Freezing Point (10 page)

H
e called again last night….

Casey's words from earlier in the day continued to squeeze Jesse's chest like a vise, creating so much pressure he thought he might explode.

Jesse hadn't been able to let go of those words since he heard them, even while driving to Miguel's home that evening. He needed to mentally prepare for tonight. He hadn't seen Miguel or Carlos since leaving them with the suggestion that he'd killed someone—the truth wrapped neatly in a made-to-order package meant to entice.

But hearing from Casey that a man wanted to kill her, and she'd fled her home to hide here in Orange Crossings? Jesse had expected something, but not that. Here he'd been trying to keep her safe, and she was already embroiled in danger.

McCoffey didn't want to hear about it—it wasn't Jesse's problem, and he'd blasted him, stating Jesse needed to focus on his assignment. But he couldn't exactly do it all—spy on the loading-dock guys, work his way into their circle, create ice sculptures as part of his cover and watch over Casey.

Jesse had made sure Eric, Casey's invisible tail who'd finally made a show, knew about this new threat, or rather old threat, and that Casey was adept in watching for shadows.

He almost chuckled at the thought of Casey pulling the
alley stunt on Eric like she had on him, but it was a serious matter. If she discovered Eric, the agent sent to watch her, then Jesse's identity could be compromised. Casey would want to know everything.

He wished he could share the truth with her—that he was working undercover. How much easier it would make things for the both of them, that is, if she wasn't a reporter. Because she was an investigative reporter, the truth could cause more problems than it solved. She was disrupting his life as it was.

Though Jesse had every intention of keeping Casey close while she worked on her story and he worked through this operation, he was somewhat relieved that her editor had asked her to come in this afternoon. Jesse needed time to digest the information she'd shared—he needed time to see if there was anything he could do about Will Tannin.

One thing he still didn't know. Were the parking-lot lurker and the intruder related to Casey's stalker, or instead connected with the cash-smuggling operation? If God was willing, Jesse would learn the answer to that tonight.

Already late for supper, Jesse drove through the suburban sprawl where Miguel lived, but before he reached Miguel's house, his cell rang. Jesse drove right past Miguel's house so that he could give the call his full attention.

“Jesse, this is Dallas.” Dallas Comer was a member of CART, or the Computer Analysis Recovery Team. “You've hit pay dirt, man.”

Jesse had sent the thumb drive he'd discovered the night of his scuffle with Spear back to headquarters to be analyzed. “Yeah?”

“I'll send you a copy of the report, if you want, but McCoffey already has it.”

Dallas explained that the disk contained incriminating information regarding the ring. Computer forensics would need
to confirm, but they believed that Spear could have tried to plant the information onto John Helms's computer.

They were getting closer, but to secure the convictions they needed, the key to Jesse's mission was to witness the bulk-cash-smuggling transaction.

The sooner he could bring this to a close the better, especially where Casey was concerned.

Pressure squeezed Jesse's neck and shoulders—he had to succeed, but success came with a price….

Finally, Jesse stood on the porch to Miguel's home and raised his hand but didn't knock. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining Elena, Miguel's wife, spitting in his face when her husband was arrested all because of Jesse. He had no doubt that she would, once this was over.

The door opened and Rosita, Miguel's six-year-old daughter, stared up at him, batting her long, dark eyelashes. One day, she'd grow into a beautiful young woman. While she might have a crush on him now, if Jesse were successful, she'd hate him for putting her daddy away.

“Hi, Mister Jesse.”

Grinning, he squatted to eye level and cuffed her on the chin. “Hello, Miss Rosita.”

She giggled and ran away, leaving the door open. Miguel came forward and extended his hand to grab Jesse, pulling him completely into his home, tugging him into a bear hug, a brotherly hug. “You're late.”

Jesse smiled, returning the familial affections. He liked Miguel, loved his family. But the guy had made some bad choices. Jesse grinned when Elena entered the room and flashed her gorgeous smile.

