She’s seen too much to survive.

Minutes before her wedding, April Hart learns her fiancé is a drug lord. Now the only person she can trust is a man from her past—border patrol agent Clay Archer. Two years ago April left Clay at the altar to keep him out of the grip of her dangerous family. This time, Clay is determined to guard April—and his heart. But the truth will plunge them into a brutal endgame where safety equals merciless betrayal…

CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Also by Carol Ericson

Enemy Infiltration

Undercover Accomplice

Code Conspiracy

Delta Force Defender

Delta Force Daddy

Delta Force Die Hard

Locked, Loaded and SEALed

Alpha Bravo SEAL

Bullseye: SEAL

Point Blank SEAL

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Evasive Action

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90531-6

EVASIVE ACTION

© 2020 Carol Ericson

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The snowy-white tulle of April’s veil rustled as she climbed out the window. Her satin shoes landed in the moist dirt with a squishy sound. She yanked the frothy concoction from her head and stashed it behind a bush.

She took a deep breath and peered around the corner of the house, her curls falling over one shoulder. The stretch limo gleamed in the morning sun of New Mexico, and she shivered. The car looked more like a hearse now—her hearse. Who said New Mexico was the land of enchantment?

Narrowing her eyes, she chewed the strawberry-flavored gloss off her bottom lip. If she fled in the limo, it could be tracked, but at least it would solve her immediate problem of no funds. She considered creeping back through the house to retrieve her purse, but she valued her life too much—at least someone did.

How far could she get barreling down the highway in a stretch limo? Way too conspicuous—sort of like this wedding dress.

She patted the lace bodice of one side of her dress to make sure she still had the strange wooden disc she’d found in Jimmy’s desk, and then drew out her cell phone from the other side. She tapped the icon for the car app loaded on her phone and smiled at the little dots on the map—her saviors.

She called up a car, and then strolled to the front gate, although her feet itched to break into a run. This couldn’t be a clean getaway, not with Jimmy’s security at his beck and call, but nobody suspected a thing at this point. She could play the blushing bride for another ten minutes. Hell, she’d played at being in love with Jimmy for the past six months.

Oscar, the guy working security at the front gate to Jimmy’s estate, jumped to his feet. “Getting cold feet, April?”

“Just jonesing for a smoke. I know how much Jimmy hates cigarettes and I’m trying to squeeze in a few before I quit for good.” She pinched the low neckline of her gown between her fingers and adjusted it. “You have one I can bum?”

Oscar’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes widening for a second. “I—I do.”

“That’s what I’ll be saying in an hour. I’d really appreciate it…and I’ll step outside the grounds so Jimmy won’t know a thing.” She put a finger to her pouting lips. “You know I’m good at keeping secrets, don’t you, Oscar?”

Oscar’s face reddened, obviously remembering the time she caught him rummaging through Jimmy’s desk, and he scrambled for a cigarette in his front pocket. “I know that, April, and I appreciate it.”

He shook a cigarette free from a crumpled pack and held it out toward her.

Sliding it from the pack between her index and middle fingers, she said, “Thanks. Got a light?”

He flicked his lighter, and she leaned in to touch the end of the cigarette to the flame.

She waved the cigarette at the gate. “I’ll just slip outside to enjoy it, and if Jimmy happens to smell it on me… I didn’t get it from you.”

“Of course not, thanks.” He lunged for the gate, probably happy to get her out of his sight before she could get anything else on him to report to his boss.

Holding the cigarette in one hand and the skirt of her dress in the other, she stepped outside the gates of Jimmy’s compound. She traipsed down the drive to the street, her breath coming in short spurts. Her gaze shifted from side to side. She’d better not bump into any guests arriving early for the nuptials—Jimmy’s guests.

Once she turned a corner and got clear of Oscar’s sight, she dropped the cigarette and crushed it under the toe of her shoe. Then she pulled out her phone again and texted Adam. The wedding is off. Don’t come near the estate. Don’t go near Jimmy.

The phone buzzed in her hand, and she answered the call from the app car on its way. “Hello?”

“I’m about a block away in a blue Honda. Big houses here. Can I get in the gate?”

“I’m outside the gate. I’ll be waiting on the sidewalk. Hurry.”

“Uh, okay.”

Two minutes later, a Honda pulled up to the curb. April checked the license plate, compared the driver to the picture on her phone and jumped in the back seat. “Go!”

The driver’s bugged-out eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Where am I going?”

“The nearest bus stop. Wait.” Her fingers creased her satin skirt into folds. How could she buy a bus ticket? She had no money. No wallet. No credit cards. She’d be a sitting duck at any bus stop for Jimmy and his so-called business associates. Now she understood why he always had an entourage. Idiot.

“Keep driving.” She pounded the back of the driver’s headrest. “I’m thinking.”

“Are you running away from your own wedding or something?” The driver adjusted his glasses and punched the accelerator.

“Yes.” She reached into the front seat and grabbed his arm, turning his laugh into a snort. “What’s your name?”

“Jesse.”

“Jesse, I have a deal for you.” April tugged at the diamond ring on her left hand. “I’ll trade you this ring for your car.”

Turning his head, he squinted at the ring cupped in her palm. “Nice rock, but I can’t do it. I need my ride to make money. This is the only job I have.”

She slumped back in her seat. She could pawn the ring for cash, but that meant she’d be wandering around Albuquerque in this damned dress.

“My friend Ryan might be down, though.”

“Really?” She shot forward again. “Where’s Ryan?”

“He lives about ten miles from here. He’s trying to sell his car, and he might take that piece for it instead of cash.”

“Perfect.”

She waited until Jesse hit the highway. Then she buzzed down the window and chucked her phone outside. She wouldn’t be able to contact Adam anymore, but Jimmy couldn’t trace her whereabouts.

Thirty minutes later, the trade with Ryan went smoother than she expected, and he even threw in a hundred bucks, cash, to seal the deal.

She rolled up the money and wedged it into her new car’s cup holder. She scooped the wooden token pressed against her breast from the bodice of the dress and dropped it in the other cup holder. Running her hand across the dashboard, she yelled out the window. “No GPS?”

“Does that car look like it has a GPS?” Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “No refunds.”

“I’m not looking for a refund.” She cranked on the engine of her new vehicle. “Just point me in the right direction for the 25 south.”

Jesse strolled to the car. “You going to Mexico?”

“Maybe.” She leveled a finger at him. “You remember the rest of our deal, right?”

“Yeah.” Jesse’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny, razor-burned neck. “If anyone asks, I picked you up and dropped you off at a bus depot in the city.”

“That’s right. The 25?”

Jesse gave her directions and she sped off, leaving the two young men gaping in her rearview. After her first burst of speed, she eased off the gas pedal. She didn’t have her driver’s license with her, and Ryan’s name was on the car registration. She didn’t need any trouble. Her impulsiveness had gotten her into enough trouble.

The car had enough gas to get her out of Albuquerque and almost down to Hatch Valley, just over the halfway point to Juarez. She could lose herself in Mexico, do a little investigating, too, even though it sure seemed as if Jimmy had contacts south of the border.

She wouldn’t be the first of her family to disappear in Mexico.

After about three hours on the road, April pulled into a gas station just out of Hatch and dashed into the convenience store. She grabbed a diet soda and smacked thirty bucks on the counter.

