Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) (8 page)

“I head the Ranger Reconnaissance Team.” 

She stared. “The Recon Rangers?” 

His grin widened. “You’ve heard of us.” 

She recalled the article in the Fort Worth newspaper that reported on the new Texas Ranger team. They trained at Texas military bases and were as much Green Beret as Texas Ranger. The pictures in the newspaper showed men who had turned in their jeans and felt cowboy hats for camouflage, helmets, and bulletproof vests. They wore side-arms, shotguns, and assault rifles, and ranged from mid-thirties to mid-fifties. No twenty-eight year old men. This explained his skill in getting them out of Mexico. The man knew what he was doing.

“I thought the Recon Rangers were supposed to stop drug traffickers along the border,” she said.

Ben cupped her elbow. “We do.” He led her toward the door. “But we figure a human traffics dealer deserves a little of our attention.” 

When Ben glanced in the mirror of his Chevy Silverado for the fourth time, Liz said, “Is someone following us?” 

His gaze shifted from the mirror to the road ahead, but she didn't miss the thinning of his mouth before he replied in a casual tone, “Nope.” 

“I think you're lying,” she said. “Which makes me want to turn and look.” 

His head whipped in her direction. “What makes you think I’m lying?” 

“It doesn't take a mind reader to see you aren't happy I asked the question.” 

“I have to remember how observant you are.” 

“I guess that's a yes,” she said.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the road as he slowed for a car stopped at a red light. “No. I didn't lie. No one is following us. I just didn't realize you caught on to the fact I was watching.” 

“I don't know,” Liz said. “Coming from a man who lies for a living…”  

He laughed. “You have me confused with the FBI. Rangers are a more straight forward breed of law enforcement.” 

“You've been lying to me since I met you.” 

“Until last night, yes. But remember, I'm a Ranger, not FBI. I'm usually chasing the bad guy in real time. I did plan on telling you the truth face-to-face once that modeling gig was over.” 

“If things went as planned, I wouldn't have known the difference,” she replied. “Until I tried to hire you again, I guess.” 

He glanced at her, his smile lighting up his handsome face. “You would have hired me again?” 

“I hired you once. Why not?” 

His smile widened. “You like me.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It would have been business.” 

“What about now?” he asked.

“What?” 

“Is it business now?” The light turned green and he accelerated behind the other car.

“I could easily throw some work your way,” Liz said. “There's good money in modeling for a man like you.” 

Ben shot her a curious look. “A man like me, huh? Would it mean dancing with you again?” 

She grimaced. “One night of modeling was quite enough for me, thank you very much.” 

“Then I guess we'll both skip the modeling and go straight for the dancing.” 

“Ben—” 

“Liz, I planned on asking anyway.” 

“You're talking nonsense,” she said. “I wouldn't have been around for you to ask.” 

“El Paso to Dallas is a ninety minute flight. Piece of cake.” 

She blinked, startled by the unreserved response. Youth, she thought. That's what it was. She remembered those days, when she'd fallen in love with Jack. She'd been twenty-seven—even younger than Ben—and jumping on a plane was easy. Not anymore. Shoot, the overnight stay at the hospital had required that Richard bring her a few essentials. Well, maybe not. He'd called and said they were coming, and asked if she wanted anything. She could have gotten by. But the idea of a long-distance relationship where she had to take a plane…was it the plane ride or the relationship that made her hesitate?

“I am sorry.” 

Ben's apology drew her back from her thoughts.

“I knew I would have some explaining to do, but I honestly didn't think I'd see you again until I showed up on your doorstep in Dallas,” he said.

What would she have done if he had shown up in Dallas? “I barely have time for a relationship close to home, much less one separated by a nine-hour drive,” she said.

“A ninety-minute flight,” he corrected, then, “Is there someone at home?” 

“No,” she admitted, knowing he'd interpret her answer as a green light, but believing she'd never get away with lying. She was bad at lying and he was good at detecting lies.

