Against the Law (10 page)

He knew the police chief would listen. Dev might not
run his investigations exactly by the letter of the law, but he was ex-military and a strong supporter of law enforcement. He also had plenty of money, an impressive amount of which he gladly donated to various police charities every year.

“I think I can help,” the chief said. “What did you say that detective's name was?”

“Wilkins.”

“I'll put a call in to the Pima County Sheriff. He can talk to his detective. But I'll need to assure him you're willing to take full responsibility for the woman and the child. And Ms. Delaney won't be able to take the little girl out of state.”

“Not a problem. You might recall I've got a guest house on the other side of my swimming pool. My housekeeper raised three kids and I know she'll help, so we'll be fine. And Lark can stay in Phoenix for as long as it's necessary.”

After that, Dev had no idea what she meant to do about the child.

“I'll see what I can do,” the police chief said.

The call ended and Dev's gaze swung in Lark's direction. She was sitting cross-legged on the lawn, Chrissy in her lap. They were playing some kind of clap-your-hands game and Lark wore the faintest of smiles.

One thing became crystal-clear. Lark wasn't giving that child away to someone else. She was about to become a mother, whether she was ready or not.

Dev just shook his head. But as he watched them together, saw the love in Lark's pretty face, an odd feeling settled in his chest.

B
y the time they were on the road home, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The EMTs had phoned an on-call physician, who had authorized something to help Chrissy sleep.

Lark fashioned a bed for her in the backseat of the Suburban with the blanket Dev kept in the car, got her settled, then sat with her until she dozed off. While she slept, Dev drove to the Walmart in Tucson to buy a few of the things the child would need.

“I'll stay out here,” he said as he pulled the SUV into the lot. “You do the shopping. You know a lot more about it than I do.”

“Are you kidding me? I don't know anything about kids. I'll have to learn as I go.”

He cast her a sideways glance as he expertly navigated a parking space. “'Learn as you go?' Does that mean you'll be going for permanent custody?”

“It's a little early to be asking me that, don't you think?”

“Not by the expression on your face when you look at her.”

Lark glanced away. “I don't think I really have a choice.”

“There's always a choice.”

“All right—I can't imagine giving her to someone else. I can't stand even to think about it.”

Dev just smiled. “That's what I thought. Now go get whatever it is you think we'll need.”

She couldn't help noticing the
we.
According to Dev, the authorities had insisted she stay in Arizona and that Dev take responsibility for her and Chrissy. She had tried to convince him to let them stay in her sister's condo, but he wouldn't hear of it.

“No way. The chief expects me to be responsible for you and the child. That's what I'm going to be. Responsible.”

She arched a dark eyebrow. “That's kind of above and beyond, isn't it? I mean being accountable for a woman you barely know and a four-year-old child?”

He just shrugged. “I follow the job where it takes me.”

Funny thing was, she was glad she would be staying at the house with him. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw bodies, blood and death. The housekeeper. Byron Weller and his beautiful wife. The young Hispanic houseboy and Chrissy's nanny—Lupita Martinez, the deputies had said was her name.

She couldn't imagine getting any sleep tonight. But
if she had the slightest chance, it would happen because Dev was in the house just across the terrace.

She remembered the way he had looked, his jaw clenched and a pistol gripped in his hand. It was as if the weapon were an extension of his arm, as if it were simply a part of him. He'd looked like the dangerous man he was and as she climbed out of the car in the Walmart parking lot and headed toward the electric sliding doors, she was glad he had been with her today.

If he hadn't been, she might be as dead as Chrissy's parents.

Her stomach rolled. She tried not to think of them, tried not to remember the way they had looked in death.

And she wondered… So far the little girl had asked incessantly for her nanny. She hadn't mentioned her mother or father. Lark was beginning to think it was the nanny, Mrs. Martinez, who had been raising the child.

She thought of the black-haired woman who had placed herself in front of the closet where she had hidden little Chrissy to protect her from certain death and believed the woman had loved her.

Lark's throat tightened. She shook away the tears and shoved through the automatic doors. Managing a smile for the ancient Walmart greeter, she grabbed the shopping cart he handed her and headed for the children's department. She needed clothing, some kind of comfortable shoes that would hopefully fit Chrissy's small feet, blankets and a car seat. She grabbed a couple of stuffed animals off a shelf as she passed and tossed them into the cart.

