“Does she realize the kid is in serious danger?”
“Yes, but she’s a local cop, sort of, so she thinks she can handle it on her own.”
Roman gripped the steering wheel. “Sort of a local cop?”
“She’s a crime scene photographer.”
“What the fuck is that? Some made up job?”
“It’s a job, but she has this with a flair for weaponry.” His memory went back to the pistol she brandished.
“You sound like you admire her.”
“We connected,” he felt his head nod at the memory of just how well they connected.
“Spare me the details,” Roman groaned. “Where are we headed now?”
They passed the interstate. “A place called Little Mexico.”
“Great place for some tamales.”
“I’m not hungry,” Dante mumbled seconds before slamming his hand against the dashboard to brace himself. He glanced out at the side rearview mirror to see if they’d run over something or got a flat tire. The road was empty and tires fine. “What the hell?”
Frozen, Roman’s foot remained on the brakes. “You’re not hungry? When in the hell are you not hungry?”
The sweet taste of the sugary doughnuts lingered on his lips; he licked them and remembered the last thing he tasted was Harley. His body stiffened beneath his new pair of jeans and he wondered when his body would tire of hers. “I ate before I left the house.”
“Spare me the details,” his friend chuckled, “but I would like to go on record and be the first to say you’re in love.”
“Please,” Dante chuckled this time. “I met a hot chick who is the key to getting one step closer to putting a bullet in Leonardo’s head.”
“Do you think the kid recognized anyone in the lineup?”
Dante shrugged. “I didn’t get a vibe when I first spoke with him, but in retrospect he may have recognized Christopher Alfaro.”
“Geez-zus, Dante, is being down in the South affecting your abilities?”
Using the headrest, Dante banged his head. Something was off with him. He’d been off his game since Harley. “I’m not saying he did pick him out.”
?
?Well, there are two drug lords in Little Mexico. Let’s say your suspect goes off and tries to play vigilante, depending on if he gets himself killed or not, it is possible he could start a drug war. Alfaro comes pretty protected. I think Tito’s working an angle.”
“Well,” Dante blew out a burp of indigestion. “Ask me if I care if a bunch of gangbangers get killed.”
“What happens when he accidentally kills innocent bystanders in between?” Roman raised his right brow and cast a glance over toward Dante. An ominous gray cloud hovered over the car. “We usually handle international terrorists, but these drug lords are very territorial too. Just like the folks in the Middle East don’t care about collateral damage, neither do they.”
Guiltily, Dante banged his head again. “Could be Leonardo’s plan all along. Maybe he wants to gain access to the grounds down here and figures partnering up with Alfaro will help.”
“Why here? STB has an office here. There’s Florida Department of Law Enforcement, Tallahassee Police Department, FDLE, TPD and the Florida Bureau of Investigations.”
After years of chasing Leonardo, Dante was beginning to think like him too, and it scared him. “What better way to hide than in plain sight? Lots of ports of entry.”
“Including Villa San Juan,” Roman added. Dante did not like the idea of Roman’s family home being threatened by Leonardo’s handiwork. Pedro Torres, Roman’s father, opened his doors for the team and welcomed them to recover during furloughs, with or without Roman.
Whatever the crazy case, Dante refused to let anything happen to his beloved home away from home. “I’ll stop him before he steps foot on the bridge.”
“So tell me more about this woman, Suzuki?”