In Safe Hands. Linda Conrad

air blasted him in the face, the zing of a bullet whizzed past his ear and hit the front window. Glass shattered everywhere.

      Bending, he threw his arm over Maggie’s head and shuffled the two of them out the door as fast as he could. “Move!”

      As they hit the sidewalk, he took control and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. Run.”

      She started off without a word, managing to keep up with him as he dashed along the packed sidewalk. They ran full out and pushed through midday crowds until they were both out of breath.

      Panting, he slowed after they’d gone about five blocks. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he gritted out.

      Maggie turned and gave him a sweet smile. “Why, Colin darlin’, you know the answer to that. I was saving your idiotic ass. What else?”

      

      The head of the notorious drug cartel leaned back in his cushioned chair and looked around the veranda. The men in his employ either ate, drank or played cards as they lay around and waited to do his bidding.

      All his money. The power he had accumulated. It would all mean nothing if the one man with more power learned of his past foolish mistake. In fact, his whole life would be worthless.

      Ten years it had taken. He had worked hard and smart enough to climb to the top of one of the largest Mexican drug cartels. It would be too humiliating to have it come down around his ears, all because he had needed to take one small bit of revenge.

      In truth, he’d managed to become the jefe—the boss—by demanding respect, and everyone knew that respect must be maintained.

      No one blamed him because his organization had been infiltrated by an international undercover operation. Those agents had had their jobs to do, and he had his. All is fair in such wars. In fact, when he’d learned of their operation—fortunately before much damage could be done to his own organization—he felt respect for the men who had planned such a daring sting.

      Respect for everyone but the traitor who’d become his lieutenant. Sighing, he thought once again of Juan. Juan, who’d been like a son to him. Better even than his own sons, because the man had had polish. Juan had accomplished things that his sons and nephews could not. It had been Juan who negotiated the money exchanges with higher-ups, Juan who bought and sold the real properties, Juan who could talk to the patrones and the politicians with more culture and power. Without Juan, the jefe’s connection with the big boss, Governor Garcia, would never have happened. His cartel would’ve been much less powerful.

      Congenial and smart, Juan had been a tremendous help. The very idea that he’d been a spy all that time still rankled.

      “Jefe, the hombre you wait for, was that him on the phone? El Cuervo de la Muerte? The Raven of Death?” Carlos, one of his men, had sucked up enough courage to interrupt the boss’s thoughts.

      He nodded. “Yes, but El Cuervo will find his own time on earth growing short. He has failed in his mission. I have issued orders.”

      “El Cuervo did not kill the Anglo? The nosy one?”

      The jefe could swear he’d gone over these plans with Carlos earlier. Why couldn’t the man remember even the most important things? Carlos’s incompetence made him think of Juan, and that made him angry again.

      “The Raven was supposed to eliminate Colin Fairfax, Juan’s brother. I cannot allow this Fairfax to continue asking questions. He must die. But El Cuervo missed his opportunity.” The jefe spat out the words in a fury. “Twice. The Raven of Death will not live to fail a third time. There are others who can be bought who will not fail.”

      Carlos backed up and visibly shivered in his boots. “I do not understand the importance of this Fairfax. Juan is muerto. Why do you care if his brother asks questions? All the world should know el jefe demands respect and loyalty. The punishment for betrayal must be death.” Carlos shrugged, as though the idea was obvious.

      The jefe waved his underling away as he had no wish to continue this conversation. The truth was bad enough. He could not afford word of it to spread.

      The mistake had not been his fault. How was he to know that the traitor, Juan, had married since he’d disappeared into hiding? No one had heard from Juan for nearly a year when the jefe’s people finally managed to bribe a man who knew of his whereabouts. The minute he had been found, Juan’s fate had been sealed, though the jefe paid extra to make it look like an accident.

      Qué carajo! How was he to know about a marriage that had been kept a secret from everyone? The jefe groaned under his breath as he faced his bad luck. Even the killing of an innocent woman should not have been too terrible as collateral damage. Innocent people died in cartel slayings every day.

      But it had turned out this woman was special. Of all the people on earth for Juan to have married and died beside, why had he chosen Governor Garcia’s young daughter? And why had she chosen Juan as a means to escape her father?

      Thankfully, the young couple had kept their romance quiet. It wasn’t much of a break, but the jefe could use it. Governor Garcia was still looking for his missing daughter and had no idea she’d married. But the powerful man would find out eventually. And then he would not give up until he learned the rest. The governor didn’t have his own black brujo magic the way the jefe did. He couldn’t see the future in the crystals, nor frighten his enemies with hexes and curses, but the governor did have many of his own contacts, and much power. That made it imperative for the jefe to stop nosy questions before the wind could carry the news back to the governor’s ears. All people asking those kinds of questions must disappear.

      The jefe’s hands shook as he tried to pour himself a drink. He had also just learned of something else that had the potential to be much worse news for him. Something he had somehow missed months ago and now wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.

      It seemed Juan and the governor’s daughter had had a child together. A baby. And that baby lived, despite the “accident” that killed its parents.

      Taking a much-needed shot of tequila straight and warm, the way it was meant to be, the jefe felt the familiar burn clear to his gut as he wondered what he should do about the child when he found it. And he would find it. It was only a matter of time.

      

      “What were you thinking?” Maggie shoved at Colin’s chest and narrowed her eyes at him. She should be giving him the evil eye, but he refused to look at her directly.

      They’d quit running long enough to stop at the hotel, so Colin could pick up his duffel from the luggage check. Now they were down in Penn Station, trying to stay lost in the crowds. Colin kept his eyes shuttered from her view. She figured that meant he felt guilty for getting them both into that jam back at the bar. Well, he should. That was twice she’d had to save his life.

      “Answer me. What the devil possessed you to try meeting with that man again? Are you crazy? Isn’t one attempt on your life enough?”

      He folded his arms over his chest, lifted his chin and gave her a cold appraisal. “I couldn’t believe…the man I contacted is an agent for your government. I didn’t expect anyone working for the United States to send an assassin. Rather cheeky of him, if you ask me. I was only trying to find the truth about my brother.”

      This wasn’t a joke, darn it. Fuming, she grimaced as she stared him down. His nearness gave her goose bumps, but she wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. She opened her mouth to tell him off, then promptly shut it again. Maggie couldn’t be too hard on him. Not when she understood how devastated he must feel underneath everything else.

      Besides, someone wanted him dead. That whole, wild idea made her knees weak.

      “Let’s sit a minute and settle down,” she whispered.

      They found a quiet alcove, and by some miracle, two empty seats. As Colin plopped both his duffel and himself down, he gave her a quick glance, then began studying his shoes. She could feel the silent grief rolling off him in waves. So he hadn’t trusted her.