Texas Hold 'Em (11 page)

“Jonathan is lucky to have you.”

“I am the lucky one,” Reina answered. “He keeps me from thinking too much.”

The words echoed with familiarity. She wished she had something that would do the same for her.

…

Rose was sitting on the patio when Santos found her, a coffee mug in his hand just like the one he’d noticed in the kitchen with her lip print on its rim. For a ridiculous moment he’d considered picking up that mug and putting his mouth over the mark. He didn’t really care how that might look, but he’d rather have the real thing. The night they’d spent in each other’s arms felt as if it had happened to someone else. And in a way, it had. Neither of them were the people they’d been before they’d crossed the border, much less who they’d been in San Antonio. His heart ached when he thought about what was going to happen when the truth came out. Rose would never forgive his lies.

Clearly lost in thought, she didn’t look up until he was next to her, pulling out an extra chair at the table where she sat.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “I heard you on the phone earlier.”

“I was talking to Jessie. I wanted to see how things are going.”

“And?”

“Everything’s quiet for the moment. She spread the story that I’m making a gun run to Baja, and Silas told everyone you’re at a law enforcement officer’s conference in San Antonio. Strangely enough, Dan had a sudden meeting there, as well.”

Rose rolled her eyes at his implication.

“Jessie said it feels like the county is holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.”

“What about the Stanleys? Has Cervantes talked yet?”

“Your friends are fine. Your deputy’s still working the case but Silas knows all the details, of course. He said Cervantes hasn’t said a word.”

She stared at a birdfeeder Reina had hung on a hook on the other side of the patio. A flock of small brown birds chattered at each other as they ate. Underneath, was a clay tub planted with a gardenia bush covered in white blossoms, their heads lifted, their fragrance filling the morning air.

“Why didn’t you tell me Reina was your sister?” Rose turned in her chair to face him. “When we lived with each other, you said you didn’t have a family anymore.”

“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? Look around you, Rose.” He flicked a hand to the low rise of mountains behind the
casa
. “She lives right in the middle of the most dangerous part of the border. If everyone knew she was the sister of a Texas lawman, what do you think they’d do to get to her?”

“But we’re here right now.”

“And no one knows that. We came when it was dark, and we’ll leave the same way. Besides, I hardly look like a typical officer right now. I haven’t seen her in months. I needed to check on her.”

“I just don’t understand why you kept it a secret from me.”

He reached across the table and threaded his fingers with hers. Her skin was warm from the filtered sunlight dappling the patio where they sat. His voice softened. “If you knew, you might have said something, no matter how badly you would want to do otherwise. I wanted to keep you both safe. I should have listened to my better judgment and taken us somewhere else last night. But I felt it was time the two of you met.”

She accepted his explanation, because she understood life on the border. Even more so after seeing Concepción DeLeon’s body. But knowing he wanted Rose to meet his sister despite the situation made her heart tremble. She forced herself to return to the conversation. “Why does Reina stay here if it’s so risky?”

“She has her reasons. She says it’s home and she can’t leave.”

“But you left.”

“It wasn’t my choice. My mother grew up in Texas, then moved to Mexico after meeting my father. The summer I turned thirteen, she sent me to the States to spend some time with her father. I had a smart mouth and reckless energy and was already getting into trouble. She thought my grandfather’s old-fashioned discipline would be good for me. I think she hoped I would be equally good for him.”

“I thought you had grown up with your grandfather because she and your father had passed away.”

“They were murdered, but that happened after I was already here.”

“You told me there was a car wreck.”

“There was—I didn’t lie about that. What I didn’t explain was that they owned a magazine in Mexico City. They published the truth no one wanted revealed, especially the politicians. It could never be proven, but my grandfather was sure their car was forced off the road. Reina refused to join me in the States. She was seventeen, and she’d just fallen in love.”

“She must have loved him a lot to give up that opportunity. I hope he’s still around.”

“Oh, he’s around. He lives in El Paso as he always has—with his wife. Reina waits, and he comes here when he can.”

“Whoa,” Rose said with surprise. “She doesn’t strike me as a person who would want that kind of relationship.”

“I agree,” he said sadly. “But that’s what she ended up with.”

“Love is a powerful emotion.”

He started to point out they both understood that, then he remembered his promise from the night before and he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and stared at her. “Do you remember me telling you that I had a reliable source of information on the border?”

