She opened her mouth to form a half-hearted protest.
"But," he interrupted with a steely gaze, pointing a finger at her like a pistol, "you do have to be honest with me. I won't put up with any bullshit tricks if I'm going to let you work this case with me."
She began sputtering. "Wh – what, you're letting me work the case? Diego Vargas has committed crimes in Bigler County. He's been under our scrutiny there, in my county, for over a year. You have no more right than I to nab him for the depraved and accumulated atrocities – "
"Shut up, Torres," he said pleasantly, which effectively took the wind out of her sails.
She stared at him with her mouth a round oh of surprise while their server returned and Rafe gave the woman both their orders.
"The federal government has jurisdiction over anything interstate," he reminded her after the server left. "You know that and I know that. Vargas' atrocities include intra-state and international drug trafficking which comes under federal drug enforcement."
He continued in a neutral, even-tenored voice as if his logic were reasonable and indisputable. "Now, in exchange for your personal files, I'll continue to allow you to work the case rather than call your boss and have you jerked off it and sent back to Hicksville."
Bella felt the hot sting of outrage creep up her neck to stain her cheeks. Not only had he steamrolled her case, but he had the affront to order her lunch for her! She blinked furiously while trying to formulate a sharp enough response for both insults.
Rafe reached for a chip and dipped it in the thick salsa. "Actually, it's a pretty good deal. You ought to take it."
The chomping of his tortilla chip and the calm look on his face made her want to smack him, but she snapped her teeth together, nearly biting the inside of her lip. She resisted because she recognized the pragmatism in his words.
He was right. He had the power to call in a hell of a lot of favors. And D.A. Charles Barrington never took on anything controversial. Or difficult. He'd pull her off the case in a heartbeat, sloth that he was, forcing her to turn over every single file she had.
Except those she'd hidden at home in a thin, plastic box under her bed, she thought smugly. The ones Charles knew nothing about. The ones she wasn't about to tell Hashemi about.
"What gives you the right to offer a deal?" she grumbled, feeling herself capitulate. Other than that you're a big bully.
He confirmed her thought by leaning across the table and answering, "Because I'm a whole lot bigger than you are, I'm infinitely more influential, and" – his eyes dropped to her mouth, "I'm more experienced."
She didn't miss the double entendre. Bella shut up just as Rafe had suggested.
The middle-aged server plunked their lunches down on the table and beamed cheerfully at the two of them before placing the check under the basket of warm tortillas. With relish Rafe tackled his plate of beef enchiladas. He dipped a home-made tortilla into the rich, reddish-brown sauce and looked up at Isabella. "Good, huh?" he asked with relish, his mouth stuffed.
Bella positioned a small bite of chicken and sauce on a tortilla chip. "Hmmm." Her mouth opened wide around the concoction as she popped it into her mouth. "Delicious," she agreed around the mouthful of food. "¡Absolutamente perfecto! I gotta tell you, Hashemi, this is the best Mexican food I ever ate."
She swallowed a large gulp of Pepsi and frowned. "But don't ever tell my mom that."
Amused by her hefty appetite, Rafe smiled. "Scout's honor." He quickly sobered up, the grin slipping. He shouldn't be enjoying anything, much less lunch with an attractive woman, until he learned what'd happened to Lupe.
He cleared his throat. "Let's talk about your notes on Vargas," he said. "When can I get hold of them?"
"We're really going to put this whole personal thing behind us?" she asked quietly.
He almost flinched under her clear, direct gaze. Wasn't that already a dead issue? Why did she want to take it up again? God, women were so unpredictable.
"Yes." He paused before continuing. "Unless you can think of a better idea."
She wiped her mouth. "It was just a casual thing anyway."
"Right, nothing serious."
"Just a lot of talk at the bar."
"And then we got attacked."
"Sure, and those kinds of high-tension moments cause people to lower their guards, do things they wouldn't otherwise do." She looked up at Rafe through her lashes. "You said so yourself."
"So I did."
"And we were two consenting adults who got caught up in the moment of… Besides, nothing really happened. Right?"
Rafe stared at her wide, dark eyes, at her full lips and porcelain skin, at the high color of her cheeks.
Nothing really happened?
Chapter Thirteen
Shirley Winston had been in the business a long time. More years than she admitted to the few johns who still asked for her when they visited La Casa de Mujeres.
Heaving a sigh, she hauled her body off the chaise and plopped down on the delicate stool in front of the small vanity she used for putting on her makeup. The brassy blonde that looked back at her as she applied a thick layer of cosmetics looked old, she thought. Hell, she was forty-one, but looked sixty, no matter how much makeup she smeared on. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth.
Shirley liked to say she was in the management portion of the business. She was very good at her job and ran the house with an iron hand, mainly 'cause nothing bothered her no more. Live and let live, that was her motto.
She started working for Diego Vargas when she was a natural blonde and barely eighteen years old. A looker in those days, even if she said so herself. Diego didn't ask for her no more like he did in the old days, which was hunky-dory by her.
She'd had enough of ugly bruises and broken bones.
A loud pounding on the downstairs door brought her to the top of the staircase. Little Audrey sat behind the reception desk and Buck guarded the door as it swung open. Damn! Too early for regular customers, she thought as Gabriel Santos walked into the entry and stared up at her with those damned flat eyes of his, silent as the grave, like usual.
Diego Vargas followed right behind him. "Shirley, bebé." Diego beamed up at her. "How is my favorite madam?"
It cost Shirley a lot to smile at him. Last time he visited, the girl he asked for bled to death before he finished with her. Business was business, but still, Diego liked mixin' his business with too much pleasure for her taste.
"Hey, there, Councilman. What can I get for you? Wine, whiskey?" Not my girls, she prayed silently.
"No, no, I have brought the girls with me."
"Yourself?" Shirley couldn't hide her surprise. Diego almost never delivered the girls himself. Transporting them across the border was a tricky business.
"This was muy especial, a very special trip for a particular cargo." Vargas beckoned her down the stairs. "Come, I will show you."
Shirley wrapped the silk gown around her plump belly and started down the curved staircase.
"Bring the girls into the sitting room," Vargas ordered Santos.
Five minutes later, the big giant brought the girls in and lined them up in front of where Shirley and Diego sat on a soft paisley print sofa. God, what a string of dirty kids, she thought. Children. What the hell kinda thing was Diego gettin' her mixed up in now? "I don't wanna deal in no kids," she whined.
"Don't be estúpida, Shirley. How many times do you have customers who ask for peticiones especiales?"