Long, Tall Texans: Fearless Part 9

"He also said he asked you to keep an eye out for visitors at the farm."

She nodded. "I can't find a safe way to contact him, though. I'm not sure if Rodrigo has listening devices in the house." She hated having to say that, to sound as if she already suspected that Rodrigo was on the wrong side of the law. She had to try to remember that she took a vow to uphold the law, no matter how much it hurt. "Consuelo said he had all sorts of electronic devices in his room." She moved closer. "We've had two very suspicious new hires. One is a man named Castillo, who has a nasty att.i.tude toward women. The other is Consuelo's son, Marco. He wears the tats and colors of the Serpientes gang."

"d.a.m.n!" he muttered. "I thought we'd managed to keep those devils out of our community here."

"They have links everywhere," she reminded him. "In prisons, in cities all over the world. It's a network, just like a corporation."

He leaned back against the pa.s.senger side of his truck and folded his arms over his broad chest. "This seemed like a good idea at the outset. Now I'm not too sure anymore. I didn't persuade you down here to get you killed. What if Marco brings someone with him who recognizes you? As I recall, you prosecuted two San Antonio members of that Houston gang for carjacking."

"And convicted them," she returned. She blew out a breath. "I never expected any of the gang to surface down here in Jacobsville. Well, this might be a good time for me to start packing heat."

"No."

"I can shoot," she muttered. "I used to take a .40 caliber Glock onto the police firing range and practice with it."

"Yes," he replied, eyes narrowed. "I remember. We got the winds.h.i.+eld in the squad car replaced," he added meaningfully.

She flushed. "That was not my fault! A bird flew past and distracted me just as I started to shoot!"

"Really? What distracted you when you blew the taillight out on the sheriff's department's newest car?"

She pushed back a stray wisp of blond hair. "Listen, that deputy should never have parked his stupid car that close to the firing range in the first place!"

He wasn't buying it. "I've never seen so many cops kissing the ground in my life. All they had to do was hear your name and they started putting on Kevlar."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Okay, Okay. I'm a lethal weapon with a firearm. I admit it. But what am I going to do?"

"We need to put somebody on the farm who can protect you," he said, thinking. "I understand that there's a federal agent undercover somewhere between here and Houston, but n.o.body will tell me where he is or what he's posing as. If we could get word to him, he might be able to keep an eye on you."

"Long shot," she returned.

He grimaced. "Well, there's always Jon Blackhawk," he began. "He owes me a favor, and he's a fed."

"I am not working with Jon Blackhawk," she said flatly. "I don't care how sorry he is about charging his a.s.sistant with s.e.xual harra.s.sment."

"Maybe we can lure Marco back to the big city with the offer of a really lucrative drug run," he said then. "At least we'd have one gang member out of the picture."

"That isn't such a bad idea. Marco needs money," she said, recalling the scene in the kitchen. "He had his mother in tears, demanding money that she didn't have."

"He may be using the stuff as well as selling it," he replied. "A lot of dealers can't resist the temptation."

"It might explain the violent mood swings I'm seeing in him," she agreed.

"I know a couple of narcs in the city," he replied. "I might get word to them and see if they can flush out any information about Marco or Castillo."

"I just hope Marco isn't going to land himself in prison. Poor Consuelo!"

"She seems like a nice sort of person," Marquez replied. "Shame she has such losers for a husband and a son."

"You know about her husband?"

"I arrested him once," he said, his lips making a flat line. "She's probably going to remember that, so if she says anything to you about me, we went steady in high school. Okay?"

Her eyebrows lifted. "We did? I must have a bad case of amnesia. You'd think I'd remember something like that!"

He glowered at her. "You'd have been lucky. I was a catch in high school," he told her. "Girls couldn't keep their hands off me."

"That's not what your mother, Barbara, says," she replied smugly.

"What does my mother say?" he asked warily.

"She says you hid behind potted plants any time a girl started walking toward you."

"That was in grammar school!" he protested.

She laughed. "Really?"