She nodded curtly.

“That source is my sister.”

“Your sister?” she repeated in surprise.

“She’s been an informant since Jonathan’s mother, Dulcina, was killed. They were best friends, inseparable since childhood.”

“So Reina’s the one who took the video Jessie had?”

He wondered once more if he could navigate the treacherous maze he’d created for himself. Skipping her question, he said, “Reina has sources in town who told her about a blond woman who was seen with some local gun dealers. But she’s heard nothing.

“I’ll say it again, then. It’s possible there’s no connection between Lilith and my mother.”

“Reina has another theory about everything that’s going on in Rio County. She suggested it some time ago, but she didn’t go into any detail.”

“And that is…?”

“That you’re both approaching the same problem, but you’re coming from different directions.” They looked up as Reina spoke from the doorway.

She’d changed clothes and was now dressed in a white caftan, a slash of red lipstick her only adornment. He glanced over at Rose, and her expression was easy to read. She could clearly see why any man, married or not, would want Reina beside him.

His sister walked to where they sat with a tray of drinks and a dish of cold
ceviche
and put the offering down on the table. “If you two worked together, you might have more success.”

“No kidding,” Santos murmured.

Rose shot him a look then lifted her chin. “What do you mean?” she asked Reina.

“You don’t believe your mother could be involved with someone like Pablo Ortega, but my dear brother is sure that she is.” He held his breath. Reina was smart, smarter than him. Had she figured out the truth? He hoped not; it would only make all of them more vulnerable.

She handed over a pair of embroidered napkins. Lifting her eyes to Rose’s, she spoke. “You think the boy with the knife, the killers at the trailer park, the thugs at your friends’ house could all be the work of someone local, a minor player totally unconnected to your mother. Possibly someone named Juan Enrique, yes? And Santos believes Ortega is behind everything, including the death of the woman whose body you saw yesterday.” She paused. “What if you’re both right?”

He leaned back in his chair and made a sound of dismissal. “You don’t understand Ortega—”

Rose held up a hand. “Let her finish, Santos.”

Reina smiled slyly. She was acknowledging the unspoken power Rose held over him—the same power that any woman held over the man who loved her. He gritted his teeth.

“You told Santos this man—Juan Enrique—runs the boys in your village,” Reina continued, her eyes on Rose. “You think he was trying to get you to release one of his men you were holding in jail?”

Rose nodded.

“No one operates in a vacuum, especially within the cartels. Enrique might be Ortega’s underling, he could be a rival, he might even be his boss, who knows? The cartels in this part of the world are family businesses. At the very least, everyone knows everyone else. Best case, they know each other. Worst case, they both have a hand in the kidnapping.” Reina took one of the tall glasses from the tray and sipped from it before speaking again. “It’s quite possible they both could have a hand in the silence of Santos’s informant.”

He scoffed. “These men are cutthroats. Why would they work with each other?”

“I didn’t say they would be working together.” Reina took a significant pause. “I said they might both have a hand in it.”

Rose had been creasing the napkin under her drink as she listened. Now she stilled, and he knew she was slowly processing Reina’s words. He’d seen those wheels moving before.

She spoke slowly. “You wondering if Lilith was doing something other than investigating?”

Reina nodded at Rose in approval, then turned to Santos. “She’s your informant, but she’s a woman, too. What if Enrique and Ortega were competing for Lilith’s attentions? If Rose’s mother is Ortega’s lover, wouldn’t she want to get rid of the woman catching her man’s eyes? Is it not conceivable that Gloria has silenced your informant, and not Ortega?” Her caftan moved in the breeze, and she reached out to pull it closer. “Or…turn the possibility around. Say Gloria was Ortega’s lover, but now she wants Enrique instead. Maybe Lilith got caught up in this triangle?” She shrugged. “Does it even matter how or what happened? A battle has begun, and I think now both men are entangled.”

“My mother is only forty-five,” Rose said thoughtfully. “When I was a teenager, we were often mistaken for sisters. It’s quite possible a man in his forties and a man in his sixties would find her attractive.”

“Beauty has nothing to do with age.” Reina nodded. “Mexican men appreciate that fact.”

“I just thought of something else, too.” Rose leaned forward to face Santos, her voice eager. “You told me yourself there were problems with the investigation. Confusion, leaks, the missed opportunities… Is it possible Lilith could have been turned? Maybe she was passing information, playing one against the other? Neither man would like that.”

