The Traitor

smeared on. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth.

Shirley liked to say she was in the management portion of the business. She was very good at her job and ran the house with an iron hand, mainly 'cause nothing bothered her no more. Live and let live, that was her motto.

She started working for Diego Vargas when she was a natural blonde and barely eighteen years old. A looker in those days, even if she said so herself. Diego didn't ask for her no more like he did in the old days, which was hunky-dory by her.

She'd had enough of ugly bruises and broken bones.

A loud pounding on the downstairs door brought her to the top of the staircase. Little Audrey sat behind the reception desk and Buck guarded the door as it swung open. Damn! Too early for regular customers, she thought as Gabriel Santos walked into the entry and stared up at her with those damned flat eyes of his, silent as the grave, like usual.

Diego Vargas followed right behind him. 'Shirley, bebe.' Diego beamed up at her. 'How is my favorite madam?'

It cost Shirley a lot to smile at him. Last time he visited, the girl he asked for bled to death before he finished with her. Business was business, but still, Diego liked mixin' his business with too much pleasure for her taste.

'Hey, there, Councilman. What can I get for you? Wine, whiskey?' Not my girls, she prayed silently.

'No, no, I have brought the girls with me.'

'Yourself?' Shirley couldn't hide her surprise. Diego almost never delivered the girls himself. Transporting them across the border was a tricky business.

'This was muy especial, a very special trip for a particular cargo.' Vargas beckoned her down the stairs. 'Come, I will show you.'

Shirley wrapped the silk gown around her plump belly and started down the curved staircase.

'Bring the girls into the sitting room,' Vargas ordered Santos.

Five minutes later, the big giant brought the girls in and lined them up in front of where Shirley and Diego sat on a soft paisley print sofa. God, what a string of dirty kids, she thought. Children. What the hell kinda thing was Diego gettin' her mixed up in now? 'I don't wanna deal in no kids,' she whined.

'Don't be estupida, Shirley. How many times do you have customers who ask for peticiones especiales?'

Five of Vargas' special requests stood there, all of them with blown pupils, leaning weakly on each other. Drugs, prolly. He woulda drugged 'em for the trip to keep them quiet.

'Take their clothes off,' Diego ordered. 'I want to see my merchandise.'

The girls were dressed skimpy and it wasn't long before they were all naked, looking around the fancy sitting room with bruised eyes. Just babies, she thought. Flat-chested babies.

Jesus on a crutch, but what the hell could she do? She was just a old worn-out hooker, way past her prime. No one was gonna pay to screw her any more.

She turned away as Diego reached for the smallest girl.

*

Rafe stared at Isabella across the restaurant table and wondered how she could say nothing had happened between then, even though a few hours ago he'd tried to convince himself of the same thing. He'd kissed her, hell, fondled her in a pretty damned intimate way. How could he think nothing had happened? How could she think it?

Under other circumstances, it might've been everything. What they'd done last night seemed sexier than if he'd been inside her, pounding his urgent lusts into her more than willing body.

He coughed and got his head together. Water under the bridge. No point to that kind of thinking. Right now, he needed to find out whose blood was in that alley. Determine if his confidential informant was safe or…

'You're right,' he said, reaching for the check and standing. 'Let's put this behind us. And get the hell out of here.'

Torres didn't hide the flash of surprise that crossed her face. 'Sure,' she said slowly. 'Right now the important thing is to focus on the human trafficking case against Vargas.'

Rafe sat back down, raised his eyebrows, and thought surely she was joking. 'Human trafficking? How about a very big drug trafficking ring? One that puts the Colombian cartels to shame.'

'Drugs?' Her voice pitched higher and he heard the strain under her words. 'What are you talking about?'

'Diego Vargas and his use of the Nortenos to create brand new drug routes into the country through California.' He shrugged. 'What else?'

'Illegal drugs have been around for decades. What we need to get Vargas on is the human trafficking.' Her face was a study in astonishment. 'Surely, you can't think the drug deals are more serious than the slavery of human beings?'

'I know we have completely different agendas, Torres,' he said, slamming out of the booth, 'but I thought you could be flexible.'

She grabbed her purse and tried to stand face to face with him; her nose barely reached his chest. 'If you think I'm going to let you grab Vargas on some half-assed drug deal, you're loco.'

'Half-ass – listen, little miss know-it-all, I'm going to see that Vargas and his sidekick Santos go down for one of the biggest drug schemes since the beginning of the twentieth century.'

Bella clutched her purse to her body and sputtered, 'What did you call me?'

If she could've killed him with a look, he'd be dead. 'Oh, right, how about Isabella, then?' He drew her name out as his voice dripped with sarcasm and he shoved past her, heading toward the cashier.

'?Es todo aceptable, Sr. Hashemi?' the woman asked.

'Si, Angelina… '

'El alimento era muy delicioso,' Bella interrupted. '?Es usted el dueno de este restaurante?'

Before the surprised Angelina could respond, Rafe glared and grabbed Bella's arm, ushering her out of the restaurant. 'Yes, the food is delicious, and Angelina's family owns the place. Are you trying to show off?'

'No,' Bella, muttered, although she had been trying to regain some sort of control. Why should he assume she couldn't speak Spanish when she was obviously Latina. 'Never mind that.'

Rafe opened the car door and held it while she swung her legs inside. 'I won't.' He leaned close to her face. 'Don't screw around with me on this case, Torres. It's too important.' He slammed the car door before she could answer.

Bella decided to delay the argument until they got back to the DEA field office. After a serious discussion of the human trafficking issue, she would convince him it was the more serious charge to bring against Vargas. She hoped.

But when they arrived at the Roybal Building, Rafe simply reached across her lap and opened the car door – ever the gentleman, the jerk – and pointed to the curb. 'This is it, then,' he said. 'I'll see you in Sacramento.'

She turned toward the concrete steps leading up to the entrance, but realizing his intent, she looked back at him. 'Wait a minute. What's going on here? I thought we were going to exchange information.'

'We are,' he grinned, 'but obviously your information is tucked away somewhere up north. So I'll meet you there.'

'But when? How are you getting there?'

His look clearly said those were stupid questions, and they were, she thought, but she'd been surprised at what seemed to be his hundred and eighty degree turnaround.

'Uh, I'd thought about swimming up the Pacific coast, but decided to drive instead,' he mocked.

She ignored his tone. 'Why not fly? It's quicker.'

'I like the idea of having my own car in case I need to scout around somewhere.'

She didn't like the sound of that. Was he planning on going off on his own and snooping into her case? Her doubt must've registered on her face because he said, 'Don't worry, Torres. I'm not going to screw up what you've been working on. Besides, I have to make a stop in Stockton first.'

'Stockton? Why?'