Against the Law (23 page)

He glanced over at Clive, at the blood on his cammies and the pale hue of his face. “Your wife's gonna kill me.”

Clive grinned. “I'll tell her I shot myself cleaning my gun.”

Dev chuckled. Trace heard the exchange and laughed.

Hambone rolled his eyes and just shook his head.

At least they were alive. The next move was finding a way to get rid of Alvarez. Dev returned his thoughts to plan C.

 

Lark held tight to the little girl cradled in her lap. Chrissy hadn't cried once. As the helicopter engine roared, she leaned close and whispered, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

The child looked up at her, her green eyes luminous in the faint rays of moonlight streaming into the chopper. “I was really scared at first. But then I remembered what Dr. Rossi told me. She said if I ever needed her, I could talk to my nana Lupita, so I did. My nana said if I prayed really hard, you and Uncle Dev would come and get me.”

Lark's eyes burned. “Of course we would. You're my little girl, aren't you?”

Chrissy's eyes remained solemn. “Are you my mama now?”

Lark swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes, sweetheart, I am.”

“That's good. A little girl needs a mama.”

Lark hugged her tighter. “That's right, she does.”

They rode on the floor of the chopper, Rafael Montez at the controls, doing a very efficient job. Like all of them,
he was loyal, fearless and strong, and she would never forget how much she owed all of these brave men.

Especially Dev.

She thought of the way he had looked in his camouflage fatigues, his face blackened, an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder and carrying a little, dark-haired girl. She would never forget the sight.

Nor the man.

She was desperately in love with him and whatever happened, that wasn't going to change.

Nothing but pain could come of it. She knew the kind of man he was. Dev had never been anything but honest in his intentions. Loving a woman wasn't something he could do.

Her hold tightened around the little girl in her arms. It was clear by the hero worship in her big green eyes that Chrissy loved him, too.

He had saved her. She would always remember. Together they would have to find a way to get along without him.

But it wouldn't be an easy thing to do.

 

The plane wasn't there when they got there. When Trace gave the word, Lark had used the satellite phone to contact Colin Mercer, the pilot, and tell him it was time to pick them up. Mercer had said he was on his way.

But the plane wasn't waiting at the mine.

“Where is he, dammit?” Dev paced back and forth at the end of the dirt landing strip. They had left Alvarez's compound a hornet's nest of fury. The soldiers would be spreading out, searching the roadways, searching the
hills, looking for any sign of their attackers. Sooner or later, they would find the mine.

Dev looked up at the empty skies. Cantrell had made it back. Montez had dropped them off as planned and flown the helo back to his friend's ranch. Before the raid, he had carefully covered the call letters on the side of the chopper so Alvarez's men wouldn't see them, wouldn't take out their vengeance on a hapless man who had no idea what the helicopter was being used for. He would have to repair the bullet holes, but hopefully that wouldn't take long.

As soon as they reached the mine, they had gone into the building to retrieve their gear, loaded it into the vehicles and driven out to the air strip to wait for the plane.

But the plane hadn't come.

The sat phone rang. Dev flipped it open and pressed it against his ear.

“Not gonna make our rendezvous,” Mercer said. “Engine trouble. I'm on my way back. Just hoping to hell I can make it.”

“Shit.”

“Let me know where you wind up. I'll pick you up as soon as I can.” The
if I can
went unsaid.

“Good luck,” Dev said, hoping Mercer would make it safely back to the airfield where he could make repairs.

In the meantime, they had to get out of there.

“What happened?” Cantrell asked as he walked up.

“Engine trouble. For the moment, we're on our own.” He turned to Trace. “Take Clive and Johnnie and head
north. Best place to cross is probably Aqua Prieta. They won't be looking in that direction.”

They'd be expecting him to head back to California, return Lark and the child to L.A., which he had no intention of doing.

“I guess that means you're coming with me,” Cantrell said to him.

“I think I'll stick around a little longer,” Johnnie put in before he could answer. “You know how much I love ol' Mehico.”

Dev smiled, looked at Jake. “What about Montez?”

“He can take care of himself. He knows this country. He won't have a problem.”

“All right, then.” He turned to Lark, who was holding Chrissy's hand. If he'd been able to take out Alvarez—and the plane had been waiting—she and the child could be on their way home. But things were never that easy.

