Fearless

“Serves him right,” Haynes muttered.

“Oh, it gets worse,” Marquez added with a grin. “Remember Joceline Perry, who works for Garon Grier and one of the other local FBI agents? They gave Jon’s work to her.”

“Oh, dear,” Haynes murmured.

Joceline was something of a local legend among administrative assistants. She was known for her cutting wit and refusal to do work she considered beneath her position. She would drive Jon Blackhawk up the wall on a good day. God only knew what she’d do to him after the other secretary quit.

“Poor guy,” Glory murmured. But she grinned.

Haynes glanced at Glory with a worried look. “What are you going to do on the farm? You wouldn’t dare go out and hoe in the fields, would you?”

“Of course not,” Glory assured her. “I can can.”

“You can what?” Haynes frowned.

“You have heard of canning?” Glory replied. “It’s how you put up fruits and vegetables so that they don’t spoil. I can do jam and jelly and pickles and all sorts of stuff.”

Marquez raised an eyebrow. “My mother used to do it, but her hands aren’t what they used to be. It’s an art.”

“A valuable skill,” Glory said smugly.

“You’ll need to wear jeans and look less elegant,” Marquez told her. “No suits on the farm.”

“I lived in Jacobsville when I was a child,” Glory reminded him with a forced smile, without going into detail. Marquez was old enough to have known about Glory’s ordeal. Of course, a lot of people didn’t, even there. “I can fit in.”

“Then you’ll go?” Marquez persisted.

Glory sat back against the desk. She was outnumbered and outgunned. They were probably right. San Antonio was a big city, but she’d been in the same apartment building for two years and everyone who lived there knew her. She’d be easy to find if someone asked the right questions. If she got herself killed, Fuentes would walk, and more people would be butchered in his insane quest for wealth.

If her doctor was right—and he was a very good doctor—the move right now might save her life, such as it was. She couldn’t admit how frightened she was about his prognosis. Not to anyone. Tough girls like Glory didn’t whine about their burdens.

“What about Jason and Gracie?” she blurted out suddenly.

“Jason’s already hired a small army of bodyguards,” Marquez assured her. “He and Gracie will be fine. It’s you they’re worried about. All of us are worried about you.”

She drew in a long breath. “I guess a bulletproof vest and a Glock wouldn’t convince you to let me stay here?”

“Fuentes has bullets that penetrate body armor, and nobody outside a psycho ward would give you a gun.”

“All right,” she said heavily. “I’ll go. Do I have to ramrod this farm?”

“No, Jason’s put in a manager.” He frowned. “Odd guy. He isn’t from Texas. I don’t know where Jason found him. He’s…” He started to say that the manager was one of the most unpleasant, taciturn people he’d ever met, despite the fact that the farm workers liked him. But it might not be the best time to say it. “He’s very good at managing people,” Marquez said instead.

“As long as he doesn’t try to manage me, I guess it’s okay,” she said.

“He won’t know anything about you, except what Jason tells him,” he assured her. “Jason won’t have told him about why you’re there, and you can’t, either. Apparently the manager’s just had some sort of blow in his life, too, and he’s taken the job to get himself over it.”

“A truck farm,” she murmured.

“I know where there’s an animal shelter,” Marquez replied whimsically. “They need someone to feed the lions.”

She glared at him. “With my luck, they’d try to feed me to the lions. No, thanks.”

“This is for your own good,” Marquez said quietly. “You know that.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is.” She moved away from the desk. “My whole life, I’ve been forced to run away from problems. I’d hoped that this time, at least, I could stand and deliver.”

“Neat phrasing,” Marquez mused. “Would you like to borrow my sword?”

She gave him a keen glance. “Your mother should never have given you that claymore,” she told him. “You’re very lucky that the patrol officer could be convinced to drop the charges.”

He looked affronted. “The guy picked the lock on my apartment door and let himself in. When I woke up, he was packing my new laptop into a book bag for transport!”

“You have a sidearm,” she pointed out.

He glowered at her. “I forgot and left it locked in the pocket of my car that night. But the sword was mounted right over my bed.”

“They say the thief actually jumped out the window when he brandished that huge weapon,” Glory told Haynes, who grinned.

“My apartment is on the ground floor,” Marquez informed them.

“Yes, but you were chasing the thief down the street in your…” She cleared her throat. “Well, you were out of uniform.”

“I got arrested for streaking,” Marquez muttered. “Can you believe that?”

“Of course I can! You were naked!” Glory replied.

“How I sleep has nothing to do with the fact that the guy was robbing me! At least I got him down and immobilized by the time the squad car spotted me.” He shook his head. “I told the arresting officer who I was, and he asked to see my badge.”

Glory put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Did you tell him where it was?” Haynes asked.

“I told him where he could put it if he didn’t arrest the burglar.” He moved restlessly. “Anyway, another squad car pulled up behind him, and it was an officer who knew me.”

“A female officer,” Glory told Haynes, with glee.

Marquez’s high cheekbones actually seemed to flush. “The burglar’s tote came in handy,” he murmured. “At least I got to ride back to my apartment. But the story got out from the night shift, and by the next afternoon, I was a minor celebrity.”

“What a pity you didn’t get caught by the squad car’s camera,” Haynes giggled. “They could have featured you on that TV show, Cops.”

He glared at her. “I was robbed!”

“Well, he didn’t actually get to keep anything he took, did he?” Haynes asked.

“He fell on my new laptop when I tackled him,” Marquez scoffed. “Trashed the hard drive. I lost all my files.”

“Never heard of backing up with hard copy, I guess?” Glory queried.