Texas Proud and Circle of Gold (Long, Tall Texans #52) - Diana Palmer Page 0,32

long as he doesn’t try to make coffee for me, we’re square,” Mikey said with a glance at the tall FBI agent.

Murdock just laughed.

“What about Carrera?” Mikey asked. “Is his family going to be under threat, as well?”

“He hired on some old friends,” Paul said. “Several old friends, from back home.”

Mikey knew what he meant, without explanation. “If I were Cotillo, I’d fold my tent and go back to Jersey.”

“Not a chance,” Paul said quietly. “He thinks he has what it takes to put Tony Garza down and take over his whole operation.”

“Sounds to me like a man with a huge narcissistic complex,” Murdock murmured.

“Or a man on a raging drug high,” McLeod inserted.

“Maybe both,” Paul replied. “People are getting involved in this who don’t even have ties to Tony’s business. They just don’t like the idea of an untried, arrogant newcomer trucking into their territory and trying to set everybody aside who’s been in the business for generations.”

“I know several low-level bosses who hate Cotillo’s guts and would love to move on him, There’s even a rumor that one of the bigger New York families wants him out,” Mikey said. “But Tony’s the only one with the power to put him away. If Cotillo hadn’t tried to frame him on that murder one charge, Cotillo would be running south as fast as his fat little legs would carry him.”

“We’ve got the video you made,” Paul told Mikey. “It’s even got the time stamp.”

“Sure,” Mikey replied with a wry smile. “But the defense could swear that it was photoshopped, that I lied to save my friend.”

“Not if you testify,” McLeod replied. “You’re the best insurance we’ve got that Cotillo can’t bring his murderous operation into Jersey. Listen, nobody thinks you and Tony sing with the angels, okay?” he added. “But there are levels of criminals. Cotillo is a cutthroat with no conscience, who’s only in it for the money. He’ll kill anybody who gets in his way. Tony has more class than that. And you,” he said to Mikey, “never hurt a person unless they hurt somebody you cared about.”

Mikey flushed. “Cut it out,” he muttered. “You’ll ruin my image.”

Paul chuckled. “He’s right, though,” he told his cousin. “Merrie said that after she’d painted you.”

“Hell of a painting,” Mikey replied. “And she didn’t even know me.”

“What painting?” McLeod asked.

“Wait a sec.” Paul pulled out his cell phone and turned to the photo app. He thumbed through it and showed it to McLeod. It was the painting Merrie had done of Mikey, which Paul had photographed before he sent it to his cousin.

“Damn,” McLeod said, looking from the portrait to Mikey. “And she didn’t know what you did for a living?”

Mikey shook his head. “She painted that from some snapshots Paul had. Well, from a couple of digital images, from his cell phone, like that one. I was amazed. She did Tony, too. Some artist!”

“Some artist, indeed.” McLeod agreed.

“Back to the problem at hand,” Paul said when he put down the phone. “We need to double security. And you need to find another way to hang out with Bernie. A safer way than a drive-in theater in the country.”

Mikey muttered under his breath. “What, like having tea in her bedroom in the boardinghouse? That’ll help her rep.”

“You can bring her here,” Paul said. “We have the best security in town.”

“You mean it?” Mikey asked.

“You bet,” Paul told him. “You can watch movies together in the sunroom.” He pursed his lips. “Where Cash Grier isn’t likely to tap on the window.”

“Which brings to mind a question,” Mikey said. “Why was Grier looking for me at a movie theater out of town? Not his jurisdiction, is it?”

Chapter Six

“Cash was home and Sheriff Carson wasn’t answering his phone,” Paul said, “to make a long story short. Our police chief volunteered. His kids were protesting bedtime, so he pretty much walked off and left Tippy and Rory with it,” he added, naming Cash’s wife and young brother-in-law.

“In which case, he might want to spend the night at a friend’s house,” Mikey chuckled, “if what I’ve heard about his missus is true. Did she really use an iron skillet on that guy who came in her back door with a .45?”

“Absolutely she did,” Paul confirmed. “She’s still a celebrity for that, not to mention being a former model and movie star.”

“And gorgeous,” Agent Murdock said with a sigh. “Even two kids haven’t changed that.”

Paul chuckled. “Tell me about it. Not that I did bad myself in