“Take Chrissy and get in the Jeep. Johnnie and I'll ride in back with the gear.” He spoke to Cantrell. “I need to head south. You know somewhere we'll be safe for a couple of days?”

He didn't hesitate. “I know a place.”

He turned to Clive and Trace. “Take care of yourselves. Get his sorry ass home, will you?”

Trace chuckled. “I'll get him home. Stay safe, my friends.”

And then they were gone, the Land Rover heading northeast, taking back roads that would eventually bisect Highway 17 and lead to the crossing into Arizona at Aqua Prieta. From Bisbee, a few miles north, Clive could fly back to L.A. and Trace could head home to Houston.

It was up to Dev to solve the problem of Antonio Alvarez and keep his friends, and Lark and Chrissy safe. At least he still had Cantrell and Riggs to help.

The Jeep engine roared to life, sand flew up behind the wheels, and the vehicle shot off down the dirt road, heading toward whatever safe house Cantrell could provide for them.

Once they got there, they could talk about Plan C.

I
t was a long, bouncy, dusty ride south out of the mountains. Lark had no idea where they were now or where they were going. But she trusted Dev and she had come to trust Jake Cantrell and Johnnie Riggs.

With Chrissy dozing in her lap, she allowed herself to nap, as well—at least between jarring potholes. At the first pit stop they made, Cantrell passed around a towel and they wiped the grease paint off their faces. They drove on through the night and never encountered any of Alvarez's men. Clearly, Jake Cantrell knew his way around Mexico, or at least this part of it.

They stopped a couple more times along the road and shared a couple of bottles of water. The sun was creeping over the lands to the east when Lark roused herself again.

Chrissy also awakened. “I'm hungry” were the first words out of her mouth.

Jake grinned. “So am I, sweet cheeks. It isn't far
now and Graciela makes the best chorizo and eggs in Mexico.”

“Graciela?” One of Lark's eyebrows went up.

“She's a friend.” He didn't say more and she didn't press, but she wondered what Graciela looked like. Jake was a handsome, virile man and she couldn't imagine him going too long without a woman.

Unfortunately, when Jake pulled the Jeep into the driveway of a modest house on the outskirts of the tiny village of Pueblo de Carmen, he discovered his friend wasn't home.

“It's all right. I know where she keeps the key. She won't mind if we go in.”

So…very good friends, Lark thought. She handed Chrissy to Dev, who swung her down to the ground, reached up and swung Lark down beside her. Lark stretched and yawned, her muscles sore from Jake's merciless driving along the rutted road.

Dev looked over at the small yellow house with the old-fashioned sash windows, the white picket fence in front of a skimpy lawn. “Whatever it is, it has to be better than riding all night in that Jeep.”

“Wait a minute!” Cantrell stopped midstride and turned back. “Be careful what you say about Sassy.”

“Sassy's the name of your Jeep?” Riggs said, his dark eyebrows climbing.

Jake shrugged his massive shoulders. “She can be damned cantankerous at times.”

They laughed, figuring it was probably true. Riggs grumbled something about his bones being turned to
jelly and unloaded their gear out of the Jeep while Jake went around back to retrieve the key.

Lark glanced up at Dev, who had ridden in the open air on a hard seat and had to be feeling even worse that she was—though he certainly didn't look it. With his days' growth of beard and fierce blue eyes, he looked like a pirate or a mercenary, and ridiculously attractive. He gave her one of his heated glances, winked, and her stomach lifted.

Oh, she was in so much trouble.

The front door opened. “Come on in.”

Taking Chrissy's hand, she led the little girl past Jake into the house, which was small but spotlessly clean.

“There's a bathroom at the end of the hall,” Jake said. “There's a shower if you want one.”

It sounded like heaven to Lark.

Dev tipped his head toward the bathroom. “Ladies first. In the meantime, I'll see if Jake can rustle us up something to eat.”

“I sure hope so,” Riggs grumbled. “My stomach thinks my throat's been cut.”

Lark laughed. Wheeling her suitcase down the hall, she tugged on Chrissy's hand. “Come on, sweetheart. I think we could both use a little cleaning up.”

As soon as she closed the bathroom door behind them, Lark heard Dev calling the men into the kitchen. Whatever they were discussing, they didn't want her to hear.

She wished she had stayed to listen.

 

“I think it's time we discussed plan C,” Dev said, spinning one of the wooden kitchen chairs around backward and sitting down to face the others around the table.