“Little Rosita is going to be as beautiful as you one day,” Jesse said, feeling as if she was his sister.

“Ah, Jesse, you're such a flirt.” She came over and squeezed his cheek like his grandmother used to. “A flirt
that needs a wife or at least a girlfriend that can make sure you are on time to supper. I made your favorite, but you're late, and now it's cold. I'll dish some up for you.”

He thought about the call he'd taken on the way to Miguel's house. His heart ached for what he would do to this family, for tearing it apart. But Miguel was the one to blame.

Then the irony hit him—both he and Miguel were living double lives on opposite sides of the law.

His smile faded as he focused again on his mission, the reason he was here. To infiltrate, to bury himself deep within. Unfortunately, that often meant getting involved with the family.

“I'm very sorry. I got held up. Did Miguel leave any dessert for me?”

Miguel punched his arm. “Elena has been fighting me off for the last hour.”

Jesse followed him into the dining room, where a chocolate cake waited in the middle of the table. A few dirty dishes still remained—remnants of what looked like cheese enchiladas.

Yep, his favorite.

Elena appeared in the dining room, holding a steaming plate of enchiladas. “You know how I hate to microwave food. Now the cheese is burnt and the tortillas are dried out.”

“I'm sure it's still delicious.” Jesse smiled, took a seat and ate his enchiladas then started on the cake. He drank serving upon serving of coffee as Elena offered, and enjoyed the banter of this family, all the while thinking of the reasons he was late.

“Tell me about your sister, Jesse. You mentioned her last time. Where does she live again?”

“Jersey. She's divorced, a single mother with two young children.”

“That's always hard. I don't know how people do it,” Elena said.

“I send her as much money as I can to help with the bills, but right now that's not much.”

“Why don't you bring her here to live with you in California?” Miguel set down his cup of coffee and leaned back.

“It costs a lot of money to move someone across the country.” And it was true. Jesse had tried repeatedly to convince Kathryn, but she refused his help—at least on that front, stating it was too much, and she wouldn't allow him to pay. What more could he do? He wondered if she had a romantic interest keeping her there.

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck while Elena removed his empty plate. “The cake was delicious.”

“Thank you.”

Miguel rose and motioned for Jesse to follow him. He shoved open the screen door. “It's nice tonight, like every night. I love it here.”

When Miguel sat, Jesse did, too. Jesse prayed that Miguel would soon bring him in on his plans, allow Jesse to be a part of the business.

“That woman, the reporter, is she done?” Miguel asked.

Jesse tensed. The fact that Casey was on Miguel's radar wasn't a good sign. “No, she's working on a story about ice sculpting, focusing on me and then the competition through next week.”

Miguel smiled, easing some of the tension from Jesse. “There's a little light in your eyes when you talk about her. Like Elena says, you need a woman in your life. You like this reporter?”

Jesse's body temperature spiked a few degrees. Miguel shouldn't be able to read him so well. What did that say about his cover? “Looks like you're on to me,” Jesse said, and grinned.

Miguel stared off into the distance as they listened to sounds of children playing, dogs barking and the occasional car passing in the neighborhood. No one would ever guess what Miguel was involved in.

Jesse waited, hoping and praying for something, anything from Miguel. When Miguel blew out a long breath, Jesse knew the man struggled with what he wanted to say.

“What is it?” Jesse asked. “Something's bothering you, my friend.”

“You need extra money, and I need a driver. I've already run it by the boss. He asked if I could trust you.”

Jesse held his breath.

“I can trust you, can't I, Jesse?”

Jesse didn't answer. It was an impossible question. Instead, he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “What do you want from me, Miguel?”

“I need you to make a delivery on ice, maybe more than one.”

Good. Miguel hadn't pressed him on the point of trust, assuming his response was answer enough.

“Count me in.” The words tasted like acid. “I'll be there for you.”

“Aren't you curious about the deliveries?”

