HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (33 page)

He closed his phone. “Better hurry before I change my mind.” He scooped up her duffle bag and her smaller overnight bag.

“May I see it?” she asked. “The drugs you saw in my bag.”

“Look, this is over, Megan.” His mouth flattened. “And if you talk to anybody about what happened here, I’ll be forced to report you to the authorities. In spite of my promise to Scott.”

“But I’d like to see it,” she said. “There must be some mistake.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said wearily. “We’re not letting you keep it. It was in your small bag, along with Joey’s iPod.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering how Scott had raked her with such contempt. The same expression her father had when the police charged her with drug possession.
He’d left then too
.

“Of course he left,” Garrett said. “And no ridiculous explanation will change Scott’s mind. So forget about calling him.”

She realized she’d been speaking aloud and opened her eyes. “Scott’s the last person I’d call,” she said dully. “He didn’t care enough to listen.”

“Precisely.” Garrett had the door half open when his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the display, stepped back and dropped her bags on the floor. “Just a minute,” he muttered.

“Hey!” He spoke into the phone with such forced joviality, Megan leaned against the wall, guessing he was going to be more than a minute. Despite Garrett’s intention that he escort her off the grounds, she intended to pop up to her room and say goodbye to Tami. Surely they’d let her do that?

“Yeah,” Garrett was saying. “She’s fine. The cuffs have been off for a while.”

She straightened away from the wall and stared at Garrett. Obviously he was talking about her. Must be Scott on the other end. A pang shot through her.

“She’s…almost calm,” Garrett added, turning his back to Megan. “I think, maybe she’d been a little cranked. That explains the mood swings. Naturally really, considering…”

Megan frowned. She didn’t want to talk to Scott—after all, he’d deserted her—but she was more than calm, and she resented the inference that she was a raving junkie.

“Sure, I’ll tell her,” Garrett said, his voice almost jovial. He closed the phone.

“And of course he’s hardwired to help,” Garrett muttered, as if talking to himself. “It’s in his DNA.” He hardened his shoulders and turned.

“Just a moment,” he said to Megan. “I need to make a call.” His gaze flickered over her face but didn’t meet her gaze. “Ramon,” he said, pressing his phone back to his ear. “We have a situation.”

She gulped. Garrett’s voice sounded different. Resigned, flat. She backed up a step, uncertain. But the hair on the back of her neck prickled, and the adrenaline rush made her stomach roil. “I need to use the bathroom again,” she said.

She turned and stumbled down the hall, her legs so wobbly she felt drunk. She locked the door and stared wide-eyed at the knob while her heart hammered with a sickening dread. The drugs had been in her overnight bag. In Scott’s villa. The only people near it were Scott and Garrett. Scott would never plant drugs in her bag.

It had to be Garrett… But why?

She pulled out her phone and tapped in Tami’s number, her fingers clumsy. “Tami,” she whispered. “I’m in Garrett’s bathroom. If I don’t call you back in half an hour, I’m in big trouble.”

“You’re already in big trouble,” Tami said.

“Even bigger,” Megan said. “Never mind, I’m going to sneak out the back door. See you in a minute.”

She opened the bathroom door and listened. Garrett was still on the phone but speaking Spanish. There was a door off the patio to the pool. She remembered it from her interview. She crept down the hall and peered around the corner, watching as Garrett paced. He was doing more listening than talking, his face so twisted it looked like a stranger’s.

She waited until he’d turned back to the front door then dashed across the wide expanse and down the hall. Fumbled with the door, then slid it back, no longer caring about the noise. She just wanted out.

She lurched across the pool deck, briefly blinded by the sun reflecting off the blue water. Spotted a gate to the right, on the other side of the huge barbecue. She swung it open.

Squeaked in fright when she saw Ramon looming on the other side.

“Hi,” she managed, her breath escaping in gasps. “Garrett’s busy on the phone. I’m just going to get my truck.”

Ramon said nothing, his dark eyes flat. She backed away. He stepped forward and pressed a phone to his ear.

“I got her,” he said.

She bolted around the pool, but he caught her arm and yanked her back into the house.

“Damn Scott,” Garrett said. He pulled her hands in front of her and awkwardly clicked the cuffs back on. “She’s got a phone somewhere,” he added.

