Against the Law (24 page)

Garcia began to tremble. “Please…I have a family. A wife and children, a mother and grandfather. There is no one else to feed and care for them.”

Antonio slammed his fist down on the desk. “Do not whine to me! You should have thought of that when you left
my
family at the mercy of the raiders!”

Zepeda took a step forward, as if he intended to plead the man's case.

“Do not say a word! If this man had done his job, the intruders would never have invaded my walls. They would be dead!”

Zepeda's jaw tightened, but he knew better than to argue.

Antonio's attention fixed on his lieutenants. “I will expect the two of you to find the men who did this. An attack of this nature cost a great deal of money to finance. Find the woman and you will find out who she paid to do it. Find her and you, Santos, will also find the girl. I expect this matter to be dealt with swiftly.”

“Sí, mi jefe.”
Santos made a slight bow of his head, a smile of anticipation on his lips.

“As you wish,” Zepeda said darkly.

Antonio motioned toward Garcia. “Take him. Get him out of my sight.”

As Santos dragged him toward the door, Garcia started crying and pleading for forgiveness.

Weakling.

Antonio had no respect for a man like that.

And until the men who had invaded his home were dealt with, his anger would not lessen.

He was glad he was going away for a long, pleasant weekend. Between Francisca's pretty legs, he would forget the raid on his home and find some small measure of peace.

L
ark wandered out of the tiny bedroom with its robin's egg-blue walls and tiny gold-painted Madonna on the dresser. A nicely done watercolor of the desert in spring time hung on the wall above the bed where Chrissy lay sleeping. The men were also asleep, she saw as she wan dered into the living room, all three of them sprawled like fallen logs on the dark brown carpet. After the firefight at the compound and the long drive last night, they were exhausted.

Her gaze went to Dev, who had showered before down-ing the breakfast of eggs and reheated tortillas Jake had made before he also went to sleep. Dev was clean-shaven now, his jaw smooth and hard, thick black lashes resting on his lean cheeks. He was incredibly handsome, and yet, when she thought of him, she thought mostly of his caring and concern, his competence and calm control in the most difficult situations.

She knew he would give his life to protect her and Chrissy or one of his friends.

He was a rare man and she loved him for it. More every day.

The heartbreak of losing him was going to be fierce.

A noise in the distance reached her. The sound of an approaching vehicle shifted her pulse into gear. She started toward the window, felt Dev's hand on her arm, pulling her back out of the way. He flattened himself on one side of the window and Jake did the same on the other. Riggs had his gun out of its holster.

When an aging white Ford Taurus drove up in the driveway, Jake's massive shoulders relaxed. “It's Graciela.” He started toward the door, pulled it open and stepped out onto the tiny front porch. “I brought company, Gracie. I didn't think you'd mind.”

She was an average-size woman, five-four or-five, Hispanic and very pretty. “I thought you were heading back to the States.”

“Change of plans.”

Her long black hair was pulled back in a braid and she was wearing jeans and a lightweight coral sweater. Jake stepped off the porch, kissed her cheek and took a bag of groceries out of her hands. “Come on in and I'll introduce you.”

As Jake made the introductions, Graciela Gallegos smiled at each of the men, seemed genuinely pleased to meet them, but when Jake came to Lark, her expression subtly changed.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Lark said. “Jake has been
working to help Devlin and me.” Words meant to let the woman know Lark had no interest in Jake, for clearly he was more to her than a friend. “My daughter was stolen. We came to Mexico to get her back.”

Some of the woman's warmth returned. “And were you able to do this?”

Lark smiled broadly. “Yes, we were. Chrissy's asleep in your guest room.”

Graciela smiled then, a bright white smile as pretty as her face. “I am glad.”

Jake filled her in on Antonio Alvarez and the kidnapping and the threat the cartel leader still posed. “We won't be staying long. We're trying to set up a meet with Ricardo de La Guerra. We're hoping he can help us resolve the situation with Alvarez.”

Graciela frowned. “The don, he is a very dangerous man. You must be very careful,
querido.
” She turned to the others. “But tonight we will not think of that. Tonight we will drink wine and eat the
chile verde
I am going to make us for supper.”

“Gracie makes the best
chile verde
you've ever tasted,” Jake said.

“That sounds wonderful.” Lark thought of the MREs she had been eating and realized how hungry she was.

Jake smiled at Graciela with affection, but there was no heat, no fire in his light blue eyes. Lark thought he saw her more as a sister than an object of desire.

“I'll help you put the groceries away,” Lark volunteered and Graciela smiled.

