“Nice instincts,” he said laughing. “No wonder you walk funny. I’ll trade you for a burner phone that might come in handy.”
She gave him a droll look.
“I’ll lock these in my safe. Nobody will know it’s there except me.”
“Thanks,” she said.
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk to reveal a built-in safe. He unlocked it, put her ID inside and relocked it, closing the drawer back.
“And in case you wondered,” he told her, “nobody has the combination to this safe except me.”
“That makes me feel more secure,” she replied.
“Have you heard anything from Raines?” he asked, offering her a seat as he plopped back down onto his desk chair.
“Not a word,” she told him. “But I expect I will in the next week or so, because that’s when they’re having the private auction on the ranch.”
“I’m planning to come over for it,” he told her.
“Are you interested in buying cattle, too?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I have a small ranch and I keep a few head of cattle, but I don’t aspire to the kind of purebreds the Big Spur sells.”
“Then you have some other reason for coming, I gather.”
“I do,” he replied, and his eyes narrowed. They almost glittered. “Velasquez may decide to come himself. If he does, I want to be there.” The threat was in his voice. She recalled what Tanner had told her about him, that he and Velasquez had a history and not a good one. But that was his private business, and she wasn’t going to interfere.
“Tanner is really worried about the threats from that man in DC,” she said.
“It’s a legitimate threat,” he replied. “Tanner has enough on the man to hang him and he knows it. He slithered out from under an investigation once already by bribing a congressman—rather, blackmailing him. But it won’t work this time. Tanner had a little undercover help getting the incriminating information out of James’s hands. And besides that, Tony Garza has contacts everywhere and he knows a lot of underworld figures and men who owe him favors. He managed to swipe some blackmail evidence right out of Phillip James’s office in Washington, DC.”
She whistled. “Brave man,” she said.
“Well, there is always the witness protection program,” he reminded her. “And I know a US deputy marshal who sometimes works with us on cases. He can’t be threatened, intimidated, or coerced.”
She chuckled. “Sort of like an untouchable.”
“Exactly like that,” he replied.
She sighed. “I still can’t get that picture out of my mind. That poor man in Mexico in the bar just being shot dead for no reason.”
“It’s a cartel bar,” he said. “They don’t cater to human feelings.”
He sounded as if he knew that for sure.
“I’m having someone check that out,” he reminded her. “I have a contact in San Antonio, a senior agent. You might know him. Rodrigo Ramirez.”
“I don’t know him personally,” she said, “but I’ve certainly heard of him. He’s something of a legend around the office.”
“Indeed, he is,” he chuckled. “Anyway, he has relatives high up in Mexico in political circles. He’s tracking down the man’s daughter. We’ll find a way to get her some help.”
“I’m really grateful,” she said. “It broke my heart.”
“I don’t imagine it broke Raines’s heart,” he replied.
“Hardly,” she said. “Raines thinks with his wallet.”
“Most people outside the law do,” he said in a world-weary tone. “I never understood why money was so important to people. I’m happy if I can pay my bills.”
