The Secret Brokers (10 page)

“So who hired you?” Brewster probed, raising his brown eyes to Dallas.

Dallas grinned. “I told you, Agent Brewster. I’m here as a friend. No one hired me.”

Al Brewster shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a white business card and handed it to Dallas. “Dan instructed me to give you this.” Dallas took the card from him. “He wants you to call the number on the back at your earliest convenience.”

Dallas flipped the card over and inspected the number written there.

“If you need us,
”
Brewster told him. “You’ll know where we’ll be.”

Dallas snickered as he turned for the gate. “I always hated surveillance details. Boring as hell.”

Brewster removed his sunglasses from his jacket pocket. “You know it.” He put the glasses on and stepped back toward the dark sedan.

Mark Crawford gave a slight nod as Dallas headed through the gate.

Once he reached the front porch where Gwen was waiting for him, Dallas smiled up at her.

“Interesting conversation?” she queried while coming down the porch steps.

“We just exchanged pleasantries about the weather.”

“Liar,” she scolded as she came alongside of him.

Dallas looked back at the truck. “Let’s get the groceries inside before we say anything else. Those guys are probably trying to read out lips while we stand here.”

Gwen walked to the truck. “Do you have any idea what they’re really after?”

Dallas followed behind her. “Who they are after, not what.”

She turned to him. “And who are they after?”

“Carl Bordonaro,” he answered and then nodded his head to her. “I think protecting you is just a game to lead them to the big fish.”

Her eyes grew in size. “But what about protecting me?”

Dallas opened the passenger side door of the truck
.
“If they were really trying to protect you, Gwen, they wouldn’t be doing such a half-assed job about it. You never leave a witness unguarded. The lapses in security this morning and yesterday when I drove in here from the airport would never have happened if they were intent on keeping you safe. I could have walked right in and killed you yesterday. If they were truly protecting you, I would never have made it through the gate.”

She pulled a few grocery bags from the car. “And the trial?”

Dallas carefully handed her a plastic bag containing a carton of orange juice and a bottle of vodka. “Let’s just say they don’t care one way or the other about the trial. They want Bordonaro; they’ve always wanted him, and this trial is a golden opportunity to try and flush him out.”

Dallas filled his hands with the plastic grocery bags. “When we climb those steps I want you to laugh. Look like I said something funny.” He grinned at her. “You look way to serious right now and they might suspect something, so try to put on a good show.”

She smirked at him. “I’ll do my best.” She picked up some more grocery bags and headed back to the porch.

As Dallas climbed the steps behind her, Gwen tilted back her head and gave out a loud, bellowing laugh. Dallas could not help but smile as he watched her performance.

“Was that good enough?” she asked as she kicked open the front door with her foot.

“Wonderful,” Dallas commented, still smiling. “That’s just enough to set them at ease.”

Gwen walked in the front door and then turned back to him. “Best not to overdo it though. They would probably get suspicious if I did it again. You’re not that funny.”

***

Later that morning, Dallas was sitting on the porch, watching Gwen ride the tall bay named Whippadu in the clearing in front of the house. Gwen took the animal in circles around the clearing, first trotting him and then opening up his gate to a slow cantor. Dallas was mesmerized by the way the woman and the horse worked as a team. The elegant bay had his head tucked in as his legs kicked out beneath him, creating a fluid motion to his stride that captivated the eyes.

Dallas settled back in his chair and felt his cell phone tug in his blue jeans pocket. When he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, a white card fell to the porch floor. He picked up the card Agent Brewster had given him, and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, Dallas dialed the number on the back of card.

It took three rings for Dan Wilbur to answer, but when he finally did, Dallas felt that familiar pang of regret course through him as the sound of the man’s deep, melodious voice came over the speaker of his phone.

“Hello, Dan,” Dallas said into the phone.

“Well, well…Dallas August. How are you?” Dan Wilbur inquired. ”It’s been a long time,” he softly added.

