Chapter Twenty-Three
Leaving Zach with child services had been even harder on Carly than Linc had expected. She and Zach both carried Joe’s blood. Maybe that was the reason the bond had formed so quickly. Or maybe it was because Carly understood what the kid was going through.
Linc had promised again it would only be a matter of days until Zach was released into their care, but with Archer still on the loose and the problems with El Jefe, Linc was glad the boy was out of harm’s way.
Tuesday rolled around, the day of the cargo run El Jefe expected Drake Trucking to make. That morning, Agent Taggart had e-mailed an attachment to both Linc’s and Carly’s laptops, containing files of mug shots. They went over them, but couldn’t find a photo of the big mustached Latino called Cuchillo or any of the men who had attacked Carly at Jubal’s. Nor did she recognize any of the men who had abducted her and taken her to El Jefe.
Then Ross Townsend phoned. The results from the cargo manifest found at the crime scene had come back from the lab in Dallas.
“You were right,” Ross said. “The rust-colored spot was blood and it didn’t belong to Hernandez.”
“Did they get DNA?” Linc asked.
“They got it. The bad news is, they ran it through CODIS but didn’t get a match.”
Linc swore softly. He’d had high hopes for that bit of evidence.
As soon as breakfast was over, Frank Marino drove Carly in to work while Linc worked out of his home office. Things appeared to be moving forward with the tire rebuilding plant, or at least the county commissioners were starting to listen to the team of environmental experts he had sent in to convince them.
A call to his project manager brought him up to speed on the highway construction going on in New Mexico, which appeared to be progressing without too much trouble.
Late in the morning, an e-mail from Millie reminded him of the charity ball coming up at the end of the week. With everything going on, he considered canceling, but the auction proceeds went to cancer research, a charity he heavily supported. It was important for him to be there and he refused to live his life around El Jefe’s demands.
At the end of the day, he picked Carly up at the yard and they drove to Greenville to the Hunt County Juvenile Detention Center to see how Zach was settling in.
Since the boy was only there for protection, he’d been separated from the main population, put in a special housing unit with children waiting to be placed in foster homes.
Zach looked pale and even thinner than when he’d arrived. Linc knew how the kid was feeling. He’d been in juvie for truancy in middle school, in again in high school for fighting, and once for underage drinking.
Though the detention officers were doing their best to keep Zach away from the general population, he ate in the cafeteria with the other kids and was occasionally exposed to them in the play yard. The boy was clearly unhappy and a little afraid.
“I hate it here,” Zach said glumly. “I never should have let you take me in. I should have run away.” They were sitting at a white plastic table and chairs in a small, private visiting room. Carly reached over and caught hold of Zach’s hand.
“You aren’t going to be here long, Zach. Just till we can get things worked out.”
“Listen to me, Zach,” Linc said. “Sometimes things happen we can’t control. That’s just life. But if you know it’s only temporary, if you believe it’s going to get better, you can get through it. You need to make the best of this place until we can get you out of here.”
Carly squeezed the boy’s hand. “Can you do what Linc says?”
Zach sat up a little straighter, looked Linc right in the face. “I can do it.”
“Good boy,” Linc said.
Zach seemed a little better by the time they left. Linc didn’t think Carly was doing nearly as well. She was extremely softhearted and she already loved the boy. He was her family, all she really had.
“He’ll be okay,” Linc said as they drove home. “He’s a tough kid or he wouldn’t have made it all the way to Iron Springs in the first place.”
“I know.”
Linc’s phone rang just then, interrupting the conversation. Earlier, he had phoned his attorney but hadn’t been able to reach him. This was Steiner calling him back.
“We’ve got a problem, Linc.” The attorney’s voice came over the hands-free speaker.
“I must be on a roll. What’s going on?”
“Turns out the boy has other family besides Carly. Protective Services contacted them and told them what happened and they want custody of the boy.”
“Who are they?” Linc asked.
“His grandmother, Amanda Weller, and her husband, Tom.”
