His deep rumble over the phone line sent chills down her spine and reminded her of Rafe's warning that she was dealing with a dangerous animal. To her surprise Santos had readily acquiesced to joining her here, on her home ground, instead of his own territory. She wondered briefly what story he'd spun for Diego Vargas, or if he'd kept the clandestine appointment a secret from everyone.
"He thinks I am conferring with some of our associates," Santos offered as if he had read her mind. "Import associates."
She didn't pretend not to understand the tacit admission of drug dealing. Or that he kept secrets from Diego Vargas. "That was judicious of you."
Santos barked out a sound that was a cross between mirth and menace. "Ay, I am a wise man."
She nodded and waited for him to pick up the paper lying on the desk in front of him. When he did, he read the document with what seemed deliberate languor.
"And since I am a wise man," he continued, "not given to foolish bargains, tell me, Ms. Torres, why should I consider this offer?" He dropped the paper and waved a negligent hand over it, conveying the paltry insignificance of her carefully-constructed agreement.
So he wanted to play games first? Bella tightened her lips. "It's a good deal. You should consider it."
Plea bargaining on felony charges was a tricky negotiation at best, much like bartering in an Egyptian bazaar. She made an offer, he countered, and they parried and thrust until they came to mutual agreement.
He surprised her with his next words. "A good deal, but not an excellent one."
She allowed a modicum of impatience to show in her expression. "Mr. Santos, if my office brings charges against you, they will likely be multiple counts of murder, conspiracy, and drug trafficking, not to mention kidnapping and human trafficking."
"Charges you cannot prove," he countered.
"Maybe, maybe not." She waffled her fingers in a so-so gesture. "But I think you want something more than exoneration from the charges."
She leaned forward across the desk and lowered her voice, navigating solely on instinct. "I think Diego Vargas is out of control and you'd like to rein him back into the parameters of sanity."
"Bueno, for one so young, you are very sure of yourself, but Diego is El Vaquero. I am merely his lieutenant."
"I doubt you have ever been merely anything."
He nodded in acknowledgement of the veiled compliment.
Bella pushed back from the desk and swung her legs around to the side before rising. She turned her back to Santos and gazed out the wide expanse of her office window to the courthouse lawn below. She would not be the first to mention the picture."What would you consider an excellent deal?" she asked reflectively.
"Complete immunity," Santos replied without hesitation.
She spun around, ready to show her scorn, and bumped into the wide, iron behemoth of his body. He'd approached her unawares.
"You're joking," she said breathily as she retreated a step and crossed her arms in front of her.
His scarred face remained impassive. "I never jest about money or prison time."
"There's no way I can grant you complete immunity."
"Naturalmente. But of course you can."
"What are you offering?"
But she already knew. He was offering something so much more important to her than convicting Vargas. And the thought of it nearly made her weep.
Santos turned silently to glance at Sanderson still leaning against the wall, his hand resting on his revolver. He jerked his head toward the deputy, a clear indication that he wouldn't speak further with someone else in the room.
Within seconds of Sanderson leaving the office, Bella's desk phone rang. She stared stupidly at it for several moments, hating to break her rhythm by answering it.
Santos nodded toward the jarring sound. "You should answer the telephone, counselor." He rose and patted his jacket pockets. "I will step outside to have a cigarillo and give you privacy."
Bella grabbed the receiver. "No smoking in public buildings," she said automatically to his retreating back.
Santos smiled, his large white teeth flashing in his scarred face. "But of course. I would not want to be charged with so significant a misdemeanor." He stepped quietly into the hall and closed the door softly behind him.
"Hello, hello," Rafe's voice sounded faintly over the line before Bella lifted the receiver to her ear.
"Hi," she breathed into the phone, happy to hear his voice, grateful to get a break from the oppressive weight of Santos standing inches within her personal space.
"You sound flustered. Is everything okay?" Rafe asked.
"Yeah, well, sort of."
"Is Santos still there?"
"He stepped out for a minute." She hesitated and then plunged on. "He's going to be a hard nut to crack." She hadn't told him how Santos had shown her a photo of Maria, and wondered why she'd kept this from him.
"I'll come right over." His voice was decisive and she knew he'd rush right in and fracture the fragile progress she was making with Santos.
"No, no, it'll be fine."
A heavy pause hung weightily, dead space over the line.
Rafe cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Well, I called to let you know I'm going to stay with Max for a while."
"Max Jensen?"
"Yeah, his grandmother's house has been empty for a while. He's staying here." He rattled off a quick address in Highland Heights.
"Oh." She felt an unexplainable chill. "How convenient."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Of course. Look, I've got to finish this meeting, seal the deal."
Bella stared at the phone long moments after she'd hung up. Jensen had relatives in the area. A house to stay in. Why did that situation seem strange to her?
Why did she suddenly remember the knowing look on his face when she'd encountered him in Rafe's L.A. office waiting room? What had sparked that sense of unease then, so brief she'd nearly forgotten it?
Deputy Sanderson escorted Santos into the room, and when the lawyer had sat, the deputy took up watch again, this time outside the door.
Santos and Isabella Torres measured each other across the desk like two warriors lined up for battle. He could tell by the set of her pretty jaw that she had no intention of letting him win. She believed she had right and the law on her side.
Santos had long ago put such foolish ideas aside, but the ADA was young enough to believe in them still. Nevertheless, he regretted being the one to burst the bubble of her idealism.
Her dark eyes serious, her lips lushly red, she very much looked like the woman whose picture he kept in his inside jacket pocket. A new picture today, a more focused image, one that Isabella would have no trouble identifying.
"Tell me about Diego Vargas." The aura of an avenging angel blazed about her.
He examined his hands and thought how to measure the impact of his words. "First, let me tell you a story, Isabella."
"Ms. Torres," she corrected him, narrowing her eyes.
Ay, she would do serious battle with him. But he believed her need for vengeance would win. It was the way of the human condition.
"I'm not interested in fairy tales, Mr. Santos. I deal in the truth, nonfiction if you will. What's the truth about Councilman Vargas?"
"I will give you the complete truth, but only for full immunity."
"You know I can't do that, even for… "
Santos laughed softly, enjoying the righteous indignation on her face. She held so much power in those small hands, that slight body. "Ah, but of course you can."
She looked at a spot over his left shoulder, her face smooth and completely devoid of the turmoil that must rage within her. To capture a man like Diego Vargas was a professional coup and a personal victory. But she would not want to let Santos himself go without punishment. To free him would rankle her to no end.