LITMIR.BIZ

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see. I’m the goat.”

      She blinked. “Excuse me?”

      “They’re going to tether me out to attract the puma.”

      “Puma.” She laughed. “Funny, but one of my customers said that’s what the local population calls ‘El General.’ They say he’s cunning and dangerous like a cat, but that he can purr when he wants to.” Her face softened. “For a dictator, he’s held in high esteem by most democracies. He’s intelligent, kind, he reveres women and he isn’t afraid to fight for justice.”

      “Does he wear a red cape?” Rick murmured.

      She shook her head. “Sorry.”

      “Who’s in on this?” he asked narrowly. “Does my lieutenant know?”

      “Yes,” she said. “And there’s a covert operative somewhere in your organization,” she added. “I got that tidbit from a patrol officer who has a friend on the force in San Antonio. A guy named Sims.”

      “Sims.” His face closed up. “He’s got connections. And he’s a total ethical wipeout. I hate having a guy like that on the force. He got careless with a pistol and almost shot himself in the foot. He’s the reason we just had a gun safety workshop.”

      “Learning gun safety is not a bad thing.”

      He sighed. “I know.” He was trying to adjust to the shock of his parentage. “Why didn’t my mother tell me?” he burst out.

      “She was trying to protect you. I’m certain that she would have told you eventually,” she added. “She just didn’t have time before she died.”

      He grimaced. “What am I supposed to do now, walk over the border, find the general and say, hey, guess what, I’m your kid?”

      “I don’t really think that would be wise,” she replied. “I’m not sure he’d believe it in the first place. Would you?”

      “Now there’s a question.” He leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes focused on the tablecloth. “I suppose I could have a DNA profile done. There’s a private company that can at least rule out paternity by blood type. If mine is compatible with the general’s, it might help convince him … Wait a minute,” he added coldly. “Why the hell should I care?”

      “Because he’s your father, Rick,” she said gently. “Even though he doesn’t know.”

      “And the government’s only purpose in telling me is to help reunite us,” he returned angrily.

      “Well, no, they want someone to convince the general to make a trade agreement with us once he’s back in power. They’re certain that he will be, which is why they want you to make friends with him.”

      “I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to know he has a grown son who’s a cop,” he said coldly. “Especially since he’s wanted by our government for kidnapping.”

      She leaned forward with her chin resting in her hands, propped by her elbows. “You could arrest him,” she pointed out. “And then befriend him in jail. Like the mouse that took the thorn out of the lion’s paw and became its friend.”

      He made a face at her. “I can’t walk across the border and arrest anyone. I might have been born in Mexico, but I’m an American citizen. And I did it the hard way,” he added firmly. “Legally.”

      She grimaced.

      “Sorry,” he said after a minute. “I know you sympathize with all the people hiding out here who couldn’t afford to wait for permission. In some of their countries, they could be killed just for paying too much attention to the wrong people.”

      “It’s very bad in some Central American states,” she pointed out.

      “It’s very bad anywhere on our border.”

      “And getting worse.”

      He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. His big hand rested on the coffeemaker as he switched it off. “Who’s the mole in my office?”

      “I honestly don’t know,” she replied. “I only know that Sims told his friend, Cash Grier’s patrolman, about it. He said it was someone from a federal agency, working undercover.”

      “I wonder how Sims knew.”

      “Maybe he’s the mole,” she teased.

      “Unlikely. Most feds have too much respect for the law to abuse it. Sims actually suggested that we confiscate a six-pack of beer from a convenience store as evidence in some pretended case and threaten the clerk with jail if he told on us.”

      “Good grief! And he works for the police?” she exclaimed, horrified.

      “Apparently,” he replied. “I didn’t like what he said, and I told him so. He seemed repentant, but I’m not sure he really was. Cocky kid. Real attitude problem.”

      “Doesn’t that sound familiar?” she asked the room at large.

      “I never suggested breaking the law after I went through the academy and swore under oath to uphold it,” he replied.

      “Are you sure you didn’t overreact, my darling?” she asked gently.

      “If I did, so did Cassaway. She was hotter under the collar than I was.” He laughed shortly. “And then she beat the lieutenant on the firing range and he let out a bad word. She marched right up to him and said she was offended and he shouldn’t talk that way around her.” He glanced at her ruefully. “Hence, the rose.”

      “Oh. An apology.” She looked disappointed. “Your lieutenant is very attractive,” she mused. “And eligible. I thought he might find Miss Cassaway interesting. Or something.”

      “Maybe he does,” he said vaguely. “God knows why. She’s good with a gun, I’ll give her that, but she’s a walking disaster in other ways. How she ever got a job with the police, I’ll never know.” He didn’t like talking about Cassaway and the lieutenant. It got under his skin, for reasons he couldn’t understand.

      “She sounds very nice to me.”

      “Everybody sounds nice to you,” he replied. He smiled at her. “You could find one good thing to say about the devil, Mom. You look for the best in people.”

      “You look for the worst,” she pointed out.

      He shrugged. “That’s my job.”

      He was thoughtful, and morose. She felt even more guilty when she saw how disturbed he really was.

      “I wish there had been some other way to handle this,” she muttered angrily. “I hate being made the fall guy.”

      “Hey, I’m not mad at you,” he said, and bent to kiss her hair. “I just … don’t know what to do.” He sighed.

      “‘When in doubt, don’t,’” she quoted. She frowned. “Who said that?”

      “Beats me, but it’s probably good advice.” He put down his cooling coffee and stretched, yawning. “I’m beat. Too many late nights finishing paperwork and going on stakeouts. I’m going to bed. I’ll decide what to do in the morning. Maybe it will come to me in a dream or something,” he added.

      “Maybe it will. I’m just sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”

      “I’ll get used to the idea,” he assured her. “I just need a little time.”

      She nodded.

      But time was in short supply. Two days later, a tall, elegant man with dark hair and eyes, wearing a visitor’s tag but no indication of his identity, walked into Rick’s office and closed the door.

      “I need to talk to you,” he said.

      Rick stared at him. “Do I know you?” he asked after a minute, because

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