Trouble With the Law (27 page)

“How do you think you’re going to do that?”

“Who was the lead dog at the FBI?  The person you were working with that got you out of prison early?”

“Susan Whitmore, SAIC at the Dallas office,” he replied.  “Why?”

“Because I’m sure she would be very interested in what I’ve found.  Interested enough to drop the charges against you in exchange for that information.  It would save her a helluva lot of time.  I’m sure she has egg on her face for the cluster fuck that happened out at that ranch.  I can make her look like a superstar.”

From what he knew of her, Susan Whitmore was a glory hound.  Always looking for kudos from her superiors.  A
career woman so driven by that motivation she steamrolled most of the men who worked for her.  Her agents were terrified of her.  A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth.  Sort of like Ronnie Winters times ten.  Trace would love to be a fly on the wall if those two women ever met.  But if he was, he was sure the sparks those two set off of each other would zap him like a bug zapper.

Ronnie’s hand slid up to his shoulder, then she cupped his jaw and ran her thumb over his lips.  “I love it when you smile
.  Always have,” she said surprising him.  “You used to smile a lot.  I want you to be able to do that again.”

“Haven’t had a lot to smile about in a long time
,” he replied gruffly.

“And that’s my fault.  You’re a good man who got a raw
deal.  Helping men like you is my specialty.”  Her thumb made another pass over his mouth, her eyes followed it across his lips and his heart kicked in his chest.  In the dim light from the bathroom across the room, Trace watched her tongue make the same pass over her plump lips. 

He’d learned his lesson about trusting Ronnie Winters’ promises the hard way.  Should remember that
lesson.  But another specialty of hers was inciting men to want to fuck her blind evidently.  Because that is exactly what he wanted to do right then.  Fuck Ronnie Winters until she couldn’t walk. 

Ronnie leaned closer, slid her fingers into his hair and his scalp tingled.
  Her lips hovered near his, then she made a tentative slide of her mouth over his.  Trace stifled the moan that shot up to his vocal chords. 

“
I want to put that sexy smile on your face again for good,” she said, rubbing her hips against his suggestively.  “Make love to me,” she invited in between small kisses to the corners of his mouth.  When her hand slid between them to cup his erection, Trace’s body jerked and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  The slight pain in his side was nothing compared to the pain Ronnie was causing him now.

“Not a good idea, Red,” he said stepping back. 

Her former boyfriend was in a room right down the hall most likely.  His mother and Lou Ellen were too.  Yeah, he wanted Ronnie Winters badly, but he wasn’t going to have her with an audience present.

“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time,” she argued stepping toward him again.

He held up a hand.  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you, Ronnie,” Trace said adjusting himself.  “It’s pretty obvious I do.  But I’m not going to make lov—have
sex
with you with a house full of people around in the middle of this mess.”

“So, if I get rid of them?”
Ronnie asked hopefully.  “Solve this mess?”

“I’ll think about it.”
  Trace had a lot of thinking to do where Ronnie Winters was concerned.   The woman he thought was as tough as any man mentally was fast showing him there was a lot more to her than he thought.  She was hard and abrasive at times, but she had a soft side too.  One he was having a hard time ignoring or denying existed.

Ronnie gave a little indignant snort and stiffened her shoulders as she stepped back.  “Well don’t hurt yourself doing that,” she said in a slightly injured tone.  “I’m not going to beg you.  I’m not that hard up,
” her eyes made a pass over his body and she curled her lip.  “And frankly you’re not that special.” 

His rejection had evidently dragged the Shark Lady back into the room.
  She was trying to hurt him like he had evidently hurt her.  He hadn’t meant his words to hurt her, or insult her.  But it was obvious that is exactly what he’d done.  “C’mon, Red.  You know you want me too.  I’m just not sure we should go there again.  I don’t want to lead you on.”

