“So this is more of a wait-and-see.”
“Probably. I won’t know unless I show up. But I definitely don’t want to hang around a rough cantina without some means of protection.”
Rip knew the score on cantinas, knew she couldn’t go inside—which meant she would be on the street. Even sitting in a car, as she intended to do, had its risks.
Her old friend Benito met them with a grin and a Ford Taurus in fairly good shape. He also knew where the Blue Pig was and gave her careful directions, along with a warning. The Blue Pig had a very bad reputation. Most cantinas were friendly places where men relaxed and got shit-faced drunk, but the Blue Pig was where the very rough element gathered.
Milla began to think Pavón might actually be there, if the place was that bad.
They met Chela, who silently handed over a shopping bag, took her money, and walked away. “Is it always that easy?” Rip asked in surprise.
“So far. If a policeman ever wants to look in the bag, though, I’m dropping it and running.”
“I’ll run with you,” he said, grinning.
They got back into the Taurus, with Milla behind the wheel. Without hope, before they went to the Blue Pig, Milla tried Diaz’s number one more time. To her absolute astonishment, he answered.
“Where have you been?” she all but shouted at him, then caught herself and felt her face getting hot. She’d said that as if she had a right to know. Then she thought briefly and decided she did have a right to know. They were lovers, and she’d been worried about him.
There were three beats of silence; then he said, “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“My cell phone won’t receive calls. I can call out, but that’s it.”
“I’ve had my phone turned off most of the time.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want it to ring.”
This time she was the one who waited before she spoke, fighting the urge to beat her head against the car’s dashboard. She had the feeling that if she could see him, he’d be wearing that tiny smile of his. “Why not?”
“I didn’t want the noise to attract attention.”
He’d been on stakeout, then. “Did you find out anything?”
“Something very interesting. Where are you?”
“Juarez. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you. I got a call this afternoon saying Pavón will be at the Blue Pig Cantina tonight.”
“I know the place. Stay where you are until I can get there. Don’t go there alone.”
“I’m not alone. Rip Kosper is with me.”
His voice was suddenly tense. “Kosper?”
“Remember my friends Susanna and Rip?”
“She’s involved, Milla. She’s part of it. Get away from him, go back to El Paso. Do it now.”
She actually took the phone away and stared at it in astonishment for a second before putting it back to her ear. “What did you say?”
“Susanna. She set up Justin’s kidnapping. She’s probably neck-deep in the organ smuggling, too. Someone with skill has been removing the organs, and a doctor is the most likely bet.”
She was so stunned she couldn’t think. Susanna? The idea was preposterous. Susanna was her friend, she had delivered Justin, she had made a point of staying in touch all these years and offering support and friendship. She had kept track of Milla’s efforts to find the kidnappers.
Milla was hyperventilating. She caught her breath and held it before she got dizzy, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Milla?” Rip asked, his voice worried. “Are you all right?”
“Get away from him,” Diaz’s voice said in her ear, the tone deadly.
“How soon can you be here?” she asked with a calm that took every ounce of control she possessed.
“I’m seventy kilometers away. An hour, at least.”
“I won’t pass up a chance at Pavón. We know he probably won’t show, but maybe he will.”
Evidently realizing the futility of telling her to go home, Diaz took a deep breath. “Are you armed?”
“Yes.”
“Is he?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Keep it that way. What kind of car are you driving?”
She described the Taurus to him.
“Stay in the car. Keep the doors locked. Park on the street where I can find you. I’ll be there as fast as possible. And if Kosper does anything the least bit suspicious, shoot his ass.”
“Yes. Okay,” she said to the staccato list of commands.
He disconnected the call, and she did the same. She felt shell-shocked, and she didn’t dare look at Rip. He couldn’t be involved. Not Rip. He had a gentle heart, that of a true gentleman. The only time she had ever seen him be less than friendly was the night Susanna had tried to set her up with True; he’d made it obvious that he didn’t like the man.
Neither did Diaz. How odd that both of them would so intensely dislike the same man, and knowing that Rip disliked True, how odd that Susanna would try to throw Milla at him anyway. Why would she do such a thing?
True and Susanna talked. Nothing incriminating about that. He was wealthy now, but he’d dragged himself out of poverty. She had heard that he’d come from El Paso’s meanest, toughest section. She knew that he still had contacts in that world, that he knew all sorts of unsavory characters such as smugglers.
Susanna . . . and True?
It made sense. She was going solely on instinct now, without a shred of corroborating evidence, but it made sense.