“Amanda must be Joe’s second wife,” Carly said. “Joe never talked about her. I wasn’t even sure she was still alive.”
“I did some digging,” Steiner said. “Amanda Weller is fifty-five years old. Tom is fifty-six. They live in San Antonio. Tom’s a doctor, a G.P. with a very good reputation. Still has his own practice.”
“I remember she was a lot younger than Joe,” Carly said.
“Why are they just now coming forward?” Linc asked. “They must have known Zach’s circumstances. Seems to me it’s too little, too late.”
“Apparently her daughter married Ray against her wishes. According to Mrs. Weller, they were close to her and Zach until she died, but then Archer moved to Austin and wouldn’t let them see the boy. They didn’t realize how bad Zach was being treated until this happened. They’re making arrangements to see him.”
“I wonder why Zach didn’t mention them,” Carly said.
“They’ve filed a petition for custody,” Steiner continued. “At best it’s going to slow things down.”
“I want the boy out of there,” Linc said. “Do everything you can to make that happen.”
“You know I will.”
Linc ended the call.
“I want to meet them,” Carly said.
“Absolutely.” He liked that she was so protective of the boy. Zach needed someone in his life like Carly. “We’ll get this resolved, honey. In the meantime, at least we know Zach’s somewhere safe.” Or as safe as he could be in a place filled with the occasional pedophile and some very bad-ass kids.
By the time they reached the ranch, the purple glow of evening had begun to settle over the vast stretches of prairie. Cooler air whispered through the dense foliage along the creeks at the bottom of the ravines.
He checked his watch as he drove toward the house at the back of the ranch. El Jefe’s cargo pickup was scheduled for one A.M. Figuring they were going to be up late, on the way home from Greenville, Linc had stopped at the grocery store and stocked up a little on food. He had bought a cook-at-home pizza.
As evening settled in, Carly made a salad and they ate the pizza for supper. Linc was hungry and pepperoni was his favorite, but Carly picked at the meal and barely finished a single slice.
The purple of evening slid into full darkness. A fingernail moon rose over the harsh Texas landscape. Nine o’clock approached and still no call from El Jefe. Agent McKinley was back in the yard and ready to make the run, but he couldn’t leave until the text came in with the pick-up location.
Time passed with agonizing slowness. After trying and failing to catch up on some reading, Linc started pacing, wishing he had something to do besides worry.
Carly had gone in to use his home gym, anything to tire herself out. She was in great physical condition, which he’d noticed even before he’d taken her to bed, her body strong and nicely toned. She liked to stay in shape, used his gym whenever she had time, which there seemed to be plenty of tonight.
At five to ten, she walked back into the living room fresh out of the shower, smelling sweetly feminine and making him want her. Linc forced his mind in another direction and willed El Jefe to call.
At exactly ten-thirty, Carly’s cell phone chimed a text. Linc read the message over her shoulder.
“Take 154 through Harleton. North on Baker. Stay right . . . 7.2 miles to red barn on N side.”
She looked up at him. “Harleton. That’s less than two hours away.”
“You call McKinley and give him the location. I’ll call Taggart, bring him up to speed.”
They hurriedly made the calls, then settled back down in the living room. The plan was, after the cargo was picked up and McKinley was on the road to whatever delivery location he was given, he would call Quinn Taggart and fill him in. Taggart would phone Linc’s cell with an update.
McKinley didn’t plan to confront El Jefe’s men, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt the agent was putting himself in grave danger. McKinley wasn’t wearing a wire. It was too dangerous. If he was searched at the loading site or later at the drop site and El Jefe’s men found the recording device, there was every chance he’d be killed.
The FBI would be monitoring his cell phone’s GPS location and the feds would be somewhere in the area, but if things got dicey, they might not get there in time to help him.
And any interference from the FBI would put Carly in even greater danger.
The hands on the clock seemed to move with excruciating slowness. Linc tried to watch a late-late comedy show but in his dark mood, nothing seemed funny. One A.M. finally arrived. Since neither of them would be sleeping until this was over, Carly went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee.
