Most Eligible Spy by Dana Marton

here, however, there were no flowers and nobody to deliver to.
    “Flat tire,” Jamie said when they were only a hundred feet away.
    That explained why the truck was sitting in the gully, the coolest spot around. The motor was running, probably for the air-conditioning in the cab.
    “I sure hope there are no people in the back.” The truck didn’t have any cooling back there, from what he could see, no outside vent units. Mo stopped his car. “You go left. I go right.” He checked his gun again before getting out.
    Even at six in the morning, the heat was intense. Any hotter and the dirt would start melting. They sucked up the heat and rushed the truck from the back, one on each side.
    The driver must have seen them in his side mirrors because he rolled his window down and started shooting.
    “Drop your weapon!”
    Mo shot back and kept running forward, dodging bullets as he went. He reached the door the same time as Jamie did on the other side. They both aimed their weapons at the man’s head.
    “Hands up! Throw out your weapon and get out of the cab!”
    The man had no way to escape and he knew it. He only hesitated a second before complying. He swore up a storm in Spanish as he opened the door and dropped to the ground, then onto his knees.
    His clothes were wrinkled and lived-in, his face unshaven. He smelled like beer. He shot a murderous look at Mo, but put his hands on the back of his head without having to be prompted.
    “He knows the drill,” Jamie said, coming around.
    Right. Sure looked as if he’d run into trouble with law enforcement before.
    “Who are you?” Mo asked in English first, then in Spanish, holding his gun on the guy while Jamie patted him down for hidden weapons. He came up empty.
    The man kept quiet, looking straight in front of him. He was probably more scared of the people he worked for than the border patrol.
    As Mo cuffed the driver, Jamie shot off the lock from the back of the truck. The gate creaked as it opened. “Empty,” he called.
    Mo dragged the man to his feet, took him over to his SUV and locked him in the back. Jamie was climbing into the back of the truck. Nothing but a couple of empty water bottles and a rag in the far corner. He headed for that, kicked it.
    “Anything interesting?”
    “Just a dirty shirt.” He came back and jumped to the ground.
    “Human cargo. He brought them over the border then let them off when the truck broke down.”
    Jamie nodded and scanned the ground, too stony for footprints here. He walked a few yards away and kept looking.
    Mo pulled out his cell phone and called in the find, asked Ray to let CBP know to be on the lookout for illegals. A daylong hike could be deadly in this heat.
    He walked up to the cab as he hung up, turned off the engine, found nothing but snacks and more empty water bottles. No registration papers for the truck or any other documentation in the glove compartment. He was willing to bet they weren’t going to find ID on the driver, either.
    He checked the GPS unit and hit pay dirt. “Last address entered was the Hullett sheriff’s office,” he called out to Jamie. “You take the driver in. I’m going to drive over and see Sheriff Shane.”
    He lucked out, caught the sheriff right in his office.
    The man received him with a smarmy smile and an assurance of his full cooperation with whatever Mo’s problem was, and listened as Mo filled him in on the truck. “Any idea why the GPS would be programmed for this office?”
    “Now, don’t you start on that.” The sheriff glared at him, taking a toothpick from his mouth and shoving it into his shirt pocket. “Just because you can’t do your job and now you’re getting desperate, don’t think you’re gonna go after my people.” It was pretty clear he was tired of outsiders meddling in what he thought of as his business.
    “I’m just here to see if you might know what that GPS is all about.” No sense pissing off the local law until he knew something for