“As much gas as this will get me on pump number five, less the cost of the drink.”

The female clerk nodded, eyeing her from the top of her poofy hairstyle to the tips of her satin shoes, peeking out from the hem of her wedding dress. “Are you going to the wedding or coming from it?”

“On my way. It’s a beautiful day to get married, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” The clerk popped her gum and rang up the purchase with her long, violet fingernails.

April pumped the gas, waved to a little girl giggling in the car next to hers and plopped onto the driver’s seat, gathering yards of billowing material inside after her.

She continued south, heading for Las Cruces. Just another ninety minutes or so, and she’d be across the border. She didn’t have any ID with her, but that never stopped people in the know from slipping into Mexico undetected. Her gaze shifted to the side, taking in the signs for the 10 west and Tucson. One hour to Mexico. Four hours to Tucson.

“Ah, hell.” She veered toward the ramp that would take her to Arizona.

She had enough gas. The weather couldn’t be beat. She didn’t know anyone in Mexico. And when could she ever resist Clay Archer?

CLAY ARCHER SWATTED at the fly buzzing around his face and gritted his teeth as the sound of the young Border Patrol agent’s retching finally subsided. He’d been there, done that. No shame.

The agent, Rob Valdez, straightened up, wiping his arm across his nose and mouth. “D-do you think the head’s in the tunnel?”

Clay spit onto the desert floor. “We’ll find out soon enough. You wanna go back to the truck and get some water?”

“No.” Valdez squared his shoulders. “I gotta see what’s in the tunnel.”

“You might not like what you see.” Clay squinted through his sunglasses at the mound of sand and dirt that marked the end of an underground tunnel between Arizona and Mexico.

“I gotta get used to it. You’re used to it.” Valdez rubbed his eyes and replaced his sunglasses and hat, flicking the stiff brim with his finger.

Clay took a step closer to the headless woman at his feet, one arm flung to her side, the other crossed over her body, the fingers of her hand curled. His nostrils flared as he crouched beside her, avoiding the blood-soaked dirt with the tips of his boots.

He reached for the woman’s hand, cold and stiff across her lifeless body, and pried open her fingers. Between his own thumb and forefinger, he pinched the object clutched in her hand and pulled it free.

“What is it?” Valdez hovered over him, the smell of vomit, sweat and fear coming off his body in waves.

“Do not upchuck on the body.”

“I’m done with that.” Valdez took a few steps back, as if not sure of his own statement.

“It’s a calling card.” Clay held up the housefly carved from wood, almost as realistic as the ones swarming the dead body. He waved it in the air.

“Las Moscas.” Valdez glanced over his shoulder as if expecting members of one of the most murderous drug cartels in Mexico to come riding up on ATVs. “Why would they do this to one of their own mules? And a woman?”

The pile of dirt at the tunnel’s exit shifted and one hand clawed its way out of earth like a scene from a horror movie. They didn’t need movies—they had their own, real-life horror.

Clay stepped around the young woman with care as if she were sunbathing in the desert instead of missing her head. By the time he reached the tunnel, it had already spit out half of Nash Dillon’s body.

Dillon scrabbled out the rest of the way, empty-handed. He yanked the mask from his face and coughed. “Nothing. No head. No drugs.”

Valdez let out a noisy sigh. “Agent Archer found something in the dead woman’s hand.”

Dillon raised his brows as he brushed the dirt and debris from his green uniform.

Clay cupped the wooden carving in his palm and held it out to Dillon. “This is the work of Las Moscas.”

“Not surprised.” Dillon tipped his head toward the woman. “Only a few reasons why I can think of that the cartel would kill one of its own mules—she double-crossed them, screwed up somehow or started working for us.”

“She’s not one of ours.” Clay held up his hands, the wooden token held between two of his fingers. “As far as I know, we’ve never used a woman.”

“Don’t lie, Clay.” Dillon clapped his hat back on his head and wiped his designer sunglasses on the hem of his shirt. “The DEA uses wives and girlfriends when they can get them on board—or when they’ve been wronged by their drug-dealing spouses or tire of the lifestyle.”

“That’s DEA, not Border Patrol.” Clay squinted into the harsh desert light. “We’ve got company.”

The two other agents swiveled their heads in unison toward a caravan of trucks and SUVs accompanied by a cloud of sand and dust.

“Hope there’s a coroner’s van among those trucks.” Dillon stamped the dust from his boots, jerking his thumb toward the body. “They need to get this young woman out of here. Give her a little dignity, regardless of the mess she made of her life.”

The trucks and law enforcement personnel brought a flurry of activity with them. The local PD in Paradiso wouldn’t conduct the homicide investigation, as it was too small to have a homicide division—not that the department didn’t see its share of murders along this stretch of the border.

The Pima County Sheriff’s Department would take over the thankless job of investigating the murder, but as usual with drug crimes, there would be no evidence, no witnesses and a bunch of nameless, faceless suspects.

Clay studied the men and women going about the business of investigating a headless corpse in the desert, and he took a swig of water from his bottle.

“Crazy business.”

“What’s that, Archer?” Espinoza, a homicide detective for the sheriff’s department, looked up from his phone and squinted at Clay.

“Nothing. Just thinking about the insanity that goes on in this town.”

Espinoza spread his arms wide. “Paradise, right?”

“Yeah, some clueless gringo even got that wrong, didn’t he? Paradiso doesn’t even mean Paradise in Spanish.”

“Wrong name—” Espinoza kicked at a pile of sand “—and wrong description.”

Clay and the other Border Patrol agents packed it in, and left the scene to the coroner and the homicide detective. On the way back to his truck, Clay poked Dillon in the back. “You taking some time off?”

“Heading to a rodeo in Wyoming. Can you hold down the fort?” Dillon swept his hat from his head and tossed it onto the passenger seat of his truck.

Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Clay said, “Unless we find the head or the drugs, especially the drugs, there’s not much for me to do on this one.”

“The drugs will be on the street by the time I come back.” Dillon nodded toward the new agent, hanging back, the green around his gills matching his uniform. “You think he’ll work out?”

“He’ll be okay.” Clay leveled a finger at Dillon. “I remember your first dead body. You didn’t do much better.”

Dillon scooped his hair back from his forehead and flashed his white teeth. “I guess you’re right.”

“Don’t break that pretty face riding one of those bulls.” Clay turned and strode to his truck with Valdez waiting by the passenger side.

“You getting in or staying out here?”

Valdez’s eyes bulged briefly. “Just didn’t want to sit in the truck without the AC. Is that it for the day?”

“That’s it for my day. You’re gonna go back to the office and write up this report. Make sure you check in with the sheriff’s department to see if you can add anything before you send it to the Tucson Sector.”

They both climbed in the truck, and Clay cranked on the air. They’d gone several miles before Valdez turned to him, clasping his hat in his lap.

“Do you think they’ll find the head? What do you think Las Moscas did with it?”

Clay raised his stiff shoulders. “I don’t know. Don’t think about it too much, kid. It’ll make you…”

Clay drilled the desert horizon with narrowed eyes. He didn’t finish his warning to Valdez because he didn’t know what it made you. What had it made him? Bitter? Hard?

He blew out a breath. The work hadn’t done that.

