Texas Hold 'Em (Smokin' ACES) - By Kay David Page 0,40
make sure I came inside today. He tried to get me to leave instead. I could tell something was wrong, though.”
“You always go on Wednesday?”
“No. Depends on how busy the week is.”
“But someone knew you were going out there today.”
“Apparently so. But anyone could have seen me leaving town.” She paused. “And now that I think about it, I did see a motorcycle cruising in front of the station right before I left. It struck me at the time that the rider was going slowly, but I didn’t give it any more thought. No one speeds passing headquarters.” She described the man on the bike, but Santos didn’t recognize him.
“He was obviously checking things out.”
“Yeah. After I got Cervantes cuffed, he informed me he has a new boss who’s going to hunt me down and ‘kill me like a dog.’”
“Ortega’s into dog fights. Maybe it was a reference to his favorite ‘sport.’”
Rose made a sound of disgust.
Santos took a moment then spoke again. “Who are these people, the Stanleys?”
“They’re friends,” she said. “I’ve known them since I was a child.”
“So they know Silas…which means they also know Gloria?”
“Yes. Mother used to work for them.”
“Do they know where she is now?”
“We’ve never spoken about her.”
“I can hear the ‘but’ in your voice, so you might as well save me the time.”
“But…I was going to ask them about her today,” Rose admitted.
“And did you?”
“After things settled down, I asked. They insisted they don’t know where she is. They were pretty shaken. Talking about Gloria was not on their minds.”
“You care about them,” he said.
“I do. They’re like Silas—the last of their kind. They’re tough, apparently even tougher than los bandoleros. There’s west Texas dust in their veins instead of blood.”
“If Ortega sent him, he was going to kill them whether you showed up or not. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said finally. “I know that. Now.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t just do it, then wait for you to arrive. He probably wanted you to see it happen. When throats are slashed right in front of you, your cooperation kicks in a little faster.” He rubbed his eyes then looked at the bent mesquite tree leaning toward the ranch house. The tortured limbs looked like something from a horror movie. But the monsters he was fighting weren’t from Hollywood; they were real. “Did you find out anything about the candle?”
“King looked into it, but when he called the store manager in Mexico City, he swore he didn’t know who bought it. He’s probably telling the truth. The store’s a chain. They buy St. Michael’s candles by the thousands.”
“One way or the other, Ortega is stepping up his game,” he said. “He’ll probably go after Silas next. And if they still can’t get you to cooperate then, you’re a dead sheriff walking.” He watched a hawk drift on a wind current high overhead, then suddenly the bird screamed and dived for a tangled scrub brush, soaring again in the blink of an eye, something small struggling in its grip. “We’re not going to wait any longer. Meet me here at midnight. We’re heading for Mexico.”
Chapter Ten
The horse pens were shrouded in black when Rose returned at the appointed time. There was no moon. Santos must have known. He wanted to cross the border during the darkest part of the night for the same reason most people did—he didn’t want anyone to see them.
The dead man at the trailer park had no relatives, except for one sister, Concepción DeLeon. The first stop over the border would be her home. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell them who had hired her brother; then Juan Enrique’s family was next. Enrique had built his mother a nice house in the village where she’d grown up. King had picked up the rumor that Enrique might be there.
Rose pulled her SUV into Santos’s empty barn and parked as he’d instructed, her headlights illuminating a workbench shoved up against one side of the wall. A black motorcycle helmet with a tinted flip visor sat on top of the table with a dark leather jacket resting beside it. As she killed the Jeep’s engine, Santos’s shadow took form. She hadn’t noticed until now that he was standing at the other end of the table working on something she couldn’t see. He acknowledged her arrival with a nod, then returned to whatever he was doing.
In the unguarded moment, Rose studied him. He was wearing a pair of well-worn, heavy boots with black jeans