Gage (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #16)

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

G age stared at the two men standing in front of his table. He’d stopped by Daisy’s Diner, wanting a cup of coffee and a few minutes to gather his thoughts before heading down to talk with Rafe and Chance. They were planning on going over the information on Suzanna’s case again. Maybe fresh eyes would see something he hadn’t, because he knew there was something, one little thing, that would turn the tide, but his tired brain wasn’t finding it.

“Can I help you?”

Both men were dressed identically in dark clothing, black trousers and button-front shirts. Casual enough to not draw attention if they were anywhere except in the heart of Shiloh Springs. Here they stood out like warts on a witch’s nose. His radar had pinged the second he’d spotted them walking through the door at Daisy’s place. Could have been tourists, because Shiloh Springs had been growing and along with that growth came more people traveling through. But, somehow he doubted these two gentlemen were here for the chicken fried steak special.

“Mr. Sandoval would like to speak to you.”

Gage barely reined in his desire to jump up and bash the two men’s heads together. If they worked for Gustavo Sandoval, his first instinct was right and they were dangerous. While he didn’t see weapons on their persons, he didn’t doubt they were highly trained enough to do a lot of damage without having to use a gun.

“I’m afraid Mr. Sandoval is going to be disappointed. I’m on my way to a meeting with the sheriff. Perhaps he’d like to make an appointment, so I can free up my schedule.” Gage knew he sounded sarcastic and didn’t give a rat’s shiny backside. Gustavo Sandoval and he had a couple of run-ins in the past, and goodness knew he wasn’t Gage’s favorite person. He neither trusted nor wanted to lay eyes on the man again.

“I’m afraid we must insist.” The taller of the two seemed like the one doing all the talking, so Gage spoke directly to him.

“You can tell Mr. Sandoval he can go straight to—”

“He said to tell you it concerns Suzanna Dawkins.”

Gage sprang from his chair so fast it toppled to the floor with a resounding crash, drawing every eye in the room to their table. “What?”

The tall dude repeated, “He said it concerns Suzanna Dawkins.”

“Where is he?”

“We’ve been instructed to take you to him. I assure you, Mr. Newsome, Mr. Sandoval intends no harm to come to you. He merely wishes to talk.”

“Fine.” Gage motioned to Daisy, beckoning her over. He’d gotten to know her on his infrequent visits to Shiloh Springs, and knew he could trust her. “Daisy, I need you to get a message to Rafe. Let him know that I’ve gone to meet with Gustavo Sandoval. If he hasn’t heard from me in six hours, well, he’ll know what to do.”

She looked between Gage and the two men in black, her hands on her hips like she wanted to protest, but fortunately, she simply nodded.

“I’ll tell him. I’ll let Derrick know, too, just in case.” She smiled at the two men now flanking him. “That would be Derrick Williamson, my husband. He’s in charge of the Austin bureau of the F.B.I.” When the men remained silent, she shrugged and pulled off her apron. “I’ll make sure Rafe gets the message right now.”

“Gimme five minutes, then let him know.” He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time. You be careful. Ms. Patti will have my hide if anything happens to you.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, these men aren’t going to touch a hair on my head.”

The taller one made a sound like he was choking back his laugh, but Gage wasn’t looking directly at him, so he couldn’t be sure.

“Let’s go.”

Without another word, Gage walked out of Daisy’s place and climbed into the waiting limo parked across several parking spaces, and most definitely deserving of a ticket. Main Street in Shiloh Springs wasn’t designed for limousines, and Gage settled himself against the plush leather seat, wondering what Sandoval wanted with him.

The taller of the two men climbed into the back with him, while the other got into the driver’s seat. Within a minute or two, they were headed south and out of town.

“Where exactly am I meeting with Sandoval?”

“Mr. Sandoval had some business in Austin this morning; otherwise, he would have met with you in your home town.”

Gage stiffened slightly, hoping the other man didn’t notice. He didn’t like that Gustavo Sandoval knew about the connection between Gage and Shiloh Springs. That meant that Douglas and Ms. Patti, heck, all the Boudreaus were now firmly within the crosshairs of Sandoval and his good squad.

“Any idea why Sandoval wants to talk to me?”

“Mr. Sandoval does not apprise me of his reasons or his business. I simply follow orders.”