A half hour later, Clay pulled his truck into the parking lot of the Paradiso Border Patrol Office—one of several offices in the Tucson Sector.

For the most part, the residents of Paradiso chose to remain blissfully ignorant about the dangers at the border. The violence of the drug trade didn’t affect them directly, so they were able to carry on with their daily lives—despite people meeting bloody ends several miles down south.

Livestock, lettuce and pecans had been kind to the folks of Paradiso. Its close proximity to the tourist trap of Tombstone hadn’t hurt, either. They lived in a bubble. There hadn’t been a murder within the city limits since…Courtney Hart.

Clay left Valdez in the office and swung by Rosita’s to pick up a burrito on his way home.

As he slapped his cash onto the counter, Rosita put her hand on his. “We heard news of a body at the border.”

Once the Paradiso PD was involved, news traveled fast. He couldn’t blame them. The residents had a right to know—whether they cared or not.

“Unfortunately, that’s true.”

“Drugs?” Rosita’s dark eyes shimmered with tears, and a knife twisted in Clay’s gut.

Rosita’s youngest son had gotten hooked on meth—it hadn’t ended well.

“Yeah, probably a mule.”

“A girl?” She clasped her hands to her chest. “We heard it was a girl this time.”

“A young woman, yes. Ended up on someone’s bad side.” He shoved the money across the counter. “Keep the change, Rosita.”

“Is there a good side when it comes to drugs?” Rosita swept up the bills. “Thanks, Mr. Clay.”

He waved and reached for the door, stepping aside for a couple of customers coming in for dinner. He tossed his bag of food on the passenger seat and took off for home.

His house lay outside the collection of the newer developments that had sprung up in response to the pecan-processing plant. He preferred a little space between him and the next guy.

As he turned down the road that led to his house, he loosened his grip on the steering wheel and flexed his fingers. He swung into the entrance to his long driveway and slammed on the brakes to stop behind an old, white compact sporting New Mexico plates.

His muscles tense, he reached for his weapon wedged in the console and waited in his idling truck. The individual Border Patrol sectors were small enough that the bad guys could discover the identities of the agents if they had a mind to. He held his breath as the driver’s side door of the car swung open, and a…bride stepped out.

Clay whipped the sunglasses from his face and hunched over the steering wheel. Damn, that was no bride. That was bridezilla—April Hart in the flesh.

Leaving his weapon in the truck, he shoved open his door and placed one booted foot on the dirt and gravel of his driveway. He unfolded to his full height, straightening his spine and pinning April in a stare.

She tossed a mangled mane of blond hair over one shoulder and offered up a smile and a half-raised hand. “Clay, it’s good to see you.”

Did she expect him to rush to her and sweep her into his arms? He folded those arms across his chest in case they got some crazy notion to do just that on their own. He dipped his chin to his chest. “April.”

She dropped her hand and tugged on the top part of the dress that clung to her slender waist and rose to encase the swell of her breasts. “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here…in this dress.”

“You took a detour on the way to our wedding two years ago and you just found your way back?” His lips twisted into a smile while a knife twisted into his heart.

“N-no.” She clasped her hands in front of her, interlacing her fingers. “It’s a long story. Can we talk inside?”

“Do you ever have any other kind of story?” Before she could answer his rhetorical question, he dipped back into his truck and swept his bag of food from the passenger seat and holstered his weapon.

He slammed the door of the truck and stalked up his driveway, brushing past April in her wedding finery.

The gravel crunched behind him as she followed his footsteps. “Someone left you a present. It was here when I drove up.”

A round, pink-striped box sat on the corner of his porch. Clay tilted his head to the side, his pulse ratcheting up a notch. Nobody left him presents—especially the kind in pink boxes.

“You have your hands full. I’ll grab it for you.” April barreled past him, the crinkly material of her gown skimming against his hand.

A spike of adrenaline caused him to make a grab for her dress, but she slipped through his fingers. The story of his life.

“April, wait.”

“That’s okay. I got this.” She reached the porch and grabbed the ribbon on the top of the box. “This is heavy.”

She lifted the box a few feet in the air. Then the lid came off and the bottom of the box hit the porch with a thud.

April’s scream reverberated in his ears as the severed head bounced once, splattering her white dress with blood, and rolled off the porch.

Chapter Two

April opened her mouth to scream again, but the sound died in her throat, which seemed to be closing. She gurgled instead, falling back against the wooden railing of the porch, her hand still clutching the pink ribbon, the lid of the hatbox swinging wildly and flinging droplets of blood throughout the air.

“Oh my God. It’s the head.” Clay pointed to the soggy hatbox tipped on its side. “Don’t touch that.”

Her gaze darted to his face. Was he out of his mind? Why would she touch that box again?

She dropped the lid and swallowed. “It—it’s a severed head.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He pulled a cell phone from the front pocket of his green uniform shirt. “I’ll get someone to pick it up.”

“I would hope so.” Her hands clutched at the skirt of her dress, until she noticed the streaks of blood marring the white billows. She dropped the material and folded her arms over her midsection. “You don’t seem surprised. You called it the head. You know that head?”

“I do, although I didn’t expect it to show up on my porch. I didn’t expect you to show up on my porch, either.” He started talking on his cell phone and held up his key chain, jingling it in the air.

She nodded and he tossed the keys at her. She caught them in one hand and opened the door to his house—a house and home that could’ve been hers.

She set the keys on a table by the front door. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nothing with Clay could ever be uncomplicated. There had to be a head in a pink hatbox sitting on his porch the very day she decided to drop in for a visit.

Her eyelids flew open. Was that what she was doing?

Her gaze traveled around the room. He hadn’t much modified his manly space…or his habits. Everything had a place. Even the pillows on the couch sat erectly and in order.

April sauntered to the couch and flipped one of the pillows on its face. She scanned the framed pictures on his bookshelf, looking for her face in vain.

She jumped as a siren wailed on its way to Clay’s house. A few minutes later, what sounded like a hundred vehicles pulled up outside. She peeked through the blinds at the uniformed officers swarming Clay’s driveway. The head obviously had something to do with Clay’s work as a Border Patrol agent. He’d been almost more surprised to see her on his doorstep than the head in the box.

She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows, as a shiver zigzagged up her spine. Clay played a dangerous game down here at the border. Although part of the Tucson Sector, the Paradiso Border Patrol Office was small and everyone—including the drug dealers—knew the agents. Had someone left that head as a warning to Clay?

Good luck. Clay would always do his duty.

The door burst open, and her heart slammed against her chest.

Clay stuck his head into the room. “Detective Espinoza wants to talk to you for a minute.”

April smoothed the skirt of the dress with shaky hands. “Is the head still on the driveway?”

“It is, but they’re going to bag it soon. I’ll ask the detective to come in here, if you want.”

“I’ll be all right as long as I stay on the porch.”

He pushed the door wide, and she swept past him, the dress crinkling between them.

April stepped onto the porch, lifting her skirts to avoid the cone that had been placed next to the stain of blood where the box had sat.

A gray-haired Latino in a suit and a cowboy hat stuck out his hand, his eyes widening as they dropped to her dress. “Ms. Hart, I’m Detective Espinoza. Agent Archer told me you’re the one who picked up the box and it had been here when you arrived.”

