Page 54 of So Smitten

“What is it?” Faith asked.

“Francis Evans,” Michael said, “the Evans part is obviously Robert Evans, but the Francis part threw me off. There isn’t anyone named Francis that we know of in the gang.”

“Okay,” Faith said, “I’m not following.”

“There’s no one named Francis,” Michael said, “but there is a Francisco.”

Faith’s eyes widened. “Francisco Jimenez.”

“Gaucho,” Michael confirmed. “He was the pit boss who arranged the meeting between me and the organizers. That’s who Eric is going after next.”

“Where is Gaucho?” Faith asked.

“No idea,” Michael said.

Garvey returned to the office then. “All right,” she said, “I have officers on their way back to Ciccolo’s house.”

“Good,” Faith said, “tell them to look for anything that refers to a Francisco Jimenez or to Gaucho.”

Garvey lifted an eyebrow. “You think he’s going after Gaucho next?”

“I am almost certain of it,” Faith said, “what’s more, I’m almost certain that he’s going after Gaucho as we speak.”

“So how do we find him?” Garvey asked.

“I think I know someone who can help,” Faith said.

***

“You guys are crazy if you think I’m going to help you,” Roman said, jaw jutting defiantly forward as he faced the four of them.

Turk growled low in his throat, but Roman sat inside the holding cell protected by thick steel bars. He sneered at Turk and said, “I wish we could have seen you fight, little dog. Ceasar would have eaten you for breakfast.”

“He’s after Gaucho,” Faith said.

“Who’s after Gaucho?”

"The killer. He's hunting Gaucho right now, intending to kill him. So, we're here to make a new deal: you tell us where we can find Gaucho, and we'll keep our original bargain. We talk to the DA, recommend leniency, and point out how instrumental you were in finding the killer and bringing him to justice. Fifteen years turns to five, out in two on good behavior."

Roman sneered at them. “I thought I told you already, I don’t talk unless I walk.”

Garvey stepped ahead of Faith. “Let’s clarify something, Roman. You don’t have power here. The best you can do right now is make it easier for the murderer we’re hunting to kill your comrades in arms. We’d rather you didn’t, but the fact is we’re not going to bend over backwards helping a gang leader serve less time so we can stop someone from killing other gangsters. We’re doing you a favor, Roman. We're not begging for help. At best, you represent a chance to solve this case conveniently. We will solve it without you. In fact, we've already solved it. We're just apprehending our suspect. Again, though, we're not going to fight all that hard to convince you to help out your fellow gangsters. We'll just point out to the press that we tried to ask for your help, but you chose to let more of your friends die instead."

Roman glared at Garvey, but his shoulders deflated slightly. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?”

“So much better that I have absolutely no interest in hearing your opinions to the contrary,” Garvey said, “Now you can help us find the man we’re looking for or you can rot in jail until you’re old and gray. It’s all the same to me.”

Roman jutted his jaw out and stared at Garvey. After a moment, Garvey shrugged and said, “All right. Good luck in prison.”

The three agents followed Garvey from the room. Just before Faith closed the door, Roman called, “Wait.”

He sounded defeated, and when Faith turned and saw the dejection on his face, she knew they had won.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“Well,” Michael said, “looks like it’s Roman’s lucky day.”

Faith pulled in behind the pickup truck parked across the street from a worn-down bungalow that backed up to the small mountain range just west of the city. Garvey pulled her cruiser behind them.

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