Page 11 of Fast Justice

Taggart’s turquoise eyes twinkled with amusement. “So he does. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He pulled his phone back out of one of the pockets in his cargo pants. “You’ve got ten minutes to shower and grab whatever you need to cover you until the weekend. We’re meeting your principals at the U.S. Attorney’s office in thirty.”

Now Malcolm did groan.Christ. This day was already the shits, and now he had to go to Rowan’s office again on top of everything else?

Arguing was futile, so he didn’t bother. He’d survived worse over the years than having his heart broken and having to babysit a cartel boss’s mistress. Might as well suck it up and take it on the chin like a man.

Chapter Four

Rowan struggled to keep her professional demeanor in place as she faced Oceane and her mother from across her paper-cluttered desk. The FBI was currently scrambling to make arrangements for some security for the two women, who still refused to see reason. It was as mystifying as it was frustrating.

They’d been over this same issue a half dozen times already over the past few days, and each time Rowan thought the women were about to agree to enter WITSEC, they dug in their heels again. Out of desperation, because of his rapport with the ladies, her boss had personally tried to sway them to go into the program an hour ago. Now, in a last ditch effort to change their minds, he’d tasked Rowan with trying to sway them.

“I understand that this must be scary and overwhelming for you,” she began to Oceane in as calm a tone as she could manage.

Everything about this day sucked so far. If she’d been sore yesterday, today she was in serious pain. Every muscle in her neck, shoulders and upper back was exquisitely tender. The extra strength Tylenol she’d taken for her headache hadn’t touched the pain, and she was bone-deep tired.

When she’d finally made it home from the office last night, her father had shown up just as she was falling asleep—because apparently even whiplash wasn’t a good enough excuse to avoid signing the paperwork for him. Now she had a small mountain of work piled on her desk and another twelve-to-fourteen-hour day ahead of her before she could drag herself home in her rental car and finally crawl back into bed.

She held Oceane’s blue-gray gaze as she continued. “But the only real way to guarantee your safety until the authorities figure out who was behind the attack on you and neutralize the threat, is for you both to go into the WITSEC program.” Why couldn’t she see that?

Oceane sighed in impatience and pushed some chocolate-brown curls away from her face. “I have already told you, we’re not doing that.” Her accented voice was calm, her tone final. “The FBI agent I spoke to this morning said he would find us another option.”

“Maybe, but that option won’t be as secure as having a team of highly-trained U.S. Marshals guarding you in an undisclosed location.” No one could force either of them to enter the program, however. It was voluntary. Oceane had been annoyingly tight-lipped about their reasons for refusing to enter WITSEC.

“I understand.” Her mother nudged Oceane with an elbow, said something in rapid Spanish that Rowan didn’t have a hope of catching. Oceane nodded and turned to Rowan. “Have you heard anything new in the investigation? About who attacked us?”

“FueRuiz,” the mother said in an adamant tone, her face set, and though Rowan didn’t speak much Spanish, she understood her meaning well enough. The woman blamed Ruiz for what had happened to them.

“The investigators are looking into every possible option,” Rowan said, not willing to give anything away. New information and leads seemed to be coming in hourly, but federal authorities were tight-lipped about what they’d found. Only rock solid evidence pertinent to the case against Ruiz was passed on to the U.S. Attorney’s office.

From what Rowan had been told, so far Oceane and her mother had been frustratingly reticent to share information about Nieto and the cartel. She got the sense that Oceane was still in the dark about a lot of it, but the mother definitely knew things, and she wasn’t talking until she got what she wanted: federal protection of some kindoutsideof WITSEC, and a guarantee from the government that they would be allowed to remain in the U.S. after the Ruiz case was over. A tall order, considering they were both Mexican nationals. For the government to give them residency or citizenship, the women were going to have to give them something big.

At least three different agencies were currently working on their case, each frantically trying to find a lead that might help investigators unravel what was currently going on within the cartel. Information was sketchy.

From a string of recent attacks on labs and other operations in Mexico, it seemed as if Nieto had declared war on what was left of Ruiz’s territory. Everyone involved in the case hoped that at least one of those threads might lead back toEl Escorpion, whoever he was, so they could begin dismantling theVenenos’sprawling narcotics empire.

The pounding at the base of her skull got worse as Oceane and Anya didn’t respond to her point, merely stared at her.

Her patience snapped. Her attempts to be the nice guy hadn’t worked. Time to put some pressure on. “Here’s the deal. You expect our government to jump through hoops to protect you, then you need to give us something solid today, or you’ll both be deported back to Mexico.” She stopped, glanced up when someone knocked on her door and pushed it open. Val raised his eyebrows at her in question and she gave a subtle shake of her head, the motion intensifying her headache.

Val’s mouth tightened in a frustration she understood all too well. “Just got a call from Commander Taggart. The temporary protective detail will be here in a few minutes.”

Surprised, Rowan blinked at him. Taggart? The DEA and FBI were calling in a FAST team on this? “Oh. Who is it?”

“No idea.”

As he started to pull the door shut behind him, her cell phone rang from the corner of her desk. She glanced at it, expecting it to be the body shop calling with an estimate about repairs to her car, but instead her brother’s picture popped up on the screen.

“Excuse me,” she said to the women. “I need to take this.” Well, actually she needed a few minutes’ break from this futile argument, and more pain relievers. As soon as the women left her office, it was back to the mountain of paperwork she still had to wade through.

Stepping out into the hall, she answered the call with a tired sigh, rubbing the back of her sore neck. “Hey.”

“Wow. Bad day already?” Kevin asked. “It’s only eight in the morning.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered, turning the corner so she could talk in a little alcove for some privacy. “What are you up to?”

“I’m at Mom and Dad’s. He had some banking stuff and whatever that I had to sign.”

That was promising, their father adding Kevin to his bank accounts as he restructured his estate. Things had been strained between them until recently. “I did that last night.”

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