“That’s right.” She took in his rugged features and frame from the top of his black hat to the tips of his silver-toed boots. He hadn’t been one of the cops in Paradiso or one of the Pima County detectives during her family troubles.

“What time did you arrive at Agent Archer’s house?”

She glanced at Clay from the corner of her eye. “About five o’clock.”

“The box was already on the porch?”

“It was.”

“Did you see anyone around the house when you got here?” His gaze flicked again to the wedding gown and then back to her face.

“Nobody.” She snapped her fingers. “The dog. Clay, where’s Denali? Do you still have him?”

“Of course I still have him.” He lifted one eyebrow. “He’s staying overnight at the vet.”

“Is he okay?”

Espinoza cleared his throat. “So, you didn’t see or hear anything unusual when you drove up to the house. Did you get out of the car?”

“I didn’t get out of the car. I was tired from my drive and put the seat back to take a nap. Clay got here about an hour after I did, waking me up when his truck pulled in behind me.”

“Why did you pick up the box?”

“Clay had his hands full.” She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Espinoza narrowed his eyes. “Hart. You’re the daughter of C. J. Hart?”

April’s pulse skittered and jumped. “I am. Does that matter?”

“Just asking.” He waved his pencil up and down the dress. “Why the wedding gown?”

“I just came from a wedding.” Her jaw tightened as Clay shifted beside her.

“We’re going to want to test that blood on the dress. Did it come from the head?”

“I picked up the box by the ribbon on the top, thinking it went all the way around the box. It didn’t. When I picked up the box, the lid came off in my hand and the box fell. The…head bounced out and splattered the dress, and then I dropped the lid.”

Espinoza clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame.”

“Not really.” She tossed her wilting curls over one shoulder. “I can rip a piece of the fabric out right now, if you like.”

“No hurry. Based on what Agent Archer told us, we’re pretty sure we know what happened here.”

Another truck squealed up to the scene and, in the glare of the spotlights, Nash Dillon jumped out of his vehicle and hovered over the authorities transferring the head into a bag.

When they finished the job, Nash strode to the porch. “I guess we found her head, but damn, left on your porch? They’re thumbing their noses at us, bro.”

Clay shook his head. “I need to get some cameras at my house. I didn’t even have Denali here to sound the alarm.”

“Oh, hey, April.” Nash raised his hand and continued his conversation with Clay, as if the appearance of Clay’s ex-fiancée in a blood-spattered wedding dress made all the sense in the world. But then Nash Dillon had always been about Nash Dillon.

When the medical examiner’s van pulled away, Detective Espinoza handed April a card. “You can drop off the dress anytime in the next few days.”

“I’ll do that.” She snatched his card and spun around to the screen door, leaving Clay and Nash talking shop.

She paced the floor a few times, and then plopped down on the couch, grabbing one of Clay’s perfectly placed pillows and hugging it to her chest. What was she doing here? That poor woman’s severed head must be some kind of omen. She should’ve never shown up on Clay’s doorstep. Should’ve never run to him for…what? Why did she come to Paradiso? Clay Archer had been the only bright spot for her here.

She couldn’t recreate the magic they’d shared. She’d destroyed that, taken a sledgehammer to it.

The door opened and Clay stepped into the house, sweeping the hat from his head and unbuckling his equipment belt. His weapon clunked against the kitchen counter as he set down the belt.

“What a crazy day.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair, which made it stick up in different directions. He held up the bag that contained his dinner and swung it from his fingertips. “I kinda lost my appetite. You want it?”

She stuck out her tongue. “No, thanks. Who was that woman?”

“Probably a drug mule who double-crossed Las Moscas. We found her body earlier, just outside a tunnel running across the border.” He braced his hands against the counter and hunched forward. “Are you really interested in this?”

Her fingers dug into the pillow. Las Moscas? He had no idea how interested.

“How do you know it was that gang, Las Moscas?”

“Cartel. Drug cartel and we know because the people who murdered this woman left their calling card in her hand.”

April swallowed. “A fly?”

Clay’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “How’d you know that?”

Shrugging, she schooled her face. “Las Moscas. The flies. I mean, not like a real fly, right?”

“Well, there were plenty of those.” He glanced up at her face, and his jaw tightened. “Sorry. They left a carved, wooden fly in her hand.”

April jumped up from the couch and tripped over the wedding dress. She made a grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.

“Are you all right?” Clay had taken a couple of steps closer to her, his brow creased.

“I’m okay. Like you said, it’s been a crazy day.” Her words stopped him in midstride.

He blew out a breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his green pants. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about, April? The wedding dress? Coming to Paradiso? Adam isn’t here, is he? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

Oh, yeah, her brother was in all kinds of trouble, but he could get into trouble anywhere. It didn’t have to be Paradiso—where all their trouble had started.

“Adam isn’t here and I’ll be happy to tell you all about this—” she plucked at the dress “—but I’d like to change first, if you don’t mind. Detective Espinoza wants this dress, anyway, or at least pieces of it.”

Clay’s head swiveled as he took in the room. “Do you have a suitcase in your car?”

“No. I don’t have a bag with me. I don’t have anything with me.” She linked her fingers in front of her, holding her breath. If Clay tossed her out on her rear, she wouldn’t blame him.

Clay rolled his eyes. “All right. I have a pair of sweats you can probably use, and help yourself to a T-shirt. I’m gonna have a beer. You want one?”

“Sounds good.” She pointed to the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and closing her eyes. She didn’t have to worry about a wife or a girlfriend. She’d kept tabs on Clay the past few years. She shouldn’t be happy that he’d remained single, but he always would have her heart. Ridiculous to think she could blot out the memory of Clay with someone like Jimmy—no matter how much Jimmy had seemed like Clay…at first.

She hadn’t known just how ridiculous until this morning—her wedding day.

She reached around and tugged at the zipper of the dress. She shrugged out of the straps, and the gown slipped from her body, pooling at her feet.

The shimmering white strapless bra and the lacy panties had to stay. She stepped out of the satin pumps and over the heap of material resembling a small mountain of foam on the floor.

She rummaged through Clay’s dresser and snagged a pair of army-green sweats with the Border Patrol insignia on the left thigh. She paired the sweats with a white T-shirt from a 10K in Tucson and tiptoed into the living room on bare feet.

Clay hadn’t moved from the kitchen counter but now sat perched on a stool, hunched over his phone and a second bottle of beer.

“I’m going to have to do some catching up.” She pinged his empty bottle with her powder-pink-tipped fingernail.

He shoved the other bottle toward her. “Haven’t touched it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“I probably need a clear head for what’s coming.” With his foot, he nudged the other stool in her direction.

Hitching up the legs of the sweats, she sat down and grabbed the beer. She raised the bottle. “Here’s to catching the SOBs who murdered that woman and defiled her body.”

“The particular SOBs? Probably not, but we’re working night and day to bring down Las Moscas.” Clay scratched at the damp label on the empty beer bottle. “That wedding dress?”

April took a long pull from her beer and squared her shoulders.

Clay’s cell phone buzzed next to his hand and he held up one finger. “Hold that thought. I’d better get this.”

How much should she tell Clay about Jimmy and the whole mess? She’d never even told him why she ran out on their own wedding—and she never would.

