Grave Peril_Military Romantic Suspense Page 9

  The senator came up with a plan. He dialed Hagan and gave him instructions. “That won’t be a problem,” the chief said. “I’ll have one of my men take care of it.”

  “Today would be good,” Ortiz said. “I need things to happen fast.”

  *****

  Ortiz would enjoy this show. He’d been at the office when Ashlee had gotten the call. The most direct route to Lela was through her best friend.

  Ashlee couldn’t be forced to go to the station for questioning, but her expression had shown concern. Officer Morris must have laid it on thick. The strategy had been to stress that Lela was in a tight spot, and her friend might be able to help.

  “You’re sure I need to come to the station?” Then, after a beat, “All right, I can be there in an hour.”

  That was how simple it had been. As Lela’s closest friend, she hadn’t been able to turn down law enforcement’s request for her assistance. Ortiz had ducked out of sight, since it was vital to remain anonymous in this scenario.

  *****

  Before Ashlee’s arrival at the police station, the senator pulled up in a nondescript vehicle. He wore jeans with a jacket and cap. Then he took the back entrance, where Morris greeted him and escorted him to a small room. “It’s a one-way mirror, right?”

  Morris had a long tenure with the police force. He knew the ropes, and his confidence showed. “She won’t be able to see you, but you can watch the interview from here. And there’s audio, so you’ll be able to hear.”

  The senator settled into a wooden chair and leaned his elbows on the table. He’d been assured the room was secure, so no one would walk in. It wouldn’t do to be identified, as it would be awkward to explain what he was doing there.

  Within fifteen minutes, Ashlee Vidal was escorted into the adjoining room. The furniture wasn’t any more accommodating than what the senator had available. There was a rectangular metal table with four metal chairs, and a tall lamp.

  Ortiz took the opportunity to look her over. Ashlee was five eleven with a slender figure. Her long blond hair was twisted up in a ponytail, but she looked as gorgeous as she did when dressed to the nines. He’d seen her at office parties and holiday events. In a cocktail dress, she was stunning. Yet she was just as beautiful in her business suit.

  It annoyed Ortiz that she’d made herself inaccessible to him. In a few minutes, she wouldn’t be so high and mighty. He was going to get pleasure watching Officer Morris put the screws to her.

  Morris motioned for Ashlee to take a seat, so she sat across from him. The officer was in his late forties, stocky, but more muscle than fat. He had a friendly face and a fatherly demeanor. That should put his interviewee at ease.

  “What is this about?” Ashlee glanced around, taking in the intimidating atmosphere of the interrogation room.

  Ortiz liked the fact that she couldn’t see him. He stared at her shapely legs when she crossed them under the metal table.

  Morris made casual conversation as a warmup, before he began the interview. At first, he posed questions with obvious answers, and inquired about subjects that Ashlee had no reason to shy away from. He wasn’t aggressive, just understanding and concerned. “Since Lela is your friend, you must be worried about her.”

  Ashlee lifted her chin. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “You can tell me where she is,” the officer said. “I only want to help her.”

  If looks could kill, Ashlee’s surely would have. “What part of what I’ve said don’t you understand?” She took a breath. “I don’t know where Lela is. She hasn’t contacted me.” She glared at Morris. “And I’ve already been interviewed by the FBI. I told them all I know, which is very little.”

  “I thought maybe you’d remembered something else.”

  “Well, you thought wrong,” Ashlee said. “And I don’t see how you’re involved. You called me down here and led me to believe that you had new information.”

  Morris was tipped back, balanced on two chair legs. He lowered the chair back to the floor, then leaned forward. “Ms. Vidal, this is a very serious matter.”

  Ashlee crossed her arms. “Do you have a point here?”

  “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Lela Cabelo has been accused of stealing records.”

  That seemed to get a reaction from Ashlee, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Your friend is allegedly in collusion with gangs,” Morris said. “She’s in a lot of trouble. So you must turn her in…if she contacts you.”

