Until Now - Delaney Diamond Page 0,3
the open-air restaurant, they walked to a table that overlooked the Gulf. It was mid-afternoon, with only a few patrons and a skeleton crew of staff at work.
Cruz sat with his back to the wall and held up two fingers to the bartender, who nodded his understanding.
“I hate to bother you since you just came back from that assignment in Maine, but this couldn’t wait. Good job with Senator Peaslee, by the way.”
The senator had been placed under arrest once the news hit the papers and the airwaves. His whole house of cards was tumbling down—as it should be.
“What are you doing here? I thought you never left your cushy office in DC. Since when do they send you on errands?”
The bartender arrived with two chilled bottles of Corona.
“Thanks,” Cruz said.
“Since I’m on my way to the Virgin Islands on a family vacation, I offered to stop by and meet with you.”
“Bullshit.”
Miles’s lips twisted into a slight smile. “Okay, fine. I was instructed to meet with you. I have a high-priority assignment that’s off the books.”
This wasn’t an unusual request, since his services had been “loaned” out before to the governments of other countries. “Which country?”
“Not a country, a person. The person who wants to hire your services is Karen Sandoval, niece of Senator Joseph Sandoval from Texas.”
Cruz’s eyebrows shifted higher. Joseph Sandoval was a wealthy businessman and long-serving politician on The Hill. He was currently chairman of the Senate Committee on Appropriations, one of the most powerful committees in the Senate.
“You have my attention,” he said, taking a swig of beer.
“Ms. Sandoval believes her estranged husband was murdered, and she wants us to help her prove it.”
“Sounds like a job for law enforcement,” Cruz said.
“One of the higher ups offered your services because she wants the best, and that’s you. The murder took place in Houston, but they have a lead in Miami. You’re familiar with the city, so…”
“Who’s paying? I don’t work for free.” Cruz tipped the bottle to his lips and took another sip. Since this was a private deal, he needed to understand right away who was paying and when, particularly since the lines of this assignment seemed blurry at best.
“You’ll get your usual freelance fee, half upfront and the other half when the job is done.”
Cruz shrugged. “Fine. I’ll listen.”
“Good.” Miles pulled a phone from his jacket pocket and lifted it to his ear. “Send her in.”
Miles went to the door and came back with Karen Sandoval. She approached, looking poised and elegant and wearing a simple navy dress with a string of pearls around her neck. Her dark brown hair was going gray and was worn in a layered, textured style that spilled onto her shoulders.
“Hello, Mr…?”
“No need for names. How can I help you?”
“Okay.” She smiled faintly. “Thank you for seeing me and for taking this job.”
“I haven’t taken it yet.”
Miles glared at him.
“Oh.” Karen glanced at Miles, who nodded for her to proceed. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Please, have a seat.” Cruz motioned to one of the empty chairs at the round table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be nice.”
Karen sat down, and Cruz called out the order for a water. The bartender came over right away and set it down beside her. Seated across from her and Miles, Cruz relaxed and waited.
Karen took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “I’ll pay whatever you need me to, because I need to find out who killed my…estranged husband and why. My husband’s name is Dennis Ray. He was an investigative reporter for the Houston Times, an old and well-respected newspaper. He ended up in jail, accused of using drugs and stealing data in the course of his investigation. No one will tell me what this data was because they claim it’s a matter of national security. I was also told that he committed suicide. I’m not sure I believe that. I’m not sure I believe any of it. He’s not a thief and he wouldn’t kill himself.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t,” Cruz said.
“I’m convinced I’m right, on both counts,” she insisted, her voice firmer.
Cruz flicked his gaze to Miles, whose expression remained emotionless. Returning his attention to Karen, he said, “Forgive me for asking, but how did the two of you end up together?”
That faint smile again. “We met at a coffee shop. He accidentally picked up my order and we had a good laugh about it. The next thing I knew, I was giving him my