Ramon patted around her pockets, extracting her phone, but she could only stare at Garrett. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t have Scott poking around. He’s too relentless,” Garrett said. “I thought the drugs would turn him off, but I underestimated your charms. Inconvenient for us all.” His voice turned regretful. “Especially for you.”

“But Scott’s gone.” Her voice cracked. “And I’m just going home.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll ever stop looking for your brother. Will you?” He tilted her face so she couldn’t jerk away then sighed and dropped his hand. “Scott’s determined to help. So you see how it has to be.”

“N-no, I don’t see. How?” She trembled like a leaf but Garrett had already turned to Ramon.

“Take her to the cowshed. Stick to the back lane. I’ll get her truck.”

Ramon grunted and propelled her out the door. Her legs wouldn’t work and she stumbled on the cobblestones. He yanked her up and shoved her headfirst into Garrett’s car. At least her hands were in front. Scott had cuffed her from behind, a much more helpless feeling.

In fact—she eyed the door handle, resolving to jump out as soon as they were beyond Garrett’s sight, whatever the speed. She only wished her legs would stop shaking.

“Don’t worry,” Ramon said. “Everything will be all right.” But the door locks clicked and when she jerked her head around, he wouldn’t look at her, and she knew he was lying.

She fought the bile rising in her throat. “Is this what happened to Joey?” she asked.

“If you don’t make any trouble, we’ll take you to see him,” Ramon said with an insincere smile. “No problem.”

“Oh, that’s good then.” She hoped he didn’t hear the wobble in her voice. She was terrified and sweating, her mind and body disjointed, but did he really think she was such a fool?

Maybe
.

“Garrett told me what you two were doing,” she added, forcing a careless smile. “And of course, I’m cool with that, making money… I think you guys are so smart.”

Ramon gave a satisfied shrug. “We’ve moved over twenty million for the Baja Tinda.”

Megan’s hands clenched on her lap, so tightly her fingers turned white. “That’s a lot of money,” she croaked, deciding she really didn’t want to hear anymore.

“It was Garrett’s idea to bale the money in the hay,” Ramon said. “But it wouldn’t have happened without my cousin’s connections.”

“Your cousin?”

“Hugo, Miguel’s father. Someday he’ll be as powerful as Sanchez.”

Megan gripped her hands, so tightly her nails bit into her skin. The Sanchez cartel—even she had heard of them. They were rumored to have more guns than the California Police. And Miguel’s people were taking them on. Her laugh was almost hysterical.

“Do you hide guns in the hay too?”

“Only money,” he said. “Four horses, eight bales. Just enough for the journey. Not enough hay to draw suspicion.”

A sickening nausea lodged in her stomach. Now she knew. Joey had stumbled onto this. No wonder he hadn’t called. She stared at Ramon, her face frozen. “Is my brother at the Baja Tinda?”

“Of course.” But the edge of his mouth tightened, and she fought the urge to leap across the seat and scratch his lying face. “We’ll take you to him,” Ramon added.

“Great.” She swallowed, wetting her throat, trying to fake a calmness she didn’t feel. “I can help load the horses. But what about my passport? I hope Lydia put it in my bag. Maybe we should check—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ramon said.

The horrible pressure in her chest tightened. She forced her head to nod, the only part of her that seemed capable of movement. “I guess you have lots of contacts at the border. I haven’t been to Mexico in years. Can’t even remember if I need a passport,” she babbled. “But this is going to be fun.”

She felt his assessing gaze and forced a vacuous smile even as she scanned the driveway, praying she’d see someone, anyone. But this road was deserted, out of bounds to students.

No wonder Garrett had moved Braun. He hadn’t wanted Scott anywhere near the cowshed.

Despite the car’s air conditioning, sweat beaded every inch of her body.

They crunched into the parking lot beside Ramon’s truck, now hooked up to the gleaming horse trailer. “Oh, you’re all ready,” she said. “That’s great. If you unlock these cuffs, I’ll help load the horses.”

“Miguel can handle the horses.” Ramon cut the engine and stepped out. He walked around the back of the car and opened her door. “Come inside and wait for Garrett.”

She didn’t want to wait. Garrett would be much harder to trick, but Ramon took her arm and guided her into the arena. However, his grip wasn’t as tight as when he first shoved her into the car.
Does he really believe I’m so gullible
?

