Rhea was full of apologies as she entered Diego’s office. She hung her head and said, “I should have known not to forward that call. He insisted that he knew you, but it all sounded suspicious.”

Diego looked up from his computer, and he held up a hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“What did he say?”

A scornful gaze filled Diego’s face. “He said that he was watching, and he wouldn’t let Latinos take over his state. That’s my interpretation. He used his own choice words and profanity.”

“Did he make any specific threats?”

“I suppose it depends on what you consider specific. He didn’t talk about picking up a gun and firing it, but he said that he would dispose of M-Trak and me if I insisted on being bigger than my boots.”

“Is it okay if I sit?” asked Rhea.

“Please do.” He watched as an expression of concern filled Rhea’s face. It was the same one he saw when Rhea’s daughter called after her granddaughter’s meningitis diagnosis. It was a serious family scare, but the little girl recovered quickly.

“Can I make an observation, Mr. Flores?”

“Can I stop you?” asked Diego with a small laugh. “Yes, of course, you can. It will likely be a wise one, too.”

“I don’t mean to say anything negative about the people from your part of the world…”

“You mean Mexicans?”

“Is it okay if I use the term Latino. I’ve heard many people around here are from Central America, too.”

The care Rhea exhibited in her speech amused Diego. He already trusted her, and he knew that any misstatement would be accidental. He nodded and said, “Latino works fine if any label is needed at all.”

“I wanted to say you are very different from most other Latino people in this area. That’s neither good nor bad, but it is an observation. I suspect the caller realizes that.”

“Different in what way?” Diego stared at his bronze-colored hand. “Is it because of my tattoos?”

“How much did you pay to start M-Trak?” asked Rhea.

Diego leaned back. He delicately rubbed the luxurious leather covering the arm of his desk chair. “Ahh, I see what you mean. It’s the money difference. Yes, I invested nearly a million American dollars to start the company. It enabled me to retire my visa. Immigration officials don’t dare come after me.”

“I’m guessing for some that makes you more threatening.”

Diego chuckled softly. “The Mexican that risks his life to struggle through the barren wilds of south Texas and then takes a job no gringo wants that barely offers subsistence pay is mere chattel to the corporate farms and packing plants. Yes, I understand that. A proud man with financial resources is a different animal altogether.”

Rhea scooted her chair closer to Diego’s desk. “Did you ever tell me why you chose to come here to Iowa? I suppose you could live even more like a king at home.”

“We did live like kings in Veracruz. However, kings are always under threat of being overthrown. Veracruz is dangerous today. The city is beautiful. I miss it every day, but the streets run red with blood. I fear every morning for my family members who still call it home.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry.”

“You know that the cartels slaughtered my parents. The bastards assumed my family’s wealth came from the drug trade as well. We are an honest family. Our wealth was passed down from our Spanish ancestors who invested in ranching. My father invested what was passed down, and my siblings and I all benefited from his efforts.”

“So you came here to escape?”

Diego nodded. “There was no reason for me to stay in Veracruz. Any attempt at starting a new business is likely to be sabotaged if it meets with success. Some old friends are attempting to develop tourist properties, but it won’t work until the war zone is pacified.”

“And you met Mr. Hansen on the way out of the country?” asked Rhea.

“No, I hadn’t decided to leave when we met. I was a different man then. I was full of youthful energy and raw emotion. My parents were still living.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow. “More emotional than now?”

Diego chuckled. “Yes.” He balled a hand into a fist and held it against the left side of his chest. “The emotion comes from my heart. It’s that energy that keeps me going. The fire is the fuel for everything that I accomplish. Alan could use a few spare flames.”

“I’m sure he will come to his senses soon, Mr. Flores. He must recognize the potential.”

Diego pulled his arms back and folded them across his chest. “I’m afraid that poor Alan does not realize just how persistent I can be.”

“I do have another question.”

“Sure, go right ahead. What else is on your mind?”

Rhea asked, “Should we have that call traced? I’m sure the police would be willing to look into it if you explained the threats you received.”

“No, I don’t want to make anything worse at this point. It could be an isolated comment. Perhaps our mystery agitator was having a bad day.”

“Please don’t be too confident. There are some dangerously misguided folk around here, I’m afraid.”

“Bad hombres?” asked Diego.

Rhea laughed softly, “Yes, bad hombres.”

* * *

The rest of Diego’s day passed smoothly. He received weekly reports from his drivers, and, despite the fact that he was charging shippers less than his competitors, Diego was still making a significant profit. He plunged a percentage of that profit back into raising the mileage rates for his drivers. They responded with better performance.

Diego left work thirty minutes early. As he opened the door to leave the building, Rhea said, “You deserve the extra time. Have a relaxing evening, Mr. Flores, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I intend to.”

Thirty minutes early made a world of difference in the rush of traffic leaving downtown Red Wing, and Diego returned to his condominium building to find choice parking still available.

As he exited the elevator on the fourth floor, he heard the sound of a door closing down the hall. Diego turned the corner, and he saw Alicia, the seven-year-old daughter of the only other Mexican residents on the floor. She spotted Diego and began running down the hallway shouting, “Mr. Flores!”

Her parents were still eight doors down, but Diego could see the broad smiles on their faces. Alicia plunged forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his legs. He smiled down at her and asked, “How is my little chiquita?”

“I get to have ice cream, Mr. Flores! I got an A in school today.”

Diego reached down and picked her up letting her perch in the crook of his arm until her parents arrived. He poked at her belly and said, “Enjoy that ice cream for me, and keep up those grades! Smart is a good thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He smiled broadly as her parents arrived. The masculine voice of her father scolded lightly, “Alicia, please don’t pester Mr. Flores. I’m sure he has plenty of business to take care of without you getting in the way.”

Diego bounced Alicia in his arms. He whispered, “Don’t listen to them. I always have time to say hello.” He set her down on the floor and greeted Alicia’s parents before setting out down the hall for his own front door.

Closing the door behind him, Diego let down his defenses. The mysterious communication unnerved him. He didn’t want to show his fear to anyone, so it ground away in his gut all day long. Finally, now, safe in his own surroundings, Diego threw himself onto the sofa and held his head in his hands. He wondered if there was anywhere within his reach that was truly safe.