  Ashlee stood up and grabbed her purse. “Unless I’m under arrest, I’m leaving…right now.”

  Morris appeared apologetic. “You’re free to go.” He reached for the doorknob. “It would be best if you kept this meeting confidential. This is a high-profile case, and you wouldn’t want to do anything to further endanger your friend.”

  Ashlee stabbed a finger at him. “Lela Cabelo is in trouble because of creeps like you. And since you claimed you had new information…I’ll give you some. My friend is not guilty of what they are saying. She wouldn’t do anything dishonest or immoral.” She stepped past the officer and disappeared out the door.

  Morris had botched the interrogation. It had been awful to watch—so much for gaining cooperation. The senator’s efforts had been foiled by the officer’s ineptitude.

  Ortiz was frustrated. He wasn’t the villain in all of this. The cartel shouldn’t let him take the fall for their misdeeds. And the FBI had fumbled. If they’d been able to keep Lela in custody, the cartel would have found her. Then the senator wouldn’t need to track her.

  Lela had stolen from him. Morris had been correct in his accusation. She must have copied records from his private computer, before he’d destroyed the files. He couldn’t see how else she’d obtained incriminating evidence.

  He wasn’t going to get the short end of this deal. All he’d done was earn a little extra cash. He needed it. Christ, he’d gone through two divorces, and both of his ex-wives had taken him to the cleaners. Thank God he had no kids from either marriage. But how was a guy supposed to survive?

  Ortiz deserved a decent life. He provided a public service as a senator, and did his share of good deeds in constitutional law. It wasn’t as though he was ripping off fellow citizens. The money he’d taken was right out of the cartel’s hands. He couldn’t fathom what the big stink was about.

  Yet here he was with the cartel breathing down his neck, and the FBI nipping at his heels. Where had he gone wrong? His side business had been rolling along without a hitch, until Lela had decided to meddle.

  If only she’d come to him first. Ortiz could have made her a substantial offer, a sum too tempting to refuse. He would have been willing to do so in order to avoid all this hassle. But she was out to screw him, just like the rest. And her friend Ashlee was no better. After that woman had rebuffed the police officer, he intended to make her life miserable.

  For now, he had more pressing matters. Ortiz had to get his hands on Lela. How hard could it be to capture a woman alone and on the run? Yet she’d evaded the feds and the cartel. That couldn’t last. Without help, she was doomed.

  The senator stood and headed toward the door. He needed to get back to the office. He was concerned, and unsure what his next move would be. But he’d better figure it out fast.

  Chapter 8

  In some ways, Lela’s stay at the cottage was idyllic. The view of the water from the cozy vacation spot was relaxing, nearly making her forget how temporary it all was. Although there was no way to truly block out the threat that loomed over her.

  Yet Lela could try. The first morning, she enjoyed freshly brewed coffee at a quaint café along the shore. Breakfast was steak and eggs, with biscuits that tasted homemade.

  After the meal, Rip took her to the local eye doctor, a man he knew. He requested contact lenses for Lela to make her eyes green instead of brown. The doctor marked the order as priority, so the lenses would be ready within a day or so.

  Then, with Rip following, she shopped
in a few stores and came up with a hat with suitable clothing, items she wouldn’t normally wear. To complete the ensemble, she bought some sturdy shoes—fighting shoes, she called them. Rip didn’t ask her what she meant.

  For the rest of the day, Lela and Rip hung out at the cottage, staying out of sight. The atmosphere was peaceful and the bay was glassy, not a ripple in sight. The quiet was a sign that the hideout was safe. No one approached, and the other residences were far enough away that not even a dog barked within hearing.

  When the sun dipped in the sky, Rip suggested dinner out. The freezer food was okay, but he wanted a more substantial meal.

  “Does this town have barbecue?” Lela said.

  Rip grinned. “Just what I was thinking.” After she put on a jacket and hopped on the bike, Rip pulled down the driveway heading into town.