 
Her eyebrows lifted, and Trace didn’t miss the flush that crept up her neck.  “Well, you won’t have to worry about that.  You’re right, we shouldn’t go there again.  I don’t know what I was thinking,” Ronnie said with a shake of her head.  “It wasn’t even good the first or second time we went there, and I’m not a believer in the third time’s a charm.” She turned toward the door and grabbed the knob.  “You just give me the two weeks you promised me to gather the evidence, and we’ll be even.  After that you can go fuck someone who has lower expectations, or better yet—go fuck yourself.”  With that parting shot, she jerked the door open and walked out slamming it behind her.

Trace stood there staring at the door, stunned that
Ronnie had gone from
make love to me
to
go fuck yourself
in less than thirty seconds.    Thank god her alter ego had emerged again.  The Shark Lady was easier to deal with.   He could keep his distance from her with no problem.  Hopefully that woman would stick around.  It would make leaving in two weeks a helluva lot easier for him.  If he lasted that long.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

On Friday
afternoon, Trace stood outside the lodge beside the long, dark van that would take the ten illegal women off of his hands.  He had never been more glad to see anyone in his life than he had Maria Sanchez the coordinator from the women’s shelter.  Taking care of ten females who were little more than children, teenagers, was not an easy job.  His mother had taken over most of the job, but she had only raised a son.  Even she was at the end of her rope.

Ronnie had delayed them leaving by questioning the woman intensely in Spanish.  The
two women had talked for nearly an hour, until Ronnie finally seemed satisfied.  Trace hadn’t understood half of what they said.  Ronnie had just gone to go get the women from the cabin in the woods, and Trace had a few questions of his own.  In English.

“So, you say they’ll receive job training, before they go back to Mexico?” Trace asked with concern.  If that didn’t happen all he’d done would be for naught.

“Sí…um, yes.  If we can find them a job here, we will help them apply for a work visa, if not, at least when they get back home they will be able to work.”

“And until then they’ll be taken care of properly?” he asked studying her.

“Yes, we will feed and clothe them.  Educate them.”

“Who funds all this?” he asked.

“Well, we have a lot of anonymous donors, mostly from the Latin community.  Some politicians donate too, but most don’t want to be identified. Supporting illegal immigration is such a controversial subject in the state…”

“Is Leland Rooks one of your contributors?” Trace asked
quickly.

Her dark eyebrows lifted.  “Senator Rooks?”
She laughed and Trace nodded.  “No, he is a vocal opponent of new immigration laws.  And of our humanitarian efforts to help these women.”

He would be, Trace thought.  Supporting change, or funding organizations like this would hurt his human trafficking business. 

“Oh!” Maria said suddenly and her eyebrows lifted higher.  “You are his son.  I didn’t make the connection until now.  I thought you were…”

“Dead?” Trace filled in
, because she hadn’t asked him if he was Leland’s son, she already knew.  His unthinking question had connected him to his father.

“Yes.  I saw him on television last night talking about it.  They found your motorcycle in a creek,” she informed as if he didn’t know that.

Trace had to try and backpeddle, or at least cover his ass.  “It’s complicated, Maria. I wanted to help the women, but nobody can know I’m here, or alive.”

She frowned and her eyebrows drew together over her dark eyes, but she nodded. 
“I will keep it quiet, but you should call your father.  We’re not on the same side of the fight, but he seemed so sad on television last night.” Trace didn’t miss the undercurrent of reprimand in her voice.

Leland wasn’t sad, he was probably
very relieved.  But he was one of the best actors Trace had ever seen.  He knew just how to pander to his constituents.  Playing the role of the grieving father was expected, and he always gave his public what they wanted.

“I’ll deal with my father, I promise.”

“Good.  And I promise I’ll take care of the women you saved.  And keep my mouth shut.  I’m good at that,” she said with a laugh.

Trace heard voices echoing through the woods sprinkled with girlish giggles.  He turned that way and saw Ronnie lead the more petite women out of the woods like a mother duck leading ducklings.  The
women followed her across the yard to the van then stopped.  All of them stared at him with soft smiles on their tan faces. 

