Cheyenne McCray - Point Blank (Lawmen Book 4) (6 page)

He shifted in his seat. “That must have been scary as hell.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She gave a little smile. “It does make for some interesting dinner conversation.”

“That’s the truth.” He looked up as the server arrived with their drinks on a tray that she held in one hand.

Katy set a cocktail napkin and the mojito on the table between Brooks and Natasha, then another napkin and the Maker’s Mark close to Brooks. Katy looked at Natasha. “Sweet enough to put you into a diabetic coma.” She flicked her gaze from Natasha to Brooks and back. “Appetizers?”

“I haven’t even glanced at the menu.” Natasha cocked her head to the side. “Do you have a cheese and cracker plate?”

Katy held the tray in front of her. “It includes prosciutto.”

“I’m starving.” Natasha put one hand over her belly. “I’ll have an order of that—but minus the meat. I’m a vegetarian.”

Brooks wasn’t surprised that Natasha didn’t eat meat.

Katy turned to him. He’d scanned the menu as Natasha told the server what she wanted. He ordered a plate of garlic fries. The server smiled and promised to return with their orders shortly.

Brooks turned his gaze back to Natasha as she sipped her mojito. “What happened the day of Christie and Trace’s wedding?”

“Oh, that.” Natasha picked up her mojito. “I was driving around the roundabout.” There was only one in Bisbee, so Brooks knew what she was referring to. “I missed a yield sign and flew right into the path of a big truck with tires practically as high as the top of my car.”

“Damn,” Brooks said as Natasha sipped her drink. “I seem to remember Christie saying you broke your leg.”

“Shattered the bones in my lower leg. It wasn’t pretty.” Natasha shook her head. “I’m just grateful no one else was hurt.” She looked a little sheepish. “The driver of the truck was pretty ticked off at me until he saw how badly the driver’s side door was smashed in and how I was pinned inside.” She sighed. “Of course my insurance paid for everything and my rates jumped even higher.”

“I take it you’ve had other accidents.” Brooks raised the Maker’s Mark.

“Bizarre things happen around me—I seem to draw them like a magnet.” She changed her voice to sound like an announcer at a football game. “Natasha ninety-two. Chance eight.”

Brooks almost spewed the sip of his drink at the way she said it. He recovered and swallowed before he laughed.

“Grandfather once said to me, ‘Natasha, you might as well never play the lottery.’” Natasha smiled. “I said, ‘Why, Grandpa?’ and he replied with ‘You waste all of your good luck getting out of all of your bad luck.’”

Natasha smiled as she continued. “I prefer to think of them as educational experiences, not bad luck.”

Brooks grinned. Natasha was engaging and amusing and he realized he was enjoying her company too much.

Was this woman knowingly trafficking drugs?

Maybe she was just a damned good actress.

One way or another, he would find out, and he would do whatever had to be done.

She smiled at him and it was like sunshine warming his body from head to toe. His chest felt tight. He didn’t know how the hell he was going to handle this case with the way she made things stir within him.

Her attention turned from him to the people around them, as if she was searching for someone. Was she?

He watched her, and she looked like she was deep inside her thoughts. In her eyes, he saw the same expression of concentration and insecurity he had noticed earlier in the surveillance photos. It touched him in a way he didn’t want to be touched.

The evidence pointed toward her guilt, he reminded himself. Like what had been found in the statuettes with her fingerprints all over them.

It would break Christie’s heart. After all that Christie had been through with her ex-husband who had laundered money for the cartel, why would Natasha become involved with those bastards?

Many a formerly good person ended up on the wrong path. And whether or not she had started out as a good person, the proof of her involvement now pointed in the opposite direction.

Katy showed up with the cheese plate and garlic fries. When the server left, Natasha turned her brilliant smile to Brooks. “Isn’t Trace and Christie’s baby the sweetest thing ever?”

A grin came easy to Brooks as his thoughts rested on the adorable little one who had enchanted every person who met her. “She is a cute one.”

“As Jessica grows up, Christie and Trace will teach her to call me Auntie Natasha even though I’m not her real aunt.” She picked up a piece of sliced cheese and a cracker. “I’m not sure I’ll ever have kids of my own, so I’ll live vicariously through them.”

