Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4) (25 page)

She didn’t look at him during their meal, clearly pretending he hadn’t said anything about love at first sight. She chattered as if nervous, looking anywhere but at him, which didn’t surprise him considering the situation she was in and the “almost” L-bomb that he’d more or less dropped on her.

He didn’t regret what he’d said. It had come to his heart at that moment, something that had been building inside him since he had started studying her surveillance photos. He’d more than noticed her at the wedding, and he had a feeling that was when he’d fallen for her smile and her normally vivacious personality. He wondered what might have happened if she had made it to the reception.

It was also why he’d been so pissed when Natasha had been identified as a suspect in the case, and so much evidence had been against her. He hadn’t been angry just because she was a part of Christie and Trace’s family, but because his heart had recognized something in her that he wanted to claim as his own.

“You need to have your leg x-rayed.” She brought his attention away from his thoughts when she finally spoke. She gave him a reproachful look when his gaze met hers. “What if it’s broken?”

“I wouldn’t have made it down the hillside and around to your back door if it was fractured, and it doesn’t hurt.” It did hurt like hell, but the wounds were superficial. “I have bruises and some scratches.” He set his fork on his plate. “The car clipped my thigh, that was it. The femur is the strongest bone in the body, and it takes one hell of a lot to fracture it.”

She winced, as if the thought of breaking a femur hurt as much as the actual injury. “You should still have had it checked out after you walked Christie to her SUV.” A look of concern washed over her face and she dropped her fork, and it clanked on the china. She clenched her hand on the tabletop. “I need to call her again and see how she is. I should have done that earlier.”

“She’s fine.” Brooks put his hand over her small fist. “Trace is with her.”

“Thank you for contacting him.” Natasha studied Brooks, her features still drawn and tight. “Christie needs him after a scare like that.”

“Of course.” He unfolded her fingers and gripped them in his hand. “I care about her. I care about you. Now you need to let me do my job and get everyone out of this mess.”

Natasha hesitated and then nodded slowly. “All right. If you think you can do it without anyone getting killed, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t going to fight him anymore when it came to helping her.

“I am going to need your help.” Brooks didn’t like the idea of Natasha having to do anything that could put her in more danger, and he’d do his best to minimize that potential. However, he would need her.

“Do you have any ideas?” She looked hopeful. “What do you need me to do?”

“Right now the best thing is for you to hold tight.” He gripped her fingers. “Keep the status quo so that Okle doesn’t get suspicious.” He paused. “Trace is going to get Christie and the baby out of town, so they’ll be safe.”

Conflict warred in Natasha’s gaze. “I’m glad they’ll be safe. What about our grandparents and Trace? Mark threatened them, too, if anyone acted suspicious, which would include any of them leaving town.”

“You’re going to have to make Okle believe that it had nothing to do with you.” Brooks considered it. “You could tell him that Christie’s nerves are shot from the near miss, so she’s going to Tucson. I don’t know where Trace is sending her, but it’s not there. It’s better we don’t know.”

“I could tell Mark that Christie said she’s going to visit a spa to get pampered and to relax, but I don’t know which one.” Natasha tilted her head to the side. “Do you think a spa in a resort with a daycare, with a room reserved in her name, would work?”

“That’s good.” Brooks nodded. “I’ll arrange it and have a Tucson agent stay in the room in Christie’s place so that someone is using it if Okle checks out your story. The agent can wear a red wig and carry a doll wrapped in a blanket or in a stroller.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged, as if in relief. “That’s got to work.”

“It will.” Brooks gave her a gentle smile. “Our agents are the best.”

She put her free hand over his. “Thank you for everything.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers before drawing back. “We’ll get this bastard.”

By the time Brooks left Natasha’s, it was after two in the afternoon. It was a mild January day with only a hint of a chill.

He made it up the hill and to his truck, certain he hadn’t been seen. A different car was parked where her tail had been, and even from a distance, Brooks could see the asshole had binoculars, directed right at Natasha’s house.