  Since it was a short ride, Lela had her hair tied back, forgoing the helmet. With her arms around Rip, she leaned her cheek against his sturdy back. She was tempted to lower her hands and run them over his washboards abs. But that would send the wrong message.

  It was no easy task to be in such close proximity with Rip and not want him. The truth was that Lela did want to touch. She longed to see his buff body stripped of the shirt and jeans, certain the clothing covered up a beautifully chiseled form.

  Lela didn’t need to see him without clothes to be hot for him—any woman would be. She itched to run her fingers through his silky black hair. It shone in the sunlight, and was dark as ink in the nighttime. He had a little scruff along his jaw in the morning before he shaved. And he wore a silver cross on a thin chain around his neck.

  Rip had a habit of looking directly at her. It was unnerving in a sensual way. In moments like that, it seemed that he knew her better than any man had before. Yet she’d known him for such a short time. If only she could look into those eyes…forever.

  But Lela was dreaming. It was just that her life was hanging in the balance, and Rip had come to her rescue. She depended on him. Yet she couldn’t give in to her urge to fall into his arms, ask him to hold her tight, and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

  While Lela was out of harm’s way for a couple of days, it couldn’t hurt to daydream. Imagining what it would be like to experience intimate moments with her gorgeous bodyguard was an acceptable sin—as long as she didn’t act on her impulse to make it reality.

  Rip pulled the motorcycle into an open spot, and she slid off the back. He smiled at her, melting her heart. Despite the warrior he was, Rip was gentle and sensitive—although she was certain he wouldn’t admit it.

  “Smell that?” Rip said.

  San Leon Barbecue was a hole-in-the-wall joint, but all one could want in a Texas barbecue restaurant. Lela spotted the outdoor smoker. “I see the cook does it the old-fashioned way.”

  “Yep, he subscribes to the ‘low and slow’ method of cooking…uses a hardwood fire that’s watched carefully overnight.”

  The place was already packed, even that early in the evening. Customers filled all the available chairs and huddled together on benches lining the long wooden tables. The weather was mild, so Rip took her outside and found a table for two.

  A waitress followed along with menus, but Rip already knew what he wanted. “I’ve eaten here many times.”

  Lela ordered the same. It was hard to go wrong with beef brisket. The bottles of beer were promptly served. She sipped while enjoying the view: the fading light over the town, and even more, the heartthrob sitting across from her.

  “You grew up around here?”

  Rip took a gulp of beer. “I did…and I tend to gravitate to this area. My buddies and I have ridden bikes on these back roads many times.”

  Lela was intrigued.

  “Sometimes we’d go flat-out on our motorcycles all day long, eighty to ninety miles an hour. Then, at night, we’d party way out in the woods. The cops wouldn’t find us, or tended to look the other way as long as we didn’t make trouble.”

  Rip smiled. “At some point, there was always someone stumbling into the bonfire or shooting a pistol into the air. We’d party until dawn, sleep on the ground, then get back on the bikes and hit the road again.”

  “I’m trying to envision you doing that,” Lela said.

  “I was a lot younger then. Some of the guys moved away, or I lost contact with them. But whenever I had a break from deployment and came home for a visit, there seemed to be a couple of buddies around.”

  “And you’re still tight with them?”

  Rip nodded. “The guys that are still here…not that many anymore.”

  The conversation was interrupted when the meals were served. The aroma of garlic and spices wafted up from the plates of brisket, accompanied with onions, pickles, and coleslaw.

  Lela carved a bite off the strip of herb-crusted beef and slipped it into her mouth. The meat was as tender and tasty as anticipated. For a while, she focused on eating the delicious feast.

  Partway through the meal, Rip ordered two more beers, and Lela took a break. “I plan to finish the brisket, so don’t think you’re getting any of mine. I’m taking a breather, that’s all.”

  Rip leaned back in the chair and swigged his beer.

  “So do you have family here, besides your brother?” Lela said.