“I would like that. I am a teacher in the village. I spend more time with children than I do adults.”

They walked into the square open kitchen. The table and chairs in the middle were fashioned of rough-hewn wood, the seats of woven hemp. There were pale blue curtains at the windows and, except for the men's recent footprints, the linoleum floors were spotlessly clean.

The women worked side by side, Lark helping Graciela, who insisted she call her Gracie. There was a slab of pork to cut up, onions to chop and fresh green chilies to prepare. Gracie was also making a rice dish with tomatoes and onions.

“I'll have to remember how to make all this when I get back,” Lark said as the aroma of simmering meat and onions began to fill the kitchen. “It looks like it's going to taste great.”

“I will show you how to make tortillas if you like. They are much better than the ones you buy in the store.”

“I'd love that.”

They worked in comfortable silence for a while. “So you're a teacher,” Lark said. “What grade?”

“Pueblo de Carmen is small. I teach grades one through six.”

“So how did you and Jake meet?” A teacher and a mercenary didn't seem a normal mix.

“Jake was a friend of my brother's. They were working together with the drug-enforcement people from both of our countries.” Gracie glanced away. “Unfortunately, Roberto was killed during the mission.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

Gracie chopped another tomato. “It was several years ago. But Jake and I, both of us were very sad. Roberto's
death brought us together and we have been friends ever since.”

Lark assessed her. “More than friends, I think.”

Gracie gave her a wistful smile. “I wish that were so. I love him just as you love your Devlin.”

Lark straightened, surprised at the woman's perception, hoping it wasn't that obvious to everyone else.

“I love Jake,” Gracie continued, “but these men, they are not the kind to settle down with a woman.” She stared into Lark's face. “This we both know.”

As much as she wanted to deny it, Gracie was right. Dev and the others weren't the sort to settle down. Or even to fall in love.

“Does Jake know how you feel?” Lark asked.

“He thinks of me with affection, but he does not want me.”

Lark sighed. “Dev wants me. That never seems to change. Aside from that, I'm not sure what he thinks.”

“
Sí,
that is the way men are. Often, even they do not know what they want from a woman—aside from the comfort of their bodies.”

Silence fell. Gracie was no older than Lark, but she was very wise for her years.

A noise sounded in the kitchen doorway, interrupting their somewhat painful conversation. Dev walked into the kitchen with Chrissy riding piggyback behind him, her little legs wrapped around his waist.

He was grinning, tickling Chrissy's bare feet and making her laugh, the picture of the perfect dad. Watching them together, knowing it was never going to happen, a lump began to swell in Lark's throat. Dev jiggled the
child a couple of times then set her on her feet and Chrissy grinned. It was amazing how fast children could bounce back from hardship.

“She's hungry again,” Dev said. “I thought Gracie might have a little something to tide her over until dinner.”

Lark reached down and took hold of Chrissy's hand. She had been sleeping when Gracie arrived. “Chrissy, this is Señorita Gallegos. She's a friend.”

Gracie lowered herself to the child's height. “What do you think? Would you like some
pan dulce?
It is not homemade but it comes from a little
paneria
in the village and it is very good.”

Chrissy nodded vigorously, making her dark curls bob up and down.
“Sí, me gusta mucho.”
Which meant
I would like that very much.

“Her nana was Spanish,” Lark explained.

“Nana Lupita went to heaven,” Chrissy said solemnly. “Sometimes I really miss her.”

Lark lifted the child into her arms. “It's all right to miss our friends. But when you get sad, just remember all the new friends you've made.”

Chrissy's arms went around her neck. “And a new mama, too.”

Lark's throat tightened. “That's right, sweetheart, and a new mama, too.”

Dev said nothing, but his eyes found hers across the kitchen and there was something in them, something deep and yearning. It disappeared so quickly, she was sure she had imagined it.

“We need to make some plans,” he said brusquely. Turning, he walked back into the living room.

She could hear the men talking, trying to decide the best way to approach de La Guerra.

Lark prayed they would find a way.

 

They needed a plan. The problem was in getting to de La Guerra. He wasn't as paranoid as Alvarez, but he didn't open his doors to complete strangers, either.

Which was the reason Dev was damned glad to see Rafael Montez pull up in front of the house. Jake had been in touch with his friend via sat phone ever since Rafe had taken off in the chopper. He knew what was going on and where to find them.

“That's Montez,” Jake said to Riggs.

“Who's that with him?” Dev asked as Rafe turned off the engine of a brown Chevy pickup and two men got out of the truck.

“That's Emilio Campbell.”

