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Body Heat
Brenda Novak
Twelve people have been shot at point-blank range and left to rot in the desert sun. It's Sophia St. Claire's job to do something about it. She's Bordertown, Arizona's new chief of police–and she's out of her depth.Help arrives in the form of Department 6 hired gun Roderick Guerrero. As far as Sophia's concerned, his involvement only makes things worse. Maybe he's managed to turn his life around. And maybe he's a good investigator. But as the bastard son of a wealthy local rancher, he has a history he can't get past. A history that includes her.Rod refuses to leave town until the killer is caught. He's not worried about the danger posed by some vigilante. It's Sophia who threatens him. Because he's used to risking his life–but his heart is another story.
Praise for the novels of Brenda Novak
“The Perfect Couple was fast-paced and extremely engaging from the very first page…. Once I started, I couldn’t stop! Definitely, most definitely add The Perfect Couple to your reading list.”
—True Crime Book Reviews
“Novak delivers another expertly crafted work of suspenseful intrigue heightened by white-knuckle danger and realistically complicated romance.”
—Booklist on The Perfect Couple
“I guarantee The Perfect Couple will keep readers on the edge of their seats.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Realistic and gritty, this story grabs the reader by the throat on the first page and never lets go.”
—RT Book Reviews on Watch Me
“Gripping, frightening and intense…a compelling romance as well as a riveting and suspenseful mystery…Novak delivers another winner.”
—Library Journal on The Perfect Liar
“A chilling, sensual tale that features a host of skillfully developed characters and intricate, multilayered plotting. Sacramento-based Novak writes gripping romantic thrillers.”
—Library Journal on The Perfect Murder
“As always, Novak’s plotting is flawless, and her characterizations are rich and multilayered. What sets this story apart from the rest is the intensity of the romance between the two wounded protagonists—it simply sizzles. A keeper.” (4.5 stars, Top Pick)
—RT Book Reviews on The Perfect Murder
“It’s hard to go wrong with a Brenda Novak novel.”
—Book Cove Reviews
Body Heat
Brenda Novak
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
To Bradley and Audrey Simkins at Booklovers Books…I love coming into the store and seeing gigantic posters of my novels covering the wall. Thanks for hand-selling so many of my novels. Thanks for coming out to any event where I need a bookseller. Thanks for doing the BBQ at my launch party each summer (no one can BBQ like you!). And thanks for constantly reminding me, just because of your own passion, how much I love everything about books.
Dear Reader,
It never fails. With each new set of books (I’ve been doing three per summer for a few years now) I seem to choose a favorite hero. One always intrigues me or resonates with me more than the other two, and this summer that’s the hero of this novel, Roderick Guerrero. Rod’s a character who has triumphed over a great deal of adversity. Instead of letting it break him, he’s used it to make himself wiser and stronger. I like people who’ve survived a few bumps. They’re always more textured, more interesting.
The research for this novel took a little more time than usual, but I was glad of the opportunity. I learned a lot about Arizona and the area along the Mexican border. Although Bordertown is a fictional place, there are many towns similar to it, with lots of atmosphere and challenges. I think challenges make a place more interesting, too.
I’d like to extend a special thank-you to Debbie Berke and Grant Noyes. Their names show up as characters in this novel because they were generous enough to purchase the privilege to help me support worthy causes such as fundraising for my children’s high school and diabetes research. To me, these are real heroes.
I love to hear from readers. Please feel free to write me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611, or visit my Web site at www.brendanovak.com, where you can enter to win monthly draws, read samples of other books I’ve written, download a pdf list of all my titles or check out my annual online auction for diabetes research, which includes so many cool things. So far, together with my fans, friends and publishing associates, we’ve raised over $1 million for this cause. My youngest son is a Type 1 diabetic, so I live with it up close. A cure is my fondest dream.
Love is the key!
Brenda Novak
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
1
Racism is man’s gravest threat to man—the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reasons.
—Abraham J. Heschel, rabbi and philosopher (1907–72)
Benita Sanchez was almost as afraid of running into a rattlesnake as she was U.S. Customs and Border Protection. The CBP would send her and her husband back to Mexico. But a snake… The way José said she should creep across the ground—always staying low, very low—made her feel so vulnerable. Snakes came out at night, when the temperature cooled. She could easily stumble into one. Maybe they’d hear a brief shake of the rattle, but they’d never see its beady eyes or sharp fangs before it struck. Since they’d lost their coyote, or smuggler, they had only the moon to help them. And it was barely a sliver—a sliver that looked like a tiny rent in a gigantic dome of black velvet, which was slowly turning purple as the night edged toward dawn.