“You sure Adam’s not here?” Clay held up his phone.

“Of course.” She squinted at the call coming through and pressed a hand to her chest. “Why is Adam calling you?”

Clay lifted a shoulder and answered his phone. “Adam?”

He paused for a few seconds and then held out the phone to her. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” April’s fingers curled into the soft cotton of the T-shirt. How did Adam know she was with Clay? She hadn’t told him where she was going. Hell, she hadn’t even known she’d wind up in Paradiso when she’d texted him.

She grabbed the phone from Clay’s hand and hopped off the stool as he swept her beer from the counter and headed for the back rooms.

“Adam? How’d you know I’d be with Clay?”

“C’mon, April. Give me some credit. You’re in one big mess. Where else would you go?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “What do you know about my big mess?”

“I know a lot more than you indicated in your text. When you told me the wedding was off and to steer clear of Jimmy, I figured you’d found out.”

April gritted her teeth but managed to grind out the question on her lips. “You knew about Jimmy?”

“I did.” Adam had the decency to cough. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why did you…?” April braced her hand against the front door. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“April, I know I don’t have the right to ask you this, especially after what I just admitted, but do not tell Clay about Jimmy. You haven’t told him anything, have you?”

“Not yet.” She pounded the door with her fist. It was happening again. “Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

“Because if you do, Jimmy will kill me…and then he’s gonna kill you.”

Chapter Three

“Everything okay?” Clay peered into the living room from the hallway.

April started and spun around, the phone clutched to her chest, her face as white as that wedding dress she’d stripped off. “Yeah.”

“Or as okay as things can be with Adam.” He cocked his head. “Is he still getting into trouble?”

“You could say that.” She held out his phone. “Thanks.”

He crossed the room and took the phone from her trembling hand. “Why’d he call for you on my phone? Where’s yours?”

“I thought I told you. I took off with nothing—no phone, no money, no ID.” She shrugged her stiff shoulders.

“Where’d you get that car?” He jerked his thumb toward the window.

“A—a friend. I got it from a friend.”

“What’s the story, April?” He held up the beer bottle, the label shredded to bits. “I finished your beer. Do you want another?”

“I’ll take one.” She smoothed her hands over her face and emerged with her lips stretched into a smile. “There’s no real story.”

She followed him into the kitchen and sat on the edge of a stool. “I ran out on another wedding. That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, of all people.”

He popped up from the fridge, beer in hand. He set the new bottle on the counter in front of her. “I never got the whole story on that wedding, either. I guess I can’t expect to get the truth out of you when it comes to your wedding to someone else.”

“I decided he wasn’t the one for me.” She pressed the sweating bottle against her pink cheek.

“You just figured that out on the morning of the blessed event?”

She nodded and took a sip of beer.

“What was the hurry? You took off in a borrowed car with nothing? Not even your purse? You didn’t have the backbone to tell the poor sap?” He clicked his tongue. “April, April. You’re getting worse and worse at ditching weddings and fiancés. At least you had the guts to tell me to my face.”

April bit her bottom lip. “H-he’s not a good guy, Clay.”

“Did he hit you?” His fists curled at his sides, despite his resolve to steer clear of April and her problems.

“No. Nothing like that.” She blinked her eyes. “But he has a bad temper, and I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Call me a coward.”

“Will he come after you?” Like he never did.

She twisted a lock of blond hair around her finger, and Clay swallowed as he remembered the smell of that hair—all sunshine and foolish dreams.

“He doesn’t know where I am. I was actually on my way to Mexico when I saw the highway for Tucson and thought…” She curled her hand around the bottle and took a swig of beer. “Oh, hell. I don’t know what I thought. I just had a strong desire to see you again.”

“Did you love this guy?” Clay held his breath. He couldn’t stand the thought of April in love with someone else, wanting someone else the way she once wanted him.

She rounded her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

“You have a bad habit of agreeing to marry men you don’t love.”

Her blue eyes flashed and her nostrils flared, but she pressed her lips into a thin line.

Had he been fishing? April had loved him. Nobody could fake emotion…and passion like that. But something had happened the week before their wedding. It was as if she turned off a switch. When she’d broken the news to him that she was backing out, it hadn’t even surprised him.

“Why’d you get engaged…again?” He crossed his arms, digging his fingertips into his biceps. She’d already told him more about why she ended this engagement than why she’d ended their own. Maybe one thing would lead to another.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was looking for some stability. Maybe I was tired of handling everything on my own.”

“By everything, you mean Adam.” He clenched his jaw. He could’ve handled Adam. He could’ve offered stability. He thought that’s why she ran. She’d become addicted to drama and what he represented lacked excitement. Hell, he knew he worked too many hours, got too involved in his cases.

“Yes, Adam.” Her eyes glittered a dangerous blue as she dragged a fingernail across the label on the bottle.

“Why did he call?”

“To make sure I’d landed here. To make sure I was safe.”

Clay snorted. “When has Adam ever been concerned for your safety? Unless he’s changed.”

“He’s had it rough, Clay.” She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand across her nose. “He’s the one who found Mom.”

He passed on the opportunity to remind April that Adam had been a screwup before the murder of their mother. April would defend her brother come hell or high water.

He released a long breath as his stomach rumbled with hunger. “What now? Are you going to Mexico? How are you going to do that without ID?”

“C’mon, Clay.” She tilted her head. “I’m a Paradiso girl. I know how to slip across the border with the best of ’em.”

He jabbed a finger at the baggy T-shirt she’d picked from his closet. It had never looked so good. “Are you going to get some clothes? A bag? Toiletries? Or is Adam going to pick up your stuff for you?”

“Oh, no. He can’t…he’s not going to do that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t want him to.”

“You mean he couldn’t be bothered.” He held up his hand as she started her defense of her brother. “Save it. Do you have a friend who can get your stuff? Send it to you? Where is your stuff?”

“Albuquerque. Don’t worry about it. It’s just that—stuff. Anything I have of importance is right here in Paradiso.”

Too bad she didn’t mean him. “Your place looks good. Your cousin’s taking good care of the house.”

She twisted her mouth. “I suppose I should stay with Cousin Meg while I regroup here.”

As he carefully picked up her empty bottle and turned toward the trash, he said, “Regroup in Paradiso?”

“I think I should at least try to get my wallet, ID, credit cards and all those other items that tie you to civilization.” She clicked her nails against the tile counter. “People do disappear, though, don’t they?”

“Your father did it. You thinking of following in his footsteps?”

She dropped her hands in her lap and slumped. “No.”

Clay bit the inside of his cheek. Talking to April had become a minefield. He couldn’t mention her brother, her mother, her father or her most recent fiancé.

He poked the paper bag containing his burrito, which must be a soggy mess by now. “Are you going to drive to the house? You can call Meg on my phone first to warn her.”

She slid from the stool and stretched her arms to the ceiling, the loose T-shirt taking shape around her body. “Can I buy one more day at your place before facing the inquisition over there? I’ll even drive into town and pick up some dinner for you. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

“I’m good.” He rubbed his empty belly. “I have some leftover pasta from last night. Do you want some?”

She covered her mouth. “Ugh, no. I can’t get the squishing sound of that head hitting the porch out of my head. Makes me feel queasy every time I think about it.”