He made his expression as neutral as he could. If he protested too much, he’d seem stubborn. If he dismissed the arguments, he’d look illogical.

If he told the truth, people could die.

“Maybe Lilith switched sides. My mother might not even be involved,” she pressed.

“She would never flip. That’s not a possibility.”

A stronger gust of wind swirled into the courtyard, bringing the smell of rain with it. The sunshine had disappeared, and he hadn’t even realized it until now.

He leaned forward and forced Rose to meet his gaze. Her eyes were troubled and dark with concern.

“Reina is dead straight on one thing. Your mother, my agent, Ortega, Juan Enrique… In some ways it doesn’t really matter who’s behind any this.” He gripped the arms of Rose’s chair so tightly he was surprised they didn’t bend under his fingers. “West Texas is on fire with the evil that’s being spread. It has to be stopped. Until that happens, we’re all in danger.”

Chapter Twelve

Rose failed in her attempts to ignore Santos the rest of the day. She felt his hooded gaze follow her every move, and when they accidently touched at lunch, his hand lingered on hers way too long. A brush of their bodies as they’d passed in the hall finally made her accept that no matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t going to succeed in looking the other way. He was there. They’d made love. They were probably going to do it again.

Obviously sensing the tension between them, Reina came into the living room late that afternoon and announced she and Jonathan were going to a friend’s house for a few hours. The woman had a child Jonathan’s age, and she’d called unexpectedly asking if they’d like to come over and see their new puppy. Jonathan had begged to go, Reina explained with a knowing expression, and she didn’t have the heart to say no.

Santos walked his sister and the little boy to the door then came back to where Rose sat, a magazine on her lap. She’d been trying to distract herself with it for half an hour. She’d had as much luck with that as she’d had avoiding Santos’s gaze. He sat on the couch right beside her.

“There’s another place to sit right over there.” She pointed to one of the matching chairs that flanked the couch.

“I’d rather be here.”

She dropped the magazine and her pretense. “Why? You know this can’t go any further, Santos. We made love, we both enjoyed it, now let’s move on. I told you it meant nothing more, and it doesn’t.”

“Don’t lie, Rose. We’ve known each other too long for those kinds of games.”

“It’s not a game,” she protested, turning to look at him better. “It’s the truth.”

He leaned over and lifted her chin. He locked his eyes on hers. “If you want the truth, then you need to think a little harder about last night. What happened between us in that bedroom was the truth, and you can’t deny that, no matter how much you want to.”

Her automatic protest sounded lame, even to her. “You’re making too big a deal out of thi—”

Santos drew her toward him and kissed her, his lips silencing her better than his words. She felt her arguments dissolve before they could even form. Who was she trying to kid? She wanted it as much as he did. Her arms lifted and she wrapped them around his neck, her fingers pushing their way into his hair. A trace of the soap she’d found in Reina’s bathroom came to her, and beneath it, even stronger, she smelled the achingly familiar scent that belonged to Santos alone. Blindfolded and helpless, she would always recognize that incense. It created a visceral response in her that she couldn’t stop if she tried. She was ashamed to admit she’d found one of his shirts after they’d parted, and she’d slept in it. After two nights of torture, she’d thrown it away in a fit of pique, upset with herself for acting so needy.

His hands slipped off her arms and trailed down the length of her spine. Through the fabric of her blouse, she could feel the heat of his touch. When his fingers reached the waistband of her jeans, they slipped inside and caressed her back with a feathery lightness. She shivered, and he flattered his palm against her skin as if to reassure her.

She felt anything but comforted.

She transmitted her emotions, and he raised his face. She thought he was going to ask her if she wanted him to stop. The question wasn’t necessary. He read the answer in her eyes, and he dropped his lips to her neck, his kisses soft as they fell along the curve of her shoulder.

Their lovemaking last night had been a needy combination of frustration and longing. This was something far different. It spoke of all they’d had and lost and wished they could find again. Deep down in the core she desperately wanted to hide, she felt the tug of that emotion. She wasn’t strong enough to fight it, and Santos didn’t even want to try.

He nipped the spot she knew he would find, and she moaned, just as he knew she would. When they’d been together in the past, all he’d had to do was touch that place with one finger, and she’d been his for the taking. It made her angry that her body could respond to him that easily. How could it betray her with such fierceness?