Although they’d crossed the border with thirty-one other Mexican nationals, they were now alone. Everyone had scattered when the border patrol spotted them more than twenty-four hours ago. Had any of those people made it safely back to Mexico? Or were they in some holding cell? She and José had escaped “La Migra,” but she was no longer sure she considered them lucky. Did José actually know where he was leading her? He said he did. He’d come to America once, but that was five years ago. And their coyote had promised they’d have only a six-hour walk. Even if she deducted for the time they’d spent sleeping, they’d been on their feet for eighteen.
As they came to a cluster of mobile homes, José whispered to circle wide and crouch lower. He’d once told her it was easy to sneak across la frontera. But it hadn’t been easy at all. Although he’d insisted she wear several layers of clothing, the thorny plants that scrabbled for purchase in the rocky soil still managed to sink sharp spines through the fabric or scratch her somewhere she wasn’t covered. Add to that the hunger, thirst, homesickness and fear—fear of snakes, dogs, drug-runners, thieves, unfriendly Americans, La Migra—and it was almost unbearable. The whole world felt hostile.
Tears began to burn behind Benita’s eyes. She wasn’t sure she could go on. She hoped the presence of these trailers meant they were on the outskirts of a town where she could at least get a drink of water, but even if they were close, two miles seemed like fifty when you were walking through the desert.
“José?” She could hear the determined crunch of his footsteps in front of her.
At the sound of her voice, he stopped. “You must be quiet,” he replied in rapid Spanish. “Do you want the people in that trailer to hear you? If they do, they’ll call the border patrol!”
The mobile home they skirted was one of the nicer ones she’d seen, a double-wide with a yard and everything. But its white paint seemed to glow in the dark, making it look like a giant ghost with flat, empty eyes. This was a soulless, godforsaken land. How could it be the paradise José promised?
“Maybe we could drink from the hose,” she suggested.
He hesitated and finally agreed. He had to be thirsty, too. But as they drew close, a dog began to bark, so he grabbed her hand and yanked her away.
“Agua!” she begged.
“We can’t risk it.”
“Then let’s try another place. Maybe the next one won’t have a dog.”
“We’re almost there.”
He’d been saying that for miles. Unable to believe him anymore, she stopped walking. “I’m scared. I want to turn back.”
“¿Estás loca?” he said, instantly angry. “We’ve come too far. We can’t go back.”
“But…” She swallowed hard. “How much longer?”
“We’ll be there soon,” he promised.
But would she be any happier after they arrived? They were going to a safe house and then the home of his cousin, Carlos Garcia. She’d met Carlos on two different occasions and didn’t like him. He enjoyed playing the big shot, pretending to be something he wasn’t. She didn’t want José to become like him….
“Hurry!”
Her husband was getting impatient. Benita knew how much this trip meant to him. He’d talked of it the whole time they were dating, painted appealing pictures of the opportunities to be found in America. But…
Gathering her courage, she started after him again. She wouldn’t be a disappointment, wouldn’t make him regret marrying her. Besides, as he said, they’d come too far to turn back. Surely the number of mobile homes meant they were indeed close to the safe house. Bordertown was as far as they had to go tonight. It was all arranged. They’d rest, then they’d call Carlos and he’d pick them up and take them to Phoenix. There, they’d live with him and two other roommates and, hopefully, find work so they could help pay the mortgage until they’d saved enough to afford their own place.
“Aren’t you worried about snakes?” she grumbled.
“Snakes will be the least of our worries if you don’t keep moving.”
Sighing, she tried to move faster, but with every step she wished she’d been able to talk José out of this. They were young and in love; they could make a living in Mexico somehow, couldn’t they? She didn’t want to go to America. Maybe he could make more money here—big money, like he said—but would they ever be happy living in a foreign land? A land that didn’t want them? And what if they were caught and deported after they’d begun to build a life here?
It was a risk Benita didn’t want to take. “José, I really, really want to go home.” The tears she’d been holding back began to stream down her cheeks.
He didn’t even turn around. “You’ll be glad we did this. Just…trust me.”
She thought of the water bottle they’d finished hours ago. Would they find themselves lost in the desert when the sun came up in less than an hour? Would they stagger around in the one hundred and fifteen degree heat without food or water and eventually die a terrible death?
The mere possibility made her shudder. All she had left was a pocketful of nuts. And they were covered with salt.
“We shouldn’t have crossed,” she said. “We should not have done this.”
A gruff chuckle alerted them to the presence of a third party. “Well, well…what do you know? It sounds as if someone is coming to their senses.”
Benita squealed, then clamped a hand over her mouth. A dark amorphous shape stood in front of them, blocking the faint light of the moon. She couldn’t make out specific features, but she knew he was a stranger. And she was pretty sure he was wearing a cowboy hat and holding a gun. He had something in his hand….
Was he white? She might’ve thought so except he spoke perfect Spanish.
Her husband inched toward her, placing his body in front of hers, and she let him. She hadn’t yet told José, hadn’t wanted to worry him before their trip el norte, but she’d just found out she was pregnant.
