Mission Control (The Omega Team Series Book 2) Page 7

  “We mapped it and entered the coordinates last time,” Ted added, “so we don’t need to borrow Stick again.”

  “I don’t mind.” Stick grinned. “Beats chasing cows all day.”

  Mason glanced at hm. “Ha ha. Very funny. Ted, if you need him, he’s all yours.”

  “We’re good.”

  Mason narrowed his eyes. “It’s easy to get lost out there.”

  “We’ve been in harder places to get around,” she snapped. Then took a breath. “Sorry. But by this time I bet we could do this with our eyes closed. You do stuff like this often enough, you learn how to absorb info really fast.”

  He lifted his hands. “Sorry. No offense here.”

  “None taken.” She focused on the food on her plate.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She could certainly be civil to the man. He’d given her the best sex she’d ever had in her life, for damn sure. If she said she hadn’t enjoyed, it she’d be lying. It wasn’t as if she wanted anything else from him, right? And maybe, if she was lucky and didn’t act like someone on a hormone binge, she might get to have some again before this gig was over.

  Steady, she told herself. Calm. And businesslike. Be your usual self.

  Except, at the moment, she wasn’t sure who her usual self was. The hardened military veteran, the pilot who’d flown so many SOAR missions? The experienced team leader from The Omega Team? Or maybe the woman who’d been hiding behind both of them for too many years?

  Don’t overthink it, and don’t piss him off. He’s a client. And what harm would one more session of scorching sex do, anyway?

  She saw him watching her, his face expressionless. But the heat and sizzle was still there in his eyes. Oh, yeah. It was definitely there.

  “You sure?” Stick asked.

  “Sure?” She frowned. She’d already lost the thread of the conversation. Shit. What she needed to do was put Mason and hot sex out of her mind until they had everything together here. Compartmentalize, as she’d been able to do for years. If only she could get yesterday out of her mind. “Sure about what?”

  “That they don’t need me.” Stick chuckled.

  “Having trouble keeping up this morning, boss?” Lane joked.

  Kris ignored him, concentrating instead on seasoning her eggs and buttering her biscuit. She swallowed a mouthful of food before she spoke, certain she had herself back under control.

  “I’m going to fly over the area one more time.” She smiled at Martina as the woman filled her coffee mug. “I know we took a ton of still shots and video, but I want to get some of where the Double R borders the ranches on either side and also follow the path of the Rio Grande where it borders the edge of the land.”

  “Need me to come with?” Mason threw the question out there, almost offhanded, but she heard the little edge in his tone. What did that mean? Did he want to fly with her or not?

  She gave him a polite smile. “I think we’ve got it. You must have work to do.”

  “Actually, they finished the branding yesterday. If you don’t need Stick, he and Greg will keep things together.” His mouth curved in that slightly sardonic grin she was coming to know. “Besides, I like watching you fly that thing.”

  God! He was such a chameleon—uptight and remote one minute then friendly the next. Okay, she’d put on her team-leader personality and act like he was any other male client in the world. She could do that. She’d flown missions where she nearly got killed. Surely she could handle one hot rancher.

  “Fine.” She glanced down at her watch. “Meet me in the field in an hour. That will give Ted and Ray time to get headed into the area we’re watching and me time to plot exactly what I want to see.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  Her gaze tracked him as he strode from the room, long legs encased in worn jeans, the muscles in his ass flexing so nicely, back straight, shoulders broad. Okay, so maybe one more night, and she’d get him out of her system. At least, that was her plan.

  *****

  They were in Mateo’s living room. Rigo sat in a straight-back chair across from his brother, who lounged on the couch, smoking a cigarillo.

  “So, Rigo, you tell me you don’t want to make another crossing right now.”

  Rigo swallowed and tightened his hands on the arms of the chair. “I’m saying that I think it would be unwise to do it so close to the other one. I don’t want to have to kill anyone again.”

  “Pah.” Mateo waved his hand. “Did we ever hear anything about the dead bodies? Did they post armed guards? Did you have trouble crossing the other night?”

  “No. No, I did not.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t be waiting the next time. I think we got lucky this time. Perhaps they haven’t had a chance to prepare for us.”

  “Rigo, Rigo, Rigo.” Mateo sighed, took a puff of his cigarillo, and blew a stream, of smoke into the air. “You worry needlessly. The Americano who owns that ranch is oblivious to all of this.”

  “Then why did he send two of his rancheros out to patrol that area? Men we were forced to kill?”

  “My personal opinion? They’ve been dealing with poachers and cattle rustlers. If you hadn’t cut the wrong fence that time, they’d never even think anything was happening there. Blame your own stupidity.”

  Rigo wanted to throw his hands up. How was it his brother could be smart enough to run this small offshoot of the Sinaloa Cartel so efficiently and lucratively, yet not see things right in front of his face.

  “There can’t be any poaching, Mateo.” He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “There is not valuable wild game there, and that area of the ranch is so unsuitable for cattle, they never use it. That’s one of the reasons we targeted it for our route.”

  A long moment of silence. Another pull on the cigarillo. Another stream of smoke.

  Rigo waited impatiently.

