Jo Robertson - The Traitor

"You should watch out for Santos," Torres warned, the same distasteful set to her mouth.

"The power behind the throne," Slater added.

"How do you mean?" Rafe asked.

Torres finally collapsed in a heap on her chair. "Diego Vargas is a very evil man," she explained, carefully formulating her reply. "But Santos? He's not only bad, he's smart."

"Like a fox," Slater added.

The last time Isabella Torres had seen Santos face to face was in Councilman Diego Vargas' office on a prior case. That meeting hadn't gone well then, and she dreaded confronting the man again. Now he seemed even more of a giant as he stood for arraignment while she watched from the rear of the courtroom.

Nevada County had decided to press forward on the drug charges although they were likely to be dismissed. Possession of the small amount of marijuana, not repackaged in individual baggies for sale, was a ridiculous charge, and in any other county wouldn't have been worth the court's time. Bella could tell by the look on the magistrate's face that this judge also didn't appreciate the waste.

A short, round attorney, expensively dressed in a black, light-weight suit, stood beside Santos, dwarfed by his client. Santos dipped his head to hear the lawyer whisper in his ear and then stood with military precision, looking neither left nor right, but straight toward the judge's raised podium.

"Your honor," the attorney intoned, "I respectfully request the charges against my client be dismissed and ask the court to sanction the aggressive actions of the sheriff's department in bringing Mr. Santos here on these ridiculous charges."

Frankly, Bella agreed with him.

Judge Schwartz frowned, his florid face a study in irritation, and after several moments of back and forth sniping between the prosecutor and the defense attorney, he finally groused, waving his hand over the podium. "Enough," he pronounced. "Time served and a thousand dollar fine."

He banged the gavel and gave the defendant a hard look. "Mr. Santos, don't let me see you in my court again. Case dismissed."

Santos shrugged inelegantly. His attorney whispered again in his ear while the bailiff removed him to the back of the courtroom to await the short return to the jail and his imminent release. Bella waited impatiently through the tedious process, alternately pacing the sidewalk and sitting in the small lobby. She didn't want to miss the opportunity to confront Santos head on.

When he finally exited through the chain link fence, Bella quickly blocked the way. "Mr. Santos, I'm Isabella Torres. I'd like a word with you."

The black, flat eyes slid over her with less concern than if she were a fly buzzing round his head. "See my attorney."

He moved around her, but she stepped in his way again. He stopped inches from her so she was forced to crane her neck to look up as he towered over her like a teacher over a disobedient student.

Narrowing his eyes, he raked his gaze down her body and up again, as if he were undressing her. No, she amended, nothing so sexual, more as if he were stripping her soul bare. She was grateful she'd worn four-inch heels today, although it hardly put them on an equal footing.

Bella suppressed a shudder and returned his look unflinchingly. When he examined her features more closely, for a moment she saw some emotion flicker within those obsidian eyes, a struggle for memory, and then recognition. It lasted a long ten seconds and then vanished. She shook her head, certain she'd imagined it.

Looking at a spot over her head, Santos reached into his breast jacket pocket and fingered a piece of paper. The ragged edges showed from beneath his long, dark fingers.

After a few seconds his face split into a grin, wide, white teeth flashing in his scarred face. "I have heard interesting things about the young assistant district attorney who fights so daringly in court. What does such a fierce warrior as yourself want with a humble Mexican man like me?"

They shifted aside to allow others to pass and Bella found herself pressed nearly chest to chest with Santos. His enormous size felt suffocating. "You're Diego Vargas' attorney, right?"

At his sudden scowl, she continued, "That isn't privileged information. It's a matter of public record."

"Yes, I represent Mr. Vargas," he answered at last.

"Mr. Santos," she mocked. "Are you sure a man with the vile inclinations of Diego Vargas should be called 'Mister?'" She hadn't meant to start so aggressively, but couldn't seem to help herself. She despised Vargas, and by association, this stone-faced man who guarded him.

Santos' face went hard, a granite slab transposing his dark visage. "You are speaking of my client, Assistant District Attorney Torres," he reminded her. "What do you want?"

"Like I said, I want to talk to you."

"About my client?" he scoffed.

"Yes." She watched his face carefully, both intrigued and repelled by the brutishness of his body, the intense stillness of his face. Almost as if all emotion had been stripped from him, flayed off by a master's cruel whip.

"Un hombre sabio no traiciona secretos." Santos said softly.

Bella clearly understood the phrase. A wise man doesn't betray secrets.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Algunos secretos robarán un alma de hombre ." Some secrets will steal a man's soul.

Santos' eyes widened slightly before his carved lips smiled and without a further word, he walked toward the parking area. She realized she'd surprised the bodyguard, and she doubted he was often taken unawares.

She called a warning after him. "I can subpoena you, Mr. Santos."

He paused, turned, and smiled grimly at her. "Perhaps you should not call me señor, either," he said then strolled toward a dark gray BMW in the parking lot.

From her angle Bella could see him pull what looked like a rectangular paper the size of an index card out of his jacket. He stared at it long moments before he replaced it and eased his giant's body behind the wheel. She continued to track the car until it made the turn toward the highway.

Diego Vargas was Santos' only client. She'd known he wouldn't talk to her, but she'd tried anyway on the off chance that she could trick him into saying something damaging. Instead, she'd tipped her own hand.

The drive back to Placer Hills passed in record time, and when Bella arrived, she reported to Slater about the results of Santos' day in court. Neither was surprised by the outcome.

She worked through lunch and beyond, ensconced in her office on the second floor of the courthouse. Today was one of the few days she had no court appearances and she wanted to take advantage to catch up on paperwork and research.

A brief knock on her open office door caused her to look up to see Agent Hashemi framing the doorway. Without preliminaries, he dove right in, the accusation strong in his voice. "Why are you being so damn stubborn about the drug case?"

"Well, hello, there, Agent Hashemi. And good afternoon to you, too."

Torres made that little moue that Rafe had found endearing a few nights ago, but which now just annoyed the hell out of him. "Answer the question, Torres."

He sat down in the comfortable chair opposite her desk and shook his head at the mess cluttered in front of her. How could she work in this chaos? "Why are you digging in your heels?"

The look Isabella flashed him would've killed a lesser man, Rafe decided, but even with her color high and her lips pursed tight against her teeth, she looked pretty damn good.

"You haven't given me anything, Hashemi," she answered mildly, continuing to riffle through papers. "Not a damned thing. So tell me how I'm the one who's being stubborn."

He shrugged his shoulders and shifted in his seat. "Okay, what do you want to know?"