“I like Dallas,” he said. “I'd come to you.” 

Liz wanted to say
What then?
but that was definite confirmation of a green light.

“Tell you what,” he said, “we'll start with an early supper. You're here, so there's no commitment in me driving a few miles to pick you up at your hotel.” 

She was going to say no, then realized she had to say yes because she needed more answers.

* * *

Ben stepped into headquarters, spotted Sheila Antonio sitting in the chair beside his desk, and slowed. Her attention remained focused on her phone’s display. He checked a spike of frustration and continued forward. Sheila looked up as he rounded the desk. She tapped the screen of her phone and it went dark as he lowered himself into his seat.

She slipped the phone into her purse. “Interesting party last night.” 

Ben tapped the enter button on his computer keyboard to wake up the machine. “I was surprised to see you there. I didn’t know you were into fashion.” 

“You really know how to romance a girl.” 

“I’m not romancing you, Sheila.” 

“You once did.” 

“We had a casual thing. Your words, if you remember.” 

“In the beginning,” she said. “As you know, I changed my mind. As I’ve told you a dozen times.” 

“And I’ve told you each time that had I known you were interested in more, I wouldn’t have begun even a casual relationship with you.” 

“Am I that bad?” 

“You know better than that, Sheila. There’s just nothing of substance between us.” 

“Like there is between you and Liz Monahan?” 

Ben jerked his gaze from the computer screen onto Sheila. “That was business. You obviously guessed I was undercover.” 

“Adam Billings. I did a little digging. He’s a pretty shady character. Does he have anything to do with Carlos Sanchez?” 

No one could accuse Sheila Antonio of being stupid. “It’s part of a federal investigation. I’m not at liberty to talk about it.” 

She gave a nod that, to someone who didn’t know her, could be mistaken for acquiescence. But in the year Ben had known her, he’d never known her to give up on anything, including, getting him into her bed—again.

“Liz Monahan wouldn’t be part of that investigation, by chance? A woman with mob ties could come in handy when dealing with a human traffics dealer.” 

“Mob ties?” Ben repeated. “You’re mistaken.” 

“At twenty-four, she was arrested for racketeering, money laundering and illegal gambling. Sammy ‘the ice pick’ Grekhova, was the name of the mobster she was involved with.” 

Ben was startled into silence. “There’s got to be more to the story,” he finally said.

She lifted a brow. “I thought she was just business.” 

Bingo!
She’d nailed him.

“It is,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. So far, their relationship had been strictly business. “But the woman didn’t strike me as mob material.” 

Sheila shrugged. “All charges were eventually dropped, but you and I know the average woman isn’t involved with the mob.” 

Liz Monahan wasn’t the average woman.

“This goes a little too far, even for you, Sheila.” 

“You think so?” she said in a nonchalant voice that Ben didn’t believe for an instant. She didn’t like being taken to task.

“You figured you’d dug up some dirt on a woman I was interested in and would stir up trouble.” 

“Don’t hate the messenger,” she said.

“You just have my best interests at heart,” he said.

“I care about you. You know that.” 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” he asked.

“No. Want to get together for a drink tonight?” 

He shook his head. “I’m busy.” 

“Liz Monahan?” 

“Work,” he said.

Captain Medina stuck his head out of his office and called, “Hunter, I need to see you.” 

Ben rose. “Keep last night to yourself, Sheila. This is a serious investigation.” 

“I never talk about work. You know that.” 

That was true. Ben nodded, then headed to the captain’s office.

Medina motioned toward the chair opposite his desk. “Close the door and sit.” Ben did as ordered, and Medina said, “The Feds are claiming you jeopardized the operation.” 

“Look, Captain, I take full responsibility for what happened, but no one could have known Ms. Monahan would go looking for me—the Feds included. Let Braxton and Masters tell their boss back at FBI headquarters different, but it’s a hard sell.”

“You not knowing Ms. Monahan would show up doesn’t change the fact those boys are gunning for you,” Medina said.