One separated from the pack and walked up to him.  He stiffened when she put her arms around his waist
hugged him.  “Gracias,” she said softly then stepped back.  Another separated from the group and followed her lead.  The rest followed suit, until they had all hugged him and thanked him. 

Trace had to clear his throat, before he could manage, “De nada.”

Maria opened the side door of the van and Ronnie hugged each girl, as they stepped inside.  When Maria closed the door, Ronnie hugged her tightly and told her she would be in touch in Spanish.  Trace understood, and wondered why Ronnie felt the need to contact her again.  Maybe she was planning to check in on them to see how they were doing.  That thought and the hugging made him uncomfortable, because it was further illustrated to him that Ronnie Winters was a soft, caring woman.

As she stood beside him and watched the van disappear into the road between the trees, he looked at her and said, “Thanks for helping with them, Red.”

“I didn’t do it to help you.  I wanted—want to help them,” she informed shortly.

Shortness is all he’d gotten from her since the other night in the bedroom. 
Her attitude was practically glacial toward him now.  Yeah, it helped him keep his hands off of her, and so did avoiding her by staying in his room.  But all that did was give him too much time to think.  And worry.  The two times he’d wandered into the dining room to ask what they had found in those files all she’d given him was vague answers. 

Now that
the women were gone, and Ray Brown was in custody, with the exception of Leland, his obstructions to leaving were gone.  Knowing Leland, he would come out smelling like a rose.  Dave hadn’t been able to get Ray Brown to talk before he turned him over to the Rangers.  He thought Leland was going to get him out of the situation, and he could well be right there.  But Trace knew firsthand that Leland took care of himself first.  If push came to shove, he would throw Ray Brown under the bus in a heartbeat.

  Trace had given Ronnie two weeks,
she’d used only one week of that now, but he needed to either start seeing that she was making progress, or he needed to make plans to leave.  Wasting time here wasn’t going to do him a damned bit of good.  He felt sure Dave would agree, and would help him regardless of whether he stayed the full two weeks. 

“What have you found in the files so far?”

“A good bit,” she replied with a tight smile.

“That’s not good enough to keep me here,” he said knowing that would get a rise out of her.  “I
need to know what’s going on.”

“Too bad.  Leave if you want, and I will too
,” she said with a shrug as she spun on her heel toward the house. 

Her foot was on the first step of the porch when he grabbed her arm.
  “Dammit, talk to me.  I need to know what you found.”

“I’ll let you know when I know. 
Your mother, Lou Ellen and I have been working our asses off to piece things together.  If you don’t have faith that we’ll figure this out, I can’t stop you from leaving.”

“
What is Conner doing?” he asked.  Trace hadn’t seen him around all day.

She shrugged again.  “
I sent him back to town to pull the files from the Coroner’s office on Sean’s autopsy.  He forgot to get those on the first go round.”

“They know he was pulling those files!” Trace shouted and she jumped.

She unfolded her arms, and her amber eyes filled with concern.  “Who knows?”

“Leland and Talmedge Bartlett!
  And I’m sure the partners in your firm know now too,” Trace said with a frustrated sigh.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?” she asked.

Trace shook his head at their lack of communication.  “I thought Dave told you.  He thinks both you and Conner should stay here until you finish your investigation.”

“Dave knows too?” she
asked in a voice an octave higher than normal.

“He’s the one who told me.”

“He hasn’t been around here enough in the last few days to tell me anything.  How did you think we were going to communicate, telepathy?  I don’t have a phone remember?”

Frustration and irritation built inside of his chest.  “I know you’re a pretty resourceful woman, Ronnie,” Trace said folding his arms over his chest.  “And when the hell have you ever listened to anyone anyway?”

“You said don’t use the land line, and I haven’t.  I might be hardheaded, but I don’t have a death wish,” she said, then added sarcastically, “And besides I’ve been busy if you haven’t noticed.”

Arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere, but at least she was talking to him now.  “I’ve noticed you spinning your wheels in there, but you haven’t mentioned making any headway.  I think it’s because you see I’m right.  You’re not going to find anything.”