“You don’t want children?” Brooks ate a garlic fry.

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know if I’m the mothering type.” She shrugged. “I do enjoy being around them, as long as I can give them back to their parents.”

With Natasha’s sparkling personality, Brooks thought she’d be a great mother. “You might surprise yourself.”

“Maybe.” She ate another cracker and piece of cheese, looking thoughtful again. “You know all about my small family. Tell me about yours.”

“It’s not small.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “A large immediate family and an even larger extended family.”

She looked intrigued. “How many sisters and brothers?”

“Six sisters,” he said. “My parents are each from large families, too. My dad is one of seven and my mother is one of eight.”

“Holy cow.” Natasha’s eyes grew wide. “I think it would be cool to have a large family. Can I borrow some of yours?”

Brooks laughed. “Any time.”

She grinned. “What was it like growing up with
six
sisters?”

“It wasn’t a picnic.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. “They’re all great ladies.” His smile faded. “My oldest sister, Kelly, passed away several years ago.” He couldn’t restrain the tension in his voice but hoped it didn’t show anger.

“I’m so sorry.” Natasha’s compassion was clear in her expression and voice. “May I ask what happened?”

He was quiet a moment and almost absently brushed the survival bracelet with the pads of his fingers. “Kelly became involved with some bad people tied to a Mexican cartel, and ended up dying of an overdose.”

“I can’t imagine what you all must have gone through.” Natasha laid her fingers on the paracord bracelet. “She gave this to you.”

He looked at her, caught off guard. “How did you guess?”

Natasha ran her thumb over the woven brown and black cord. “You touched it while you were talking about her, and I could see it in your eyes.”

“I miss her like hell,” he said.

“It was hard losing my uncle.” Natasha shook her head. “Losing Christie would be even harder. We’re more like sisters than cousins.” Natasha cleared her throat. “She said you were shot while protecting her. Everyone is grateful to you, including me.”

“I would rather have been shot than see Christie get hurt.” His shoulder twinged whenever he thought of the incident. “But I just happened to be in the way of the bullet.”

“You’re being modest.” Natasha shook her head. “If you hadn’t been there, that bullet could have reached her.”

He chose to eat a few more fries instead of answering, and chased it down with the last of his drink.

Natasha leaned forward. He had a feeling there was never a lull in conversation with her personality. “What kind of training are you doing up here?”

“Drug trafficking and hunting down the sources.” He said it casually, but watched her for any change in expression and saw what looked like a flash of anger in her eyes.

“Christie said you work with Trace for the Department of Homeland Security in the ICE division. Is the loss of your sister, which you said was tied to a drug cartel, the reason you decided to work in ICE?” She asked with no uncertainty in her words, as if she was already sure of the answer.

He continued to study her. “You are naturally intuitive.”

“Yes, I am.” She sipped her drink before setting it down. “A lot of drugs come across the border in Arizona, don’t they?” She looked so damned innocent as she took a small bite of a cracker. “I’ve heard Nogales is one of the biggest entry points in the U.S.”

“That’s true.” Her question put him on alert. “A good deal comes over the border, but we take down more than gets past us. Eventually we track down the source.”

The only reaction he saw was a keen thoughtfulness along with the appearance of anger at the drug traffickers.

“I haven’t been in Bisbee long enough to know much about it, but I seem to remember something about a tunnel somewhere near town.” She said the words as if she truly wasn’t the least bit concerned that she would be caught doing anything illegal. If she was involved with the cartel, she was a fantastic actress.

“Yep.” He continued to study her. He saw nothing but genuine interest in her gaze. “More than a hundred tunnels have been found leading from Mexico to the U.S. since 1990.”

“I had no idea there were so many.” Her eyes widened. “I hope you find them all.” Her expression changed and hardened. “Those traffickers are responsible for a lot of bad things happening to good people.” The cracker broke in her grip. “Like your sister.”

She was so adamant in her tone that it flashed through his mind that she could be innocent. He pushed the thought away.

Evidence pointed in the other direction and he couldn’t let himself be swayed by what could be a pretty woman’s excellent acting skills. Not to mention a great pair of breasts.

