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“Are you aware that Nick Fentes has a criminal record?”
Of course, he was. You don’t leave your wife alone with a man that you don’t know everything about. You don’t watch her fall in love without keeping tabs on the situation. It was the same reason that Gwen knew about Meghan, and then Bell. They had loved each other enough to protect each other’s hearts. Dario nodded. “Minor stuff. Most of it in his past.”
“Larceny and assault aren’t exactly minor. He almost killed a man in a bar fight.”
Dario shrugged. “You probably come from a good family, Agent King. Solid neighborhood. Honor Roll student. But Nick and I …”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wooden table, the cheap furniture giving a little under the weight. “I understood where he came from and the situations that led to those arrests. We discussed it, and I felt comfortable hiring him, and knowing that he could handle the ranch and anyone who might show up to mess with it.”
Nick could handle Hawk. That was why Dario had hired him. And he had seen Nick’s past as a positive, not a negative. The man could fight. Wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. He’d gone hungry enough times to appreciate a steady paycheck. He could look at Gwen with a tenderness that went against every other blood vessel in his body. When she was alone at the ranch with Nick, Dario didn’t worry about her. He knew that Nick would protect her with his life. And ultimately, the man had.
“We finished the search of Hawk’s home. Found something you might find interesting.”
Dario kept his expression bored and stayed silent, not reacting when the man reached down and lifted an evidence bag from the banker’s box at his feet. Inside the bag was a Smith & Wesson. A gun he recognized. A gun he’d carried out of Bell’s suite and into Robert Hawk’s home.
He lifted one eyebrow and didn’t move, didn’t allow himself to think about the moment in the study when he’d planted the gun. The feds had known about the bug. The gun … that he hadn’t told anyone about.
When he’d dropped the gun into the velvet-lined desk drawer, it had made a thud that seemed to echo in the room. He’d looked up and into Hawk’s face with the certainty that the man had heard the sound and would walk over to investigate. He’d sweated through the subsequent interaction, sighed with relief when Hawk discovered the wire, and left with a dozen prayers that the weapon would not be discovered until the police searched Hawk’s home.
For once, his prayers had been answered.
A gift that, thanks to Nick’s swift justice, didn’t seem to matter.
“You seen this before?” The man pushed the gun closer and waited. Dario eyed the gun and contemplated his next move.
Eleven
BELL
“You trying to git away from me so soon?” Laurent moved between the counter and the fridge, depositing groceries in the efficient manner of a seasoned bachelor.
“Honestly?” I smiled. “Yeah.” I pulled a few items out of bags and set them on the counter. “The guy—the one we’ve been worried about hunting me down, is dead.”
At least, he might be dead. We hadn’t received confirmation of that, though I had practically worn out Laurent’s remote by channel surfing news stations. Ridiculously enough, the man didn’t have internet OR a smart device. “So… if he is dead, then problem solved. Threat vanquished.”
“I think you mean vanished.” He regarded me with the sober expression of a man actually thinking over the word usage.
“I think either term works. Please focus.” I leaned against the counter, then stopped when the plastic surface made a sound, something like a crack, from the weight. “I’m about ready to walk home, I’m so ready to get back to Vegas.”
And I was. I thought that seeing Dario would give me some peace and patience. Instead, all I had thought about, since he left, was being back in his arms.
He laughed. “You walk out dat door...” He pointed toward the front of the house. “…and you might get fifteen minutes before you be slapping moustiques and jogging back to the air conditioner. Listen.” He closed the refrigerator door and turned to me. “Best I am aware, he taking you home.” He brushed off his hands. “Okay? Be patient.”
A bit of hope bloomed, and I swallowed it, refusing to believe anything until I had hard confirmation and details. “When?”
“I don’t know when, but knowing him, he’ll call soon. He’s probably in the middle of something.” He shrugged, moving past me and into the living room. I watched him go and hoped he was right.
DARIO
“Well?” The FBI agent raised his eyebrows.
Dario looked up from the gun. “I’ve seen a lot of guns in my lifetime. I own two that look very similar to that one.”
