If the man had hidden drugs all over the house, it was possible he and Margarita would never find them all, no matter how hard they searched. Should the police ever come, and should Miguel follow through on his threat, it was likely drugs would remain in crevices they’d missed.

It would be his word against his brother-in-law’s.

Unless . . .

“You’re forgetting one thing.” Eduardo swiped the sweat off his upper lip.

“What’s that?”

“You’re illegal. The immigration people could send you back to Mexico.” That was the one possible glitch in the man’s plan.

“That won’t happen. I have papers now.”

“From where?”

His grin was triumphant. “Friends in the right places.”

In other words, they were forged.

Eduardo’s spirits nose-dived.

He and Margarita were at the man’s mercy.

The life they’d built, the job he’d secured, the future of their child—all were in jeopardy because they’d been kind enough to offer a relative in difficult straits temporary shelter.

Apparently the old saying was true.

No good deed went unpunished.

But bad as their present predicament was, a more terrifying question suddenly strobed across his mind.

Now that Miguel had the upper hand, what would he and Margarita do if the man decided to make other demands and entangle them further in the dangerous web he’d created?

8

THIS GIG WAS GETTING OLD.

Grimacing, Noah steered clear of a pile of garbage in the middle of the pothole-filled street, swung into the parking lot behind the rehab center, and parked in clear view of one of the security cameras.

Spending two Saturday mornings a month with druggies was one thing. Putting his car at risk was another.

After sliding out from behind the wheel, he locked the door and trudged toward the rear entrance of the facility Reverend Wilson had established ten years ago with seed money from a few companies with deep pockets and a do-gooder bent.

Hard to believe he’d turned the place into a model program that was touted nationwide and had garnered countless awards.

But a man with vision could accomplish much.

He rang the bell and angled toward the security camera beside the door. A moment later the lock clicked open.

The usual antiseptic scent mingled with the smell of burnt toast assailed him as he entered.

But it was less repugnant than the noxious odors on the street—and it was far safer inside than out in this area of town.

“Morning, Noah.” Reverend Wilson waved and approached from down the hall, offering one of his trademark sunny smiles. “Thank you for coming.”

“Happy to help.” He took the hand the minister extended and returned his firm clasp. The silver flecks in the reverend’s dark hair hinted at his age, but his trim physique, lively step, and strong grip were that of a much younger man.

“I see you came prepared to paint.” The man’s eyes twinkled.