She didn’t have an answer, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He kissed his way lower, his mouth seeking her breasts. Removing the lacy bra and her phony resistance, his lips teased her. Slowly, methodically, he continued, his hands unzipping her pants and sliding them off her hips. His mouth followed.

She moaned with pleasure, the growl starting deep in her throat until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She was still struggling to catch her breath when he peeled off his clothes and tugged her down to the carpet beside him. He stretched his body on top of hers, his hands drifting slowly downward. His fingers found all the places that matched the tender trigger of passion on her neck, and once again, she lifted herself to meet his touch. By the time he entered her, she was begging for a release from the desire he had created.

He didn’t give it to her. Instead he drew away and demanded she create the same need in him. By the time they came together again, her heart was pounding furiously. She clenched her hands against his back, and he flexed at her touch, the muscles bunching beneath her fingers into powerful ripples. His touch turned into fire, the rhythm between them building faster, her reactions instant and unrelenting. She’d acted like a different person when they’d made love last night, and now it was his turn to seem like someone else. All at once, she was with a stranger. A lonely, dangerous stranger who was holding her as if he’d never let her go.

She clasped him just as tightly, feeling the very same need.

…

They left Reina’s house in the predawn darkness and headed for the village where Enrique’s mother supposedly lived. While the road flashed under the Harley’s tires, Santos allocated his thoughts about his and Rose’s lovemaking to the very back of his mind. He replaced them by concentrating on the conversation in Reina’s courtyard. The idea of Ortega and Juan Enrique being connected seemed plausible even though he certainly didn’t like the possibility. It complicated the issue, to say the least. But the devil was in the details, and those remained elusive no matter how he looked at it. A couple of miles from the outskirts of the town, he pulled the bike off the potholed road and into the brush. He silenced the engine and removed his helmet. “I want to wait here for a bit and make sure no one saw us leave Reina’s.”

Rose took off her helmet, too, and sat motionless with her arms wrapped around his waist. She dropped her head to his back. “I don’t want my mother to be involved with all this.” Her voice was whisper soft in the stillness of the desert. “The violence, the craziness, the…uselessness of it all. I hate it.”

“You’re supposed to hate it. That’s why we’re the good guys.” He eased away from her and stood. Above them, the stars stabbed the black velvet sky, their piercing points shimmering as he stared. In different circumstances, he would have thought the sight beautiful. Right now the unrelenting darkness seemed as deadly as everything else in this part of Texas. He sat back down, this time facing her, his thighs bracketing hers as his hands went to the column of her neck.

Beneath his fingers, her skin was warm and smooth. “I don’t want anyone involved in it, especially the kids who have their whole lives ahead of them. That’s why we’re here, Rose. We both want to stop it.”

She reached up and held onto his wrists. “I’m not sure we can win the fight. I think they’re gaining on us when I see things like what happened to Hernandez’s sister.” She shivered. The movement had nothing to do with the cool night air.

“It’s hard not to feel that way. But we can’t just give up. That’s not who we are.”

For the first time, he saw doubt in her eyes. “I’m not sure I can live with the idea of my mother being involved with people like this. It’s so contrary to everything I know about her.”

“Give her some credit.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke. Defending Gloria was obviously the last thing Rose expected out of him. “She raised you,” he explained. “And she did a damn fine job. Not to mention that fact that she did it on her own. She made some mistakes, some really bad ones, but she’s tough and she’s smart, and so is her daughter.” He leaned forward and skimmed the soft rose flesh of her mouth with his lips. “Despite what that daughter did last night.”

Rose stiffened. “We agreed that what happened between us didn’t mean anything.”

“No. I promised you no strings. That’s different.”

She dropped her fingers from his wrist. “Santos—”

“I told you already I’m not playing any games, Rose. I can’t make love to you and pretend it was just sex.” He put his hands on her waist and tugged her closer. “I haven’t changed that much. And I refuse to believe that’s what you want.”

“We can’t undo the past.”

“But we don’t have to repeat it, either. I’m not the person I was before ACES.”

“And I’m not the rookie cop who thought you could do no wrong.” She shook her head. “I’ll help you find my mother and maybe, just maybe, she can help us locate your agent, but that’s all this is about, Santos. My heart can’t afford any more than that.”