“What happened to plan B?” Cantrell asked, also taking a seat. Johnnie sat down across from them.

“Plan B was to blackmail Alvarez. Chaz came up with a list of his Cayman offshore bank accounts. I thought I might be able to threaten him with handing the info over to the authorities, trade it back to him in exchange for leaving us alone.”

“Dumb idea,” Johnnie said.

“There would have had to be some kind of protection built into the deal,” Dev said. “But you're probably right. At the time, it was all I could think of.”

“Alvarez isn't exactly a man of his word,” Jake said. “And he isn't afraid of the law so you can't really threaten him with that. He would have agreed and killed you anyway.”

“Yeah, that's what I figured.”

“So what's plan C?” Johnnie asked.

Dev looked at him and smiled. “We get rid of Alvarez, just like we planned. And if we play our cards right, we get someone else to do the dirty work.”

Now he had their attention. “How's that going to work?” Jake asked.

“You know that little tête-à-tête he's planning with his mistress in Cabo this weekend?”

“What about it?”

“To the right people, that might be very interesting information. For instance, to someone like Don Ricardo de La Guerra.”

“The head of the El Dorado cartel?” Jake asked.

“That's right. He and Alvarez are mortal enemies.”

Johnnie whistled. “I see where this is going and I like it.”

“So do I,” Jake said. “I take it that's the reason we're heading in this direction. De La Guerra's operation is headquartered in Ciudad del Cordon. That's less than a hundred miles from here.”

“I want to set up a meet with him, explain Lark's situation and what's happened with Alvarez so far.”

“Go on,” Jake prodded.

“When I heard Alvarez talking to his mistress, I remembered something I'd read while I was researching the drug cartels, something about Don Ricardo and how much he despises Alvarez. During our last pit stop, I called Chaz on the sat phone to see if the idea might work.”

The phone call was fairly safe. There was no way to connect Chaz to Dev, and the phone itself was untraceable. And no one even knew Jake was in Mexico.

“From what Chaz could find out in a short period of time, aside from dealing drugs in a major way, de La Guerra is nothing like his rival. To him running the cartel is just business. He's not a nice guy—don't get me wrong. And he wouldn't hesitate to kill someone who crossed him. But word is, he's fair and the people he works with respect him.”

“A well-respected drug dealer,” Jake said darkly. “There's a twist.”

“True enough. But he's also a family man. Which might give us an advantage.”

Johnnie leaned back in his chair. “So you want to set a trap for Alvarez in Cabo. That just might work.”

“Might at that,” said Jake.

“I need to meet with de La Guerra. I'm not quite sure how to arrange that, but we'll figure it out.”

“What are you going to figure out?” Lark walked toward him in a clean pair of khaki shorts and a plain red, scoop-neck top. Her hair was still wet from the shower. She wore no makeup. And she looked sexy as hell.

His attention strayed. For a minute, he forgot what they had been discussing. Instead, he thought of the last time they had made love, of those long legs and that gorgeous ass bent over in front of him as he took her from behind. His groin tightened and he went rock-hard beneath the table.

Silently cursing, he forced his unwanted lust away and looked down at little Chrissy. She was barefoot, wearing one of Lark's T-shirts, which hung down past her knees.

The front read Women Do It Better.

“I like the T-shirt,” Dev said with a grin, fighting not to think of the ravine.

“It was all I had, and don't change the subject. What are we going to figure out?”

“Might as well tell her,” Jake said. “She won't give up until you do.”

“That's right,” Johnnie grumbled. “Women might think they do it better. Truth is, they'll just nag you till you tell 'em they do.”

Lark's mouth faintly curved. Then the almost-smile disappeared. “Tell me what's going on.”

Dev tipped his head toward Chrissy, who was rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“Gracie's room is on the right,” Jake said. “The bedroom on the left is for guests. Why don't you put her down for a nap in there?”

“Good idea.” She caught hold of Chrissy's hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Wouldn't you like to lie down for a while?”

Chrissy nodded and followed her into the hallway. Lark reappeared a few minutes later.

“She went out like a light. So tell me what's happening.”

When no one answered, she blasted them with a glare. “Tell me, dammit!”

Dev released a long-suffering sigh. “All right, here it is. We're planning to trade some information to Don Ricardo de La Guerra. He's the head of the El Dorado cartel. In exchange, we're hoping he'll take care of Alvarez.”

