Most Eligible Spy (6 page)

Metzner looked at his lawyers. They were scowling, but the older one nodded again.

“Coyote,” Metzner said in a low tone. “I overheard Dylan a few months ago talking on the phone to someone. He was saying something about the Coyote being pissed because too many of his mules were getting busted lately.”

Now they were getting somewhere. He grabbed the back of his chair and leaned on it. “You think this Coyote was Dylan’s other friend who handles the smuggling around here?”

Mikey shook his head. “Coyote is the one who’s sending the mules.”

The big boss on the other side of the border? Hell, if they could identify him, it would be the biggest break they’d caught so far.

But no matter how many questions Mo asked after that, that single name was the only thing Metzner could give him. He headed back into the office more frustrated than when he’d left it earlier that morning.

He was beginning to hate this op. When they were sent in for an overseas mission, there was usually a clear-cut enemy. They were generally in some jungle or on some Afghan mountainside, or in the desert where they could maneuver without fear of civilian casualties. They did rescues, assassinations or intelligence gathering.

Now they were in small-town America, pussyfooting around fellow citizens who were too stupid to realize that by violating the border, they were weakening national security. He was a low-key guy. He had a pretty good rein on his temper for the most. But he seriously wanted to beat Mikey Metzner’s head into the damned desk back there. He couldn’t stand it when someone was messing with his country.

“Anything?” Ray, a big chunk of Viking wearing a leg cast, asked as soon as Mo walked through the door. He and Jamie were working from the office that morning, comparing satellite images and analyzing CBP data, looking for likely crossing points across the Rio Grande.

The team had already discovered two tunnels. Both discoveries had been compromised, unfortunately. One of the tunnels had blown up, injuring Ray. The transfer would happen someplace else. The key was to find out where and let no one know that they knew the location. They wanted the transfer to go ahead as planned so they could apprehend those terrorists and their weapons.

“Not much,” he answered Ray. “Yet. But we’ll get them.”

“We’re gonna kick terrorist ass.” Ray grinned. “That’s what we do.”

The sooner, the better. “This small-town business is more like detective work,” Mo grumbled. “Having to treat dirtbags like Metzner with kid gloves while the tangos are getting a step closer to crossing the border rubs me the wrong way.”

He’d been made for action, not for investigative detail.

“Prepare for more of this when you transfer to the CIA,” Jamie put in. “It’s not all fancy gadgets and pretty women like in the movies.”

He knew that. He wanted it anyway. His foster father, the man who’d pretty much saved his life, had tried out for the agency. He didn’t pass the test because of an old war injury from his Marine days. But it had been his dream. He had been through some bad breaks, had lost close friends in his platoon due to bad intelligence. He’d wanted to do something about that, bring combat experience to the agency.

He had tried to direct his sons that way, too, but none of them had an interest in the military, let alone intelligence services. Except Mo. He wanted to make the man proud, wanted to make that dream come true. It was such a small thing compared to what his foster father had done for him.

“Anyway, I did get one thing from Metzner,” Mo said as he headed for the coffee. “A nickname. Coyote.”

Ray swore. “Could be anyone.”

“Guy is smart. You have to be to run a billion-dollar business. Still,” Jamie said. “It’s something we didn’t have before. Could be a starting point. We can ask around.”

Shep strode in just then, coming off border patrol.

“Anything?” Mo asked, hoping his teammate had better luck this morning.

“Interviewed a dozen ranchers near the border, border agents, even bird watchers.” He shrugged. “Everybody says the same thing. Barely anyone is crossing these days. They think it’s because of the economy.”

“Or because the bastard in charge is having everyone lie low while he gets ready for his big move,” Mo thought out loud.

Jamie pushed to his feet. “I better head out. All we need is one lucky break, catching one guy who knows something.”

He had been hired as operations coordinator. Technically, he didn’t have to leave the office. But he’d insisted on being put on the rotation, even though walking around with his prosthetic legs had to be exhausting, possibly painful. He never used that as an excuse. If anything, he pushed himself harder than anyone else. If Mo knew one thing, it was this: when they all fell down, Jamie Cassidy would still be standing.

