Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,36

lit you up?”

A small piece of paper just underneath her bed skirt fluttered as another puff of wind came through the broken window. Using the barrel of her weapon, she bent over and pinned it to the carpet, dragging it closer.

It was a receipt for the candle from a store…in Mexico City.

The bottled candles were a staple of the locals and beyond. They used them to bless new babies and send the old ones to el cielo, to slay their enemies and to beg for the winning numbers. A candle could help many things—no problem was too big or too small—but each one had a very specific purpose.

St. Michael’s candles were burned for many purposes, but in Rio County it only meant one thing.

Someone was about to die.

Chapter Nine

Rose told herself she was calling Santos strictly as a professional courtesy. This was something he would want to know about. All it took was one ring for him to answer.

“Hey, there. What’s up?” He’d always greeted her that way. She used to feel a surge of happiness when she heard those words, and she felt relief at hearing it now. She could take care of anything that came her way, and she had for years, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone helping. Especially if that someone was Santos, she realized with surprise.

“Someone’s been inside my house,” she said. “They’re gone now, but they left me a present.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, absolutely not. I’m just letting you know because—” She broke off when the empty line started to buzz.

Sooner than she would have expected, she heard the roar of his motorcycle come down the street then pass her house. Ten minutes of silence followed before a knock sounded at the back entrance. With her hand on her weapon, she pulled back the curtain then opened the door.

“You didn’t need to come over, Santos,” she protested. “I can handle this.”

“I’m not here because I thought you needed help. I’m here because I want to see for myself.” He pushed past her. “Where and what?”

She led him toward her bedroom and stepped aside at the threshold. “I knew someone had been inside when I entered the front door. I cleared the premises then did a secondary search. No sign of forced entry other than the window, nothing missing, no evidence other than this and a receipt.”

“Damn,” he said softly. “What kind of candle is it?”

He’d seen as many of them in San Antonio as she had. “It’s a San Miguel Arcángel.” She explained how the locals used them.

“They have a thousand meanings.”

“Not here.”

He leaned over and read the receipt, still on the floor where she’d found it. Not too many men had been inside this bedroom, and his presence seemed to fill the entire space. When he straightened, she took a step backward without thinking.

“Not exactly a local vendor, but…” He looked back at the candle, his expression thoughtful. “Ortega likes this kind of stuff, that’s for sure.”

“Is he really a believer, or does he just use it to manipulate the locals?”

“Some think El Brujo has mystical powers. Either way, he’ll kill them if they don’t do what he says.” He glanced up. “In reality, he doesn’t believe in anything except violence and money.”

She slipped on a pair of plastic gloves, grabbing the paper sacks she’d brought from kitchen. Gingerly picking up the extinguished candle and then the receipt, she put them into separate bags, folding the edges over once, speaking as she did so. “King’s on his way over. He’ll do the drill. We can try to track the candle down, run some prints, try to learn who sold it. I already took pictures. I’m not sure the effort to track down all the candle’s particulars is worth the expense, though.” She shook her head with a look of disgust. “We won’t get the results till Hell freezes over. Rio County’s requests are pretty low on everyone’s priority list.”

“Send it all to Austin,” Santos ordered. “I’ll call and tell them to get on it as soon as they get it.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve got pull.”

“I don’t know about pull, but we’ve got money and sometimes that’s the same thing. We need to find out for sure who the hell did this, even though I think I know.” He looked down at her, his voice suddenly softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s no big deal.” She’d told him the truth; she didn’t like the fact that someone had been in her