“Somehow I doubt that. You don’t look like his typical flunky. I’ve dealt with those types before. You actually seem to have a brain in your head, which means you are higher up in the food chain.”

He could see the other man battling back a smile, knew he’d pegged him right. While he probably wasn’t Sandoval’s right hand man, he might be the next in line. Which meant he knew a whole lot about Sandoval and the inner workings of his organization. Any way he looked at it, if he worked for Sandoval, he was on the wrong team.

“Ms. Sandoval trusts me to see that his wishes are carried out, this is true. And he wished to see you, Mr. Newsome. Hence, this unscheduled trip to Austin.” He studied Gage, taking in his casual dress of worn and faded jeans and a flannel button front shirt over a gray T-shirt. There had been a slight chill in the air when he’d left his hotel room that morning. He’d slipped his feet into a broken-in pair of Adidas instead of the cowboy books he usually wore, so all-in-all he was comfortable but also ready for a fight to defend himself.

The drive from Austin was pretty silent after that, and Gage wondered what Suzanna’s meeting with Elizabeth Blackstone might reveal. He knew she’d be safe; Ranger was accompanying her to the restaurant and he’d be hypervigilant, knowing the possibility that somebody might still be after her high. And neither he nor Ranger trusted the Blackthorns. Talking with Donald Blackthorn hadn’t alleviated any of his suspicions; in fact, it had brought up more questions. Especially about their association with Gustavo Sandoval and his connection with Dawkins, Inc.

They finally pulled up in front of the Four Seasons Hotel in Austin, and Gage climbed from the limo, glancing around. This certainly fit Sandoval’s style. Only the best. The two men flanked him on either side as they crossed the lobby and headed straight for the elevators.

Guess we’re not meeting in one of the restaurants. Too bad, because now I’ve missed breakfast and I need about a gallon of coffee.

The elevator climbed higher and higher, finally opening onto the ninth floor and the Presidential Suite. The view when he entered the suite was stunning, with the sun shining bright onto Lady Bird Lake. Seated on the large sofa in front of the fireplace sat Gustavo Sandoval.

He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time Gage had seen him. Maybe a few more gray hairs at his temples, which only made him look more elegant and distinguished. Nobody who didn’t know the man’s history would believe that he’d grown up dirt poor to a drunkard father and an abused mother. He’d managed to drag himself out of the ghetto, scratching and clawing his way to the top, not letting anybody or anything stand in his way. Legal or illegal, Sandoval didn’t care, and he didn’t care who got hurt along the way, as long as he gain money and power from his endeavors.

Gage had been caught in one of those ‘endeavors’ during his time with The Agency and had the scars to show for it. Though Sandoval never got his actual hands dirty, he had hired goons to do that nowadays.

“Mr. Newsome, thank you for agreeing to join me. Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Something to eat perhaps?” He gestured toward a veritable smorgasbord of breakfast delights that made his mouth water.

“Tell me why I’m here, Sandoval. Your associate mentioned Suzanna Dawkins. Obviously, you know I’m looking into her husband’s death. What do you know?”

Sandoval sighed, the sound long and drawn out. Gage couldn’t help noticing what he hadn’t earlier. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe he’d been preoccupied with hating the man, but Sandoval looked off. His skin had a slightly pallid cast, a grayish tone beneath the normally healthy Hispanic visage. The grooves around his mouth were pronounced, too, like he was fighting back pain. Was he sick?

Walking over to the buffet, Sandoval poured himself a cup of black coffee, then filled a second, bringing it over to Gage.

Oh, yeah, he thought, something’s definitely off. Never in a million years would Gustavo Sandoval serve him coffee or anything else—except maybe a bullet between the eyes. What the heck is going on?

“You are aware that I had a business connection with Steven Dawkins and Donald Blackthorn via Dawkins, Inc. We were in contract negotiations for my company to provide secure transportation for their new line of microchips.”

“That’s what Blackthorn told me. Said you were on the brink of signing a contract worth quite a lot of money.”

“True.” Sandoval took a sip of his coffee, contemplating the dark brew in his cup. “Dawkins was the brains of that organization. Man had a mind like you wouldn’t believe. He could give you any information on any project at the snap of his fingers. Could tell you the name of every employee who walked past in the hallway, didn’t matter if they were executives or low-level inventory packers. There wasn’t a project going on in that company that Dawkins didn’t know the details of, the status of where they were with the technology, and how it would affect the consumer.”