“None of my business.”
Laundering money by smuggling it as cold hard cash.
“But if you think it's important that I know—”

“It could mean the difference between success and failure.”

Jesse waited as Miguel studied him for a full thirty seconds, then, “Money, Jesse. We're delivering cash. And you and me? We get a cut of it.”

“You can count on me to make sure the cash is delivered where it needs to go.”

Miguel's mouth slowly curved into a grin. “I knew you
were the man for the job. But there's one more thing. If you want your girlfriend safe, you need to keep her out of trouble. I know you like her, but be careful. She could be playing you, Jesse.”

“Playing me?”

“Using you while she digs for another story.”

Jesse couldn't believe what he was hearing. He squeezed his fist, wanting, needing to push things if only a little further. “Miguel…is she in danger?”

The man shoved to stand, bearing a more serious expression on his face than Jesse had ever seen on him. “Maybe.”

It was what Jesse had feared all along…but still, hearing Miguel say the words were like a huge chunk of ice pressing down on him—he felt paralyzed under the weight of it. “Miguel, she's doing a story on the ice sculptures, that's all. I care about her. Help me out, will you?”

It felt strange—him reaching out to a member of an organized crime ring for mercy. He never dreamed that he would be reduced to this.

 

Casey strolled out of the movie theater and tossed her bag of popcorn into the trash. “Well, what did you think?” she asked.

“I loved it!” Tessa, a coworker from the newspaper had invited her along to a movie, and Casey had agreed, believing she needed a serious distraction from real life. Still, throughout the entire romantic comedy, Casey couldn't stop thinking about Jesse's words—that he would keep her safe.

“I'm glad you invited me. I've been a little stressed lately,” Casey said.

“Yeah, me, too. Life can get so hectic. I wish I could meet a hunk like Matthew McConaughey, though.”

They strolled out of the theater and into the parking lot. A light flickered off in the far corner, reminding Casey of
the night when she'd stumbled into the dark and a creep had scared her. If Jesse hadn't opened the door, would the man have done more than simply scare her?

For weeks and months now, she'd prayed that God would protect her. Could Jesse be the one He'd sent? But how could he help her?

As cars pulled away from the theater, Casey spotted someone leaning against her car. Tessa had parked next to her and they walked together.

Jesse.
Her heart sprang into backflips. How had he found her?

“Who's that?” Tessa asked. “He's cute.”

“Just a friend,” Casey said, thinking about their friendship born of peculiar circumstances.

“Maybe you can set me up with him.” She flashed Casey a smile.

Casey startled at the woman's words. “We'll see,” she said, but considered Tessa's request for all of about two seconds.

When Casey was almost to her car, Jesse's smile grew wide, spreading into his double dimples.

She loved that smile.

Leaning against her car, with his arms crossed over his chest, and his shoulders appearing broad and powerful, he looked like a man who could definitely protect her. It felt good, more than good, to finally have shared what was going on in her life. Almost like he shared the weight of her burden with her.

“You went to a movie without inviting me?” Jesse asked. “I'm hurt.”

Tessa gave a little wave from the other side of her car. “Good night, Casey. Maybe we can do this again,” she said.

“Sounds good,” Casey said. She watched Tessa climb into her car, then her gaze slid back to Jesse. “I didn't think you'd be interested. It was a chick flick.”

He studied her. What was he thinking?

“Come here,” he said, reaching out for her.

Casey flew into his arms. She had been thinking about him all day. “Is public display of affection against the law in Orange Crossings?” she asked, her words vibrating against his shirt.

“I'm all for getting arrested. How about you?”

She laughed, allowing herself to soak in the feeling of being in his arms, the feeling of being in his embrace.

“You weren't following me again, were you?” Even if he was, Casey decided she didn't mind.

“After everything you told me today, when you didn't answer your phone, I was worried,” he said. “So I drove around. Your green bug is easy to spot.”

Casey savored the timbre of his voice in his chest. “I needed the distraction. I'm sorry, I didn't think about it.”