  “Here’s the situation, little brother.” Mateo uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “Our buyer wants a delivery tomorrow night. No wiggle room. He has distributors waiting. If he doesn’t get it from us, he’ll go elsewhere. We cannot afford that.”

  “But—”

  Mateo held up his hand. “I have worked my fucking ass off to build this organization. It may be small, but it commands respect, and it commands authority. I get a seat at the Sinaloa table.”

  And that, Mateo thought, was the heart of the matter.

  “I understand,” he said slowly.

  “Good.” Mateo snapped the word out. “Then you know that tomorrow night happens without question. You have a group waiting, right? Then make your arrangements.”

  Rigo stared at his brother, saying nothing.

  “I will send people with you.” Mateo flicked his ash into a glass dish. “Two armed guards.”

  “So we can kill more people?” Rigo shook his head in exasperation. “That’s not the solution.”

  “Take care of it. If you make a mess, I’ll clean it up, but you will make the delivery.”

  “Exactly how will you clean it up?” A finger of unease tickled Rigo’s back.

  “You don’t need to know. Do your job and everything will be fine. We’ll use two vans tomorrow night. I will have two men meet you where you pick up the group. They’ll have the merchandise with them, ready for transport. That’s all.”

  Rigo knew when he’d been dismissed. As he left his brother’s house, he pulled out his cell phone to call the man who assisted him with the crossings.

  “We’re on for tomorrow night. No,” he replied, “I could not talk him out of it. You know Mateo when he digs in. He wants the glory at the Sinaloa table.” He listened for a moment. “I know, I know. But we have no choice. So, gather the next ten and meet me at the warehouse.” He started to hang up then remembered Mateo’s final words. “We will have armed escorts. Not my choice. And they’ll have another van. Let us pray no more lives need to be taken.”

  He shoved the phone back in his pocket and wondered if the
re was any place he could disappear that Mateo and the cartel could not find him.

  *****

  As the chopper lifted smoothly into the air, Mason again admired the efficiency and cool poise with which Kris handled the bird. She was all business, focused on managing the flight and controlling the sleek machine. He loved to watch the smooth play of muscles in her arms as she worked the controls and the deftness of her touch.

  Her face was impossible to read, shielded as it was by her aviator shades and the bill of her ball cap. But nothing in the movements of her body or her posture betrayed the slightest degree of tension. It seemed, once she sat in the pilot’s seat, she blocked everything else from her mind. A skill he was sure she’d learned before being accepted as a Nightstalker.

  Below him, he could see Ray and Ted cantering across one of the fenced pasture sections. He was pleased to note that a wrangler had directed them around the areas with cattle to those acres that were empty. Soon, they were beyond the arable land and into the wild of the landscape, where they slowed their horses to a careful walk.

  A crackle in his headset startled him and, in a moment, he heard Ted’s voice.

  “Ray and I want to ride the entirety of the unused acres today. We’ll check the sensors first and then branch out. Any objections?”

  “You’re good to go.” Kris’s voice was clear and authoritative. “Report on the condition of the sensors, first.”

  “Will do.”

  Mason pressed the button that allowed him to switch to a channel only he and Kris could hear. He touched her arm to indicate what he was doing, and she nodded. Tapped her own switch on the flight controls.

  “What are they trying to find?” he wanted to know.

  “Signs that there has been traffic in other spots down there.”

  Mason frowned. “I thought they checked it yesterday.”

  “They did, but after studying all the shots we took, I’m assuming they want to eyeball it close up. Something they saw must have triggered it.”

  “You think they’d cross my land in more than one place? What about that dirt road we saw out to the highway?”

  She shrugged, a graceful lift of her shoulders. “That’s the most likely scenario, but we never leave anything to chance. It can get you killed.” She banked the helo into a turn. “Okay, I’m going to fly a zigzag pattern, from your neighbor on one side to the one on the other, covering every bit of the empty land down there.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Possible alternate routes. Avenues they might choose if they decide for some reason yours is too risky. Although you certainly have the ideal spot for them.”

  “Yeah, lucky me.”

  But after more than an hour, she finally called it quits.

  “Heading back,” she radioed to the men below. “See you when you get in with a full report.”

  “Roger that,” Ray answered.

  “So nothing?” Mason asked.

  “The ranches on either side of you use every bit of their land, right down to the river. I’m guessing that if the coyotes tried to bring people through, they’d have trouble with the cattle and create a disturbance.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Plus, I didn’t see any other egress to the highway without going past either ranch house. So, your ranch is definitely the prime target.” She pointed at the ground. “What’s that? That cabin at the edge of one section.”

  “It used to be an old line shack. A few years ago, I refurbished it, added water and electricity. Bought some new furniture.”

  “Any special reason?”

  Yes. I planned to bring my fiancée there for a romantic getaway on the ranch. Until she decided there was room in her bed for men besides me.

  “One that no longer exists.” He hadn’t meant to spit the words out with such bitterness.

  Kris gave a quick turn of her head to catch his expression before staring out the windshield again. “Okay. Sounds like it might be a nice place, though.”

  “Not close enough for whoever is crossing my land to make use of,” he pointed out. “Too far away from the unused acres.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Eyeballing it from here I could see that. But I was curious, anyway.”