“Come with me,” Ramon said. “I have to start the baler.”

“Okay.” She gave an enthusiastic nod. Icy clarity now replaced her earlier bout of panic. They were going to kill her, somewhere between here and the Baja Tinda—unless she escaped. She trotted beside Ramon, as though he were her best friend and she didn’t want to ever leave his side.

“It must be hard to bale money,” she said.

“Not with the modifications. They bring the money already bagged. I just have to drop it between the flakes before the bales are tied.”

“That’s so clever.” She forced an admiring smile, and he even gave her a tentative smile back. Ironic, she thought. Finally she was able to get him to smile. And now she understood why the loose alfalfa was in the arena, why Garrett hadn’t wanted her to use it.

Somehow Joey had figured it out, maybe when he was helping Ramon fix the baler. He’d probably dropped his iPod then. Knowing her brother, he’d been fighting for his life, not trembling like a coward. A tear slid down her cheek. She raised her cuffed hands and wiped it away.

Ramon hit the starter and the machine rumbled to life. He forked hay into the feeder. A square bale slid out the other end. It was fast and efficient, an excellent baler. But Ramon scowled. “
Dias
. I thought that was fixed.”

She edged closer, studying the banana-shaped bale. The left side of the twine hadn’t fastened, leaving only one string and an extremely vulnerable bale. “That’s just the bill hook,” she said. “When it only ties on one side, that’s often the problem.”

Ramon kicked the bale and it burst apart. “But it worked yesterday,” he said.

“Aw, that sucks.” She strained to hear beyond the arena, praying Garrett wouldn’t arrive with her truck.

Ramon rubbed the sheen of sweat on his forehead, then grabbed a wrench, as though oblivious to her presence. “They won’t like this,” he muttered.

“Who won’t?” She glanced over her shoulder, following his nervous gaze.

“It’s Sanchez money,” Ramon admitted. “We only move it for a cut.”

“Oh.” Her heart sunk. The Sanchez cartel—people with less reluctance to kill than both Ramon and Garrett. And Ramon’s obvious apprehension made her knees knock. She had to run before they arrived.

“I can fix it for you,” she said. “Joey showed me.”

Ramon snorted. “Joey caused our problems. The baler hasn’t worked since he tinkered with it.”

Good for you, Joey.
“Yeah,” she shook her head knowingly. “I always had to fix equipment after him. We had a John Deere and our machine wouldn’t tie on the left either. It was a broken pin in the bill hook. If the tension isn’t right, the string never ties.” She reached down and tugged the useless twine hanging from the banana bale. “Believe me. That’s your problem.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Sure.” She leaned over the baler, trying to act confident. She didn’t know enough to fix the bill hook, but she certainly knew enough to sabotage it. And if Joey had caused a problem, it must have been deliberate. He was a born mechanic. All the neighbors had called him whenever they needed help.

“Pass me the wrench,” she said, trying to sound like an authority.

Ramon turned to the toolbox and she quickly leaned over the frame, snagging her cuffs around the billhook pin. She yanked as hard as she could, praying the hook would twist and screw up the tension. For good measure, she’d also remove some nuts.

She turned and raised her hands. “The space is too small. Just unlock these cuffs so I can reach in.”

Ramon passed her the wrench, studying her with his familiar dispassionate expression.

“Come on, Ramon,” she said. “You don’t want to be working on this when the big guys arrive with the money.”

“I am a big guy. Hugo is my cousin.” But he pulled the key from his pocket. The cuffs fell off with a satisfying clink.

She bent over the baler, shifting so he couldn’t see her trembling hands, and loosened a bolt. It dropped silently into the deep dirt. “Do you have another pin?” She glanced innocently over her shoulder. “This one is broken and the tucker finger isn’t giving enough tension.”

“We’re not baling a damn field.” Ramon’s dark eyes narrowed. “It only needs to tie eight bales.”

It’s not going to tie one bale.
She subtly palmed another nut. “Here we go,” she said. “That should work. Now I’ll grab another pitchfork and help you load the hay.”

“No. Stay here.” Ramon pulled the wrench from her hand. He turned and picked up the pitchfork, his back to her.

She bolted for the door.

Ramon cursed and thudded after her, but fear gave her wings. She blasted across the arena and into the sunlight—into the chest of Miguel.