Two A.M. No call from Taggart. Three. Three-thirty and still no phone call.
Fighting a battle with exhaustion, Carly took a sip of coffee from the mug she had just refilled. “Agent Taggart said McKinley would contact him as soon as the cargo was loaded and the truck was back on the road. That should have happened by now.”
“Depends on how much cargo they had to load, how soon they actually got started—could be anything.”
“You think it’s drugs?”
“Probably.”
Carly leaned back and closed her eyes, though Linc doubted she’d be able to fall asleep. Restless, he headed down the hall to his office, sat down, and went through his e-mail, but it was tough to concentrate. Eventually he gave up and padded back into the living room, was pleased to see Carly had actually fallen asleep.
At four-thirty in the morning Linc’s cell started ringing. He grabbed the phone off the coffee table. Carly’s eyes snapped open and she jerked upright on the sofa.
“It’s Taggart.” Linc hit the speaker and set the phone back down on the table in front of them.
“El Jefe’s men never showed,” Quinn said. “McKinley waited two hours before he finally gave up, turned the truck around, and started back to the yard.”
Not good. “Any idea what happened?” Linc asked.
“Not the slightest. Maybe it was a test to see if the truck would actually show up.”
“Or maybe they know we talked to the FBI,” Carly said glumly.
“At this point, there’s no reason to make that assumption,” Taggart said. “We had to bring in the local authorities, but that’s protocol for an operation like this. We didn’t want some cop stumbling onto the scene and getting himself killed.”
“You brought Howler into this?” Linc asked, his voice rising along with his temper.
“Your names weren’t mentioned, nothing about Drake Trucking. We’ve got very little authority here, Linc. My boss was adamant we keep Howler in the loop about our presence, as well as the Harrison County sheriff, since that’s where the pickup was supposed to be made. Any reason they shouldn’t have been informed?”
A dozen reasons but they were mostly personal. The bad blood between him and Howler didn’t prove the man was dishonest. He didn’t know the Harrison County sheriff but there was no reason to suspect him.
“Whatever happened,” Quinn said, “odds are El Jefe or one of his men is going to be in touch. Let me know the minute that happens.”
Linc worked a muscle in his jaw. “We’ll let you know.” But he was no longer sure bringing the feds in had been the right decision. He hadn’t wanted Carly involved in the first place. After tonight, she might be in even more danger.
“What do you think?” she asked after he’d hung up the phone.
“I think we’ll find out what happened when El Jefe is ready for us to know.”
“I’m worried,” Carly said. “I wish I hadn’t told the FBI about the pick-up.”
Linc stood up from the sofa, drew her up beside him. Knowing the stress she was under, he had ignored the desire pulsing in his groin all evening. But the tension for both of them had just ratcheted up another notch.
“It’s almost morning,” he said. “I’m taking you to bed.” Tipping up her chin, he settled his mouth very softly over hers. The kiss was brief and gentle, a promise of things to come. “You need to get your mind off El Jefe and with any luck, I’m the man who can make that happen.”
Carly smiled for the first time that night. Sliding her arms around his neck, she went up on her toes and kissed him. Just a brush of lips, a tasting that heated into something more. When her soft mouth parted in invitation, his tongue swept in. His body tightened, his erection throbbed, and an ache rolled through him. He wanted this woman, had almost from the moment he had met her.
The bedroom seemed miles away. He carried a condom in the pocket of his jeans. When she pulled his T-shirt over his head and pressed her mouth against the muscles across his chest, his decision was made. Stripping her out of her clothes, he sat down on the sofa and pulled her down to straddle his lap.
Her pretty breasts bobbed forward, tempting him. He palmed them, caressed them, bent his head, and drew each one into his mouth. The rose tips hardened into tight little buds he nipped with his teeth and soothed with his tongue.
Carly whimpered. Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her, sank into those soft lips. Trailing kisses along her throat, he returned to her breasts, nibbling and tasting until she was panting and squirming on his lap, begging for exactly what he intended to give her.
