The Traitor

amended, nothing so sexual, more as if he were stripping her soul bare. She was grateful she'd worn four-inch heels today, although it hardly put them on an equal footing.

Bella suppressed a shudder and returned his look unflinchingly. When he examined her features more closely, for a moment she saw some emotion flicker within those obsidian eyes, a struggle for memory, and then recognition. It lasted a long ten seconds and then vanished. She shook her head, certain she'd imagined it.

Looking at a spot over her head, Santos reached into his breast jacket pocket and fingered a piece of paper. The ragged edges showed from beneath his long, dark fingers.

After a few seconds his face split into a grin, wide, white teeth flashing in his scarred face. 'I have heard interesting things about the young assistant district attorney who fights so daringly in court. What does such a fierce warrior as yourself want with a humble Mexican man like me?'

They shifted aside to allow others to pass and Bella found herself pressed nearly chest to chest with Santos. His enormous size felt suffocating. 'You're Diego Vargas' attorney, right?'

At his sudden scowl, she continued, 'That isn't privileged information. It's a matter of public record.'

'Yes, I represent Mr. Vargas,' he answered at last.

'Mr. Santos,' she mocked. 'Are you sure a man with the vile inclinations of Diego Vargas should be called 'Mister?'' She hadn't meant to start so aggressively, but couldn't seem to help herself. She despised Vargas, and by association, this stone-faced man who guarded him.

Santos' face went hard, a granite slab transposing his dark visage. 'You are speaking of my client, Assistant District Attorney Torres,' he reminded her. 'What do you want?'

'Like I said, I want to talk to you.'

'About my client?' he scoffed.

'Yes.' She watched his face carefully, both intrigued and repelled by the brutishness of his body, the intense stillness of his face. Almost as if all emotion had been stripped from him, flayed off by a master's cruel whip.

'Un hombre sabio no traiciona secretos.' Santos said softly.

Bella clearly understood the phrase. A wise man doesn't betray secrets.

'Are you sure?' she asked. 'Algunos secretos robaran un alma de hombre.' Some secrets will steal a man's soul.

Santos' eyes widened slightly before his carved lips smiled and without a further word, he walked toward the parking area. She realized she'd surprised the bodyguard, and she doubted he was often taken unawares.

She called a warning after him. 'I can subpoena you, Mr. Santos.'

He paused, turned, and smiled grimly at her. 'Perhaps you should not call me senor, either,' he said then strolled toward a dark gray BMW in the parking lot.

From her angle Bella could see him pull what looked like a rectangular paper the size of an index card out of his jacket. He stared at it long moments before he replaced it and eased his giant's body behind the wheel. She continued to track the car until it made the turn toward the highway.

Diego Vargas was Santos' only client. She'd known he wouldn't talk to her, but she'd tried anyway on the off chance that she could trick him into saying something damaging. Instead, she'd tipped her own hand.

The drive back to Placer Hills passed in record time, and when Bella arrived, she reported to Slater about the results of Santos' day in court. Neither was surprised by the outcome.

She worked through lunch and beyond, ensconced in her office on the second floor of the courthouse. Today was one of the few days she had no court appearances and she wanted to take advantage to catch up on paperwork and research.

A brief knock on her open office door caused her to look up to see Agent Hashemi framing the doorway. Without preliminaries, he dove right in, the accusation strong in his voice. 'Why are you being so damn stubborn about the drug case?'

'Well, hello, there, Agent Hashemi. And good afternoon to you, too.'

Torres made that little moue that Rafe had found endearing a few nights ago, but which now just annoyed the hell out of him. 'Answer the question, Torres.'

He sat down in the comfortable chair opposite her desk and shook his head at the mess cluttered in front of her. How could she work in this chaos? 'Why are you digging in your heels?'

The look Isabella flashed him would've killed a lesser man, Rafe decided, but even with her color high and her lips pursed tight against her teeth, she looked pretty damn good.

'You haven't given me anything, Hashemi,' she answered mildly, continuing to riffle through papers. 'Not a damned thing. So tell me how I'm the one who's being stubborn.'

He shrugged his shoulders and shifted in his seat. 'Okay, what do you want to know?'

She thought a moment, staring through the doorway into the dimly lit hall and the rickety elevator. He could see the wheels turning in her head and almost laughed. She wouldn't appreciate the humor in her bargaining for information he planned to give her anyway.

'I want to know what you found in that alley.'

He smiled to himself. It had to be hard for her to mention the alley and conjure up images of the night they met. 'Blood.'

'Blood?'

'Yeah, you know, that red, viscous liquid?'

'I know blood,' she snapped. 'Whose?'

'Ex-con by the name of Morris Sullivan.'

'Oh.' That stopped her for a minute. 'I don't know the name. Is he dead?'

'Don't know. We can't find a body.' He looked away, thinking of Lupe's mangled torso.

She pounced on his hesitation, probably thinking he was holding back. 'What else aren't you telling me?'

'The human blood was covered up with animal blood.'

'Someone didn't want you to know about Sullivan.' It wasn't a question, and he liked how her mind wrapped around the problem so fast.

'I thought maybe your office could tie Sullivan back to Diego Vargas,' he suggested, getting up and casually walking around the office, noticing how much more spacious it was than Sheriff Slater's.

'Sullivan, that's Irish.' Bella frowned, concentrating. 'You think a white ex-con would be mixed up with the Mexicans?'

'Strange things happen in prison.'

She nodded as if she'd just come to some important understanding. 'Is that why you told me about the blood in the alley? Because you wanted my help on Sullivan?'

'Yeah, probably.' He grinned unrepentantly. 'I'm pretty much a bastard.'

'That's what I figured,' she said, but with a smile that made his heart skip a beat or two.

Rafe tried again, this time gentling his voice because he sensed something grievous under the surface of her smooth facade. 'Why are you so hell bent on ignoring the drug case, Torres, when it's much easier to prosecute than human trafficking?'

She lowered her eyes, but not before Rafe saw a flash of pain in them.

'Okay, never mind about that,' he said, unwilling to probe into whatever had caused that distress, unwilling to hurt her more. Time enough to pour salt in the wounds later, he thought. 'How about another quid pro quo?'

She raised those dark chocolate eyes to meet his and from his higher position he noted how they were lushly surrounded by thick black lashes. Aha, a spark of interest.

'What do you have in mind?'

'Tell me what happened at the Santos arraignment.' The Nevada court proceeding was information he could easily obtain, but he wanted to broker a truce with her. Five minutes later, she'd given him the shortened version, but he didn't mind. He still believed any information about Santos wasn't significant enough to pursue.

'I think Santos is the key,' she said, completely upsetting Rafe's train of thought.

He perched on the edge of her desk and leaned forward. 'How so?'

'Santos is the attorney of record.' She held up her fingers one at a time. 'He's been with Vargas a very long time. He's moved from thuggish bodyguard to closest confidant. We should be tailing Santos as closely as we follow Vargas.'

Rafe considered. 'If there are secrets, you think Santos will know where the bodies are buried?'