“Take it easy. I just talked to him, nothing more. I mentioned El Jefe, outlined, theoretically, what might become a problem. I didn’t give him any names, nothing specific.”
“You shouldn’t have done it—not until we talked.”
“We have to do something. You know it as well as I do.”
She took another deep breath, steadied herself. “What did Taggart say?”
“He knows about El Jefe. He says the guy started out fairly smallpotatoes, running drugs, extortion, that kind of thing. In the last year or so, he’s grown more and more powerful. He’s amassed a sizable fortune, and according to word on the street, he’s just getting started. The FBI wants him—bad.”
Hope swelled inside her. “Maybe they’ll arrest him before I get the call.”
Linc shook his head. “The feds haven’t got jack on this guy. They don’t even know what he looks like. They’re desperate for information.”
“I don’t know anything! I know the size of his shoes—that’s it!”
Linc’s mouth edged up. “I know.”
She tried to hold on to her irritation, but it slowly slipped away. In jeans and a chest-hugging T-shirt, he was so hot, for a moment she forgot El Jefe’s phone call and just enjoyed the view. Then her brain began to function and worry swept back in.
“At least we’ve made contact,” Linc was saying. “We know the feds are interested. If El Jefe calls you with a pickup location—”
“You aren’t suggesting I give them that information? If I do and they don’t catch him, we could both end up dead.”
“I told you we’d consider our options. At least we know the FBI will be more than willing to step in when the time comes.”
He was right. The only way out of this was to catch the man who threatened them. They needed help to do that. But it didn’t make her feel any better.
She pulled out her cell phone. No texts from El Jefe. She wondered how long it would be before he sent word of his demands? How long before the drug lord sent her down the road to ruin?
Or to hell.
Chapter Seventeen
It was closing time, though the yard was never completely empty. Drivers were in and out around the clock and there was a night watchman on duty.
Linc waited for Carly to pack up then guided her out of the office. “I think we both need that beer,” he said. “Frank can drive your pickup, follow us out to the roadhouse. Won’t hurt to have a pair of eyes outside.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain from Carly’s shoulders. “I was afraid you’d change your mind.”
“Much as I’d like to keep you chained to my bed where I know you’ll be safe, it’s probably a bad idea.”
Carly flashed him a naughty grin filled with possibilities. “Could make for an interesting evening, though.”
Linc chuckled, trying to block the image he had stupidly created. “We won’t stay too long,” he said.
As they walked out of the building, Carly dug her keys out of her purse and handed them to Frank; then Linc walked over to his big GMC and they climbed inside. A few minutes later, he was driving down the highway, pulling into the parking lot at Jubal’s, really looking forward to that beer.
He’d had the same crap day Carly had. He’d met Quinn Taggart at a small café instead of FBI headquarters, just to be safe. He hadn’t told Carly how hard Quinn had pressed him to get his unidentifiedfriendto help the FBI catch El Jefe.
“This could be just the break we’ve been hoping for,” Taggart had said. “Your guy could set up some kind of meet. We’d be there holding his hand the whole time—metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” Linc said sarcastically.
Taggart shifted on the opposite side of the booth they were sitting in, a good-sized blond guy with a buzz cut in a typical FBI dark suit.
“Look, he’d be wearing a wire,” Quinn continued. “We’d be listening to every word. If he got in trouble, we’d be there to protect him.”
Linc just shook his head. “Not going to happen, Quinn. But if something turns up that’ll help you, I’ll see that you get the information.”