“And why would he do that?” she asked.

“Alvarez has been trying to take over the El Dorado cartel for years. He's never made a frontal attack, but the threat is always there. De La Guerra has moved against him twice, but both times Alvarez escaped.”

“Too bad for us,” Lark said.

“On top of that, de La Guerra views Alvarez's personal behavior as completely immoral and embarrassing to the rest of the cartel leaders—from the way he treats his women to the fact he murders whole families when one of them displeases him.”

“The way he did the Wellers,” Lark said.

“Exactly.”

“And that causes trouble with the law,” Johnnie added.

“Which isn't good for anyone in the drug-dealing business,” Jake finished.

Dev told her how he planned to use Alvarez's rendezvous with his mistress in Cabo San Lucas and his hope that Don Ricardo would be willing to deal with him there.

“After our assault on his house, maybe he won't go,” Lark said. “Maybe he'll be too busy trying to track us down and kill us.”

The men exchanged glances.

“What? You didn't think I would realize that?”

“Yeah, well, we think he'll make the trip. Alvarez's ego is too big to let someone force him to change his plans.”

“So what we need to do is convince de La Guerra this is his chance.”

“That's right,” Cantrell agreed. “And time is of the essence. We need Alvarez stopped and quickly.”

She turned to Dev. “You said he was a family man. After what happened to Chrissy, maybe I can help you convince him.”

Dev thought how dangerous it could be and opened his mouth to say no. Then he thought how desperately they needed this plan to work, how it was a matter of life and death, perhaps for all of them, and closed it again.

He took a deep breath. “Maybe you can,” he conceded.

Jake and Johnnie cast each other a glance, but they didn't say a word.

 

Antonio Alvarez sat seething behind the desk in his study. When the door opened and Jorge Santos and Paulo Zepeda walked in, it was all he could do to remain in his seat.

He forced himself to stay calm. “Where is Ernesto Garcia? He was in charge while I was away.”

During the raid last night, Zepeda had been home with his family. Antonio and Santos had gone to the cantina, leaving Garcia in charge. At the time of the attack, Antonio had been happily wedged between the lovely thighs of the beautiful and desirable Francisca Miramontes.

“I asked you where he is!”

A knock at the door sounded before the men could reply. Santos walked over and pulled it open, admitting Ernesto Garcia into the room. He pulled off his navy-blue bill cap and held it gripped in both hands. He had thick black hair and very dark skin, but at the moment he looked as pale as a
gringo.

“You were here last night?”

“Sí, mi jefe.”

“You were here and yet you did nothing? You let those men walk right into my house?”

“I do not know how they got inside. They must have destroyed the alarm system.”

“So these men…how many did you say there were?”

“We are not certain,
jefe,
perhaps…perhaps a dozen, maybe more.”

“So a dozen men walked right into my home and
took the child—took her right out from beneath your noses.”

“There…there was no reason to suspect a threat. There was a guard posted in the tower and a man patrolling the grounds—”

“And why did
they
not sound the alarm?”

Garcia's fingers tightened on the bill of his cap. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They were…they were attacked,
mi jefe.
They were…they were…”

“Killed?” He wondered if he sounded hopeful. Fewer problems to deal with.

“No,
mi jefe.
They were left unconscious.”

“So they were sleeping, then, while my home was being raided. While my wife and son were in peril.”

Garcia looked even paler.

“And what of the others?
Mi soldados?
Were they also asleep?”

“Only at first. One of the servants in the house spotted the intruders and sounded the alarm. The soldiers very quickly responded.”

“But not quickly enough to prevent the theft of the girl. A gift I had given to Santos.”

Zepeda looked up at this and his mouth tightened. Of course he would disapprove. He did not understand that some men's sexual needs were different than others. That gifts of such a delicate nature inspired a man's loyalty. A commodity money alone could not buy.

“How many of my men were wounded or killed?”

Garcia cleared his throat. “Six wounded. Two dead.”
Garcia nervously turned the hat in his hands. “We will find them,
mi jefe.
This I vow.”

Antonio rose from his chair, fists shaking, no longer able to contain his anger. “Oh, we will find them, all right. But you will not be among those who do.” He motioned to Santos. “Deal with Garcia as you see fit. And deal with the guards who were on duty that night. I do not wish to see them again.”