Christ.

“What do you sell at the tradeshow?” He ate fries and centered his thoughts as he waited for her to respond.

“Mostly good quality pieces of art.” She picked up another cracker along with a piece of cheese and paused. “Although my supplier sends me these resin statuettes that are kind of ugly. It’s crazy how well they sell. I wouldn’t put them with the rest of my art if they didn’t bring in so much money. I make a lot of profit on them and they help keep me in business.”

Brooks listened to the inflection in her voice and saw the dislike in her eyes. Was it for the statuettes or the man who provided them to her? “Who’s your supplier?”

“His name is Mark Okle.” Natasha pushed her hair over one shoulder. “Nice guy.”

Like hell.
Brooks had to keep a pissed-off expression from showing on his face. “How did you meet him?”

“He came into Precious Treasures not long after I opened the store.” She crossed her legs in the opposite way. “He had some great works of art to sell on commission, and I decided to work with him.”

Brooks liked the way her legs looked as she crossed them, and had to force himself to focus. “You took on those statuettes he wanted you to sell even though you don’ like them?”

“Mark didn’t give me a sample of those until my first event. He convinced me to take them to the tradeshow, certain they would be an easy sell.” She started bouncing her foot again. “He was right. First buyer who came in saw the display models and bought the whole lot.”

“How many?” Brooks asked.

“Two crates, which is fifty of the things.” She sighed. “This time Mark sent four crates. I told him he’d have to take back any that didn’t sell, but he’s confident they will.” She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Brooks mentally calculated how much cocaine a hundred statuettes could contain. If they had as much coke as was stuffed into each of the two that had come into Federal agents’ hands, it was a hell of a lot. He had to admit it was a brilliant way to traffic product. Sell it inside works of art at tradeshows across the country—business could go anywhere she did.

He set his jaw.
Sonofabitch.

“From what I’ve gathered from other law enforcement officers, what you do is both challenging and rewarding.” She brought him out of his thoughts and his attention back to her. “And tough, too,” she added.

“My job has its ups and downs.” He didn’t want to talk about himself but what better way to gain her confidence to get close to Okle’s operation? “Some things are rewarding, when I can make a difference. Other things…” He shrugged. “Not so pleasant.”

“I can see that being the case.” She continued bouncing her foot. She had the manner of someone ready to jump up and run, like she could barely sit still. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was ADHD. “You must see a lot of bad things happen.”

“To good and bad people.” He spoke quietly. “And some people who appear to be good, but aren’t even close to that.”

“You look at things in black and white.” She studied him, here expression thoughtful. “They are either good or bad in your book. You’re on the cynical side, too.”

He shrugged. “Not everyone is who you think they are.”

“I’ll give you that.” She nodded slowly. “But I think it works both ways. You could think someone is bad when they’re actually a good person.”

“It happens.” He tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm. “But that’s a rarity.”

“I guess you have to be somewhat cynical in your profession.” She looked like she was working it over in her mind. “Most LE officers seem to feel that they’re bulletproof, too.”

“You have some experience with people in LE.” He already knew that, but could see it in her eyes, too.

“For a while I worked as a dispatcher for the local PD in my home town in Indiana.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “And my Uncle Dexter, who helped raise me, was a police officer.” Her voice grew a little husky. “He acted like he was bulletproof, but he wasn’t. He died in the line of duty.”

“That’s a damned shame.” Brooks hated to hear of anyone in law enforcement being killed on the job.

“Yeah, it is.” She sighed. “It was a very long time ago, but I miss him. A lot.”

“I’ll bet you do.” He found himself feeling sorry for what she’d been through in her life, already knowing some of her background. He had to remind himself that she could be playing up his feelings.

“He was a good man.” She gave a sad smile. “He tried to teach me to be wary of strangers, but I’m just not as cynical as he was. I find it difficult to think that way.”

After talking with Natasha, Brooks wasn’t surprised. “How do you judge people you meet?”

“I don’t.” She shrugged. “I see the best in people unless they prove to be other than a good person. If they show me that they aren’t who they presented themselves to be, then I sever ties and move on. Until then, people deserve to be treated with respect and trust.”