Page 8 of Steers and Stowaways
But I’m not.He never was. He was too well trained. His instincts were too sharp.
It was weird, though, that the folks in possession of Old Glory had done so much more than relocate the stolen bull.Emptying out an entire ranch and all of its outbuildings felt like overkill. Anyone going to that length had a powerful lot to hide.
Tucker balanced his cell phone on his steering wheel and started snapping photos. Lots of them. Since he’d gone to the trouble of driving a hundred miles, it wouldn’t hurt to do some looking around.
Which was exactly what a gang of dangerous criminals would expect him to do… His shoulders tensed as the truth hit him.
It’s a trap!
His sense of self-preservation kicked in, making him toss his cell phone onto the passenger seat. He put his truck in reverse and skidded in the gravel on the edge of the lane to circle back toward the entrance gate. As he gunned his motor, an explosion shook the ground behind him. Through his rear-view mirror, he watched the cluster of empty barns explode, blowing boards and sheet metal sky high. A plume of smoke, dirt, and grass rose.
The air grew darker behind him as smoke clouds billowed and spread. Flames erupted from the smoke, igniting boards and licking their way toward the large rolls of hay dotting the surrounding fields.
Because Tucker was driving with his window down, his ears rang from the thunderous blast. It had been a close call. Too close for comfort, making a few things painfully clear. Number one, he was on the right trail. Number two, the thugs he was tracking knew he was on to them, and they wanted him dead.
A third thing was also becoming clear. The simple P.I. assignment that Lonestar Security thought they’d foisted on their newest recruit had taken a hard turn and merged with his undercover investigation for the FBI. There was noway it was a coincidence. It was all connected somehow, but he would worry about that later.
His biggest concern at the moment was Mallory’s safety. He sped toward the highway, hung a left, and set his course for Heart Lake. He needed to find a way to warn her, but how? Every time he raised questions about the Silva family, she went into full battle mode.
Come on, Tucker! Think!
As dangerous as it was to stop, he slowed his speed a few miles down the road and pulled over to the shoulder. Leaning over the console to the backseat of his dual cab, he rummaged through the backpack he’d brought along and pulled out a camera with a long-range lens.
Taking photos of the explosion from this distance would in no way encapsulate how close he’d come to losing his life only minutes earlier, but it was better than nothing. Mallory needed a visual. She needed proof.
He snapped dozens of photos of the plume of smoke and flames rising over the fields where Old Glory had been staying. Then he edited and cropped a few of them to ensure the lighting was right, air-dropped them to his cell phone, and texted them to her.
Old Glory was moved. Ranch is vacant. Someone torched it.
It was the longest text he’d ever sent her. Hopefully, that would count for something with her since she was forever verbally boxing his ears about not responding to her mountains of text messages.
She texted him back within seconds. His heart pounded with anticipation as he scanned her message.
I need answers, Tucker. Now!
He tipped his head back against the headrest in defeat. She was an impossible woman to please. It didn’t matter to her that he was a hundred miles from Heart Lake, his dog, and the small cabin he rented at Johnny’s Dairy. It didn’t even matter to her that he’d nearly lost his skin today. Eh, maybe he was being unfair about that part, since he hadn’t shared that detail with her. He wasn’t sure what had kept him from doing so…maybe to avoid looking weak in her eyes?
Her next text message came right on the heels of the first one and made his heart sink even lower.
If you don’t get me some answers soon, I’ll get them myself.
He rested the long-range camera on his knee, knowing full well it was her way of telling him that his assignment as her private investigator was on the line. She was losing confidence in him, and that rankled.
No, the FBI wouldn’t pull him from the case, but having limited access to Mallory could really cripple his efforts going forward. Only if she followed through with her threat, of course.
He would just have to find a way to convince her to keep him on the case. She didn’t know half of what was really going on. But if she did, everything he knew about her told him she could be reasoned with. Despite her snarky tongue and refusal to wear makeup, or maybe because of them, she was the most honest and genuine person he’d ever met. To the world, she might be nothing more than a short, dusty rancher. To him, she was perfect.
A rare stab of bitterness entered his chest. For years, his career had controlled his life. The next assignment was all he’d ever lived for, but it was suddenly no longer enough.He ached to have someone to share his innermost thoughts and feelings with. No, not just anyone. He wanted to share them with Mallory Evans.
He had no right to allow his thoughts to go that far down such an impossible path. A man like him couldn’t give a woman like her the future she deserved. She was better off without him. He believed that with all of his heart, but that didn’t mean he had to accept her poor opinion of him while sitting down. Nope. He would simply have to come up with a new plan and get back to work. One way or the other, he was still going to get her the justice she deserved.
He might not be moving at the speed she wanted, but it was because he was playing chess, not checkers. Tough cases like this weren’t closed overnight. They might never be wrapped up in a tidy bow with every loose end addressed. As the FBI chipped away at the many layers of this criminal organization, weaker players would be offered plea bargains to rat out bigger and stronger players. It was the only way to infiltrate the top of these dark empires.
And while guys like him played chess, innocent people like Mallory Evans got caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t fair.
Blowing out a breath of sheer frustration, he picked up his cell phone and dialed her.
“What now, Tucker?” she snapped into his ear.
