“My shift starts at two this afternoon, so at least by noon.”
“I don’t think you need to be working right now.” Chuck’s tone was stern. “We need to keep our eyes on you.”
She smiled. “Overprotective looks good on you, Mr. Covington. I’ll be fine at the diner. You can stay there if you want for my whole shift, but I doubt the cartel would make a move in broad daylight in such a public place with so many people.”
“Don’t forget about the car that nearly ran you over, honey.” Lance looked quite serious. “That was broad daylight, too.”
“You’re right, but I can’t let Carlotta down. She’s done so much for me.”
Lance cleared the dishes. “We’ll make sure she’s not left hanging.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Chuck wiped the table. God, she enjoyed being pampered by him and Lance. “But I do agree with you that you need to talk to the sheriff again. We’ll get you there safe and sound.”
She stood to help finish cleaning up the meal, but both of them motioned for her to stay put. Their take-charge demeanors spoke to her deeply. They’re quite the duo. She couldn’t help but like them, and the truth was, she could feel her heart warming even more to them every second she was with them.
“I’m going to check the perimeter, Chuck.” Lance grabbed his gun, reminding her how dangerous her current situation was.
“I’ll stay with Danielle, but we’ll make sure all the locks on the windows and doors are secure.”
If Miguel did find her, with the help of the cartel, at least she wouldn’t be alone. She would be with Lance and Chuck, her bodyguards. Knowing that made her feel a little better, but she prayed the bastard would never find her. The chances she wouldn’t have to face him were slim. The cartel was helping Miguel. Why? What lies had he told them about her to enlist their aid?
An image of her mother floated in the back of her mind. Had she gone to prison, too? Where was she? Was her mother with Miguel still? She’d never bothered to check, trying to completely separate herself from that life.
* * * *
Miguel Soto parked the Harley he’d stolen two days ago in front of the coin-op Laundromat. He walked in and looked at the man behind the desk. He’d been one of the few trusted friends of Miguel’s before he’d gone to prison.
“Hey, Soliz.”
“Miguel, I’m glad you got out. All the old gang heard about your call to your cousin.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. To see Ricardo.”
Soliz smiled. “He’s expecting you.”
“I heard things had changed.”
“Some good and some bad, Miguel. Your cousin is top of the food chain these days.” Soliz shrugged and then leaned forward. “Everyone will be glad to see you.”
“I’ve got some business to attend to, but tell them I will be contacting them soon.”
“Just like the old days. Perfecto. I think you’ll like what we’ve done for you while you were away.” The man looked around and whispered. “You have many supporters.”
“You’re a true friend, Soliz.” Miguel walked to the door, passing the women who were folding their clothes. Several young children were running around. One nearly knocked into him. If he’d been somewhere else, he wouldn’t have thought twice to kick the little bastard. But Gomez Washateria was just another front for the Rio Grande cartel, which controlled all the trafficking in the entire Southwest, so he plastered a smile on his face.
He looked at the sign on the door, which read “Employees Only.” He pushed it open and came face-to-face with two men carrying assault rifles, neither of whom he recognized. Ricardo’s men.
“Manos a la cabeza,” the taller of the two ordered.
He complied, placing his hands on his head. They frisked him and removed his pistol.
They led him to another door. The shorter man knocked.
“Come.” A voice he hadn’t heard in years came through the door.
They opened it and he walked in and saw Ricardo Delgado, the capo of the most powerful cartel in the States. “Hola, cousin.”
“Hello, Ricardo. I’m glad to be talking to you instead of your underlings.”