Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

better.” He clicked on another video from a few minutes later, showing a man in a suit entering the administration building and flashing an FBI badge to the woman behind the counter.

“This guy knew where the cameras were at, so there isn’t a clear shot of his face, but check this out…” He enhanced the image of the badge. “It’s Tremblay’s.”

Carter bit her lip, holding back a smug grin.

Fucking Shepard, I knew it!

She tapped her fingers on the desk. Cartel turf war, my ass. He’s been systematically working his way up the food chain just as I thought. Which means Roth is next.

“What do you want me to do with all of this?” said Corelli.

“Keep it under wraps for now. We don’t need anything getting out about one of the richest men in the world being under suspicion by our agency, especially given the army of lawyers he probably has.”

Carter swiveled in her chair, glancing up at him. “Do me a favor and contact agents Martinez and Dobson and tell them they need to meet me at the airfield in three hours.” She stood up, grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair, then paused to glance at the topo map of Roth’s ranch. “Looks like Texas is calling.”

“Hopefully, you won’t be landing at the same airport as Shepard. He’s gotta be heading there too.”

She nodded, wondering if there was about to be an Old West shootout unfolding in the Chihuahuan Desert, only with AKs instead of Winchesters.

50

From the nine other pickups in the dirt parking lot outside the Black Cat bar, Blake Weissman could tell the place was hopping inside, which meant the usual suspects were drinking away their paychecks along with several out-of-towners, which hopefully meant some pretty new faces from tourists passing through.

He’d already eaten some barbecued ribs back at his bunkhouse on Roth’s ranch, but he needed a change of scenery, and the Friday night line dancing scene here was, if nothing else, colorful, with the local yahoos trying to hit on the rambunctious college girls who ventured out from the city, hoping for a glimpse of an authentic working cowboy.

After performing his duties as Roth’s ranch foreman, it was time to kick back and relax for the night, and the Black Cat was the only entertainment in the town of 1,200 people.

Blake parked his Ford F-350 then headed inside, gaining nods from the other locals, who looked at him in envy for being the highest-paid rancher in the state.

If it hadn’t been for his divorce last spring and half of his income going to alimony and child support payments, he’d have welcomed their stares, but he just wanted to throw a few shots down and bullshit with his friends, since most of his own ranch-hands were out on roundup for the next two weeks and the Colombians living in the hangar next to his bunkhouse didn’t speak English.

He plunked down at a round table with two other forty-something cowboys who were working on draining their second pitcher of beer.

“You come for the company or the sights?” said Wade Jennings to his right, who was staring at the four female out-of-towners on the dance floor.

“That one there would wear us all out, I bet,” said Josh Stanton, the oldest of them, sitting to Blake’s left. “She’s been tearin’ up the place since the music started.”

Their eyes all settled on a vivacious thirty-something woman with short black hair in a denim miniskirt, sleeveless white blouse and new cowboy boots.

“Damn, I wonder how those moves would translate to the bedroom,” said Blake, waving his hand at the older woman behind the bar to bring him a beer and the bottle of whiskey from the counter.

The music stopped as the three-man band took a break, and the meager crowd dispersed. The brunette strode past Blake’s table, letting her eyes linger on them for a minute before she sat on a stool at the bar.

He watched her throw down a shot of tequila like it was apple juice, then he traced his eyes along her athletic figure.

A woman like that can’t be alone.

Blake glanced around the rest of the place, not noticing anyone else from outside the region.

Shit, maybe she’s just passing through. It wasn’t uncommon, since it was a major route across the western part of the state, and there were numerous hotels dotting the interstate behind the bar.

He picked up his beer mug, which had just arrived, and sauntered over to the bar, sitting one seat away from her.

“Howdy…you look like you’re having a good time.”

She smiled. “Howdy yourself. And yeah, it’s good to let loose after a long week of travel.”

“You visiting family out in these parts?” he said.

She took another shot of tequila then chewed on a lime twist before turning slightly towards him.

“Work, actually. You?”

“I run a large cattle operation not far from here.”

“So, you’re taking a short break from your work before all the cows come home during roundup.”

He flared an eyebrow, sipping on his beer. “That’s right. Not many folks know about this being the roundup season though.”

“I spent a few months with cowboys in Australia and then briefly in southern Arizona, so I got a feel for some of the lifestyle.”

“No shit. How’d you get to be doin’ that?”

“I’m a photojournalist, and I convinced my shit-for-brains editor whose only experience with wildlife is feeding the pigeons at the park that he should send me out to do a story on real working men…and cowboys came to mind. Now, he wants to do a special feature on Texas and their cowboy history, so here I am.” She poured another shot for herself, running her finger along the rim of the glass.

“Sounds more like fun than work. Somebody actually pays you for that kinda thing, eh?”

“It’s not so bad, but days like today can be a downer. I had a flat tire this morning west of Dallas. That was a real bitch, changing it in 115-degree heat along the highway.”

He raised his