“It's not the first time we've locked horns with the Feds. What can they do about it?” Ben asked.

“They can get Dendy to call for an investigation.” 

That caught Ben off guard. “The Chief won’t cow tow to the Feds. He isn’t any happier about their interference than we are.”

“Maybe not,” Medina said. “But they've mentioned going above his head to the DPS Director.” 

Ben considered that for a minute. “This is a grudge match, plain and simple. Braxton and Masters resent that I went undercover without them.” 

“Would they go so far as to put you out of business over it?” Medina asked.

“Those girls' deaths made big news,” Ben replied. “The pressure's on to catch the animals who murdered them. We know catching the murderers isn’t that easy. The Feds know it's not that easy. But I think that if it takes blaming me for the killers not being caught, well…” He shrugged. “That would solve their public relations problem.”

“Yep,” Medina said. “And you made it easy.” 

Ben studied him. “Do you agree with them?” 

The captain released a breath. “No. But they're making a lot of noise about the fact that a murder charge has been brought against a Ranger. The fact that the victim is a Mexican law enforcement officer makes the crime worse.” 

“Murder charges?” Ben blurted. “Last I heard, it was attempted murder, and I thought the supposed victim was one of Sanchez's men.” 

“An officer in the second patrol car died in the hospital two hours ago.” 

“Not from a magnum bullet,” Ben fired back. “I never shot
at
the police officers. I shot at the tires of
one
squad car. Forensics has the weapon. It's all in my report. They can confirm the rounds fired.” 

“They can't confirm what you shot at or hit,” Medina replied.

“Come on, Captain, you know this is trumped up. This is the first they've mentioned an officer being shot.” 

“The police claim they were keeping quiet until the family was notified.” 

Understanding struck, then anger rocketed through Ben. “This dead officer wouldn't be a cop that wasn't on Sanchez's payroll, by any chance? Someone who wasn't part of the set-up and needed to die?” 

“I haven’t been made privy to the particulars, yet.”  

Ben shook his head. “Loyola would never go for this. He's the best Chief of Police Juarez has ever had. What's he got to say about this?” 

“Loyola didn't issue the warrants. It's the DA.” 

A chill settled in Ben's belly. “What about Ms. Monahan, were the charges against her bumped up to murder?” 

“The charges against her are now accessory to murder, instead of accessory to attempted murder,” Medina replied. “The FBI says Ms. Monahan will remain in protective custody until such time as there's a trial, then they will escort her to Mexico.” 

Ben stared. “You're joking. They would actually send her back to stand trial? Her only crime was being a little too nosy. She didn't fire a single shot.” 

“Her fingerprints were lifted off the magnum.” 

Ben’s temper mounted. “You read my report—I know the Feds read my report—she handed me the gun. What the hell's going on? None of this makes sense. If I didn't know better, I'd say Braxton and Masters worked for Sanchez.” 

“Have you considered the possibility someone besides Sanchez wants you back in Mexico?” Medina asked.

“Like who?” 

“Like someone higher up the food chain. If you and Ms. Monahan return to answer the charges, details about what really happened would come out in a courtroom.” 

It took a second, then Ben understood. “Are you saying someone over there believes our testimony will convict Sanchez? That's the craziest thing I've heard yet. Aside from the fact that he's not the one on trial, we would never make it to the courthouse. We'd be dead half an hour after entering the country.”  

“Security would have to be tight.” 

“Even if Dendy agreed to send me back, he'd never send Ms. Monahan,” Ben said. “He knows it's a death sentence.” 

“I haven't spoken with the chief yet.” 

“Thing is, if I believed we could get Sanchez this way, I'd be there in twenty minutes,” Ben said. “But Ms. Monahan doesn't have to do a damn thing the FBI tells her to.” 

“They won't protect her if she doesn't cooperate.” 

Ben gave a mirthless laugh. “Good, that leaves me to take care of her.” 

“Like you did last night?” Medina asked.

“Better.”