“Do you mind if I eat in front of you?” He plucked up the bag from Rosita’s with his fingertips. “This has been through the ringer tonight. Dropped on the ground, probably stepped on and who knows what got into the bag.”

“I don’t want to think about that, either.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Water?”

Clay retrieved the leftover pasta and a bottle of water from the fridge. He stuck the plastic bowl with the pasta in the microwave and poured the water into a glass with ice. As he placed it in front of April, he said, “You’re serious about staying here tonight?”

“If you’re serious about having me.”

“I don’t think I answered either way.” The microwave buzzed, and he pivoted away from April as her lips parted. He picked up the bowl and dropped it on the counter as it burned his fingers.

She wrinkled her nose at the steam that rose from the pasta. “Better let me know one way or the other because I’ll have to drive to the house, and I’d rather do it before it gets too late.”

“Are you worried about who and what’s out there?” He took the seat beside her and pointed his fork at the windows in the living room.

“Why did someone leave that head on your porch?” She pinned her hands between her knees, which bounced up and down. “You just found the woman’s body today?”

“We found her this afternoon after an image came through from our drone we have out there. She was on our side of the border at the mouth of a tunnel. Nash crawled through the tunnel to see if she left anything behind.”

“Like her head?”

“Drugs, money, cell phone.” He twirled his fork in the pasta drenched with marinara. “Nothing. They left her with nothing.”

“Except the carving of a fly in her cold, dead hand.” April jumped off the stool and took a turn around the room. “You didn’t answer me.”

“Sure, you can stay here for the night.” Clay stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. He could resist this woman for one night, couldn’t he?

“Thanks, but that’s not what I was talking about.” She gathered the hem of the T-shirt in her hands, bunching it in her fists. “Why you? Why was that woman’s head on your porch?”

He swiped a paper towel across his mouth. “I’m Border Patrol. I found the body. The other agent on the scene is a new guy and doesn’t live in town, and Nash’s property is too big and those pecan groves are monitored. I’m the default guy.”

“It’s dangerous that the drug dealers know you and know where you live.”

“The cartel members from Mexico don’t, neither do the runners coming through. It’s just the guys who distribute locally. They’re not going to make a move against the agents. That would be suicide for them.” He planted his elbows on the counter. “I’m glad you didn’t surprise them in the act. You didn’t see anyone driving around when you arrived?”

“No, but I wasn’t paying attention. I probably passed a couple of cars on the road before the turnoff to your place.” She wagged a finger at him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t notice anything about the cars—make, model, color, license plate—nothing. I didn’t realize we’d be finding a head on your porch. I would’ve told that detective if I’d noticed anything.”

“What was it about Detective Espinoza that set you off? The man was just doing his job.” Clay pushed away the bowl of pasta, losing his appetite all over again.

“Why was he asking about my dress?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“The dress had nothing to do with the head in the box.”

“He’s a detective. He’s supposed to be curious.” Clay rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his jaw. He must look like hell and for once he cared. “What surprised me is that Nash didn’t ask about the dress.”

“Didn’t surprise me a bit. That’s Nash.” A giggle escaped from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide and glassy above her fingers.

“Humor is allowed—even with a head on your porch, especially with a head on your porch. It’s a coping device.”

“Yeah, you’re talking to the queen of coping devices.” She tapped a fist over her heart.

“Your coping device is to take care of everyone around you and ignore your own pain.” Except when she’d left him. He’d always told her to look out for herself, but he didn’t think she’d take his advice at the expense of his happiness.

Be careful what you wish for, Archer.

She dipped her head and toyed with the ties at the waistband of his sweats, her hair creating a blond veil around her face. “I’ve kept you away from your routine tonight.”

He glanced down at his dirt-smudged shirt and dusty boots. He did look like hell. “I think that pink box on my porch disrupted my routine…such as it is. But I’ll take the hint and hit the shower.”

Her head shot up. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I usually do take a shower as soon as I get off work, especially after a day like today.” He snatched the bowl from the counter. “I won’t be long. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, or if you’re tired, I can make up the bed in the guest room.”

“I can do that myself. Sheets?”

“There’s bedding in the hall closet, top shelf. I just have a bedspread on that bed, but the sheets in the closet are clean.”

Flicking her fingers in the air, she said, “You go ahead. I’ll fix the bed.”

Clay pushed open the door to his bedroom and tripped to a stop at the discarded dress on the floor. He gathered it in his arms, burying his face in the silky material to inhale the scent of April’s perfume, mixed with her own undeniable smell of sweet and spice.

She’d had enough time to spritz on some perfume before the wedding. What really happened? He had a hard time believing April would put up with someone abusive, but she’d been through a lot in her life.

He tucked a trailing bit of lace into the pile in his arm and stepped out of the room. He’d probably never know the truth, just like he’d never know the real reason why she ran out on him.

When he tapped open the door to the guest room with his toe, April gasped and dropped the stack of folded sheets in her arms on the bed. Still jumpy.

“Sorry. I’m just going to leave this with you.” He dumped the dress on a chair in the corner where it flowed over the sides. “You can figure out how you’re going to get the sample to Detective Espinoza.”

“I will.” She nodded. “Pillows?”

“Not sure if I have extras. I’ll check.”

“Take your shower. I’ll look in the closet.”

He retreated to his bedroom, snapping the door shut. He peeled off his uniform and dropped it in the hamper in the bathroom.

The warm spray of the shower hit him midchest as he stepped under the water. Bracing his hands against the tile, he dropped his head. What was he doing? Inviting April Hart to stay at his place even one night meant trouble.

He’d never been able to get her out of his mind, out of his heart.

He scrubbed the grit and dust from his hair, digging into his scalp. Now, he’d have to not forget about her all over again.

He finished his shower and pulled on some gym shorts and a T-shirt. With any luck, April would be worn out from her drive and the terror of finding that head, and be fast asleep in his guest room.

He stepped out of the bedroom and peered around the corner at April, camped out on his couch cradling a hot drink, her feet on top of his coffee table. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Luck had it in for him tonight.

“Did you find everything you needed for the bed?”

“All made up, except for the pillows. You don’t have any extra, but that’s okay. I’ll do without.” She tapped her feet together. “I made some tea. Hope you don’t mind.” Her gaze met his above the rim of her cup. “I didn’t know you were a tea drinker.”

“Those are left over from my mom’s visit.”

“How’s she doing?” April’s tight smile made it clear she didn’t care how his mom was doing.

Mom had made it clear how she felt about April ditching her only son, practically at the altar.

“She’s fine.” His gaze darted to her bare feet propped up on his furniture and back to her face. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

She slid her feet from the table, curled one leg beneath her and then changed her mind, planting both of them on the floor. “In a hurry to get rid of me? Not that I blame you.”

“Not at all.” He waved his arms around the room in a grand gesture. “Stay as long as you want.”

Her eyes widened for a second. “Be careful.”

Pulling back his shoulders, he crossed his arms. He had to get a grip. One side of his mouth curled into a sneer. “Don’t worry. Where you’re concerned, I’m gonna be careful.”

“Good call, Archer.” She stretched her arms over her head and faked a yawn. “This show is boring, and I’m beat from that drive.”

“I—I just asked about tomorrow because I have work in the morning.”

