and I are going to touch base with the law firm about their contact with her mother.”
“I’ll make sure Mitchell and Evans bring you a new vest,” Williams indicated and signed off.
Bill tucked the BlackBerry into its holder on his belt. With care, he eased his gun and holster back on and then went into the living room.
Father and daughter sat at the table in the dining room, heads buried in a book. When he entered the room, Deanna raised her head and met his gaze.
“If you have time, we should call the law firm that sent you that key.”
She nodded and rose, ran a gentle hand across her father’s back. “Let me know if you find anything.”
“I will, mi’ja ,” her father replied without ever lifting his head from the text he was reading.
Bill arched a brow in question and once again, Deanna quickly responded, apparently in a more cooperative mood than when they had first met. “ Papi is reviewing some of the accounts of Montezuma’s reign. We’re hoping something there may give us a clue as to what might be in his tomb.”
“Thanks. It would nice to not have so many surprises. FYI, my FBI contact confirmed the identities of the men.”
He motioned for her to sit on the couch and then took a spot in a nearby chair.
“Are they Primera Mexica members?” She rubbed her hands on her thighs anxiously.
“We’re still trying to confirm that. We’re also trying to find out if they were members of the Los Leones cartel.”
She stopped the nervous motion of her hands and gripped her thighs tightly. “That cartel was responsible for beheading a police officer recently, weren’t they?”
“Different cartel, but Los Leones have been involved in at least one similar incident. They’re new on the scene and seem to think that being more violent will establish them as major players,” Bill answered. The truth might be difficult to handle, but she deserved to know the risks she would run by continuing to assist him on this assignment.
“So we’re dealing with people who will stop at nothing for Miranda to lead them to this tomb and whatever is inside?” She met his gaze and while there was a hint of fear in her hazel-green eyes, determination held greater sway.
“We have to go with that assumption. Are you still in?” He wanted to confirm that he had not misread her.
“I’m in. If there is something dangerous in that tomb, the last place it should be is in the hands of Primera or the cartel,” she said and gave a confirming pat to her thighs.
“Good. Do you have the contact info for the law firm?”
“In my room.” She was immediately in action, rising from the sofa and hurrying down the hall. Providing him a very nice view of her deliciously formed backside which had him looking away and reminding himself about staying objective.
She returned with the letter, sat and unfolded it onto the coffee table before them. He read the correspondence, but it had little to say. They had been instructed to mail the key to Deanna if her mother had not contacted them by a set date. Clearly that deadline had come and gone.
The law firm was located in the Santa Fe area of Mexico City, one of the newer and more upscale business areas that had been developed in the past two decades. The firm itself had been around for nearly a century.
Setting his BlackBerry to speaker mode and laying it on the coffee table, he dialed the number and when the receptionist answered, he indicated in Spanish that he wanted to speak to Señor Juarez. The attorney’s secretary came on a second later, and once again he identified himself and asked for the attorney who had written the letter to Deanna. The man answered immediately this time, his English flavored by a slight British accent, likely from the school he had attended to learn the language.
“Special Agent Santana. How may I help you?” Señor Juarez responded.
“ Licenciado ,” he said, using the title of respect for attorneys in Mexico. “I have Doctora
“I’ll make sure Mitchell and Evans bring you a new vest,” Williams indicated and signed off.
Bill tucked the BlackBerry into its holder on his belt. With care, he eased his gun and holster back on and then went into the living room.
Father and daughter sat at the table in the dining room, heads buried in a book. When he entered the room, Deanna raised her head and met his gaze.
“If you have time, we should call the law firm that sent you that key.”
She nodded and rose, ran a gentle hand across her father’s back. “Let me know if you find anything.”
“I will, mi’ja ,” her father replied without ever lifting his head from the text he was reading.
Bill arched a brow in question and once again, Deanna quickly responded, apparently in a more cooperative mood than when they had first met. “ Papi is reviewing some of the accounts of Montezuma’s reign. We’re hoping something there may give us a clue as to what might be in his tomb.”
“Thanks. It would nice to not have so many surprises. FYI, my FBI contact confirmed the identities of the men.”
He motioned for her to sit on the couch and then took a spot in a nearby chair.
“Are they Primera Mexica members?” She rubbed her hands on her thighs anxiously.
“We’re still trying to confirm that. We’re also trying to find out if they were members of the Los Leones cartel.”
She stopped the nervous motion of her hands and gripped her thighs tightly. “That cartel was responsible for beheading a police officer recently, weren’t they?”
“Different cartel, but Los Leones have been involved in at least one similar incident. They’re new on the scene and seem to think that being more violent will establish them as major players,” Bill answered. The truth might be difficult to handle, but she deserved to know the risks she would run by continuing to assist him on this assignment.
“So we’re dealing with people who will stop at nothing for Miranda to lead them to this tomb and whatever is inside?” She met his gaze and while there was a hint of fear in her hazel-green eyes, determination held greater sway.
“We have to go with that assumption. Are you still in?” He wanted to confirm that he had not misread her.
“I’m in. If there is something dangerous in that tomb, the last place it should be is in the hands of Primera or the cartel,” she said and gave a confirming pat to her thighs.
“Good. Do you have the contact info for the law firm?”
“In my room.” She was immediately in action, rising from the sofa and hurrying down the hall. Providing him a very nice view of her deliciously formed backside which had him looking away and reminding himself about staying objective.
She returned with the letter, sat and unfolded it onto the coffee table before them. He read the correspondence, but it had little to say. They had been instructed to mail the key to Deanna if her mother had not contacted them by a set date. Clearly that deadline had come and gone.
The law firm was located in the Santa Fe area of Mexico City, one of the newer and more upscale business areas that had been developed in the past two decades. The firm itself had been around for nearly a century.
Setting his BlackBerry to speaker mode and laying it on the coffee table, he dialed the number and when the receptionist answered, he indicated in Spanish that he wanted to speak to Señor Juarez. The attorney’s secretary came on a second later, and once again he identified himself and asked for the attorney who had written the letter to Deanna. The man answered immediately this time, his English flavored by a slight British accent, likely from the school he had attended to learn the language.
“Special Agent Santana. How may I help you?” Señor Juarez responded.
“ Licenciado ,” he said, using the title of respect for attorneys in Mexico. “I have Doctora
Similar Books