  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait before they try another crossing?”

  “Hard to say. Under normal circumstances, I’d say not for another week or so.”

  “Shit.” He spat the word. “So, we, what, sit around waiting?”

  “Part of the job,” she reminded him. “We do a lot of waiting. But I said, under normal circumstances. I have an itch between my shoulder blades that tells me they might be pushing that date up.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Experience. Instincts. Whatever.” She turned the chopper toward the ranch. “I’m going to call Grey when I get back and see if he’d got any data for me that relates to this situation. That’s in addition to whoever we have on the streets. We have people in the office who monitor texts and conversations and anything else that goes out in cyberspace. He’s had people checking out the chatter in the drug pipelines, and he may have picked something up for us.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  As soon as Kris landed the chopper and completed her shutdown, she fished out her cell phone and speed dialed a number.

  “Grey? Yeah, we’re still checking. Got anything for me from the gossip line? Yeah? Okay, I’ll put you on speaker so the client can hear, too.”

  “You there, Mason?” Grey’s gravelly voice came through with a surprising minimum of static.

  “I am.”

  “Okay. Glad Kris put us on speaker. Saves her having to repeat it.”

  “So, what have you got?” Mason asked.

  “I’ll spare you all the who said whats. We’ve been doing a lot of digging here and monitoring what we call the smuggling gossip line.”

  Mason couldn’t help grinning. “Do I even want to know how you do that?”

  “Not at all. But you should be aware that there’s chatter the group using your spread is a small group that broke off from the Sinaloa cartel.”

  “Drugs.” Mason’s stomach clenched. “Kris said you suspected that.”

  “We did,” Grey agreed. “If it was a coyote hauling a group of illegals and nothing more, they wouldn’t have bothered to shoot your men. The coyote would have beat feet and left the poor saps to whatever authorities you called.”

  “What else?” Kris asked. “If Sinaloa’s involved in this, we might need to expand the team.”

  “Like I said,” Grey answered. “This group is a small offshoot. A baby cartel on its own, you might say. But their leader has a seat at the Sinaloa table, and he’s not going to want to lose face.”

  “I thought they might stop after they killed my men,” Mason told him.

  “This guy has buyers waiting. He’s probably using the illegals as mules, and he’ll want to make the deliveries on time. Your sheriff isn’t equipped to deal with them, and the Border Patrol is way undermanned. The dealers know this and take full advantage.”

  “Damn arrogant of them.”

  Grey’s short laugh held no humor. “No shit. I’m sure Kris told you their schedule is erratic, deliberately so, and they don’t make the treks too close together. But, because they had to kill two of your men, they’d wait to see what you were going to do. They might not make a trip across your property for a week or maybe two. But we’ve picked up conversations about a deal going down either tonight or tomorrow night. Seems the buyer is putting pressure on, and the boss wants a victory before a big cartel leader meet next week.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Kris assured him.

  “I can add my men to the mix,” Mason put in.

  “Not necessary,” Grey told him. “This team is trained for this. And we don’t want any more of your hands getting in the way of a drug dealer’s bullet.”

  Mason had to agree. “Fine. But we’re here for anything the team needs.”<
br />
  “And thanks for that.” The man laughed. “Understand you’ve been feeding them real well. Setting up some stiff competition for other assignments.”

  “We aim to please.”

  “Okay, boss. We’ll be ready. Thanks for the update.” She disconnected the call and stuck the cell phone back in her jeans pocket. “I’m going to call Ted and Ray back in. They’ll need to get some sleep this afternoon if we’re going to pull an all-nighter. Same for me.”

  “You’ll be out there with them?”

  Kris shook her head. “No, I’ll be in the bunkhouse with Lane, monitoring the sensors. The others will be out there, concealed and armed. But I have to be ready to move the minute they need me.” She opened the door on her side of the cockpit. “Let me get my men in and then, if Martina can throw a quick lunch together, I’ll get them back to the bunkhouse.”

  “We’ll take care of it.”

  She turned in her seat, her hand on the door, and pulled down her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose. As much as she might think she was hiding it, there was no mistaking either the heat or the hunger in her eyes. She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something. Mason tried to wait patiently, but she shook her head, pushed the door wide open, and jumped down to the ground.

  Okay, so timing was working against them. But he’d have her again before this was over. She wanted it, too, no matter how much she might try to hide it. He’d have to figure out a way to make it happen.

  *****

  Kris was ready to scream. It seemed, every time she turned around, Mason was right there. Next to her. Near her. Asking her if she needed anything. She half expected him to sit and watch her while she slept in the bunkhouse, but he’d had enough sense not to do that.

  Still, since yesterday, while they’d planned and rested and waited, he had been a constant presence. She wondered if her team would start asking questions. No, he was the client. And former military. They’d expect him to be involved. And be everywhere they were.

  The night had passed without incident. The feedback from a couple of the sensors was, again, caused by some of the abundant wildlife wandering in that sector. The men returned to the ranch, ate breakfast, and rolled into their bunks. Even Mason had headed up to the house to catch a few hours of shut-eye. Tonight, they’d all be at it again.