Thirteen #3
brother and one sister were still alive. I tracked down my brother first. He had found a partner whom he seemed to love, and
he wanted nothing to do with me. So . . .” He spread his hands. “It was several more years before I managed to find my sister,
who had struggled to survive with no help. In between those times, I found a lovely woman, the daughter of a partner in business.”
He smiled. “She was an angel. Quiet and sweet, the kind of woman that men die for. We had a little boy . . .”
He stopped abruptly. His voice broke. His teeth clenched. He averted his eyes, but she could see the moisture in them all
the same. On the table, his hand was clenched into a fist so tight that his fingers had turned white.
Impulsively, she reached out and covered his hand with her own; she, who never touched people at all.
He took a breath. His hand curled around hers, warm and strong. “In this business, there are always rivals. Some are fellow
drug lords, some are law enforcement.”
His face hardened. “Some are far more bloodthirsty than others. One of these,” he added without saying to which faction the person belonged, “decided that the best way to remove me as a competitor was to take me out. He sent an assassin in the early-morning hours. My little boy had been crying, and I had gone to his room to comfort him. I did not know that an assassin waited outside the window.” He stopped and his eyes narrowed in memory.
“I can still hear the shatter of the window in my nightmares, the scream of my little boy when the bullet hit him . . .”
Her expression mirrored his horror.
“My son was three . . .” He had to stop. “He died in my arms.”
He looked up at her and saw an expression on her face, so raw with sudden tears and compassion, that it hit him right in the
heart. He had not known comfort for so many years that he had forgotten the feel of it, but he wanted it now, needed it desperately.
He stood up, still holding her hand. He shot something at the barman, who instantly opened a back room. Eduardo pulled Josie
into it and closed the door behind them.
He pulled her a little roughly into his arms. She held him while the pain sent him rigid with memory. She rocked him in her
arms, thinking that she’d never had comfort at the most traumatic times of her own life, not even at her mother’s death. Her
father hadn’t cared enough to come home except for the funeral, and he’d gone the moment it was over. There had been no one
to offer her what she was giving this poor man. He acted as if he had never known comfort or even accepted it from anyone.
It was one of those rare moments when she could feel every emotion flowing through his strong body. He might act outside the
law, but he was a human being who had obviously loved his family. And to lose a child, in such a way . . . !
Finally, he drew a long breath and raised his head. He searched her eyes. “I have never had comfort,” he said after a minute.
“Thank you.”
“I’ve never had comfort, either,” she said softly. “I lost someone a year ago, and I felt such guilt . . . I made a decision that should have kept him alive. It didn’t. He left a wife and two little girls.” Her voice roughened. “His wife blamed me. I blamed myself.”
He brushed the hair back from her face. “So we both have even more things in common, yes?” He sighed. “I took revenge for
my son, in the same way that it was taken on me. But I took it in the wrong place. I blamed an innocent man. So now I pay
for that mistake as well as for my choice of professions, which cost me my family.”
“Your wife . . . ?” she asked gently.
“It drove her mad, losing her child like that. She saw him before I could stop her. It was a shotgun. . .” He didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to. Josie knew about such wounds. And a child . . .
“Barbarians,” she muttered.
“Yes.” He didn’t add that he also felt like one, for what he’d done in mistaken revenge for his own child. “My wife took her
own life.”
She ground her teeth together as she looked up at him. “So much tragedy,” she said softly. “How did you live through it?”
He took a deep breath and smiled faintly. “I built a church.”
“Excuse me?”
“I built a church,” he repeated. “I live in a rural part of Mexico, very stark, very beautiful. I have neighbors who have
had to drive many miles to hear a sermon. So I built a church. It seemed a good thing to do. It helped me to heal. Now it
helps my community to bear its burdens.”
She was amazed. She smiled. “What a wonderful thing to do,” she said softly.
“Do you think so? My associates were certain that I’d lost my mind,” he chuckled.
“It seems to me,” she said, “that sometimes the best people are mad.”
He agreed. “This person you lost,” he asked, “was he a lover?”
“No,” she said. “It was a business thing, but I was responsible for him and he died because of a decision I made.” The pain
that decision caused her was written on her face.