“I know he was excited about the particle light microchips. Suzanna said Steven told her it would be a revolution in the way data is transported. While I’m not all that tech savvy, even I know something like that could change the technology industry, turn it on its head.”

Sandoval smiled. “Exactly. Dawkins was the visionary. Blackthorn did the day-to-day dealings with the IT department, worked closely with the specs. Knew how long it would take to manufacture and distribute the microchips.”

Gage let that sink in. Blackthorn had been excited when talking about the particle light microchips when he and Suzanna met with him in his home. He’d been hyper-talkative, happy to throw the blame onto Sandoval, said he’d made threats to Dawkins. Might be a good time to go straight to the source.

“Blackthorn said you threatened Steven Dawkins.”

“Actually, it was the other way around. Any perceived threats were against Donald Blackthorn. I had the utmost respect for Dawkins. Throughout our negotiations, he’d been upfront and honest. The same cannot be said of Donald Blackthorn. He came to me—outside of the original negotiations with Dawkins, mind you—and wanted to strike a separate deal.”

Gage leaned forward, intently listening to Sandoval now. This was it, he could feel it in his gut. Whatever Sandoval knew, it was the key to finding out who really killed Steven Dawkins and clearing Suzanna’s name.

“What kind of deal?”

Sandoval motioned for the two men who’d stood sentry ever since Gage had gotten there, and they quietly exited the room.

“What I’m going to tell you is for your ears only. I will not testify in open court, and I sincerely doubt that a prosecutor would sanction me as a credible witness.”

“I understand. What did Blackthorn say?”

“He wanted Steven Dawkins dead. It had to happen before the public launch of the microchip. Once Dawkins was out of the picture, he felt it would be easy to manipulate Suzanna Dawkins into signing over controlling interest in the company to him. Blackthorn was aware Dawkins would leave everything to his wife in his will. Once the will was through probate, if he couldn’t convince Suzanna to give him controlling interest, well, let’s simply say she wouldn’t be around to cause him any problems. After that, the ‘glitch’ with the microchips would miraculously be fixed, and he’d coordinate the launch of the biggest technological breakthrough since the home computer. And lucky him, all the money would be flowing into his pockets, not Dawkins and certainly not his wife’s.”

“I knew that little weasel had something to do with Dawkins’ death.”

Sandoval pointed to a large envelope lying on the coffee table. “Inside there is all the evidence you’ll need to take down Blackthorn. Dates and times he met with the person he hired to kill Dawkins. Proof that both Dawkins and his wife were drugged with strong sedatives the night he died, which is why she didn’t wake up when Dawkins was being killed. There is proof of the hitman being paid twenty-five thousand dollars to take out Dawkins.”

Sandoval handed the envelope to Gage. He couldn’t stop staring at it, afraid to open it, because it seemed too good to be true.

“Why are you helping?”

“That’s a hard question to answer, Mr. Newsome. We both know I am not a good man. I have done many, many horrible things to get to where I am today. While I am not ashamed of where I come from, what I am, I would have liked to be a better man. Maybe if I’d met people like your Boudreaus, things might have turned out differently. But, I’m trying to make amends in small ways while I can.”

“While you can?” Suddenly, Gage knew. The pallor, the brackets of pain around his mouth. Sandoval was dying.

“You have guessed correctly. I am dying. As I said, I have not always been a good man, but I do not wish to leave this world allowing another bad man to get away with hurting an innocent woman, simply because of greed. I understand greed, have given in to its sweet seduction far too many times. Suzanna Dawkins deserves to see justice for her husband, and Donald Blackthorn deserves whatever penalty the United States government throws his way and more. But I am not God, and I will not be the one standing in judgment. All I can do is provide you with the evidence and the truth. It is up to you to use it as you see fit.”

“I’m sorry, Sandoval.” Gage tapped the envelope against his hand. “And I give you my word, I’ll make sure Blackthorn doesn’t get away with hurting anybody else.”

Sandoval stood and offered his hand. “Then our business here is finished, though I have the feeling you haven’t heard the last of me just yet, Mr. Newsome.” He walked to stand in front of the fireplace, his back now to Gage. “My men will make sure you are returned to Shiloh Springs.”

Gage turned and walked toward the door before stopping, his back now to Sandoval and uttered the two words he never thought he’d ever speak to the man.

“Thank you.”