She managed not to react. They’d killed him. This business was getting more starkly real by the day. She was going to have to be very, very careful. If they even suspected her of treachery, she’d end up like that poor old man at the bar across the border. But then, this wasn’t her first undercover gig. It probably wouldn’t be her last, either.
“Does he want a lot of money for the shipment?” she asked absently.
“Yeah,” he said. “But the boss is rolling in dough.”
“Do we bring the money to this man, at this bar?” she wondered.
“We do.”
“But how will we move the product?” she asked. “Is there a lot of it?”
“Not much,” he lied. “And the boss’s right-hand man will take it to its proper place.”
“When?”
“Oh, in about three weeks,” he lied, smiling. “And then we’ll get a huge payday!”
“What if we get arrested?” she worried.
“Stop jinxing us,” he chided. “It’s all a well-run operation. No worries. We’ll take the money and the boss’s man will take the product. Two separate operations, and not at the same time.”
Damn, she thought. That blew any hope of interdiction. She glanced at him. “Are we still going to rustle cattle?” she asked.
“Probably we’ll go for the steers they’re feeding out,” he said. “And the cow culls much later for the boss’s friend, but we can just buy those without arousing any suspicion. And we can get lost on the ranch while our truck is moving the cows, right?” he asked with a grin. “We can get an up-close look at security and everything else.”
The remarks about security worried her. She wondered if she should just tell the Everetts what was going on. But that mightspook the operation, and they’d lose the chance to shut down Velasquez’s grand plan. Not that she was certain what it was.
She was certain that his man Raines was feeding her a line of pure bull. And she wondered what the true objective was going to be. That intuition of hers had saved her many a time. She hoped it would work in time to shut down this unholy pipeline of death.
She was careful to use the pay phone nearby only when she was positive there was nobody around. She didn’t dare use her cell phone and she didn’t have a burner phone. It was a shame that she had no backup on this assignment. A partner with a car and some burner phones would have been a godsend.
Raines had said it would be a good idea for her to visit Big Spur and see JJ, and it would have. But she had no way to get there unless Raines gave her a lift, and she couldn’t just show up at the ranch out of the blue. Not without raising even more suspicions in that blond giant who didn’t like her in the first place.
She worried about the old man’s daughter who was so sick. It was risky to call her boss, and she didn’t dare involve the Everetts in this dangerous cloak-and-dagger game she was playing.
She watched him come in the door. He was wearing a uniform. He was tall and well built without exaggerated muscles. He wasn’t really handsome, but his lean face was attractive and appealing. He had jet-black hair, conventionally cut, and pale eyes. His cream-colored Stetson was cocked over one eye. He was wearing hand-tooled leather boots—expensive ones—and no rings. In a low-slung leather holster at his hip he wore what appeared to be a .45 Ruger Vaquero single-action pistol. She recalled what the old Ranger had told her about the Single Action Shooting Society. It was Friday and they had a meet thefollowing day. She really wanted to go and watch the matches. She’d been briefly an IPSC competition shooter, and she’d won matches. Not that it would be wise to advertise that at the moment, she mused.
The sheriff’s pale eyes swept the bar. There were only three people in it, two cowboys at a table by themselves, and Josie.
The sheriff ordered a sandwich and a beer and suddenly wheeled and pulled out a chair at Josie’s table, an action so quick and unexpected that she caught her breath.
“Sorry,” he murmured with a grin. He had a pleasant voice, deep and clear. “Place is so crowded, I thought I’d take up less space if we shared a table,” he added, tongue-in-cheek. His pale eyes twinkled with amusement.
She laughed. “I know what you mean. Amazing how many people can squeeze in here at lunch time.”
“Dunn Marlowe,” he said, introducing himself as he sailed his Stetson into an empty chair beside his.
“Josie Blake,” she replied.
The bartender brought his sandwich and a beer, nodding and smiling as he went back to the bar.
“And what are you doing in Percell, Josie Blake?” he asked, lowering his voice.
“You’d never guess,” she mused, her own pale eyes twinkling.
He cocked his head. His pale eyes narrowed. “I play chess with your boss,” he murmured under his breath.
She gaped at him.