He s.h.i.+fted his weight. "Maybe I was a little shy. But I never hid behind a potted plant."

"Is that so?"

"I might have fallen into a potted plant, once," he relented. "When the cheerleader captain asked me to vote for her in the cla.s.s president race. She was a dish."

She couldn't stop laughing.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is."

He moved away from the truck. "I hate losing arguments to lawyers," he muttered. "I'm going back to work."

"What are you doing down here on a Monday?"

"I almost forgot," he chuckled. "Your boss sent you a love letter." He handed her an envelope.

"This isn't my boss's handwriting," she pointed out. "And my name is misspelled!"

"We have a mole. He doesn't like the new regime, or the new drug lord. He sent that to you via your boss. But he's only giving us information on Fuentes. That-" he indicated the envelope "-is the closest he's going to come to revealing himself as a witness. We have no idea who he is."

"Have you read this?" she asked. It was sealed, but barely.

"No. And I resent having you insinuate that I try to read other people's mail." He stuck his hands into his jeans pockets. "Anyway, we couldn't get the steam to work ungluing it."

She laughed. "Some detective you are!"

"I'm a very good one, thanks. Read that and tell me what's in it. Then you'd better let me have it back. Even with your name misspelled, we don't want anybody locally making connections."

She slid her thumb under the seal and pulled out a small piece of lined paper that looked as if it could have come from a steno pad. "It's an address," she said, looking up at him. "And a date and time. That's all." She read it to him.

"A drop," he said at once. "A drug drop."

She handed him the note. "You could have opened it."

He shrugged as he pocketed the note. "I wanted to see how you were."

She smiled up at him. "That was nice."

"I hope I haven't just blown your cover," he said uneasily. "You were seen getting into the ranch truck and heading toward town, so I tailed you. I didn't realize Consuelo was with you until you both got out of the truck."

"Maybe she didn't recognize you," she said comfortingly.

"Let's hope so." He studied her closely, seeing the dark circles under her eyes. "Ramirez giving you a hard time?"

Her heart jumped. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Some of his friends say he's been h.e.l.l to get along with since he took that job."

"He's nice to me," she lied.

"Most people are nice to you," he chided. "You're sweet."

"Tell me that the next time you see me in court with Fuentes on the spit."

"I can't wait," he chuckled.

"Me, either. If you need to get in touch with me, you can tell Chief Grier to drop by any Wednesday. Rodrigo's usually not around then."

Marquez straightened. There was something disturbing in his expression.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" she asked.

He wiped off the expression. "Nothing at all. I just had a thought. You watch your back," he added. "If you need me, call me, any time. I'm down here with mother most weekends, unless I'm on call."

"I'll remember. Thanks, Rick."

"What are friends for?" he chuckled.

CONSUELO GAVE HER A very odd look when she caught up with the older woman in the grocery store.

"You know that guy from school?" she asked.

"Yes. He was in my cla.s.s," Glory said. "We went steady." She looked demure.

Consuelo turned her attention to a rack of pickling spices. "He's a cop."

"Yes, I know. He works up in San Antonio."

"He put my husband in jail," she muttered.

"Oh!"

Consuelo fell for the shocked expression. Her cold eyes softened. "You couldn't understand how it was for me, with Marco having trouble in school and then my husband going to prison. I couldn't even afford rent. I had to do some things, to be able to buy food..." She turned away. "It was a long time ago," she said suddenly. "Don't mind me."

"I'd do anything for you that I could," Glory told the other woman. "Really."

Consuelo turned back to her. "I know you would," she said in a soft tone. "You're not still sweet on Marquez?"

Glory hesitated. "Well, not really. I haven't seen him in a long time."

"Good. That's good. Can you find me some garbage bags?"

"Sure thing."

She hobbled away on her cane. It had been a close call. Her life was starting to be a lot more complicated. Not the least of her worries was the way she and Rodrigo had parted.