Brooks was careful, so he wasn’t worried he’d been seen in her home or leaving it. However, he didn’t like it one damned bit that Okle had people watching Natasha. And he didn’t like this fat bastard behind the wheel just waiting for a chance to get a peek at her. Natasha was keeping the curtains drawn, so Brooks didn’t think the man would get even a glimpse of her. Still, Brooks clenched his jaw. He couldn’t raise Okle’s suspicions, and kicking the ass of one of the man’s employees wasn’t going to help in that regard.

He tossed his hat onto the passenger seat before he climbed into his truck and jammed the key in the ignition. He put his foot on the brake and started the vehicle so the truck’s engine rumbled. A sharp pain went through his thigh when he made the motion.

It was true he didn’t think his femur was fractured, but his leg hurt like a sonofabitch. Hiking up and down the mountain hadn’t helped at all.

Sex with Natasha—fucking amazing sex—had made him forget about his injuries. When he was with her, this kind of pain didn’t exist. She was a witch who had cast a spell on him the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and her magic took all hurts away.

He let the truck idle as he checked his phone. Damn. Two missed calls from his RAC, two from Trace, and one from Jase. Brooks connected his phone to his truck’s speakers via Bluetooth and gave the command to call Sofia Aguilar.

“Where the hell have you been?” His RAC’s voice was hard when she answered. “Between Jase’s reports, Christie Davidson nearly being run down, and you having gone missing, I’m bordering on way past pissed. You know damned good and well you should have reported to me the moment Trace’s wife was nearly hit.”

Brooks dragged his palm down his face. “I’ve been working the case, Sofia. I should have called in, but there have been developments.”
Like me fucking the former suspect.
He continued before Sofia could interrupt. “I got Natasha to talk and we have a serious problem.”

He put his truck into drive and gave Sofia every detail necessary as he headed back down the hill and on through Old Bisbee. He made it clear he was certain Natasha was an innocent being used, and Sofia expressed her agreement, based on all that had happened.

The anonymous phone call backed up Brooks’s convictions, although that could have been done to throw them off. Brooks and Sofia concurred that was likely not the case, and that Natasha was being used by Okle.

Brooks passed the fenced-off open pit mines as he told Sofia the plan he’d been working on in his mind.

“I need to pull a select team together, and that includes Trace.” Brooks knew that wasn’t going to go over well, and Sofia didn’t disappoint.

“Out of the question.” He could picture her shaking her head as she spoke, and the hard line of her jaw. “Trace is to stay out of the loop.”

“He knows something’s going on.” Brooks worked to keep his tone even. “His wife was almost run down in the street. I had to tell him to get Christie someplace safe because something’s going on with Natasha. He deserves the whole story.”

A long pause and he imagined wheels turning in Sofia’s brain. She was an intelligent woman, one of the best agents and RACs he’d ever worked with. When she made a decision, she calculated all options and risks, and he knew that was what she was doing now. She wasn’t one to be too full of pride to change a decision when other facts or alternatives were presented to her.

“Agreed.” Sofia’s voice showed she was still in control when she spoke. “Trace is at home with Christie. I’ll call him and discuss the case.”

“It might be better if I talk with him face-to-face.” Brooks dreaded the meeting, but he knew in his gut that was how it had to be dealt with. “He’s not going to be pleased with the situation, but it needs to be done.”

“All right.” A sound like the shuffling of paper came over the line. “In the future, apprise me of any further developments immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Explain the plan you alluded to.” It was an order, not a request.

“I’d like to get a Title III wiretap to record Okle’s phone calls.” Brooks gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We have what we need to get the request through. The surveillance images and video of Okle dealing with individuals who are known associates of the Jimenez Cartel contributes to our case, but we need more.”

He continued, “I’d also like to monitor Natasha’s cell phone as well, but with her permission.”

Another pause from Sofia. “You have your team, but we’ll discuss your plan when you get into the office, after you talk with Trace.”

It was the best he was going to get at the moment, and he could live with that—for now.

Sofia disconnected he call and Brooks drove to Trace and Christie’s small ranch where they kept four horses and several head of cattle. Christie had never lived on a ranch, but she’d taken to it like she’d been born and raised in the country.

