “She’ll die.”
His pale eyes glittered. “I have a contact with ties to the government over there. He’ll find her.”
“I can’t be involved,” she murmured. “And if the bartender is arrested, it will blow my investigation.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks.”
“Nasty business,” he said.
“Very.” Her own eyes were glittering. “I’ve got a dead woman and two dead little kids. They’re why I’m here.”
“I know.” He sipped beer and finished his sandwich just as she finished hers. “Thanks for looking after JJ.”
She looked up. “You know him?”
“Knew his dad. We were together overseas.”
“JJ is a good kid.”
He nodded. “And the Everetts are good people. He’ll have a family to take care of him. I told his dad I’d find a way to help
him keep his place if he’d just be patient.”
“You see how that worked out,” she sighed.
“Proud man,” he said. “Hated handouts. But several of us would have chipped in.” He sipped beer. “Damned shame. Kid’s got
no relatives in the world. It was his lucky day that you decided to go to a rodeo.”
She smiled. “I love rodeo. I used to do barrel racing.”
He nodded. “I did, too, in my teens. Your dad’s selling your ranch out from under you. Going to let him do it?”
“Good grief,” she exclaimed, breathless as she gaped at him.
“Oh, I’m psychic,” he said with a shrug. “Comes in handy sometimes.”
“Tell me about it.”
He chuckled. “Your boss says you really are.”
“Intuition,” she lied. “That’s all it is.”
“Not quite,” he replied. He leaned back in his chair. “These vermin are wasted skin. Jorge Vega killed a man for spilling
coffee on his sleeve.”
She shook her head. She’d read the file on Vega. “He’s nuts,” she said. “Too many years sampling his own product.”
“And getting more paranoid by the day,” he added. He stared at her. “I don’t like having a woman involved in this.” He held
up a hand when she started to protest. His eyes narrowed, glittered. “There are things that can be done to a decent woman
that can’t be done to a man. One of my . . . assignments . . . was to retrieve a package from a group of insurgents overseas.
When I found her, six men had been using her. She’d been kept for almost a week. Twenty years old. Sang in the church choir.
Sheltered and protected by her people.” His face hardened. “While I was taking care of her captors, she grabbed a pistol and
blew her brains out. I had to tell her father, who was a company commander in an infantry unit . . . several miles away.”
His teeth ground together and he looked away. His voice had almost wavered.
She swallowed. Hard. She’d seen similar things in raids. She stared into her coffee.
“There are things in this world that a woman should never have to see, or bear,” he said after a minute. “And equality be
damned!”
She couldn’t even argue about it. She drew in a long breath. “I could never discuss my job with either of my parents. I’ve seen things . . .” She put down her cup. “That’s why we do the job,” she said after a minute. “To try and keep that from happening to anyone else.”
“But it still happens,” he replied tersely.
She nodded. “There is evil in the world. The people who get rich from it never have to see it, or have any of their families
see it. They profit. But poor people risk their lives transporting drugs so that a sick child can live or an old person can
have medicine or food.”
He sipped beer. “Sometimes I think I’d love to take those fat cats down into the shadows and show them some of the things
I’ve seen.”
“I’d like for the politicians who start wars to have to fight them.” He laughed softly. “I like you, Josie Blake. And if I
had my back to the wall, you’re the sort of person I’d like to have backing me up.”
She grinned. “Likewise.”
He finished his beer. He took a card out of his pocket and turned it over, scribbling a number on it. He passed it to her.
She looked at it. Her eyes widened. “John’s Massage Parlor. We rub you the wrong way for money?” She burst out laughing.
“Well, it attracts less attention than the one with a star and my name on it, in case you ever get frisked,” he chuckled.
“That’s a burner.” He indicated the number. “If you get in over your head, and you have a few seconds, call it.”
She tucked it into the watch pocket of her jeans. “Thanks.”
“I’ll find the sick girl. When you wrap this up, that bartender will get an orange jumpsuit.”
She nodded.
“You might share this with the Everetts,” he added. “Cole’s eldest son was a merc. He also worked for the feds. One or two
of their hands did, too. And he’s got a couple of ex-mercs on his payroll.”
“I don’t dare tell the Everetts,” she said quietly. “People don’t mean to let things slip, but they can, accidentally. Besides, John Everett thinks I’m a criminal. I’d hate to spoil his opinion of me.”