EVEN THOUGH CONSUELO SEEMED to have fallen for her story about going steady with Rick, Glory was aware that the older woman was more curious about her now. She asked throwaway questions about how long she and Rick went steady and if she knew any of his fellow officers in San Antonio.

Glory had to be careful and not let it slip that she'd worked in the city. It was hard, downplaying her intelligence and not giving her education away.

Rodrigo was polite to her now, but very cool. He seemed not to be interested in her after their pa.s.sionate interlude. In fact, he was paying a lot of attention to the younger woman who'd flirted with him at the fiesta.

Glory's confidence in herself had been healthy until Fuentes's death threat had landed her at the truck farm. But divided from her profession, she found that she had no real ident.i.ty as just an ordinary woman. She had no skills to speak of except that she could process fruit and make preserves. She could cook, after a fas.h.i.+on, but not like Consuelo could. Her homemaking skills were poor due to her impaired movement, because working with a mop or broom or even a vacuum cleaner was painful, and the aftereffects could last for days. Her blood pressure was more or less under control, but she had episodes of dizziness and headaches when she forgot her medicine. She felt almost useless around the house.

When Rodrigo started bringing his one-girl fan club, Teresa, into the house with him for the occasional meal, the way he flirted with her made Glory ill at ease. She knew that it was deliberate, because he noticed and enjoyed Glory's discomfort.

Now that she knew Fuentes was looking for her, she was under even more pressure. Her interlude with Rodrigo had caused her shame. She hadn't realized how conventional she was until she'd allowed herself to be seduced. She felt she was following in her mother's footsteps, and it bothered her. Of course, her mother had only been available to men who had money. Glory wasn't mercenary. She'd planned her life to be a solitary one. She'd fallen off the straight and narrow, and she was worrying about the consequences. Her periods were very regular. But she was now a week overdue.

It could have been stress. She hoped that it was. Her mother had been very young when she bowed to community pressure after she'd become pregnant by Glory's father. She'd married him, but she'd made him and Glory both pay. It was almost ironic that her mother's parents had died in a plane crash just a few weeks after they'd forced Glory's father and mother into marriage with their hopes to avoid a scandal.

She touched her flat belly worriedly. She'd never considered having a child. She wasn't sure her health would permit it, in the first place. In the second, she had little to do with children, and she wasn't sure that she'd be a proper mother. Her real fear was of her genetics. What if she turned out to be like her own mother, hateful and resentful and abusive to a child? The thought tormented her. It was why she'd never considered marriage and a family in the first place. She couldn't be sure. She was scarred in more ways than the purely physical. Her self-esteem was almost nonexistent.

And if she was pregnant, what would she do about it? She'd have to see her doctor before she could make any decision. If Rodrigo found out, what would he do? He was missing his former girlfriend and her child. He wanted a child of his own, a replacement for what he'd lost. But that wasn't love. It was grief, and once he had the child he might bitterly regret it. For instance, what if his girlfriend decided to divorce her husband and go after Rodrigo? Glory wouldn't stand a chance, considering the love Rodrigo betrayed when he was with the pretty blonde woman. He'd leave skid marks exiting Glory's life, if he could have the woman he really wanted and the child he adored.

She became depressed as the days pa.s.sed and Rodrigo continued to ignore her. Then, one day, several things happened at once to make her position hazardous in the extreme.

First, Cash Grier showed up at her door looking somber one Wednesday morning. He asked to speak to her alone.

She followed him onto the front porch, apprehensive about the way he looked.

"What's up?" she asked quietly, wary of eavesdroppers.

He motioned her down the steps to his squad car, going slowly so that she could keep up with her cane. Then he stood so that she was facing him, so that anyone watching couldn't see their lips move.

"A trained sniper can read lips," he told her quietly. "Just in case anyone's looking, they won't be able to understand what we're saying. Marquez got in touch with his friend on the narcotics squad, who worked on a couple of his confidential informants," he said. "Fuentes has sent a killer after you."

To her credit, Glory didn't pa.s.s out. "What sort of killer?" she asked calmly.

"A professional."