Page 77 of Fast Justice

“What about fillings?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve got a few fillings.”

“When was the most recent one?”

She had to think about that. “A couple years ago.” She put a hand to the left side of her jaw, concerned.

Taggart moved the device from her left to right, and back again. The clicking sound was way faster on the left.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You think there’s a tracking device in myfilling?” she cried, unable to believe it.

“It would explain how Montoya found the safehouse yesterday.”

No. She’d been seeing that dentist forever, since she was a child. Her mother was a longtime patient of his too, and her father as well whenever he—

She sucked in a breath, the blood draining from her face.

Taggart lowered his hand, switched off the device. “What?”

“My father,” she whispered, shock detonating inside her. Could this be real? “He saw my dentist that one time when he came to stay with us a couple years ago. My appointment was two hours after his…” She trailed off, too horrified to say the rest aloud. What if her father had paid the man to implant a tracking device in her filling without her ever realizing?

The taller FBI agent looked at the shorter one and snapped, “Get a dental x-ray set up for hernow.”

If it was the last thing she did, Oceane would make sure Montoya and her father both rotted in hell.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Manny Nieto stood out on the back patio beside the custom-built pool he’d had installed when he and Elena had moved into the place two years ago. Normally the rhythmic splash of the waterfall at one side of the deep end soothed him, and he often came out here to mull over business ideas. At the moment nothing could soothe him, however.

He dialed Montoya’s encrypted phone again for the fifth time. Once again, the fucking little weasel didn’t answer. That had better mean he was dead, because if Montoya was just too chicken shit to face Manny after everything that had happened, then he would be dead soon enough anyway.

Manny had no time for cowardly shit like that, and now Anya had not only been brutally murdered and raped—something he was still enraged about—Oceane was in the wind once more and Montoya had botched yet another opportunity to find her by targeting the female Assistant U.S. Attorney instead. He knew the whole story. How Montoya had wanted to take a page out of Ruiz’s playbook and make money on the side in the flesh trade.

Manny had to immediately distance himself and deal with Montoya personally, beforeEl Escorpioncame afterhim.

He spun around to find his head of security standing a few yards away beneath the shade of some palm trees. “You sure he’s not dead?”

David snorted and gave a nod. “I’m sure.”

Manny set his jaw. “Madre de Dios,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Find him and bring him to me. He has to answer for all of this.”

Manny had to reassert his power now. There were too many signs of weakness going on, and in this business that could prove deadly. Montoya had to face the consequences for his actions—and repeated failures. Retrieving Oceane now was next to impossible. The Americans would bolster security even more. Dammit, he needed to see his daughter. Explain everything. Maybe she could find it in her heart to forgive him one day. But he doubted it now.

Brimming with impotent rage, he stalked back into the house. He had work waiting for him in his office. Tax issues and forms from his accountants to be signed. New bank accounts to be authorized, assets to be sold. To stay ahead of the authorities both here in Mexico and in the States, Manny had to be fluid, ready to change directions at a moment’s notice. Threatening or paying off people down here would only go so far.

Pausing at the wet bar outside the butler’s pantry, he caught sight of his reflection in the antique mirror above it and froze in the act of reaching for the crystal decanter of scotch he kept there. He looked like shit, all haggard with dark shadows beneath his eyes. He hadn’t slept much this past week and it was catching up with him. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten a full meal.

This thing with Oceane was corroding him from the inside out. Until he had her back safe and sound, until he could explain everything and make her understand it all, he couldn’t rest.

At first he’d assumed Ruiz was behind the attack that had caused them to flee, but none of his contacts had been able to turn up any evidence to support the theory. But who else? Who the hell else would have the balls to do something like this?

The door leading to the attached garage opened on the other side of the hall. Elena breezed in, more shopping bags in her hands. She stopped when she saw him, gave him a disapproving frown. “A little early for your nightcap, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a testy edge to his voice. This was his damn house. He was under a lot of stress, not that she seemed to notice or care, and would drink anytime he damn well pleased.

She shrugged and headed into the kitchen. “I’m starving. Is dinner ready yet?”

Manny lowered the decanter, something about her lighthearted tone grating on him. He walked to the kitchen entrance, stood watching her as she took her new clothes from the bags, humming as she laid everything out on the marble-topped island in the center of the room and began cutting off the tags. Not a care in the world, secure in her life of luxury. Not a single consideration for his distress, and there was no way she hadn’t noticed it.

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