“I beg to differ.  We’ve found a lot.  More than enough.”

She was still hedging.  There was something she didn’t want to tell him that was obvious.  “Enough for what? 
What
did you find?” he pressed.

“I need to call Conner before he steps off into a hornet’s nest without seeing it,” she said holding out her hand.  “Give me your phone.”

“Don’t deflect, Ronnie.  I asked a question.  Answer it and I’ll let you use my phone,” Trace said instead of giving her the phone.

“You’re blackmailing me with the phone?  With Conner’s safety?” she spat angrily.  “I’ll just use the land line,
or borrow your mother’s cell phone,” she said as she turned and stomped up to the front door.

“No!” Trace shouted and ran behind her.
  “My mother has been digging through Leland’s bank records.  They could be tracking her cell phone pings too.  Use my phone.”

He handed her his phone.  “Call and tell him not to come back here,” Trace said.

“Why?  I need those files, and I need his help,” she replied.

“He’ll have to scan them and email them to you.  If he comes back out here, since they already know he was copying files, someone could follow him.”
  If they put a GPS tracker on my bike, they wouldn’t hesitate to do that to Conner’s car too.  And from his detective days, Trace knew how easy tracking cell phone pings were.

Ronnie groaned and slapped her forehead.  “This gets better and better.”

“Sorry, Red.  I’m just trying to protect us.”

Her eyes widened and flew to his. 
“What about Conner?  Won’t he be in danger in town?” she asked with a waver in her voice he could only account to fear.

“Tell him to find somewhere out of town to hide out until this blows over or blows up,” he suggested.  Ronnie is the one who had stirred up the hornet’s nest with her investigation.  He was afraid Conner Lucas was already surrounded by them, and the best thing he could do was run for the hills
now.  But not here.

Even though paperwork in any way shape or form gave him hives, he offered impulsively,
“I’ll help you dig through the files.” 

At least t
hat would give him something to do, and it would make it harder for the women to hide what they found from him.  He could find his answers to help him make his decision.  Besides he was bored stiff just sitting around.

Ronnie snorted.  “If I recall from
our meetings at the jail, your lack of documentation is what got you in the mess you’re in now.”

“I only lacked documentation because
someone
made it disappear.  But whoever replaced it with their own documentation to make sure I went to jail sure did a bang up job of it.”

“Well, let’s go find out who that someone is and get this over with,
so we can both get our lives back,” she said twisting the door knob.

Two days later, Trace was tempted to pull the gun out of the waistband of his pants and either blow his brains out, or shoot Ronnie Winters.  The woman was an abrasive, slave-driving bitch on  mission to find the truth at the expense of his sanity evidently.

“Pull that log from Judge Jennings again,” she ordered.
  “I need to cross-check it against this one from the prosecutor.”

“Aye, aye, General,” he said snapping off a salute that ended with his middle finger pointed directly at her.
 

Lou Ellen and his mother must’ve missed it, but Ronnie didn’t.  Her eyes sparked angrily as she replied, “
Aye, is a nautical term, and General is an army rank.  Either call me Admiral, or General.  Get your branches right, and get your ass moving.”

“How the hell would you know,” he grumbled,
as he bent to pull the file out of the box beside him.

“My brother was in the service for a long time.  Dave was too,” she replied tapping her pen on the yellow legal pad on the table in front of her.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yep, his name is Cade. 
He left the military, and now he’s a blood-thirsty mercenary,” she informed with a smirk.  Ronnie Winter’s brother wasn’t so far removed from her in personality, Trace thought nastily, as he handed her the file.

“My maid informed me this morning
that I received an invitation in the mail from Leland Rooks,” Lou Ellen informed them out of the blue, after she ripped the calculator tape from the top of the adding machine in front of her.

Trace’s eyes flew to hers.  “Oh yeah?  What kind of invitation?”

She looked at him over the rim of the tortoise half-eye glasses perched halfway down her nose and said, “An invitation to one of his fundraising parties next week in Dallas at
your
mother’s house.”