His erection throbbed. He unzipped his jeans, retrieved the condom, and sheathed himself. Carly lifted, took him deep inside, and Linc groaned.
“I love the way you make me feel,” she whispered. “I need you, Linc.”
Sweet Jesus, he needed her, too. The woman drove him crazy.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, her thick blond hair forming a curtain around them, she rose up and sank down, rose and sank down, taking him deeper, gloving his heavy arousal, up and then down, riding him, turning his erection to steel.
He let her take charge, gritted his teeth to stay in control until he couldn’t wait a moment more. With a growl of possession, he gripped her hips to hold her in place and drove upward, taking what he so desperately needed, giving her what she needed in return.
A moan escaped as her body tightened around him and she reached her peak, but Linc didn’t stop, not until she cried his name and came again. His own release struck hard, a wild, untamed response to a woman who was becoming as necessary to him as breathing.
He held her as they spiraled down, their bodies, still joined, slick with perspiration, her arms locked around his neck, her head on his shoulder.
A deep breath whispered out. Seconds passed. With a last soft kiss, he eased her off his lap, rose, and headed for the bathroom to dispose of the condom.
When he returned, he smiled at the sight of Carly curled up on the sofa, still naked, her eyes closed, a soft smile on her face, so damn sexy he wanted her all over again. Then her phone started ringing.
Linc growled low in his throat, wishing he could ignore it, knowing he couldn’t.
Carly grabbed her T-shirt and pulled it on while Linc slid into his jeans and sat down on the sofa beside her. Her hand trembled as she plucked her cell off the coffee table and checked the screen, saw the number was blocked.
Biting the plump bottom lip he loved to taste, she held the phone to her ear, tilted a little so Linc could hear the conversation. “This is Carly.”
“You’ve been a very naughty girl, Señorita Drake.” The familiar male voice, touched with Spanish, sent a shot of dread down his spine. “Perhaps I should punish you,” El Jefe said. “Yes, I think I would like that.”
Linc’s hand unconsciously fisted.
The voice hardened. “I told you no police.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carly said.
“Do not make the mistake of thinking I am a fool.”
Carly looked at Linc, who nodded. There was no use denying it.
“You wanted me to do something illegal,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I will tell you what you are going to do. You are going to tell the FBI you no longer wish to cooperate. That it was a misunderstanding. You will get rid of them and do exactly what I tell you. If you do not, you know that pretty little blond boy you are so fond of? Disobey my orders again and one of the older boys in detention will use him as a puta. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Carly’s face went as pale as glass.
“Do you hear me, señorita? ”
“I-I hear you.”
“What about you, Señor Cain? I know you are there. You are a wealthy man. You understand the price of doing business, no?”
He wanted to tell the bastard if he didn’t leave Carly and the boy alone, he was going to pay a far bigger price than he could begin to imagine. Instead, he said, “I understand.”
“Get rid of the FBI. I will give you some time to make that happen. Then you may expect to hear from me. Oh, and one more thing, señorita. You are Joe Drake’s granddaughter. Next time you are the one who will be driving the truck.” The line went dead and Linc softly cursed.
Even if the police had been able to trace the call, he didn’t think they would have had enough time to get a location. Probably a disposable phone anyway. The guy was no fool.
Worry darkened Carly’s eyes to a deep crystalline blue. “None of us are safe,” she said softly. “Not Zach, not me, not you. What are we going to do?”
Anger filtered through him. He latched on to it, used it to clear his head as he had taught himself, used it to focus on the problem he needed to solve.
“We’re going to do what El Jefe wants us to do. We’re going to stop cooperating with the FBI. Without us the feds have nothing. They haven’t even been able to find a connection between El Jefe and Miguel Hernandez’s murder. The FBI doesn’t expend resources on dead ends and that’s what this is about to become.”
“So that’s it? We just do whatever that bastard wants?”
“No. We let him think that’s what we’re going to do. The FBI has rules to follow, procedures.” Determination rolled through him, honing into a single, solitary purpose. “I don’t have to follow anybody’s rules but my own.”