CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Vaughn

“There’s no way I can do that,” Wade Mesa said into the phone after he explained what he needed. His old fraternity brother’s voice sounded rough and aged. Like he’d woken the guy up, after a long night of drinking.

Vaughn swallowed back a frustrated sigh. “I know I’m asking a lot.” His pre-law buddy from Miami had ended up moving to Texas after law school, where his wife’s family lived. The well-respected attorney had a promising future, much like when he was in college.

They’d spent their fair share of parties with their heads over toilets.

“You have no idea,” Wade continued. “This Portia Conway woman is vicious, and carries a heavy bat with her sphere of influence.”

“I bet. But I also know Conway isn’t all innocent here, either.”

There was a long silence on the end of the phone. “Vaughn, if you have information regarding criminal activity on Conway and her empire, you have to tell me.”

He swallowed. Nothing he had was definitive. All heresy, so it wouldn’t be helpful to his attorney friend anyway. “Criminal? Probably not. Unethical, absolutely. But I’m not calling to dish dirt on Conway. I need your help with Cora Castillo.”

“She broke into the woman’s home.”

“But Conway hasn’t told you what’s missing, has she?” The woman would never dare admit what she had in her possession to authorities, because she’d be signing her own death certificate.

“How did you know that?”

“Wild guess. The worst you have on Cora is a B&E, at most. I can’t tell you why, but I can say her intentions were in the right place.”

“It doesn’t matter what her intentions were.”

“Wade…”

Silence.

“She had a very good reason. I’ll owe you.”

His old friend’s sigh crackled the line. “It’s not that simple. I have a boss who will roll heads over this. Probably mine, too. What does this woman mean to you, to try so hard for this?”

Vaughn scraped his hand down his face. She means everything. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything about her had changed his perspective. Everything about him needed her. He threw up his hand, as if Wade could see him. “She’s my North Star.”

The guy chuckled, and he could hear the smile. “It’s about time, brother. Does that mean you’re turning in your cufflinks?”

Wade knew about his profession, and was one of his few long-time friends that didn’t give him shit for it. He’d even helped bury a few hotline tips claiming the Knights of Texas were prostitutes. It helped to have a man on the inside of the system, watching his back.

“That’s something I need to talk to her about, first.”

“Look, I can’t promise anything. Let me look into it. But if I have to stick my nose out for this, then I can’t protect you and your colleagues on future incidents. I won’t have the pull. I probably won’t have a job anymore.”

I probably won’t either.

“There’s one more thing.”

“Shit, Vaughn.” He heard a car door slam shut.

“I’m giving you a phone number.” Tom had passed along this information, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. But if this card would save both Cora’s neck and his friend’s job, he’d share it.

“What phone number is this?”

“Someone who can verify who Cora is, and will tell you as much as they are legally allowed.”

“Jesus, are we talking about a government agent?”

“Not quite. You’ll find out. Do yourself a favor and don’t let Conway know.”

Another silence fell between them.

Vaughn pressed the phone tighter to his ear, hoping his friend hadn’t hung up on him. “Wade?”

“You should’ve finished school, man.”

“I should’ve done a lot of things. But I don’t regret my choices.”

“If you had, you could’ve been in a better position to help this woman.”

“If I had finished school, I wouldn’t have met her. Things always have a way of working out.”

“You’re still using that line, huh?”

“Hasn’t failed me yet.”

Cora

“My tactics haven’t failed me yet,” the detective spouted from across the sterile table in the interrogation room. From his scruffy chin, and bags under his vomit-green eyes, they’d woken him early for this one. “One way or another, you’ll start talking.”

Cora crossed her ankles in front of her. She hadn’t said a word, apart from the one phone call she’d made two hours ago. A message on a voicemail to the agency, hoping they’d still be willing to help, even though she had no favor cards left.

At least the stash would be safe with Tom.

The police hadn’t caught him, otherwise they’d be playing a different card than a breaking-and-entering. No matter what tactics this detective used.

Although, she had to give it to the guy, being in his position wasn’t easy. He had so little evidence to go on.

What had her insides twisting more than anything was the image of Vaughn staring while she was slapped in handcuffs. In all her years on the job, she’d never been detected, let alone caught. She’d played a risky hand on this one, diverted from her original plans, and lost.

With Vaughn watching.

He’d never want to see her again. Which ripped her up even more.

“Your silence isn’t doing you any favors.” The man opened a thin file. “Mrs. Conway wants us to throw the book at you. In this town, she gets what she wants. You picked the wrong lady’s house to break into.”

Actually, I picked the holy grail.

He sighed. “Look. You don’t have any other arrests on your record. The prosecutor would be willing to take it easy on you, if you give him a little more information. The name of your accomplice. Because we know you couldn’t have gotten through Conway’s security system on your own.”

He’s getting desperate if he’s switched to the good cop routine so quickly.

If she kept silent a little while longer, they’d end the interrogation, and she could go back to her cell. Finish thinking this predicament through.

With any luck, Tom had already contacted the agency, and informed them of the recovery. The items would be returned to the original families, and maybe—just maybe—they’d agree to this last favor.

A knock on the door stopped the detective’s questions. He left the room.

Cora didn’t dare sigh. No sign to show these men she was wearing down. Because despite the empty room, they were watching her from the double-sided glass. Also from the camera in the corner.

Muffled words came through the wall, including a few that were raised and angry.

Probably Conway’s attorney. She smiled. She’d love to hear the man stammer and dodge the question of what exactly the socialite was missing among her prized possessions.

The door opened again, and this time a Hispanic man in a very expensive suit came in. French cuff shirt and leather soled shoes. His smile was genuine, but tired. Bags under his eyes accentuated his five-o-clock shadow.

Has to be a lawyer.

“I’m Wade Mesa. Assistant D.A.” He sat in the opposite chair, and folded his hands in his lap. He stared, studying her. Waiting for her to say something, or react to his title, as if he deigned to show his presence at a mere interrogation.

She stared back, silently.

“You have one extremely loyal friend.”

Cora kept her face blank.

Which friend?

“I can see why he’s asked this favor. Cora Castillo, you’re free to go.”

She blinked. Then raised her eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”

“Nope.” He stood. “I strongly advise you to stay away from Portia Conway. This morning is going to be vicious with her. I’ll be eating shit for months off this, but you owe your friend one massive favor.” He extended a hand, which she cautiously shook. Then he left.

There’s no way Tom had this much clout to pull this off.

What the hell just happened?