Desert Heat

Another joker. Yeah. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken this job, even if he did set himself up as a fool. Why was he always right?

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_57bb69ca-43cf-527b-be1c-3a5377eb1769)

MEG SAT IN the conference room with her team members, Bill, Jose and Mitchell, awaiting her boss and the Rattlesnake—Tico Butler’s nickname in the underground world, according to his profile.

She swallowed a gulp of coffee with disgust. Wasn’t it her bad luck that even though he arrived dressed like a clown riding down Main Street, Butler looked like someone she’d find attractive? She’d worried about that since seeing his photo. Almost forty years old, Butler had a tough look, his face chiseled by a life lived hard, but there was something strong, magnetic and downright sexy about the expression in his eyes in the profile photo. His features smacked of his Judumi heritage. Her family ranch sat adjacent to the Judumi reservation. She’d been friends with the tribe her entire life.

She’d learned that Tico Butler’s father had belonged to the Judumi tribe. Her most trusted teammate, Bill Mewith, was also from the Judumi and had been her childhood friend. She glanced at him sitting beside her now. He’d mentioned that he was curious about the tribesman they were about to meet who’d never known his heritage. Meg had always admired everything about the Judumi native culture. She might be Mexican-American, but she’d spent her childhood with her Judumi neighbors and felt like one of them.

Bill caught her glance. “So, what if we’re wrong about this guy, Butler? I could see my brother pulling a stunt like his this morning.”

At Bill’s words, Jose sat back in his chair as if expecting bullets to fly.

Palms flat on the table, Meg leaned closer to Bill. “After all we discussed, you’re caving?”

“Not caving, girl. We have a serious issue here. Maybe we should rethink our opinion of him.”

“Because he made an ass of himself for all to see?” She waved in the direction of the street. “You don’t know who he is. I do. I did my research. Did any of you? That whole show was to get you on his side. And you’re playing right into his hands.”

Jose whistled softly. “Cojones, man. His must be made of steel.”

Bill chuckled. “Especially with the way he was riding. An insult to his heritage, for sure.”

Meg cringed. She didn’t mind the slang. She minded that they were admiring Butler when they’d all agreed to be unified in their attempt to muscle him off the case.

“Look, I don’t argue that he’s probably good at what he does, but we don’t need him.”

Bill leaned toward her at eye level. “He took us by surprise with his antics. He’d probably be just as effective infiltrating a place we can’t get into.”

“Must have been quite an entrance. Sorry I missed it,” Mitchell said.

Meg swallowed her anger. “Look, he’ll be here any minute. I don’t want you wimping out on me when you were all outraged that we’d been circumvented. We can do this job without some city slicker.”

Mitchell cleared his throat. “We’ve been working to crack this ring for almost two years. It’s been a week since the latest women were taken, Meg. Not one stinking lead. We’ve probably already lost those three girls.”

“No!” Meg could feel her face flush. She didn’t like her emotional reaction one bit, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept the fact that the missing high school girls were gone for good. At least, not yet. Unsolved, the missing persons files could stay open forever. Meg didn’t want those ghosts haunting them. “I’m not willing to give up on these women yet, Mitchell. If they’ve been snatched by the cartel, too many bad things will happen to them. We have to keep looking.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But we’ve combed the county. What’s your next great idea?”

The sarcasm in his voice had the other men looking up. Easy girl, she told herself. Mitchell might be Longwood’s hired consultant, but he wasn’t hers. In her mind, he’d retired two years ago. He didn’t need to be here now. She took a slug of coffee and let the hot liquid burn down her throat. “Seems to me, Mitch, that generating great ideas is why you’re still here. You know? Resident expert? Why are you asking me?”

The room fell silent. Mitchell was the longest-standing detective in the precinct. Although he had retired two years ago, he kept coming back as a consultant because he’d experienced more stings and busts than any of them, at least until this latest cartel. The cartel operated along the border but had never intruded on Adobe Creek. Until now.

Mitchell slammed the table with his fist. “Well, little girl, I’ve run out of ideas this time. Maybe that’s why your daddy enlisted Tico Butler.”