  “My parents moved closer in, got a home in the suburbs. My younger sister lives out of state with her husband and kids. They have a place in Atlanta.”

  “The name McConnell is Scottish, right?”

  “Yes, I got my Spanish blood from my mother’s side. Her parents were born in Madrid,” Rip said. “What about you? You’re divorced?”

  Lela sat up. “How did you know that?”

  “I did a quick background on you before rushing off to your rescue. It’s not that hard to find out the basics: height, weight, marital status.”

  “I guess it’s no secret anyway,” Lela said. “I was married to Tomás Cruz for ten years. We were high school sweethearts, and I thought I’d spend my life with him. We had a big Catholic wedding, the works.”

  “What happened?”

  Lela shrugged. “Turns out that I wasn’t his type. He wanted a domestic wife who stayed at home, cooked meals, and raised the kids.” She sighed. “I tried…really. I’m just unconventional, I suppose.”

  Rip smiled. “Having a career of your own, being independent…learning self-defense?”

  “You catch on quick. Even my dear mother wishes I’d tone it down, but you know…there are some things that probably won’t change.” Lela twirled her bottle on the table. “The thing was that Tomás didn’t leave me.”

  “At least he had some good sense.”

  “Well, I appreciate the compliment. But he didn’t have enough sense to be true to his wedding vows,” Lela said. “He caroused around, loved the women…used to boast about being the Latin lover. It didn’t take long for me to figure it out. Over and over, he said he’d change, but those were just empty promises.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah…me too. But it was no way to live,” Lela said. “I put an end to it over four years ago, much to my mother’s dismay. She thought I should have worked it out. In the eyes of the church, marriage is permanent.”

  After finishing their meals, Lela and Rip cruised back to the cottage. It was dark out, but a bright moon shone overhead. Since it was still early in the evening, Lela found a bottle of wine and suggested sitting on the terrace.

  The moonlight shimmered on the water, casting a soft light over Rip. He was so damned sexy. The romantic ambience wasn’t helping. Lela wanted to go sit on his lap and breathe in his male aroma. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her and press her lips to his.

  She cautioned herself to slow down on the alcohol before she did something she’d regret. “So tell me about Isabel. What was she like?”

  Rip stared at his glass of wine. “She was beautiful, inside and out…kind, sweet.” He looked up. “She was nothing like you, and I don�
��t mean that in a bad way. She was softer spoken, relied on family, and wanted a traditional wedding.”

  “She sounds like a lovely woman,” Lela said. “You were in your twenties when you got engaged?”

  “Yes, Isabel had waited, given in to my preference to postpone marriage until I was out of the service. As that date drew closer, she began planning the wedding.”

  The tranquility of the night settled over the terrace. Rip didn’t elaborate about the wedding, but even in the dim light, Lela saw the sadness in his eyes.

  “How did she die?” Lela said in a low voice.

  Rip put his glass down and dragged both hands through his hair. “Isabel was killed in a gang fight, a place that she never should have been.” He let out a long breath. “Her older brother had gotten involved with drugs, hung out with the wrong crowd.”

  Rip looked at her, agony evident in his expression. “The thing was…I knew it. I grew up here, so I was no stranger to the drug scene. I should have made sure she stayed away, but she was close to her brother…she was close to all her family.

  “So I left on deployment for the final time, thinking everything would be okay back home…that she’d be here when I returned.” Rip hesitated. “Only she wasn’t. While I was gone, her brother got into trouble and she went to help him. She ended up in the middle of a bad scene…and got shot.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lela said.

  “I knew,” Rip said. “I’d known for years that her brother’s connection to the cartel was dangerous. I shouldn’t have left her. I should have made sure that she was safe.” He was too choked up to speak for a moment. “I was to blame. I was negligent.”

  Lela wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have predicted what happened. But she knew that Rip wouldn’t believe her. His fiancée had died over thirteen years ago, yet he spoke of it as if it had occurred yesterday.