“I, ah, got your message, and I have to admit I was rather surprised you wanted to talk to me.”

Dan sighed into the phone. “Dallas, I never blamed you for Carol’s death. It was an accident; a stupid car accident that no one could have avoided. Hell, I wanted you to stay on with the Bureau, you know that.”

Dallas nodded as he watched Gwen riding the graceful bay. “I know that, Dan. But I couldn’t stay; I didn’t want to spend every day on the job being reminded of Carol. I don’t know how you were able to endure it.”

“Hey, she was my sister and I loved her, but she knew what she was signing on for when she joined the FBI. So did you. I know how much you loved her, but I don’t think she would have wanted you to leave the Bureau because of her. And certainly not leave it for the likes of that little cretin, Simon La Roy.” He paused. “When I heard you had signed on with that son of a bitch, I damn near shot my secretary.”

“Well, I’m not working for him anymore,” Dallas revealed.

Dan laughed. “Yeah, I heard the guy was found in some swamp in Louisiana. Then a nasty rumor started circulating that you were picking up the reins of his organization. Any truth to that?”

“Would it surprise you?”

Dan gave a throaty sounding laugh. “I know a lot more about you, David Alexander, and Nicci Beauvoir than you think, Dallas.”

Dallas turned his eyes to the two agents sitting in their black car by the gate. “I’m listening, Dan,” he said as felt his grip tighten on the phone.

“I know David Alexander, or Dan Goldvarg, as he is now known, is living happily outside of the small town of Hammond with his wife, Jenny Ryan—a woman, I might add, that bears an uncanny resemblance to the former girlfriend of one Darryl Robertson.”

Dallas felt a knot form in his stomach. “Jenny Ryan was Darryl Robertson’s girlfriend?”

“Before Greg Caston won her in a poker game, yeah. From what I hear Robertson was happy to be rid of her. Then Caston and Nicci Beauvoir turn up dead in a murder-suicide set up, and Jenny Ryan goes off to live a quiet life with an artist who looks a hell of a lot like the dead David Alexander. Imagine my surprise when all these events came to light. And then I learn that prior to her untimely demise, Nicci Beauvoir was living with you in Connecticut. Now I’m not a man who believes too much in coincidence, Dallas, but you have got to admit, this has your handy work written all over it.”

“I was just an innocent bystander, Dan.”

“And La Roy?” Dan paused. “Hey, not that I’m complaining. One less asshole in the world is just fine by me. But now you’re tangling with associates of Carl Bordonaro. I can only turn a blind eye for so long, Dallas. When I was told you were muddying up the waters in my case, I figured we should have a chat.”

“So Bordonaro is the bottom line—not Gwen or her father,” Dallas surmised.

“The case against Darryl Robertson is pretty cut and dry thanks to old man Pioth’s testimony, but that was the bone he threw us to put us off the scent of Bordonaro. We originally went to him to get something on Bordonaro, not Robertson.”

“But one bad guy is just as good as another,” Dallas asserted. “That’s what you always taught me.”

“Except when the bad guy is Carl Bordonaro. This man is a big, big fish in the underworld ocean. To catch him would be a coup for my department and me. I would be able to pay back a lot of favors after that. Maybe even turn the other way when specialists in your organization perform certain felonies in the name of business.”

Dallas grinned. “Agent Dan Wilbur, is that a bribe?”

“For you, it’s a piece of advice. Help me nail Bordonaro, Dallas, and I will make it worth your while.”

“And what if I like being alive? You know what kind of man Bordonaro is and what he is capable of.”

“Call it a vocational hazard. If you want to go on with your little business venture without any interference from my boys, I would suggest you consider helping me out.”

Dallas sighed as he looked back at Gwen. She was cooling the horse down by walking him around the paddock. “And what would I have to do?” he finally inquired.

“Just give me a time and a place where I can find Carl Bordonaro. All I need to do is find the slippery asshole, and then I can hand him over to the Justice Department. That is all I ask. Think about it.”