“Whether you’re here or not, I can make my way to my own house.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it to you. Help yourself to breakfast in the morning.” His shoulders dropped as he walked to the kitchen to get some water. He’d go to work tomorrow, and she’d be gone by the time he returned—out of his life once again.

He walked into the living room clutching a glass of water and eyeing April, still ensconced on his couch. “Did you leave anything in the car that you need?”

“No, or just some cash in the cup holder.”

“Not a great idea. Leaving things in plain sight in your car is what lures thieves to break in.”

She tipped her head back against the couch cushion. “Hard to move. Must be the beer, or the six-hour drive.”

“I’ll get it for you.” He pointed at the table to the side of the front door. “Keys to the car?”

“The only keys I have.”

“Who does that?” He shook his head as he stalked toward the door and snatched the keys from the table.

Someone who ran out on two weddings, that’s who.

He crossed the porch, the warm night air enveloping him as he trooped down the driveway, gravel and dirt crunching beneath each slap of his flip-flops. He pressed the remote, surprised this old beater even had one.

He yanked the door handle, and the dome light flickered. That would have to be replaced soon, but the car belonged to her friend, didn’t it?

He shoved his hand in the cup holder, pinching the bills between his fingertips as he pulled them out. His fingers scrabbled in the bottom of the cup holder for any change, tracing the edge of a smooth disc. He grabbed it and pulled it out, cupping it in his palm.

He held his hand beneath the dome light, and his blood froze in his veins.

What the hell was April doing with a calling card from Las Moscas?

Chapter Four

April pushed up from the couch. Clay was sure taking his sweet time out there. He obviously wanted her to leave and probably wanted her in bed before he even came back into the house—just not his bed.

But the way he looked at her with that fire in his hazel eyes gave her the same old thrill. He couldn’t hide his attraction to her because he hadn’t been schooled in the art of deception, as she had. It had served her well. She probably could’ve even faked things with Jimmy after what she’d discovered about him—but she hadn’t wanted to try.

Adam possessed the same skills as she did—learned from the same master. Adam had never given one hint that he knew what Jimmy did for a living. He’d introduced her to Jimmy and built him up to be this great guy…and she’d allowed Jimmy to sweep her off her feet at just the right time in her life.

Clay burst through the front door, his jaw tight, his face suffused with red rage.

April jerked back, digging her fingernails into the cushions of the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” He thrust out his hand, and uncurled his fingers. “Why the hell is this in your car?”

She sagged against the couch. The token—she’d left the token with the fly carved onto it in the cup holder. So, it wasn’t a coincidence that the headless woman had something similar clutched in her hand.

“I found it.”

Clay blinked, and his solid chest heaved. “You found it here? In my driveway?”

That would make the most sense to him. It would get her out of this particular predicament. She found it in his driveway when she drove up and dropped it in the cup holder, not thinking anything about it.

That would wipe the angry look from his face and allow her to squirm away from the truth. Sometimes a girl got tired of squirming.

She folded her hands across her midsection. “No, I didn’t find it in your driveway.”

“In town, then? On the street?” He spit out possibilities for her, his body stiff and coiled.

“I found it in my ex-fiancé’s office.”

The color flooded Clay’s face again, and he squeezed his fist around the wooden disc. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“It’s the calling card of Las Moscas.”

“What does it mean, April? Who’s your ex-fiancé? What have you gotten yourself into?”

She held up three unsteady fingers. “That’s three questions.”

“And you’re going to answer all three of them.” He strode past her so fast the ends of her hair stirred.

Clay dumped the token on the countertop where it clattered with a jarring, accusatory tone. “Start talking. Start telling the truth…for once.”

“I didn’t know about Jimmy’s involvement with Las Moscas until today. I didn’t even know about Las Moscas until you told me about the cartel.” She hugged herself and sniffed.

“Jimmy what? What’s his last name?”

“Verdugo, Jimmy Verdugo.”

“You met him in Albuquerque?”

“Yes, when I went to visit Adam.”

“Visit from where?”

She lodged the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. It seemed as if Clay planned to use his interrogation to get to the bottom of a few other truths. “I was living in LA.”

“That’s where you went after…you left me?”

“I got a job in accounting. Lots of accounting jobs there.”

“You hate accounting.”

“Had to work.”

He ran a hand across his face as if to readjust his questioning. “Let me guess. Adam knew what Jimmy was. He probably introduced you.”

“I just found that out today, too. Adam knew Jimmy was a drug dealer, and he did introduce us.” Her nose stung at the betrayal from her brother and she rubbed the tip.

“That son of a…” Clay slammed his hand against the counter and the disc skittered across the tile. “How did you find out?”

“Jimmy was busy this morning, before the wedding. Trying to close out some business for his—” she curled her fingers for air quotes “—import/export business. I took the opportunity to sneak into his office.”

“You had to sneak into your fiancé’s office?” He rubbed his palm on the thigh of his shorts.

“I know, right?” She pushed her hair from her face. “I had my suspicions about his business before today, but I thought maybe he was engaging in some shady practices. He never wanted me looking at his accounts, even though I’d offered my services for free.”

“You’re telling me you snuck into his office, saw his books and figured out he was running drugs?”

“You of all people know how these guys operate. Obviously not. While I was snooping in his office, I heard him coming down the hallway with his best man and business associate.” She lifted her shoulders. “I hid.”

“In that wedding dress?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the spare room.

“The sliding door to his balcony was open. I stepped outside. If he had pulled those blinds open, I would’ve been finished.” She clenched her teeth against the chill snaking up her spine as she relived that moment of terror.

“You overheard his conversation with his associate?”

She dipped her chin to her chest once. “I did, and I got an earful. Did your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop because you’d never hear anything good about yourself? Yeah, I’m sure your mother told you that.”

“What did you hear?” Clay’s hazel eyes darkened to deep green, making her pulse flutter.

“It—it’s kind of unbelievable.” She sank to the couch. “I still have a hard time believing I heard it.”

“I’m all ears.” He pulled the stool beneath him and straddled it.

“They talked about a drug deal, a shipment from Mexico, but it sounded like they were going to intercept it or something. From their conversation, there was no doubt in my mind that they planned to hijack this shipment for their own. Is that something Las Moscas would do?”

Clay scratched his chin. “No. That’s something another organization would do to Las Moscas.”

“He definitely had the calling card of Las Moscas in his desk. I stole that before I left.”

“Maybe Jimmy’s a member of the cartel, and he and his best man are planning a big double-cross.”

She put a hand to her throat. “That doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well for Jimmy and Gilbert.”

“Do you care?” He wedged his hands on his knees and hunched forward.

“About Jimmy? No.” She drew her knees up to her chest, digging her heels into the cushion of the couch—and Clay didn’t even object. “He was using me, Clay. The courtship, the engagement, the wedding—all a big farce. Jimmy never cared about me. He set me up, or Adam set me up.”

“Set you up for what?” Clay cocked his head to one side. “What do you have to offer Jimmy Verdugo, a drug dealer? You didn’t win the lottery after you left me, did you?”

She swallowed. Every time he said that she left him, the knife twisted deeper into her gut.

“Not money. Connections.”

His eyebrows shot up to a lock of dark hair curling on his forehead. “What connections? Your drug-addled brother? Did he think Adam could provide him with a steady stream of clients?”

