Linc sighed. “All right, let me call him, see if I can get him to run with the information and leave us out of it.” Linc pulled out his cell, brought up his contacts and hit Taggart’s number. Carrying the phone into the dining area, he put it on speaker so the others could hear and set it down on the table.
The call picked up on the second ring. “Taggart.”
“Quinn, it’s Cain. I’ve got something for you, but it has to be off the record. No county sheriffs, not your boss, nobody knows but you.”
“You expect me to keep secrets from my superiors? You know that isn’t going to happen.”
“If you want the information, it is. I’ll tell you what we’ve got, but it has to come from somewhere else, not from Carly or me.”
“That’s not the way it works.”
When Linc made no reply, Taggart blew out a breath. “All right, fine. I’ll figure a way to keep you out of it.”
“Good enough. El Jefe was at the Dallas Art Gala last night. Carly spotted him. We went over the video footage this morning and picked him out. Ross Townsend came up with a name.”
The pause was lengthy. Too lengthy. “We’ve already got a name.”
A rush of heat hit the back of his neck. “So you’ve been playing me? You knew who he was all along? I don’t like being played, Taggart. Not even a little. Don’t expect to hear from me again.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up! I wasn’t playing you, I swear it, Linc. We just found out this morning. Agent McKinley is still working undercover. He came up with the name.”
“Which is?”
“Raul Zapata.”
“That’s right. If you know who he is, why haven’t you arrested him?”
“Because his identity isn’t much more than a rumor. Carly can’t press charges—she was blindfolded. There are a million guys with a Spanish accent and big feet in Texas. We need evidence to make an arrest, Cain,which is something we don’t have. Or have you forgotten that’s what we were hoping you could help us get.”
Linc took a steadying breath. “We know he owns hotels and restaurants. We know he owns property out near Big Sandy and an apartment in Dallas. Now tell us what you know.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case, but I’ll tell you this. At the moment we don’t have squat. No trace of any criminal activity connected to Raul Zapata. Nada.”
“Then you’d better keep looking. That’s what I intend to do.”
“You can’t do that, Linc. You’ll be interfering in a federal investigation.”
“Fine, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. I’d advise you to do the same.” Linc hung up the phone.
“I can’t believe this,” Carly said. “What do we do now?”
“Exactly what we planned to do. We’re going back to Iron Springs and wait for El Jefe’s call. I doubt we’ll have to wait much longer.”
“You want me to come with?” Townsend asked.
“I’ve got plenty of security on the ranch. I need you to keep digging. And try to do it quietly. We don’t want anyone else getting killed.”
* * *
They left for home that afternoon.Home. There was that word again. It was making Carly more and more nervous. No way could she allow herself to think of Blackland Ranch as her home.
And the fact she had caught herself with those exact thoughts more than once made her realize how badly she needed to get back to her own house, her own life.
As the chopper lifted off the helipad at the top of the Tex/Am building, she thought of her evening with Linc. Besides her near-encounter with Raul Zapata, the night had made one thing crystal clear: her time with Linc was limited.
Half a dozen women had approached him while the two of them had wandered through the crowd, and though Linc had paid them little attention, the opportunities for him to find someone new, a woman who posed a fresh challenge, weren’t going to go away.
The man was rich and powerful, gorgeous and smart, and amazing in bed. Who wouldn’t want a man like that?
