Feral (Wolf Ranch #3) - Renee Rose Page 0,59

a dinner date. When you didn’t put out, or at least drop to your knees, I had to wonder. Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. His usual swagger was replaced with fierce determination. Darkness. Evil.

I pursed my lips. Did I bluff or throw my badge in his face? Neither seemed like a great option at the moment, not with his pistol pointed right at me.

“Murrieta sent me. To watch over you. Make sure you didn’t skim any from him.”

His eyes narrowed. I could tell he wasn’t sure because it was probably something the kingpin might have done, but the fact that he didn’t look confused told me I was right about his connection with the cartel.

“You’re lying.” He shifted from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the barn and out the door, like he was looking for my back up.

My non-existent back up.

Shit! If only I’d had time to call for help. No one knew I was here. Vaughn was probably tucked in his bed sleeping.

“Nice try, but that bastard Murrieta doesn’t send women to do a man’s job. No fucking way. He keeps his women tied up and on their knees. So, who are you? FBI? DEA?”

Okay, he didn’t love Murrieta. I could use that to my advantage.

“How did he get you into this?” I asked, feigning sympathy. “What’s he got on you?” I really wished I had a recording device on me, in case I got anything out of him that could be used in court. It would still be great to hear the whole plan from the horse’s mouth. While I had him with the drugs, the puzzle wasn’t complete.

“Let’s just say he didn’t understand the concept of risk in his investments.”

“When you were in New York you invested his money in a hedge fund and lost it,” I said, thinking aloud. Now the connection between the two men made more sense. “He holds you responsible.”

“Shut up!” he snapped, the gun wavering. “Get down on your knees. Keep your hands in the air. What agency are you from?”

“DEA,” I said to mollify him. He wasn’t a bad guy like Murrieta, only caught up and used as one of his many pawns. Sure, he was a dick and deserved to be behind bars, but he was a low-level thug and had little experience with this aspect of drug running. He was starting to lose it, and I didn’t want to get my head shot off because he panicked. I slowly lowered to my knees, hands in the air. I just needed a momentary distraction—time enough to reach for the gun at my back.

“Where’s your partner?”

I thought quickly. Should I pretend to have a partner? I wasn’t sure if it would buy me time either way, but I answered, “Searching your house.”

He spared a quick glance toward the open barn door, but it wasn’t long enough for me to reach for my gun. I had to keep him talking until that moment came.

“So, Murrieta has you running drugs for him,” I said, stalling. “Did he buy you this ranch? Or was this your idea? I bet you don’t even like Montana.”

“Shut up!” Markle shouted, stepping toward me. He held the gun right to my temple. “Shut the hell up.”

“I’m impressed. You’ve had even the DEA stumped. How are you doing it?” I wanted to play into his vanity, to his need for power.

“Cattle trailer.” His ego’s too big not to tell.

“Cattle trailer to Canada? Smart. Some way to get narcotics over the border. Where’s the holding location? I looked at the stack of crates beside me. Not here.”

HIs eyes narrowed. “How’d you connect me with him? What tipped you off?”

We were both trying to get information out of each other before he pulled that trigger.

“We traced a payment from his off-shore account to yours before you bought the place.” I fed him a bone. “So, you keep the shipments light and frequent to avoid suspicion. Selling just a few head of cows to Canada every other week.”

Markle pursed his lips, eyes narrowed.

I kept talking. “Why do you want the Shefield land so much?” I wondered. That was one thing I never understood. Why make trouble if he didn’t want to bring attention to himself?

“Murrieta wants a runway.”

Ah. The land was big enough for that, especially if he took down the fence at the property line. It would work for small planes to move drugs easily. They flew low and stayed off the radar.

He cocked the gun. “Enough