He had the hardest eyes Mo had ever seen and very few emotions. He had a legendary record within the SDDU, not that he ever talked about past missions. Especially not about the one that had taken his legs. And everybody respected that.

“Mo got a name from Mikey Metzner,” he told Shep. “Coyote.”

“Sounds like it could be a gang name,” Shep said as he dropped into his chair and turned on his computer.

“Makes sense. The man could have started out in the gangs then risen in the ranks.” The gangs were connected to the smuggling, the smuggling was connected to Dylan Rogers, and Dylan Rogers was connected to whoever the third man was that controlled illegal activity in this specific area. The very man they needed. Even if he didn’t know the Coyote’s true identity, he would know how to get in touch with him.

Mo thought about that for another minute before his thoughts switched to something else. “Did you go by the Rogers Ranch on your way in?”

“Yeah,” Shep said. “Just the red pickup in the driveway.”

“Had a police cruiser out last night. The sheriff from Pebble Creek. Forgot to tell you,” Ray added.

Kenny Davis, Mo recalled. He pushed to his feet. “What time?”

“Around eight.”

He didn’t like it. Molly hadn’t called for help. They monitored the emergency services channels. “Wonder what he wanted.”

Jamie shrugged. “Maybe he’s investigating her brother’s dealings, too.”

Mo frowned. “It’s not his jurisdiction.”

Keith was watching him closely. “You seem very interested in this woman.”

Mo put on his best poker face. “She’s closely tied to the smuggling. Her brother played an integral part.”

“So you think she’s involved?”

“No,” he admitted after a long second.

Ray raised an eyebrow and grinned. “She’s pretty. Fine curves.”

Mo shot the big Viking a look. “She’s got a kid.”

“So?”

“Keep your dirty eyes off her.”

Ray laughed out loud. “It’s like that, huh?”

Now Jamie, too, was grinning.

“It’s not like anything.” He just didn’t want any harm to come to her or Logan. The idea of those two in danger because of her idiot brother bothered him.

“Hey,” Ray said to Jamie. “If Molly Rogers and Mo hooked up, would their celebrity nickname be Mo-Mo?”

Jamie gave a bark of a laugh. “How about just Moo?”

Mo stepped forward. “How about I knock your heads together?” he offered without heat. They ribbed each other all the time, pretty much part of the op. It allowed for letting off some steam.

Ray lifted his hands in a defensive gesture. “Listen, we’re nothing if not supportive.”

Jamie’s grin widened.

Mo gave them a disgusted look, made sure he had his gun and his wallet, and headed for the door. “I’m heading into Hullett. Want to look at Dylan Rogers’s apartment again.” Wanted to talk to the Hullett sheriff about that, too. Why the place hadn’t been released to Molly yet. Maybe the sheriff had found something he wasn’t sharing.

He was at his car when his cell phone rang. Keith, the youngest guy on the team, was calling in. He’d been gathering intelligence on the other side of the border. The gun, drug and human smuggling in the area all seemed to be connected.

“Picking up bits and pieces of clues here and there. Not nearly enough.” Frustration laced Keith’s voice. “The human trafficking was set up for Hullett, with the help of the wire mill. But so far everything I have says the drugs are coming through Pebble Creek and distributed from there. I think different crews are running those two businesses.”

“Makes sense. If one is busted, the other is still running. Probably a third crew runs the guns. Anyone mention the name Coyote?”

“No. Who is he?”

“Might be the big boss on that side.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

They talked for another minute before hanging up. Mo drove by the Rogers ranch on his way to town. Nothing suspicious out there. The driveway stood empty.

Since it was nearly four o’clock by the time he reached Hullett and he hadn’t had lunch yet, he drove down Main Street, considering popping into the diner and grabbing a quick meal. But as he parked, he spotted Molly going into Gordie’s across the street.

Wearing a pretty blue summer dress.

Two young guys turned after her, checking her out, but she was oblivious to her admirers, just smoothed her dress down and walked inside, looking a little nervous.

