Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) by Tarah Scott, Evan Trevane

him. He forced his body to stay relaxed.
    Sanchez’s gaze flicked to his bodyguards. He reached for his wine glass and said to Ben, “You were not a stranger to the police.” 
    “They didn’t know about that particular deal.” 
    “Mr. Davis moved drugs into the US?” Sanchez asked.
    “Roger was an importer of Mexican pottery,” Ben said.
    Sanchez laughed. “I suppose your time in Huntsville Penitentiary for weapons smuggling was a case of mistaken identity?”
    Ben shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time.” 
    The human trafficker lifted his glass in salute. “I cannot argue with that.” He took a large sip of wine, then set the glass on the table. “You don’t seem nervous about working with me.” 
    Ben laughed. “You mean the way you’re nervous about me?” 
    “Yes.” 
    “I’m certain you’re not a cop.” 
    “Straightforward,” Sanchez said. “Very good.” 
    Ben looked at Sanchez as if something had just occurred to him. “I work strictly by referral, and Francis Remmey came highly recommended. The recommendation gave me a certain sense of security. I understand caution, but it suddenly occurs to me that you’re overly nervous about working with someone Mr. Remmey recommended. That makes me nervous, and I don’t like being nervous. Do you have reason to suspect he might set you up?” 
    “I trust no one,” Sanchez said.
    “There’s a difference in not trusting someone, and distrusting them.” Ben paused. “Maybe we’re not destined to do business.” 
    “Destiny?” Sanchez laughed. “What has destiny to do with men in our business?” 
    “Call it what you like. I’m thinking, I would call it a bad feeling.” 
    A moment of silence passed and Ben could hear the wheels turning in the man’s head. Sanchez wanted what Ben was selling.
    “Who referred Francis to you?” Sanchez finally asked.
    Ben laughed. “I don’t know the government man who Remmey told you referred me, but the man who called me is Juan Soto.” 
    When Larissa Remmey told Ben her story and said she would introduce him to Sanchez, Ben made a quick decision and told her that their contact must be a politician, and he would take it from there. Juan Soto was a drug dealer to the wealthy. He didn’t move drugs across the border, so he wasn’t in Ben’s jurisdiction, but the El Paso DEA knew him, and let him stay in business because he sometimes passed information. Two months ago, Ben dealt with Soto concerning a large shipment of heroin crossing the border. Ben knew Soto was currently out of the country, which meant Sanchez couldn’t contact him.
    “You know him?” Ben asked.
    “I know who he is and I am wondering who the government official is who gave Francis your name.” 
    Ben grunted. “I asked Juan that same thing and he laughed. I couldn’t help wondering if there was no politician.” 
    Sanchez frowned. “You mean Francis knows Juan directly?” 
    Ben shrugged. “Why not? You can see why Remmey wouldn’t want to own up to the association.” 
    “Francis is what you Americans call a straight arrow.” 
    “Yeah,” Ben said. He’d been ready for—hoped for—this response. “He’s a real Boy Scout.” 
    A corner of Sanchez mouth turned up with a condescending twist. “They like to act superior, as if they are better than us.” 
    Bingo ! Ben had him.
    “But they’re all the same.” He paused for effect. “I must admit, Remmey doesn’t strike me as a man to shop for a woman.” 
    “I am not supplying Francis with merchandise. He is going to do some transporting for me.” 
    Ben lifted a brow. “He’s not a Boy Scout at all, is he?” 
    “I gave him, shall we say, a reason to do business with me.” 
    Ben nodded. “The business offer he referred to.” He snorted. “Money talks every time. Being in the textile business, he must have some big trucks that cross the border on a consistent basis. That means he has a relationship with the border guards.” 
    “A very