Christmas Double Cross. Jodie Bailey

Christmas Double Cross - Jodie Bailey


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      * * *

      The barely controlled anger coursing through Colt wasn’t something he was used to. Looking down at the woman who was responsible for so much betrayal and death and pain... His fingers wrapped around the hard plastic at the foot of the bed and dug in, his jaw clenched so tight the tension radiated into his temples.

      She had no right to look up at him with eyes so wide and frightened, tugging at his sympathy and making him want to ease up on his questions. He was starting to understand how Brent could have fallen for her manipulations. But he wouldn’t be that easily trapped.

      He pulled a deep breath in through his nose and fixed his gaze on hers.

      She shrunk further into herself. For half a second, he almost relented, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. A woman cold-blooded enough to kill for what she wanted, greedy enough to funnel drugs into the country without care for the harm she was doing.

      Colt forced his jaw to work. “If I were you, I’d start talking now, Danielle.” Her name ground out on a wave of sarcasm so heavy, it nearly sank in the air. “We already have the warrant for your apartment. Your prints and DNA are being run as we speak, courtesy of that same warrant. You’re caught. It’s over.”

      Her mouth opened, closed. Wide brown eyes narrowed, a deep V writing confusion between her eyes as she shook her head. “What is... I don’t...” She exhaled loudly and leaned her head back toward the ceiling, muttering something softly in Spanish. Colt picked up only a few words. Jesus. Help me.

      Wow. She was a better actress than he’d thought. She’d have to be to fool Rio, who wasn’t known for being the trusting type. But appealing to Jesus? Colt hadn’t been on speaking terms with God in many years, but even he knew that was a low blow.

      Still, she looked helpless. Scared.

      The fear in her eyes drew him, made him want to dial back his aggression and comfort her, make her feel better.

      But she couldn’t drag him in. He’d long ago grown cold.

      Tucking his elbows closer to his sides, he pulled his gaze from her to a spot just above her head. Forgetting who he was dealing with would be dangerous. “Why me? Why talk to me?”

      “Because I thought you were someone who could be trusted. When it comes to the authorities, I’m picky lately.”

      She’d found her voice, and it was rising fast.

      “Seems to me, if I were you, I’d be picky, too.” Colt let himself pin her eyes again. “You chose the wrong person to trust, because I’m the one you ought to fear the most.”

      Her eyes widened as her head jerked back. She winced from the movement, tears edging to the corners of her eyes.

      He turned his head to look out the window at the El Paso skyline. “Listen, I’ll lay it out for you. What we want is—”

      “Colt.” The voice came from behind him, low and loaded with authority.

      Forcing his fingers to unlock from the foot of the bed, Colt turned to face Austin Brewer, who stood in the doorway, imposing in his unofficial uniform of khaki pants and a white button-down, his Stetson at his side. Normally, Austin was smiling, but not now. Something in his expression said things had gotten a whole lot worse than someone trying to kidnap the suspect the Rangers had been hunting.

      His gut twisted. Was it Carmen? Since going undercover in the Garcia cartel over a month ago, Ranger Carmen Alvarez had been missing. No contact. No nothing. The greatest fear among the team was that she’d been taken... Or worse. And the look on Austin’s face right now hinted that Colt might need to steel himself.

      If they’d lost Carmen because of the woman behind him... He fisted his hands and walked toward Austin, who fell into step beside him.

      “You can’t question her like that. You’re way out of line.” Austin kept his voice low, a reminder, not a reprimand.

      Digging his teeth into his lower lip, Colt stayed quiet. Austin spoke the truth. They had to tread lightly or a technicality would wreck this case in court.

      “Now come with me—there are some things you should know,” Austin continued, leading Colt a short distance up the hallway where Rangers Trevor Street and Ethan Hilliard waited.

      Trevor’s glance raked over Colt’s then stuck to a bulletin board on the wall, something like pity, maybe even frustration, in the look.

      Ethan just watched.

      “Carmen?” Colt wasn’t going to wait for someone to lob the grenade. He was going to pull the pin himself.

      Ethan shook his head. “No word on that front.”

      That was either good...or very, very bad. Bad news meant closure. No news meant she was still out there, and no one knew her condition. But Colt knew Carmen. She was smart. Tough. Savvy enough to keep from being found out. Knowing her, she was hiding, waiting for the right time to come in and blow this whole thing wide open.

      If that was the case, why did everyone look as though someone had keyed their pickups?

      Austin blew out a loud breath and scratched the top of his head. “No easy way to say this, Blackthorn.”

      “Then spit it out.”

      “That woman is not Adriana Garcia. Not even close.”

      Colt backed off and stalked up the hallway away from his teammates, dragging his hand through his hair. No way. The woman in that hospital bed had to be Adriana Garcia. The photo wouldn’t lie. Neither would his gut.

      Except his gut had proven wrong one too many times recently, which was probably why Trevor couldn’t look him in the eye.

      Colt turned back to his team but didn’t step closer. “Prove it.”

      “The print we lifted off the business card? It belongs to Danielle Segovia. The same one that’s been showing up in the database all along. Twenty-six. Born and raised here in El Paso. Mother was Mexican. Father an American she met when he was stationed at Bliss. Both died in a car wreck a few years ago. She’s raising a younger brother. We have school records, taxes filed. She’s solid. The print doesn’t match Garcia’s.”

      “A good cover.” Except fingerprints didn’t typically lie.

      “There’s more. Lizzie called. Preliminary DNA testing on the blood found in the car’s trunk is way off. Danielle Segovia is not even a twelfth cousin to the Garcias.”

      The words hit Colt in the chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He gripped his cheeks and dragged his hand along his mouth, tugging at the tension in his jaws. “So why did someone try to take her?”

      “Same reason we came after her. Same reason local law enforcement tipped us when she called them about the break-in at her store and she looked just like the BOLO we put out on Adriana.” Ethan straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I glanced through the window of the room just now while you two were talking.” He held his phone up, open to the passport photo of Adriana Garcia that they all carried. “She’s a dead ringer, right down to the way she parts her hair.”

      Trevor sniffed and finally spoke. “Which means Manning and Rook are at the wrong apartment right now, searching for evidence they’re never going to find.”

      “Major Vance already called them off,” Ethan said. “They’re headed here, because we’ve got bigger problems in that hospital room right now.”

      Colt dropped his chin and shook his head. Bigger problems was an understatement. Not only had they not found the woman half of the state was hunting, they’d led Rio Garcia here and put a civilian in danger. That meant Danielle Segovia was one more complication in the hunt for Adriana Garcia.

      One that could prove deadly for the woman they had placed in harm’s way.

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