Dev's dark eyebrows went up. “Scottish?”

“Half,” Jake said. “Emilio's an artist. He knows de La Guerra. Don Ricardo owns some of his landscape paintings.”

“And he's willing to help us?”

“That's what Montez says. Alvarez killed his father. Apparently, he was a judge. Alvarez didn't want the judge trying to enforce the law. He and his men walked into a café and shot him while he was drinking a cup of coffee.”

A muscle tightened in Dev's jaw.

“Rafe explained to Campbell the reason we came to
Mexico and why we need to see de La Guerra. Considering the way he feels about Alvarez, Campbell's willing to try to arrange a meeting.”

“That's great.” Montez had come through for them again. In the beginning, Dev hadn't really liked the man, but mostly he was jealous of the handsome Latino with the sultry black eyes that seemed to see too much. But he had to admit Rafe was good at his job and as long as he kept his distance from Lark, Dev was glad to have him on the team.

The men walked into the house, Campbell a little taller than Montez with light brown hair and gray eyes. He was leaner, early thirties, attractive in a softer, less aggressive sort of way.

Introductions were made once more.

“I hope I'll be able to help,” Emilio said with only the faintest trace of a Spanish accent. “Don Ricardo doesn't like injustice. He won't approve of a child being used as some sort of sick revenge. And he loathes Antonio Alvarez.”

“He lives in Ciudad del Cordon,” Jake said. “That's not far away. How soon can you talk to him?”

“I'll call him in the morning, find out what time he'll see me—assuming he'll agree.”

“But you think he will,” Dev said.

“I do. We both like art. He has been a patron of my career. We have spent several enjoyable evenings together discussing artists and their work. Tonight, Rafael and I will find a place to stay in the village. I'll phone him first thing in the morning. Rafael can drive me to Ciudad del Cordon to see him.”

“I know a good place to stay,” Gracie said. “A friend of mine owns it. It is clean, the beds are good, and it is cheap. You are welcome to stay here, but you would have to sleep on the floor.”

He smiled at her kindly. “I think I prefer a bed.”

“That goes double for me,” Rafe said.

She set her hands on her hips. “But the two of you will stay for supper. On that, I insist.”

Emilio inhaled a deep breath, his nostrils expanding at the succulent aroma of simmering meat. “I'm a bachelor. I can't resist an invitation to enjoy a good home-cooked meal.”

“Since I am his driver,” Rafe said, “it looks as if I will be staying, as well.”

Gracie smiled. “Good. Supper will be done very soon. Jake, why do you not open a bottle of wine and pour your friends a glass?”

“Good idea.” Jake followed Gracie into the kitchen. Dev noticed Emilio Campbell's gray eyes following the sway of her hips. She was a beautiful woman, and yet he thought she must be lonely. Jake was clearly not interested in any sort of relationship beyond friendship. Maybe the ghost of her brother sat too solidly between them.

But Emilio…perhaps Emilio Campbell was lonely, too.

Dev's gaze moved to Montez. Thanks to Rafe, their plan was moving forward. He might not like it, but he owed the man his thanks.

Dev wasn't the kind of man who left a debt unpaid.

 

The meal was fantastic. Stacks of steaming homemade tortillas, succulent bowls of chile verde and mounds of Spanish rice. All topped with Gracie's delicious salsa. Dev drank a glass of the rich red wine Jake poured from a stash he kept at the house, and Johnnie Riggs filled his plate three times. Jesus, the man could eat. No wonder they'd nicknamed him Hambone.

After supper, Dev made a point of seeking Montez out and found him standing on the back porch smoking one of his hand-rolled cigarettes.

Rafe turned at his approach. “Tomorrow should be a very interesting day.”

Dev strolled up beside him. Resting his hands on the porch rail, he stared out into the desert. “You think Campbell will be able to arrange a meet?”

“Emilio is a good man. He is a talented artist and well liked. He will get you in to see de La Guerra. Once you are there, convincing him may not be so easy.”

That was true enough. “De La Guerra can't be sure he can trust us. We could be working for Alvarez, baiting some kind of trap in reverse.”

“Take your woman with you. She loves the child. She will find a way to convince him.”

“She isn't my woman. She's my client.”

Montez scoffed. “Perhaps there was a time that was so. Not anymore.”

Dev's jaw tightened. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't I?” Rafe inhaled a lungful of smoke, let it roll slowly back into the darkness. “I know that when a man
is willing to give his life for a woman it isn't money or duty that drives him. You care for her. Maybe even love her. Perhaps you don't see it, but I do.”