Page 38 of Steers and Stowaways
He wouldn’t have it any other way. “Done.” He angled his head suggestively at the hand he was still extending to her.
This time, she shook it.
Something passed between them. Something raw and genuine. Something that climbed into the emptiest parts of Tucker’s heart and settled there.
He was reluctant to let go of her hand. “We’ll hit the road as soon as the storm clears. Try to get some sleep.”
Her eyes widened. “And pretend like World War III isn’t happening above our heads?”
His lips twitched. “If anyone can do it, my money’s on you.”
Humor sparkled in her gaze, filling even more of the empty places inside him. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Not true.” He shook his head playfully at her. “It just landed me a partnership at the ranch of my choice with the woman of my choice.” He’d almost called her the woman of his dreams, but he’d caught himself in the nick of time.
The humor in her gaze faded. “Let’s just hope neither of us lives to regret it.”
“I like your optimism.” He gently squeezed her fingers before letting them go.
“I was referring to the odds of us not killing each other.”
He snorted out a laugh. Yep, his heart was toast.
One hour later
The SWAT teamrolled up to Conrad Cavender’s ranch through the sleet and snow. Uniformed men poured out of two massive black armored vehicles and scattered across the darkened fields in search of the narco rustlers.
Tucker watched them spread like ants, aiming spotlights into the shadows.
“We should get some sleep,” Gil advised. “We’ll take shifts to keep an eye on what’s happening outside.”
“I’ll take the first shift,” Dave offered.
The rest of them stretched out on sleeping bags. To Tucker’s surprise, the night passed without a recurring visit from the cartel. He was almost disappointed at how quiet it remained outside.
Since he had pulled the last shift, he was awake when the snowstorm stopped. He and his coworkers emerged from the underground bunker into a world of whiteness.
The police kept them posted each time Chip texted his parents. His first message to them after the return of his cell phone was surprisingly short.
Cruz is in the wind.
Martina Silva’ response was equally short.
He’s fine.
Their exchange verified two importantdetails: Cruz was in contact with the Silva family, and the Silva family was most definitely in cahoots with the narco rustlers. Since Chip was still refusing to talk about his parents’ involvement with the gang, it had been little more than speculation on Tucker’s part up to this point.
“Lemme see what Luke has to say about this.” Gil dialed Sheriff Luke Hawling on speakerphone to see if what they’d discovered was enough to bring the Silvas in for questioning. It was, but the sheriff sounded reluctant to make a move this soon.
“Why not?” Gil looked incensed.
“It’s now a federal case,” Luke informed them blandly. “When you dialed, I was about to call you with the update.”
“Since when?” Dave protested, leaning closer to Gil’s phone.
“Since this morning,” Luke sighed. “Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do, but our cases have crossed. They’ll be running point from now on. A fellow by the name of?—”
“Pete Flournoy,” Tucker cut in angrily.Of course!His regional supervisor’s bureaucratic fingerprints were all over the changing of the guard. Not only did the politicians pulling Pete’s strings have some sort of special election coming up, the guy adored taking credit for other people’s work. Now that Tucker and his team at Lonestar Security were making some real headway on the narco rustling case, Pete would be there to sweep up the laurels.