With the demands of Trace’s job, he had hired a ranch hand long ago to take care of the animals and chores. Christie had insisted on jumping in and they’d increased the size of the herd as well as buying two more horses and adding a small garden.

Brooks took the turnoff from the highway onto Double Adobe Road before turning down High Lonesome, a dirt road at the base of the Mule Mountains. Dust roiled in his wake as he drove down the road flanked by mesquite bushes on one side and tall yellow grass on the other. When he reached the ranch, his truck tires rumbled over a cattle guard before he guided his vehicle onto the driveway.

His gut turned over when he saw Trace’s Ford Explorer parked in front of the slump-block ranch-style home.

This wasn’t going to be easy, not one damned bit.

Trace pushed open the wrought iron screen door to the sun porch as Brooks parked. Trace had a hard set to his jaw.

Brooks climbed out of his truck and shut the door with more force than he’d intended. When he reached the house, he greeted Trace. “How’s Christie?”

“She’s shaken up, but otherwise she’s fine.” Trace closed the screen door behind Brooks and went to one of the cushioned patio chairs on the porch. He gestured to a chair closest to his and Brooks took it. “At least she says she is.” Trace snarled, his Texan accent stronger than normal in his anger. “She won’t let on, but I know her hands have to bother her when she holds the baby.”

“Shit.” Brooks took his Stetson and set it on a small patio table. “I’m so damned sorry she got hurt.”

“So am I.” Trace’s expression softened for a moment. “She said you pushed her out of the way and saved her. I can’t thank you enough.”

Brooks studied Trace’s features that were strained from worry for his wife. “You know I’d do anything for you and your family.”

“I know.” Trace nodded. “I feel the same about you.” He glanced at Brooks’s clothing. “Christie said you were hit. Looks like you’re a little worse for the wear.”

“I’m fine.” Brooks shrugged. “A few scrapes and a bruised thigh—nothing out of the ordinary for the line of work we’re in.”

Trace shook his head. “Just like you to be so damned modest. Hell, you were shot protecting my wife.”

“You’d do the same.”

Trace’s expression went hard and serious. “You said Natasha and their grandparents are in danger. Explain.”

Brooks leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs as he studied Trace. “What I have to say isn’t going to be easy.”

“Get it out.” Trace’s voice was rough. “Now.”

Brooks could understand Trace’s intensity, the raw look on his face and the anger in his gaze. Hell, he’d be all over Trace if the situation was reversed.

“Natasha is in trouble.” Brooks outlined what had happened and what he’d finally gotten out of her.

Trace’s tanned complexion had reddened by the time Brooks was finished. “Natasha was a
suspect
and you didn’t tell me?”

“I was following orders.” The useless words hung in the air.

“Fuck orders.” Trace’s face grew redder. “I should never have been left out of the loop. I should have been told what was going on from the start.”

Brooks looked at his hands for a long moment before moving his gaze back to Trace. “For what it’s worth, I agree and I’m sorry. What matters now is that we get Christie to safety, get a watch on their grandparents, and figure a way to get Natasha out of this mess without her or anyone else getting killed.”

“We’ll deal with putting them under watch first.” Trace didn’t look one damned bit happy. “We’ll deal with the other next.”

“Other” meaning Trace being left out of the team working to take Okle down when Natasha was a suspect.

Brooks explained Natasha’s idea about checking Christie into a spa in Tucson, but using a decoy while Christie was taken someplace safe, away from that city. “It will be easy for Natasha to explain—Christie shaken up and in need of some relaxation, it all fits and Okle will likely believe her.”

“Good plan.” Trace looked deep in thought for a moment. “I know who we can call to get to watch their grandparents without arousing suspicion. Joe Black and his spec ops team, Black Sky International.”

“Landon gave me a few details about BSI over a couple of beers one night.” Brooks looked out the screened-in porch to the barn and workshop. “They helped save his wife, Tori, by breaking her out of the Jimenez compound in Mexico.”

“That’s right.” Trace leaned back in his seat. “I’ll give Landon a call and see about Joe’s contact info to get someone from his team out to Florida to keep watch from a distance and protect their grandparents.”