Mo crossed the road and went in after her. Might as well ask her if she had any trouble last night, why the Pebble Creek sheriff was over at her place. He wanted to make sure she was okay. But as he stepped into the restaurant, he spotted the man in question getting up from a table in the back and greeting Molly with a big smile.

For a moment, Mo stood and stared.

They’re on a damned date.

Man, he felt stupid. And then he knew at once what Kenny had been doing at her place last night.

His jaw clenched, even as a perky blonde waitress hurried over to him.

She flashed a toothy smile. “How many are in your party?”

“I was just looking for someone. Thanks. They’re not here.” He turned on his heel and stalked out. The sight of the sheriff with Molly twisted his insides as if he’d swallowed poison. What the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

S
AYING
YES
TO
K
ENNY
had been a mistake. She knew it five minutes into dinner, but at that point, it would have been inexcusably rude to get up and walk away. She appreciated all Kenny was doing for her, but whatever her grandmother had said about love growing over time, she knew at a gut level that nothing whatsoever was ever going to grow between them. Even the least spark of chemistry was completely missing.

She had more chemistry with Moses Mann, for heaven’s sake, and that man thought she was a criminal.

“I can probably find a buyer for Dylan’s truck,” Kenny was saying as they walked out of the restaurant after dinner. They’d talked more about her brother than anything else. “After the police release it.”

“That would be great.” Whatever money she got for that she would immediately put into the new mortgage on the ranch.

A pink convertible pulled up in front of the diner next to them. Four women about her age got out, laughing and teasing each other. They had matching tattoos on their shoulders, maybe some sort of a sorority symbol. They joked about their cross-country drive that sounded like a grand adventure.

They looked wild and free, and she felt a sudden pang of envy. She’d done everything possible in the past eight years not to raise any eyebrows, to become a respectable mother, someone people didn’t whisper about. She didn’t want Logan to have to struggle with that in school like she had to with her mother’s reputation back in the day.

Her wild side scared her. She’d given in to it once and ended up with the wrong man. She’d had to pay for that every day since. She’d learned her lesson. Safe was always best.

Kenny looked safe enough. He was a sheriff.

Why couldn’t she feel some attraction toward him?

He was looking her over, his interest clear in his gaze. “Wish I could drive you home.”

She was flattered. She really was. But she wasn’t interested.

“Got the pickup right here.” She stepped toward her car. “Have to go get Logan from the library.”

Kenny leaned forward, probably to kiss her on the cheek. She headed him off by lifting her hand for a quick wave and stepping back at the same time. Then she turned to search for her car keys in her purse. She didn’t look up until she found them.

“Thank you for dinner. It was really nice to catch up.” Was it too late to start pretending that the past hour and a half had been just a friendly meeting?

Kenny watched her for a second. “I’ll see you around, then. I have the night shift tonight. I’ll be driving by to make sure everything is all right out your way.”

“Thanks,” she said sincerely. Kenny wouldn’t work as a boyfriend, but she was more than grateful to have him as a friend. Maybe she could pay him back in some small measure with a basket of goodies from her garden. And by taking extra-special care of his horse. Not that she didn’t pretty much spoil all her animals rotten.

She drove over to the library, wishing once again that she had Grace to discuss her date with. Maybe Grace would talk her into trying harder. Heaven knew she was pitifully lonely these days. Somebody to share her life with would be nice.

She kept thinking about that as she drove to pick up her son, not liking at all that for some reason Moses Mann kept popping into her head.

“Look what I won, Mom!” Dylan held up a bag of books, his face radiating joy.

“I’m so proud of you. How about I take you for ice cream?”

“Ice cream!” He was hopping on one foot in excitement all the way to the car, then chatted on the drive to the ice-cream shop, filling her in on everything that had happened at the treasure hunt.

All right, so a boyfriend would have been nice, she thought, but as long as she had Logan, she was more than okay. The most important thing was that her son was happy.

They had ice cream, drove home singing to country songs on the radio, did their evening chores. After dinner, they moved on to their bedtime routine. Then she did some more work, washing glass jars, getting ready for the last of the canning. Eleven o’clock rolled by before she fell into bed, exhausted. But her rest was short-lived.