when Wyatt’s mother was dead and no longer able to enjoy who he’d become. But if anyone in that scenario was foolish, it was Justice, not Wyatt’s mother.
“It was such a risk to take,” Elena growled. “I never should have been arrogant enough to think I could take it and win.”
“What if you’d been right about him? You might have found the love of your life.”
“But I wasn’t right. And I didn’t. I ended up shooting a man I loved because he was going to kill me and another agent.” She leaned her head against the window. “I can’t trust my instincts where men are concerned. I clearly have no judgment.”
“Because of one mistake?”
“A mistake that ended with one man dead, another wounded badly enough to be forced out of his job, and a dangerous drug lord gunning for me.” She laughed bleakly. “I don’t do things halfway.”
“No, you don’t,” he agreed, pushing off the bed and crossing to stand beside her. He curved his palms over her cheeks and drew her gaze up to meet his. “But maybe that also means when you make the right choice, it’s going to be one hell of a good decision.”
Cocking her head, she grinned at him. “You are entirely too nice a guy to be hanging around with a curmudgeon like me, Wyatt McCabe.”
He grimaced. “Shh, don’t say that. You’ll ruin my bad-boy mystique.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. “Are you sure you want to take on Calderón head-to-head? He might enjoy taking out a Texas sheriff just for the reputation it’ll give him.”
“He wants access to my father’s land. If he kills me, he’ll never get it.”
“Are you sure he’ll be thinking that logically? It’s not exactly wise business to blow up an ICE agent.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest, making his heart rate climb. “The world needs more Wyatt McCabes, not fewer. If you’re going to do this, I need to be nearby.”
“Not a good idea. If anyone takes a good look at you, they’re going to see through that makeup and those hair extensions.”
“So I won’t let anyone take a good look at me.” The firm tone in her voice was like a roadblock, Wyatt knew. Nothing would get through her steely determination once she’d made a decision. She’d be there, having his back, whether he liked it or not.
“Okay,” he said, though he wasn’t happy about it. “But you stay under the radar.”
She pulled back and looked at him. “Pretty bossy for sheriff of a tiny little Texas town, cowboy.”
“I just want to keep you alive,” he said seriously, making her smile fade. “When I saw that bomb go off with you inside the house—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “Don’t get all mushy on me. I don’t think I can take it.”
Cradling her face between his palms again, he kissed her lightly, more a promise than a challenge. “Let’s see if we can get this meeting set up today. The sooner the better.”
She squeezed his hands and let go. “Take me back to the cantina.”
Chapter Six
Elena hadn’t counted on Raul Santiago being at Avalina’s Cantina when she and Wyatt arrived. While Wyatt settled in a corner booth, Elena found Mariana, Santiago’s woman, cleaning up in the back to finish her shift. “Back so soon, chica?” Mariana asked in rapid-fire Spanish.
“Remember the gringo who tipped me so big?” Elena replied, feigning naive excitement. “He wants to meet your boyfriend, Raul.”
Mariana looked immediately wary. “Is he the police?”
“God, no,” Elena said quickly. “Unless cops go around offering you blow. And lots of it.”
Mariana’s eyebrows arched. “Did you take it?”
“No. I don’t do the stuff myself. Certainly didn’t need it to have fun this afternoon,” she added with a laugh. “He may look like a professor, but he’s all stallion in bed.”
Mariana looked across the room at Wyatt with a salacious smile. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
“He’s a—what do you call it? Distributor. He’s a distributor for the drug gangs up North.” Elena lowered her voice. “When I told him I’d met one of the infamous Jaguares, he wanted to meet him. Maybe he wants to make some sort of deal with El Jefe.”
Mariana’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Good luck with that. Señor Calderón meets with few. I have never seen him on this side of the border, myself.” For all her bravado, she clearly feared Calderón. Elena couldn’t blame her. “El Jefe,” as she’d called him, was