“In this business,” he said, “it is very dangerous to have a conscience.”
“It does seem that way,” she said.
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes quiet and reflective. “I have this—” he searched for the word “—instinct about
people. I know things that I cannot explain. But it is the first time I’ve had it with a woman.”
“It’s that way with me, too,” she said. “I’ve had it all my life. I always knew when something bad was going to happen.”
“And in your life many bad things have happened, yes?” he asked.
She nodded.
His eyes narrowed. “You should not trust Raines,” he said suddenly. “I use him because I need him. He will do anything for
money. He would sell his soul for it.” He didn’t add that Raines had one of the biggest double crosses in history planned.
It would be the man’s downfall, but that was not his concern. It was as well that Raines had the intellect of a rock. He had
no idea that his boss knew everything he was up to.
She smiled sadly. “I don’t trust anybody,” she replied.
“This is a good way to do business,” he said. “You are less likely to be sold out.”
And as he said it, she felt guilt, because that was exactly what she was going to try to do to him and his operation. She
had no information on this man. She would have to try to find some. It would be a sad day when she had to turn him in, but
that was her job, and she would do it.
“Let us go back and drink some more before Raines starts getting suspicious and causes more trouble.”
With a mischievous smile she mussed her hair and wrinkled her blouse a little. When he saw it, he laughed out loud. “So you
give us an excuse for being in the back room alone?”
“Raines would never believe the truth anyway,” she said reasonably.
He laughed. “No, he would not.”
They went back to the table they’d shared before. Raines was at the bar. He gave him a quick glance and then seemed satisfied
and smug as he turned back to his drink. The subterfuge had worked.
“There is a treaty sale at your friend’s ranch soon,” he said. “He has a small lot of purebred Santa Gertrudis young bulls
for sale, which I very much want.” He saw her surprise and smiled. “I am at heart a rancher,” he said. “I had tried—rather
my employer had tried,” he amended, continuing the subterfuge that he was only an employee, “to give up this business and
involve himself only with the buying and selling of purebred cattle. He has an affinity for animals, as I do, so he does not
deal in beef cattle. I deal, for him of course, only in purebreds.
“My employer had imparted to me an interest in buying the Big Spur, the ranch where you’re staying. But of course, the family
will not sell. I do not blame them. I hope that the land I own will be in my family for more generations to come. I would
not easily give it up. I have several prize bulls. I hope to add the young bulls to it.”
“I like ranching, too,” she said. “I grew up on a ranch many years ago. I haven’t been home for a while.” She didn’t add anything
to that light exchange. She’d shared too many confidences already.
He leaned forward. “There was something that puzzles me,” he said.
“Our friend Raines has been very interested in that particular lot of young bulls. In fact, it was he who told me about them in the first place, in such glowing terms that we had you go out to the ranch and scout them for us. But while they have good bloodlines, I find nothing exceptional about them. Do you have any knowledge of this?”
“Come to think of it, I don’t,” she replied. “It seems strange to me, too. Maybe he once had bulls as a pet,” she added with
a grin.
He chuckled. “Unlikely.” He glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting soon. I must leave.” He searched her eyes. His were
dark and quiet. “I am sorry that we meet under these circumstances. I am sorry that we did not meet some years ago.” That
loss was in his eyes. He smiled sadly. “It is strange to find someone so familiar whom I have never met.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Josie replied, and she smiled, too. “But what about our business?” she added. “We haven’t
discussed it.”
“This is still being arranged,” he replied. “I have had to make adjustments because of Raines’s stupidity.” He frowned. “It
is unfortunate that you want to become involved in this,” he added. “My boss would never be prosecuted because he has never
been caught by law enforcement in this country for breaking any laws. Also, there are too many layers of management between
him and the product. It is you and Raines who would pay the price if the authorities became involved. Just as you have already
paid for Raines’s last slip.”
He was concerned for her welfare. That was surprising and sad because she was going to sell him out along with Raines and
anyone else in the organization. She shrugged instead. “I’m like all the rest. I need money. I do what I have to do to earn
it. But thank you for being concerned,” she added.
He gave a very Latin shrug and smiled. “It is nothing,” he said. “Perhaps one day we will meet again.”