Against the Law by Kat Martin

corrugated steel shipping containers from Mexico. Company’s called Global Direct. It’s big business these days.”
    â€œSo he’s got plenty of money.”
    â€œThe place he lives, High Plains Resort and Golf Course, ten to twenty thousand square-foot homes. Takes very big bucks to live there.”
    â€œI guess so. He have an office?”
    â€œOne listed in Tucson and one in L.A., but a lot of this kind of selling is done on the internet, so he may work mostly out of his house.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œNot yet, but I’ll stay on it.”
    Dev hung up and turned to his computer, brought up Google and typed in Global Direct. The website came up, showing the Tucson office address as well as the office in L.A. There were addresses and phone numbers but not much of anything else.
    He typed in La Candalaria, Tubac, AZ, and the website popped right up. Black background, candles flickering, glowing in a dozen different holders.
    â€œNice page,” Lark said from behind him.
    â€œCheck out the right-hand corner.”
    â€œOh, my God, it’s her!”
    â€œCatherine Weller, owner, operator.” The words were printed beneath her photo.
    â€œShe’s pretty,” Lark said.
    She had strawberry-blonde, shoulder-length hair and a bright white smile. “Maybe a few years older than you,” Dev said. “Late twenties, early thirties.”
    â€œShe looks nice, kind of friendly.”
    â€œWe’ll know soon enough. By the time Chaz gets finished, we’ll know everything there is to know about Byron and Catherine Weller. In the meantime, we’re off to Tucson, pretty lady. You still got that bag packed?”
    Her gaze flew to his face, her cheeks turning pink at the endearment he hadn’t meant to say. Damn, what the hell was the matter with him?
    â€œI tossed it into the car just in case.”
    â€œGreat. I think we might as well drive. It’s about a hundred and fifty miles but if we fly, we’ll still need a car and the nearest place to rent one is probably Tucson, which would leave us a fifty-mile drive, anyway.”
    â€œPlus, we don’t know how long we’ll need to stay.”
    Excellent point. He had no idea how long this might take, but Lark would want time to talk to the Wellers, meet little Chrissy, and satisfy herself that the child was in good hands.
    He was beginning to understand the way her mind worked. Dev figured that might take a while.
    â€œWe’ll take the Suburban. It’s more comfortable.” And there was more room in case they needed it. He blocked that thought from his mind. The Wellers were obviously substantial people. They were probably wonderful parents.
    â€œThat thing is a major gas hog,” Lark said with a smile. “My sister would not have approved.”
    He chuckled. “I don’t use it all that often.”
    While Lark went out to retrieve her overnight bag, Dev headed for the master bedroom to get his own. They were on the road fifteen minutes later and heading southeast on the 10 Freeway toward Tucson. Normally, he would enjoy the drive out through the open desert country. But spending so much time with Lark in the confines of the car, no matter how roomy it was, was bound to be torture.
    Very sweet torture, but torture just the same.
    He clamped down on every urge he possessed, forced his mind on the task ahead, and said a silent prayerthat when they found the Wellers and little Chrissy, everything would be all right.
    Â 
    Lark sat in the deep leather passenger seat of Dev’s big, fully loaded, white Chevy Suburban. She was enjoying the scenery, admiring the beauty of the dry desert landscape when a sound caught her ear and she realized her BlackBerry had started to ring. Digging madly through her oversize red suede LARK bag, she managed to get to the phone before she lost the call.
    Recognizing Brenda’s number, she pressed the phone against her ear.