It took longer than it should have, having no idea what to buy. Eventually, with the help of a clerk, she found what she needed, made her way through the checkout line and returned to the car.

“I'm sorry,” she said as she quietly opened the door. “It was harder than I thought.”

“Yeah, I can believe that.” Dev helped her put the packages in the back of the Suburban and they set off on the last leg of their journey.

The sky was black velvet and sparkling with a spray of stars by the time Dev pulled into the garage. Chrissy fussed for a moment as he lifted her out of the vehicle, then went back to sleep against his chest.

Dev had been terrific today. Earlier, he had called his housekeeper, Mrs. Clark, and she was waiting for them when they stepped inside the house.

“Thank you for coming, Aida,” Lark said, and to her surprise, her eyes filled with tears. “I don't…I don't know a thing about children.”

Aida patted her shoulder. “It's all right, dear. I've raised three of them. I know everything there is to know about kids.”

Lark managed to smile, wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “I'm sorry. It's just…it's been a bad day.”

Dev scoffed. “You might say that.” He stood right behind her, still holding the girl in his arms. A dangerous man like him holding a sleep-rumpled little girl. It should have looked incongruous but somehow it didn't.

“You ready for us, Aida?” he asked.

“All set. As soon as you called, Town went out and bought a rollaway bed. He set it up in the living room
over in the guest house. I can sleep there for a while. We thought it might be better if Chrissy slept with Lark for the first few days.”

The lump returned to Lark's throat. “Yes, that's a good idea. Thank you.”

Aida squeezed her hand. “Everything is going to be fine. Come on. Let's get that child in bed.”

While Town unloaded the car, she and Dev followed Aida's broad-hipped, swaying gait down the hall, out the doors onto the terrace, and around the pool to the guest house. It was larger than Lark expected: a separate living room with its own fireplace, kitchen, bedroom and bath.

“There are maid's quarters in the main house,” Aida said. “A room right off the kitchen. It'll give me a place to hang my clothes and shower in the mornings. Give you and the child a little space if you need it.”

Lark just nodded.

She followed Dev into the bedroom and waited as he gently settled Chrissy on one side of the queen-size bed. Her dark-brown, shoulder-length curls fanned out over the pillow.

“I'm jealous, you know.” His gaze moved to Lark, taking in her exhausted features, the worry she couldn't quite hide. “I had high hopes the person on the other side of your bed tonight would be me.”

She had hoped for that same thing, yet she couldn't quite muster a smile.

Dev reached out and touched her cheek. “Things happen, love. Life happens. You'll get through this and so will Chrissy.”

She felt like crying again, somehow managed not to. “I know.”

“Tomorrow you'll call your friend Brenda. Tell her what's happened and where you are staying. If she wants to come over that's fine.”

She nodded. “Yes, I should have thought of that. Brenda's great with kids. I'm just…I'm not thinking very clearly right now.”

Dev leaned down, brushed a light kiss on her cheek. “Try to get some sleep. It won't be easy, but maybe with Aida in the living room and me on the other side of the patio, you'll manage to get some rest.”

She reached for his hand. “Thank you for what you did today.”

He shrugged as if he put himself in the middle of a gunfight every day. “I didn't really do much of anything.”

“Yes, you did. If you hadn't figured out something was wrong, we might be lying in there with the Wellers.”

Dev gently caught her shoulders. “Don't say that. Don't even think it. We're alive and so is Chrissy. Sometimes life takes a different course than we expect, that's all. But we're alive. Now it's up to us to make the most of it.”

His eyes held hers, the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. “Did you learn that in the Rangers?”

“I suppose I did. There were times I wasn't sure I'd see another day. I came out alive, and since then, I'd like to think I've never wasted a single moment of my life.”

Lark didn't say more. He was a complicated man, one she was coming to admire more every day. Turning, he
walked out of the bedroom into the living room, passing Aida and Town, who were busy unpacking the items she had purchased.

“I didn't know what to buy,” she told them helplessly.

“You did just fine,” Aida said.

Dev crossed to the door. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “For everything.”

Dev nodded and started across the patio. Lark watched him until he disappeared through the sliding doors leading into the house.

 

Dev tossed and turned, trying in vain to sleep. What Lark had said was true. If they had arrived fifteen minutes sooner, if he had parked in front of the house instead of down the block, if they'd gone up to the door while the men were inside, they might well be dead.