“Mean girl,” he said.
He laughed. “Guilty.”
“At some point, when you put this together, you’re going to need me to come and bring handcuffs, to alleviate suspicion if
you get too close to the truth. Vega is dangerous. Even more dangerous than Velasquez. Although Velasquez is the bottom of
the barrel,” he added with absolute venom.
“Believe me, I know.”
“Do you know which of the two you’re actually working for?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’ve met regional managers. Nothing higher. I’d know Vega on sight. Velasquez . . . well, we can’t even find
a recent photo of him, online or in records. The one we’ve got was when he was seventeen.” She made a face. “No help at all.”
“If you need to spook him at any point, and you can’t afford to blow your cover, mention the Everetts’ friend that Tanner’s
wife works for.”
She frowned.
“Tony Garza,” he continued.
She felt her heart skip. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “He’s involved in a nice way with the Everetts’ daughter-in-law. Put her through art school and employed
her at his art gallery in Manhattan. Rumor is that he’s also very attracted, and fighting it tooth and nail, to the Everetts’
only daughter, Odalie.”
“He’s a mob boss!”
He shrugged. “We all have our faults.”
“Yes, but he kills people!”
“Retired,” he corrected. He grinned. “But he still throws the fear of God into people. Even bad people. I hear you can mention
his name to either of the rival drug lords and they turn pale. In fact, he’s supposed to be coming down for Thanksgiving.
If we can get you arrested before then, Heather will do her best to rehabilitate you on the Big Spur during the holiday season.
You’ll be safe there, in between assignments for whichever drug lord employs you.”
“Safety is not in my job description,” she sighed. “And that would be a long shot.”
“Not really.” He smiled.
“And how would you know that?”
“I told you,” he said, rising. “I’m psychic.” He noticed movement near the door out of the corner of his eye. “Just a friendly
warning.” He raised his voice, and his eyes slid sideways, so that she understood he was giving her cover a tweak. “As long
as you don’t cause trouble, you’re welcome here. But be careful of the company you keep. I always have an empty cell at the
detention center, Miss Blake.”
“I don’t plan to cause any trouble, Sheriff,” she replied coolly. “I’m only in town for a few days, to meet with a potential
customer for that real estate I’m trying to sell. It’s easier to show the customer the property here in the county rather
than on my computer at the realty agency in Dallas. I sell land. That’s all I do.”
“As long as that’s all you do, we won’t have any problems. But I’d like to know how you plan to show land when you don’t have
a vehicle.” He was staring at her.
Raines came sauntering up to the table. “Hi, Miss Blake. Ready to go see if they’ve cut the grass leading up to the gate on
that property we’re showing?” he added.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Raines. Thank you.” She stood up. “You know Sheriff Marlowe, don’t you?” she asked Raines. “He was just telling me a few things about his county.”
“Sheriff,” Raines said, nodding. “I’m in town buying land for my client that Miss Blake is the Realtor for. Also for the private
cattle sale out at the Everett place next month. Long way from California. I had some business here as well, so I thought
I’d stay with my pal Pete Townsend for a week or so and catch up on old times.”
“Speaking of Pete, where is he?” Marlowe asked. “I haven’t seen him around.”
“He was going to look at some Santa Gertrudis cattle over near San Antonio for our boss who runs cattle. It takes good bulls
to improve herds these days. The boss has a big ranch in Mexico.”
“I see,” Marlowe replied. He smiled but it never reached his eyes. “Just make sure there’s no trouble.”
“There won’t be,” Raines assured him.
“Of course there won’t,” Josie added, smiling, too.
Sheriff Marlowe left them. It fascinated Josie to watch him walk. He had an odd step, light as air and absolutely noiseless
even in boots.
Raines joined her at the table. “What did he want?” he asked when the bartender had brought his beer and sandwich.
“Warning me off,” she said. “He noticed my pistol.”
“You shouldn’t wear that thing around town,” Raines muttered. “It draws attention.”
“I have a concealed carry license,” she told him. “I said that I’d be looking at real estate and there were snakes out in
the country.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s November,” he said. “Snakes are hibernating.”
She grimaced. “Well, at least you saved me, about the land. He knew I didn’t have a car.”
“He sticks his nose in too much,” he said curtly. “One day he’ll get it lopped off.”
“You could be right,” she said. “I think I’ll get another sandwich. I’m starved.”