“All right. I’m thinking,” Dallas stated.

“Don’t take too long.” Dan sighed into the phone. “And for what it’s worth, Dallas, I was looking forward to having you for a brother-in-law,” Dan added, and then quickly hung up
.

Dallas looked down at his phone and shook his head. “Carol always said her brother was an ass-kissing toad.”

Dallas looked up to see Gwen and Whippadu heading back inside the barn. He rose from his chair, made his way down the porch, and across the clearing. As he passed in front of the gate, he nodded to the agents in their car.

“This just gets better and better,” he muttered and headed for the barn.

That night Dallas was in the kitchen slicing vegetables on a wooden cutting board by the sink when Gwen walked in. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and she smelled of sweet honeysuckle soap. She was wearing a snug fitting pair of jeans and a tight T-shirt. Dallas stood for a moment taking in her figure as she came up to the beige kitchen counter. He felt something stir inside of him as he gazed into her blue-green eyes.

She stared into the pot simmering on the stove. “What are you cooking?”

Dallas looked down at his vegetables. “Chicken stew. I thought it would be something warm for us to eat, considering the chilly temperature outside.”

Gwen just shrugged and went to the freezer. “I’ll stick with my frozen dinners.”

Dallas tossed the knife in his hand down on the cutting board. “Aw, come on. Are you kidding me? After I have been slaving over this hot stove for damn near an hour to try and make you a hearty and healthy meal. The least you can do is try my stew.”

Gwen eyed him curiously. “Slaving over a hot stove?” She frowned. “How do I know you didn’t poison it to try and knock me off?”

Dallas went over to the pot simmering on the stove and picked up the wooden spoon sitting on the spoon rest next to the burner. He dipped the spoon into the pot, brought it to his lips, and then tasted the stew. He looked over at Gwen. “Like I said, if I wanted you dead, I would have had plenty of opportunity before now.”

Gwen bit down tentatively on her lower lip as she walked over to his side. She took the spoon from his hand and dipped it into the stew.

Dallas watched apprehensively as she raised the spoon to her mouth and tasted his chicken stew.

She nodded at him and shrugged, grudgingly. “Not bad. Could use more salt.”

Dallas grabbed the spoon away from her. “Your palate has been ruined by all of those high-sodium frozen dinners. Everything you taste probably needs salt.”

Gwen gave him a mischievous grin. “Maybe we should get another opinion. I’ll get Harley in here. Let’s see if he likes it.”

“You’re joking.” Dallas glared at her with disbelief.

She laughed at the look on his face and patted his arm. “It’s good, Dallas. And yes, I think I will have a bowl of your stew instead of my usual frozen dinner. Is that what you needed to hear?”

He smirked at her. “I bet it just killed you to say that.” He turned away from the stove. “You’re the kind of woman who never likes to admit she’s wrong.”

Gwen followed him over to his spot by the sink. “Oh, and I suppose you’re the kind of man who admits when he’s wrong?”

He went back to his cutting board. “Only when I’m wrong about people, which is most of the time.”

Gwen cocked her head to the side as she contemplated his stoic features. “And who have you ever been wrong about?”

Dallas picked up his knife and began chopping up baby carrots. “Sometimes I think just about everyone I’ve ever met.” He paused and waited for a moment before he asked, “How about you?”

“What about me?”

Dallas shrugged, playing it cool. “I find it hard to believe that an attractive woman like you would want to spend all of her time on this farm alone. I know your marriage to Doug Marsh was difficult, but surely you must have found someone after the divorce.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

“Of course you’re attractive Gwen, and stop fishing for compliments. Why haven’t you found someone else to share your life with?”

Gwen reached over to the cutting board in front of Dallas and snatched a piece of carrot. “What makes you think I want to settle down with anyone?”
She popped the piece of carrot in her mouth. “Maybe I don’t need a man in my life to make it fulfilled.” She chewed happily on her carrot.