Her father had brought Tico Butler on to the case? No. Eric Longwood had hired him. She wasn’t going to split hairs with the man who always tried to push her buttons.

Meg slid back her seat. “Daddy my ass, Mitchell. Maybe if you spent less time with your buddy Jack Daniel’s, you’d be clear enough to respect that kids like us know what we’re doing.”

Her accusation was like a bucket of ice water thrown on the room. Everyone knew Mitchell tipped the bottle now and then, but no one dared talk about his problem since he didn’t venture into the field anymore. After all, he was a legend in his own time. Now that he did mostly desk work, what did the occasional drink matter?

Bill held up both hands. “Dammit, you two. Enough! Nothing productive is coming from this argument.”

Meg blew out a breath. Bill was right. She let herself drop back into her chair. “See? The snake hasn’t even gotten here, and we’re sniping at each other. I’m not backing down.”

“We don’t have a choice, Meg. Butler is here,” Bill said. He leaned toward her. Speaking quietly, he pulled his usual stunt when he thought she was wrong. “I’ll bet fifty bucks you’re the first one who caves to this guy.”

She shook his hand, gripping it more tightly than normal. This was one bet he’d lose. “You’re on.”

Jose looked apologetic. “Mitchell is right, Meg. We have to listen to what Butler has to say. We’ve run out of leads.”

She pointed a finger at each of them. “If you think Tico Butler is useful, then you get what you need from him before I send him packing.” She looked each man in the eye. “Are we all agreed on this?”

Bill nodded. “Might take longer than one meeting, but I get your drift.”

Jose held up a hand. “You’re the boss.”

Mitchell shook his head. “Good luck with that one.”

That was all she’d get out of Mitchell. She didn’t expect much else.

She listened with half an ear to Jose and Bill making small talk with Mitchell, which was pretty much the routine for clearing the air after a heated exchange. Football. The latest drug bust. But, now that she’d had an exchange with Butler, all she could think about was how to keep her balance and stand her ground, even if the others disagreed. Butler’s stunt with the horse was nothing any of them had expected. More reason to run his unwanted help out of town. A lot was at stake here. She wasn’t about to let an outsider screw things up, no matter what his reputation.

She addressed Mitchell. “What do you say we let Eric and Butler do all the talking before giving our input?”

Mitchell shrugged. “That’ll do.”

She sensed motion in the hallway outside the conference room windows. She sucked in a fortifying breath to settle her heart rate when Tico Butler looked right back at her.

“Okay, guys. Here comes trouble.”

* * *

PLASTERING A SERIOUS look on his face after joking with the amused officer at the desk, Tico followed the officer’s directions to the conference room down the hall. The blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows were open. He registered the scene with a glance.

Meg Flores, her two teammates and Mitchell Blake were seated around the fake wood table, a pitcher of water, glasses and manila files on the table. An empty whiteboard filled the wall behind the head of the table. A red light blinked on a coffeemaker holding a freshly brewed pot.

From reading their profiles, Tico knew that Bill Mewith was the Judumi Indian seated next to Meg, his hair hanging in a braid down his back. Jose Lopez sat drumming his fingers on the table. Mitchell Blake looked worse than his profile picture. Stress lines around his eyes and mouth, faded red hair and the start of a paunch at his waistline made him look world-weary and badly in need of exercise. Tico had read that they were all good at their jobs. Right now, they all looked pissed as they watched him pass the window.

Exhaling a long breath, Tico was about to push through the door when someone called his name. He recognized Eric Longwood heading toward him. He was taller and rangier than he’d expected from the face-to-face Skype conversations they’d had last week. With blond hair in need of a trim, and a mustache that could rival any biker’s, Longwood was as distinguished as his light blue eyes, intent and intelligent.

Eric held out a hand. “Nice to finally meet you in person. Welcome.”

Tico let a grin play across his face. “I managed to arrive alive.”

Longwood motioned to his clothes. “What’s with the getup?”

“Trying to ruin my reputation.”