Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Can - By Kat Martin Page 0,23

too soon to make a definitive evaluation.”

He felt the rare pull of a grin he didn’t release. “Look, you thought you were doing what was best for Sam. That means a lot to me. You may not have made the right call, but you cared enough to come to Texas to find me. You’re doing everything you can to help me find Sam.”

She wiped away the last of the dampness on her cheeks. “I thought he would wait, give me a chance to work things out.” She swallowed. “I thought, in time, the judge would reconsider and grant me custody. I wanted that, Ben. I wanted that so much. I should have told him, let him know how much I cared.”

Her lips were trembling. Worry lines marred her forehead. She was different from most of the women he knew, stronger, more concerned. He wanted to haul her back into his arms and kiss her. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than that. But Claire deserved more than the lust he felt whenever he looked at her.

“I’ve got to get going. I want to take a look around, check the layout. With people like these you can’t be too careful.”

“I’m going with you. If it’s Sam, he’ll need me.”

“Not this time, Claire. I can’t protect you and Sam both.”

He went into the bedroom to retrieve his Nighthawk .45, pulled it out of its holster, checked to be sure the clip was full, then shoved the magazine back in. Sliding the pistol back into his holster, he clipped it to his waistband behind his back beneath his black T-shirt.

He dug into his duffel and took out the envelope filled with cash he had brought from the safe in his house. Leaving two thousand in the envelope, he left the rest of the cash in the bag. He wasn’t a rich man, but he wasn’t poor, either. After he’d left the SEALs, the skills he’d acquired had earned him big money, most of which he had stashed away. He made a good living as a P.I., and he’d saved a lot of that, too.

He returned to the living room and found Claire pacing.

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” She followed him to the door. “Take me with you.”

She was standing in the entry, her eyes full of worry, slender and elegant, so damned pretty. He paused in front of her, bent his head and kissed her, just a soft melding of lips. “Not this time, angel.”

Ben forced himself to walk away.

* * *

La Fiesta was a pink stucco building in an area at the west end of East L.A. Ben was glad the meet wasn’t farther into the neighborhood. Here, only half the signs were in Spanish. Farther along the street, there was no English at all.

He drove around the block, wishing he wasn’t in a damned-near-new, highly jackable, bright red Honda Accord, wishing he wasn’t garnering looks from the sullen young toughs loitering on the street corners.

He spotted another new car pulling up in front of him a little ways from the bar, a black Chevy Silverado with chrome wheels and wide tires. Tyler Brodie spotted Ben, stepped down from the cab and walked over.

“Nice ride,” Ben said. Ty was wearing the same scuffed cowboy boots and jeans Ben remembered, but his baseball cap was dark blue today with a gold Lakers emblem on the front.

“I just bought it. I was driving a little Toyota Tundra, same red as what you’re driving. It drew too damned much attention.”

Ben’s mouth edged up. “Yeah, I’m sure no one notices those fancy chrome wheels.”

Ty grinned.

Ben tipped his head toward the Accord. “This is Claire’s car.”

Brodie shoved his bill cap back, eyed the car with interest. “A red-car woman? I wouldn’t have figured.”

Ben couldn’t stop a smile. “I guess you never know.” He was starting to like Tyler Brodie. He might have a youthful, pretty-boy face, but he took his work seriously. “You think they’re here?”

“Some of them will be. Not Gonzales. He’ll be waiting for word we’re here first.” Brodie caught a glimpse of what could only be a weapon in Ben’s waistband beneath his black T-shirt.

“Nighthawk .45,” Ben told him.

Brodie opened the flowered sport shirt he was wearing, exposing the shoulder harness underneath. “Beretta M-9. Old habits, you know.”

Standard-issue military weapon. Once a marine, always a marine. “Let’s go.”

Ty caught his arm. “Just one thing...I got a hunch you’d rather shoot these guys than pay them. I don’t like these