Deguello (A Hunter Kincaid Novel) - Page 7

Hunter felt anger heating up inside like a smoldering coal when someone blows on it. How dare he come to their party and spy on her? She walked to a locked closet, opened it with Norma’s key, and slipped on her fringed leather jacket, patting the pocket to make sure the small Glock was there. She left the area and fast-walked into the parking lot to face him.

He stood relaxed, making small body movements in time with the band’s music, and as Hunter drew closer, said, “Smells good. You make some ceviche, too?”

Hunter stopped six feet from him, “I didn’t get your name earlier when we met.”

“They call me Ike, short for Issac.”

“Well, Ike, what do you want? You don’t have any friends in this crowd, so what is it?”

“You.”

“I’m right in front of you.”

“What it is, Ramona wants to see you.”

Hunter leaned sideways from the waist in exaggerated movements to look behind him, “I don’t see her. Too bad, we’ll have to make it another time.” She turned and walked toward the party.

“It’s about some missing children. Abducted kids, like Anita was.”

That stopped Hunter. She returned to Ike, “I’m listening.”

“Ramona has the info, not me. I can take you to her, or you can say where you’d like to meet. Only it has to be in Mexico.”

“Why? She obviously has a border crossing card.”

“She’s a United States citizen, born in Socorro, New Mexico.”

“So, why doesn’t she come over here?”

Ike said, “She feels safer in Mexico.”

“After Anita was taken?”

“That won’t happen again. I’m staying close.”

Hunter appraised Ike. “You that good?”

“Por supuesto, for sure.”

“You’re confident, I’ll say that.”

“Unless Ramona tells me she doesn’t want me around for something, I’ll be close enough to tousle Anita’s hair.”

“I’ll bet Anita is happy about that.”

Ike smiled, “She keeps telling Ramona, ‘I want Miss Hunter’.”

That touched Hunter, but she didn’t let it show. “Give me your phone number. I’ll text you as to where. I’m not from around this area, so I’ll bring my friend, too.”

“The other Border Patrol Agent.”

“Yep.”

Ike took out a small, three-by-five spiral notepad, wrote on it and ripped the paper from the wire spirals before giving it to her.

“You carry that note pad all the time?”

“I do. Old habit.”

Tags: Billy Kring Thriller
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