His stomach knotted at the thought of Lark lying lifeless in a pool of blood, her vibrant energy gone forever.

Staring up at the ceiling, he released a ragged breath. Thank God, Clive had brought him into the search. Thank God, Lark hadn't gone to some hack detective who didn't know his ass from a hot rock.

He reminded himself to call his friend tomorrow morning and tell him what had happened. He'd let his brothers know, as well. He refused to let his thoughts go any further. He had houseguests now. A child was in residence, which would definitely cramp his style. He wasn't sure how long that would continue.

He should be lamenting his fate. Instead, all he could think of was how glad he was they were here with him and safe.

He didn't believe they were in any sort of danger. The shooters had taken out the Wellers and anyone else they found in the house, but a four-year-old child they managed to overlook was unimportant.

The message had been delivered loud and clear.

Byron Weller had an enemy he shouldn't have crossed.

If someone else was thinking of trying the same thing, he wouldn't do it now.

Dev heard a familiar chiming on the bedside table, reached over and picked up his cell phone, sure it would be Chaz. Dev had called him hours ago and filled him in on the shooting. His friend was working overtime to come up with everything he could on the Wellers, and what they might have done to get themselves killed.

Dev pressed the phone against his ear. “Tell me your hard work paid off.”

“Oh, it has.”

He sat up straighter, propped his back against the carved wooden headboard. “What have you got?”

“An earful. You might want to sit down for this.”

“What is it?”

“Some of this intel is way off the record.”

“With you it always is.”

“To start with, Global Direct is owned by the Bannock Corporation. Turns out they're owned by a company registered in the Cayman Islands called International Designs. When you dig deep enough—and I mean
deep—you find some interesting names. One of them is Antonio Alvarez. That name mean anything to you?”

“Antonio Alvarez runs the Las Garzas drug cartel, one of the biggest operations in Mexico.”

“That's right.”

“Marijuana, methamphetamines, cocaine. Alvarez does it all. The Mexican government's been trying to nail the bastard for years.”

“That's him. And when I checked Byron Weller's credit-card records, guess what I found?”

“I'm afraid to.”

“Airline tickets to Hermosillo, Mexico. Direct flight from Tucson. Credit-card receipts for a rental car and restaurants in and around the city. Hermosillo is where Antonio Alvarez lives.”

Dev hissed in a breath. “So Byron Weller handled things for Alvarez on this side of the border.”

“Bingo.”

Dev raked a hand through his short dark hair. “The container import business was a money laundering scheme.”

“Probably just part of a larger network. I also found personal emails between Weller and a guy named Jorge Santos. I haven't had time to figure out the connection between Santos and Alvarez, but I'm betting there is one.”

“So what did Weller do to piss off Alvarez?”

“Hard to tell, but I'll keep looking.”

“I think it's time to give Johnnie Riggs a call.”

“Might be worth a try.” Chaz yawned into the phone.

“Why don't you get some sleep?” Dev suggested. “Call me tomorrow if anything else turns up.”

“Will do.” The call ended and Dev looked down at his cell, tried to read the names in his phone book in the moonlight pouring in through the window. He found Riggs's number and sent the call. Along with Phoenix, L.A. was a major drug center. Maybe if Riggs put his ear to the pavement, he would hear something on the street.

The ex-Ranger answered on the second ring. “Riggs.”

Dev could hear the heavy beat of music in the background. Riggs was a night owl. Dev figured he'd be awake at least until the clubs closed at two.

“John, it's Dev. I need you to see what you can find out about a problem between Antonio Alvarez and the Las Garzas cartel and a guy named Byron Weller.” Dev told him everything he knew about Weller and the execution-style murders of him and his family. “Weller had business connections in L.A. And the name Jorge Santos popped up.”

Riggs whistled into the phone. “Santos is one of Alvardo's most trusted lieutenants. He's got a mean reputation. Some folks say he's the power behind the throne, if you know what I mean. I don't know much more than that. I'll have to bring in some help on this one.”

“Do whatever you need to.”

“I'll be in touch.” Johnnie hung up and so did Dev. He didn't really think Lark and Chrissy were in danger, but he had learned from experience the more you knew about
the players in the game, the more likely you were to win. In this case winning meant keeping everyone safe.