“Not my brother. My father.”

“Your father?” The crease between his eyes deepened. “What the hell does your father have to do with any of this? He disappeared ten years ago after he murdered your mother.”

She wrapped her arms around her legs and touched her forehead to her knees. “The authorities never proved he killed her.”

“I’m not going down that road with you again, April. What did Jimmy Verdugo want with your father?”

“You know how everyone said my father went to Mexico when he vanished?”

“Yeah, which is why most people around here believe he’s guilty.”

She balanced her chin on her knees. “Well, Jimmy and Gilbert believe he’s some big-time drug lord down there.”

“What?” Clay hopped from the stool and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “That’s crazy.”

“They mentioned a name, a nickname. You must know it. El Gringo Viejo.”

The color ebbed from Clay’s tawny complexion. “Jimmy thinks your father, C. J. Hart, is El Gringo Viejo?”

“So, you do know him.”

“Every Border Patrol and every DEA agent knows of El Gringo Viejo.”

“Given what you know about him, could he be my father?”

Clay raised his eyes to the ceiling as if running through facts and dates. “As far as we know, El Gringo Viejo started operating about eight years ago.”

“That fits my father’s timeline. He’d have been down there eight years ago.”

“He moves around a lot. His people are loyal.”

“Is he part of Las Moscas? From what Jimmy and Gilbert said, it didn’t sound like it.”

“He’s not part of a cartel. He provides high-quality product to everyone, and lets them figure it out among themselves. He’s a freelancer.”

“Jimmy was convinced enough to date me and marry me.”

“That Jimmy must’ve been some kind of smooth operator.” A muscle flickered at the corner of Clay’s mouth, and April wanted to press her lips against it.

She’d settled for Jimmy because he’d been a Clay clone. Adam didn’t admit it on the phone, but he most likely trained Jimmy to push all of her buttons. She’d never love anyone the way she’d loved Clay—still loved him.

“I’m pretty sure right now that Adam coached Jimmy into my heart.” She laced her fingers together, and her knuckles blanched.

“I’m sorry.” Clay covered her hands with one of his own. “Adam needs an ass-kicking. He must believe this garbage about your father.”

“We didn’t have a chance to talk about it, but I’m sure he does. He may have even been the one to convince Jimmy of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when you showed up here? Especially when I told you about the carving of the fly?”

“I was getting ready to tell you—most of it, anyway, even though it made me look like a fool.”

“Join the club.”

Her eye twitched. “But then Adam called.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me if I told anyone about Jimmy and his business, Jimmy would kill Adam…and me.”

Clay reached forward and wrapped his fingers around her ankle just below the elastic of the green sweats. “Did this guy ever threaten you before?”

“Never.”

“But he raised your suspicions somehow. That’s why you had to sneak into his office and eavesdrop on him.”

“It was just the finances. He was always so vague about his business. Being an accountant—which you’re right, I hate—I was curious about his numbers. He brought in a lot of money, lived a lavish lifestyle.”

“Is that how he seduced you?” His fingers tightened around her ankle briefly before he released her.

“Are you calling me a gold digger?” She narrowed her eyes and curled her toes into the cushion of the couch.

“I don’t blame you for wanting someone to take care of you. What Jimmy offered must’ve been attractive after what you’ve been through.”

“I admit, the money made his life seem easy—people to handle the pesky details, private trainers, personal chefs, private jet. I was living in some kind of fairy tale until I woke up in that office and realized how fake everything was—including my feelings for Jimmy.”

“I’m assuming Jimmy knows you ditched the wedding because you found out about him and his motives. Can Adam spin it? You got cold feet? Hell, it is kind of a pattern for you.” Clay smacked his palm against his chest. “In fact, this is what I recommend you do. Call Jimmy and apologize for running out. Tell him you’re not ready. Tell him you went back to your ex.”

April’s heart skipped a beat. If only.

“How long did you know him before the wedding?”

“Six months.” She pulled her hair back from her face. “This could work.”

“Perfect. You were too hasty.” Clay pushed off the table and stepped over it on his way to the kitchen. “Do you think that moron brother of yours kept his mouth shut about you? He needs to convince Jimmy you don’t know anything about his dirty business.”

“I don’t think he told Jimmy I eavesdropped on the conversation with Gilbert.” She twisted her fingers. “I did take that carving, though. He probably missed it.”

“Where was it?”

“It was one of several in his desk.”

“Maybe he won’t miss it. What would it mean to you, anyway?” Clay turned around, his phone in his hand. “You didn’t tell Jimmy I was Border Patrol, did you?”

“I didn’t tell Jimmy anything about you, other than I had been engaged before and ended things right before the wedding.” April folded her hands and pinned them between her knees. She hadn’t wanted to tell Jimmy anything about Clay—never even told him his name.

“That’s good.” He held up the phone. “Do you think it’s too late to call Adam and warn him to stay quiet?”

“I can’t believe Adam even kept your number in his phone.”

“Probably insurance. Figured I could get him out of a jam if he ever needed the help.”

“That sounds about right.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll call Adam and find out. And if he told Jimmy that I know he’s a drug dealer?”

“You’ll have to convince Jimmy you won’t tell anyone.”

Clay placed the phone in her outstretched hand, and she went to his recent calls and tapped Adam’s number. At the first ring, she leaned forward. At the second, she glanced at Clay. Adam’s cell rang for a third time, and April licked her lips.

When the phone tripped over to Adam’s voice mail, she put Clay’s phone on speaker. “What now?”

“Don’t leave a message.” Clay lunged for the phone and ended the call. “Just in case.”

“Just in case—” April pressed her fingers against her throbbing temple “—Jimmy has Adam’s phone?”

“Or he gets to his voice mail. You don’t want anything on record.”

“Should I call Jimmy now?”

“Not from my phone.” He held up his cell and then returned it to its charger on the counter. “You can pick up a burner phone tomorrow and call him from that. Maybe Adam will see the missed call from me and get back to you.”

“I wonder why he didn’t pick up.” April rubbed her arms. “It’s a little early for him to be in bed.”

“Maybe he’s with Jimmy and doesn’t want to answer any calls, which would be the smart move.” Clay lifted an eyebrow. “Is Adam still using?”

“Says he’s not.” She hunched her shoulders.

“But you don’t believe him.”

“You may think I’m overly protective where Adam is concerned, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see him for what he is.”

“He’s your brother. I understand.” Clay grabbed his water glass and set it in the sink. “You can stay here if you want to watch TV. The spare room doesn’t have one. I’m going to hit the sack. Unlike Adam, it’s not too early for me, especially after the day I had.”

“You must be exhausted.” She pointed the remote at the TV screen where she’d paused her movie. “I guess I’ll stay here and try to unwind a little.”

“I’ll toss one of my pillows onto your bed.” He lifted his hand and disappeared into the hallway.

April let out a long breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Being in the same room as Clay hadn’t been as easy as she’d expected—even after coming clean about Jimmy.

Could she really call Jimmy tomorrow and act normal? Act as if she didn’t know he was a drug-dealing scumbag who wanted to marry her to get to her father?

She restarted the movie and adjusted a throw pillow behind her neck. Sure she could. She’d been lying to Clay Archer for years.

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