He cupped her head with one hand and pressed his mouth to hers, this kiss long and slow. She tasted sweet and sexy, and he wanted her even more than he had earlier. No, he thought suddenly, wanted wasn’t the right word. He craved her; the need coursed through his blood with a raging desire that put to shame any of the drugs Ortega sold. With a tiny, frustrated groan, she kissed him back, her fingers tightening on his leather vest, her breasts pushing against his chest.

Tearing his mouth away, he dropped it to her throat, the bristles of his beard scraping the tender skin red. She didn’t seem to mind, in fact she drew him even closer. His heart stuttered, and he couldn’t hold back. His hands went to the zipper on her jeans, and he yanked her into his lap, the heat building between them as surely as it had last night.

Overhead, a shooting star blazed a path through the darkness. He closed his eyes and kissed her once more. Rose had captured his heart. Again.

…

It didn’t take too long to find the Enrique home. The house was the largest structure in the village, the stucco a bright orange that somehow fit with the blue-tiled roof. Off to one side of the yard, a concrete grotto provided shelter for a small religious statue. Similar shrines dotted homes, large and small, on both sides of the borders. This one looked well-tended with a vase of fresh flowers before. Santos pulled into the driveway then circled in behind one of very expensive SUVs parked there, pointing the big Harley toward the street. “You sure his mother won’t recognize you?”

“Nothing’s a sure bet right now,” Rose answered, pulling off her leather gloves. “But I doubt it. She was in jail when I got elected sheriff, and she came here as soon as she got out. His grandmother’s a different story. She shouldn’t be here, though. They’re completely estranged.”

Taking off his helmet, he led the way up the sidewalk. Because they’d polished their backstory before leaving Rio County, they were ready when a man opened the front door, pushed past a screen, and came outside. Slim but muscular, he wore pressed jeans and a loose-fitting short-sleeved shirt that didn’t quite cover the gun-shaped bulge at his waist. His black hair was neatly trimmed, his skin lightly bronzed. He would have been handsome except half his face was horribly scarred. The tight, shiny skin spoke volumes about the fire that had obviously caused the damage.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a friendly voice.

“We’re looking for Juan Enrique,” Santos said, holding his helmet at his side. “I’m Santos, and this is Angela.” Santos spoke again when the man didn’t answer. “Is he here?”

“What makes you think someone by that name lives in this house?” the disfigured man finally asked.

“He told me he did.”

“And when was that?”

“The last time I saw him,” he answered. Rose watched as his jaw went tight, and a coiled tenseness rippled over his body. “Is he here or not?”

The man hesitated minutely, and Santos used the pause to his advantage. “I have something I owe him.”

“You can give it to me.”

Santos smiled slightly. “I don’t think so.”

The shadow of a woman appeared behind the screen door. “Who is it, Marcos? Do they know anything about your brother?”

“They’re asking for him, Mama. Nothing more. Stay inside. Don’t worry.”

“Let them in,” she ordered. “I’ll decide if I’m going to worry or not.”

He shrugged, then stepped away from the sidewalk and held out his hand, waiting for Rose to go first. She entered, Santos trailing her. As they climbed the four steps to the porch, the door swung open to reveal a heavyset woman wearing a flowered housedress. In her fifties, maybe older, she had blond hair that’d been bleached into straw and a worried expression on her face. She did a double-take when she saw Rose, then let them in the house, which was neat and clean. The furniture was expensive and well-made, as was the rug under their feet.

“Do you know my son? I haven’t seen him for a week. I’m getting worried.”

“We’re looking for him, too. We thought he might be here.” Santos ducked his chin at Rose, and she pulled out a paper bag. It was folded over two times and bound with a rubber band. Austin had provided the cash that it held. Rose gave the package to him, and he handed it to the woman. She opened it and flipped through the bills, then turned it over to the man from the sidewalk—Juan’s brother, if she had told the truth. He smirked at Santos and slipped it under his shirt to tuck inside his belt.

The way she’d accepted the envelope gave testament that she knew what her son did for a living. Regardless, as any mother, she was clearly worried about him. “You’ve done business with Juan?”

“You could say that,” Santos replied.

She sank into a couch and waved toward two nearby chairs. “Tell me what you know.”

“We’re looking for a couple of other friends,” Santos said. “We thought they might be with him.”

“Who are these friends?” Marcos asked.

“Just some women we know.” He shrugged. “We thought one of them might be with him. A blonde, nice looking. About your age.”