Enemy Infiltration. Carol Ericson

the service always this good, or is it just you?”

      “The service is always good here. It’s one of the oldest Mexican restaurants in Greenvale, and one of the most popular—at least with the locals.”

      “And you’re a local? Have you always lived in Greenvale?”

      “My grandfather was a bracero in the Central Valley, worked the fields on a seasonal basis and then brought over my grandmother and their ten children. My father was third to the youngest.”

      “So, you have a big family here.”

      “Not here… Salinas. Most of them are still in Salinas. My father came to Greenvale to work with horses on a ranch. When the work became too much for him, he started cooking—here.”

      “Is he still in the kitchen?”

      “He died two years ago.”

      “I’m sorry. Your mother?”

      “My mother went back to her family in Mexico. My grandmother is ill and Mom takes care of her.” She picked up a chip from the basket and broke it in two. “And you? Dallas native?”

      “Born and raised outside of the Dallas–Fort Worth area.” He dipped a chip in the salsa and crunched it between his teeth. He waved his hand in front of his mouth as he chewed it. “You weren’t kidding. This stuff is hot.”

      “I can have Gabby bring a milder version for you, Tex.”

      He grabbed another chip and scooped up even more of the salsa. “Oh, them’s fightin’ words. Now it’s a matter of pride.”

      Lana smiled, and their dark, little corner of the restaurant blazed with light.

      “Competitive much?”

      He nodded as he dabbed his runny nose with a napkin. Luckily Gabby saved him from stuffing his face with any more of the hot stuff as she approached their table and took their order.

      When Gabby left, Logan took a sip of his water and hunched forward. “Tell me, Lana, why do you think there’s more to the story than the government is telling us about the attack on the embassy?”

      “Because my brother told me there was.”

      “He died in the attack.”

      She flinched. “He suspected something was going on before the attack.”

      “He communicated this to you?”

      “We had a few face-to-face conversations on the computer after he got there. He didn’t understand why they were at the outpost to begin with. There were a lot of secret comings and goings and a supply shed that they weren’t allowed to enter.”

      “Who exactly was coming and going there?”

      She lifted one shoulder. “Some Americans, some foreigners. The guards weren’t briefed, and he didn’t recognize any of them—except one.”

      “Who was that?” Logan’s heart thumped so hard, Lana could probably hear it over the music playing in the background.

      “A Major Rex Denver. The guards all knew him. They’d heard all about his exploits in Delta Force…” She snapped and aimed her index finger at him. “Delta Force, like you.”

      This was not one of the things Logan planned to lie to Lana about. “That’s right. I know Major Denver. He was my squad leader before…”

      “Before he turned traitor and went AWOL.”

      “That never happened.” Logan slapped a palm on the table and a chip slid from the basket.

      “You’re trying to exonerate him. That’s why you’re interested in the attack on the embassy.” She settled back in her chair and stirred her tea with the straw, the ice clinking against the glass. “Not sure the fact that Major Denver showed up at the outpost is going to do that. In fact, it makes him look guiltier if there was any hanky-panky going on at that compound.”

      “Not if he knew about the…hanky-panky and was there to investigate it himself.”

      Gabby brought their food. “Watch the plates. They’re hot.”

      “Thanks, Gabby.” Logan pointed his fork at the salsa dish. “Can you bring more salsa, please?”

      “Of course.” She swept the nearly depleted bowl from their table.

      Lana smirked. “You don’t have anything to prove, Logan.”

      “I know.” He plunged his fork into his burrito and sliced off a corner. “It’s growing on me.”

      She picked up one of her tacos and held it over her plate while the busboy delivered another bowl of salsa. “Maybe Denver’s presence at the outpost triggered the attack, or maybe it was the questions he asked after his visit.”

      “How do you know he asked questions?”

      “I know he asked Gil and the other marines a ton of questions while he was there. The guys were kind of in awe of him, but they couldn’t give him any answers.”

      “Did Gil tell you what kinds of questions Denver was asking?”

      “Mostly about that shed.”

      “I suppose you didn’t record your sessions with your brother?”

      “I didn’t, but I’m sure he wrote down everything in his journal.”

      “He kept a journal?”

      “Gil was always a good writer and I think he believed he had the makings of a book.”

      “Where’s his journal, Lana?”

      “On its way to me.” She patted her chest. “The military is sending me his personal effects.”

      “You’ve already—” Logan swallowed “—buried him?”

      Lana dropped her taco and crumpled her napkin in her hand. “Yes, they returned his body and we buried him with full military honors—a military that refuses to honor him now by telling the truth.”

      “I don’t know if you can blame the military, Lana. There’s something going on, something secretive, something so deep cover I don’t think even the top brass knows what’s happening.”

      “And you believe it has something to do with Major Denver.”

      “I know it does.”

      “Why did he take off? Why not stay and fight the charges against him?”

      “Sometimes it’s easier to wage a war on your own terms. Does that make sense?”

      “Yes.” She jabbed her straw into her glass so hard, a chip of ice flew onto the table and skittered toward him.

      Logan dabbed at the ice with the tip of his finger. “I think he could see the net closing in on him and he understood that it was a trap—especially for him. I’m sure wherever he is, he’s fighting. He’s doing it his own way.”

      “I can understand that.”

      She gazed over his shoulder as if at something in the distance, and he wondered what battles Lana had undertaken on her own.

      Several minutes later, Gabby slipped the check out of her pocket and waved it over the table. “Anything else?”

      “Not for me. Logan?”

      “Anything more than that burrito?” He plucked the check from Gabby’s fingers. “No way.”

      She picked up their plates and spun away, calling over her shoulder. “See you next time, Lana.”

      Lana stretched out her arm to him and wiggled her fingers. “How much do I owe?”

      “I’ll take care of it on one condition.”

      “What’s