“Let’s get going,” Trent said.
They’d long since finished their meal and were now sitting at the table sipping waters as they waited for the bus, which should be here in the next ten minutes if it was on time. Damn, he thought. There was a good chance that it wasn’t. This was rural Mexico and time took on a different meaning.
She walked ahead of him and his eyes kept being drawn to her hacked-off hair. Still, the smooth way she commanded a room hadn’t changed. Tara had always had confidence. That was one of the many things he’d loved about her, one of the many things he admired.
Now she was picking her way around the close shelves of dusty tourist items. She had T-shirts in her hand. He guessed there was one for him. She’d already informed him that typical tourist souvenir shirts were perfect attire to fly under the radar. All he knew was that they were tacky. But she was right.
“Senor.” The middle-aged manager came in and the screen door slammed behind him. “Senorita. Your bus is coming. You have five minutes before it pulls in. You best get out there, he won’t wait,” he said in his slow, careful English. “He’s already running late.”
“Gracias,” Tara replied as the manager rang up the check.
“Thank you,” Trent said as he paid.
A minute later, she grabbed his hand as the bus pulled in.
It was a simple action and it meant everything. She’d trusted him from the beginning and he’d never break that trust. Unless she considered the fact that he’d bugged her. But he’d had a good reason and admitted what he’d done. She’d forgiven him for that. But now none of this was going as he’d expected. Despite that, he’d keep her safe. That was the one constant that he’d promised and the only constant he was determined to deliver.
* * *
TARA WAS EXHAUSTED. They’d been traveling for hours and had had to transfer buses once already. They’d gotten on the first bus shortly after lunch. Including stops at various communities and a transfer, the five-hour journey would stretch to seven. It would be evening before they arrived and then they would have to find a hotel.
The whole idea of it tired her. What had happened in the last twenty-four hours was draining. The few hours of sleep she’d had last night, combined with all that had happened today, had her fighting to stay awake.
She nodded off twice, at one point waking up with her head on Trent’s shoulder. She’d apologized. But he’d interrupted her midapology with a chuckle and an invitation to use his shoulder anytime she felt like it.
She was drawn to him in ways that were too distracting for either of them. This was neither the time nor place. She guessed that it was only the situation that made her feel so close to him.
She told herself that, and yet she knew that it wasn’t true. He did things to her, just as he had so many years ago when they had been a couple. Now the feelings were even more intense but the problem was they weren’t a couple. He was here to protect her, to help. He was here for nothing else.
It wasn’t the same for her. She couldn’t forget. She’d tried over the years. She’d thought she’d forgotten him. And she had for a time, planned a life with Mark, but it hadn’t been the same. She knew that now. If she were honest, she’d known that then. As if to confirm all that, she’d felt something much different when she saw Trent. And the kisses that they’d shared in the time that he’d been here had only reminded her of the desire that had always burned between them.
The longer she was with him, the more this became like a test of her willpower. The trip was taking forever as the bus pulled into one small community after another.
She glanced at Trent. He was on guard—watching everything. It was because of that she felt safe falling asleep. He was there keeping her safe, keeping them all safe. It was his job and it was what he’d always been good at even all those years ago.
The bus was crowded. They’d been lucky to get a seat. With each stop, more people got on. The close quarters combined with the heat and the lack of air-conditioning had many sleeping. She vowed to stay awake now; it was only fair to Trent.
She glanced across the aisle, where a man sat with a box containing two hens. He’d gotten on at the last stop. The smell of sweat and damp feathers was enough to make her sick. She wasn’t sure who smelled worse, the hens or the man himself. She felt for the chickens trapped in the box. But it seemed the man did, too. He’d occasionally lower his head and speak in almost soothing tones to the birds.
“Don’t tell me you have a thing for the chickens,” Trent said. He’d been watching her. “I thought that look was just for me.”
She looked at him, startled, and then realized he was teasing. She smiled. In a way it felt like old times.
And it was a relief to share a bit of humor, considering everything that had come before. Considering the unknown future. Humor would keep her sane, but it was Trent who had vowed he’d protect her. She looked at him, at the strong jaw and the edge of a five o’clock shadow. And she wondered who was going to protect her from him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
San Patricio was a beautiful resort city that drew tourists from across the continent. It was smaller than many of the large communities that dotted the Mexican stretch of the Pacific Ocean and just big enough that they would go unnoticed. That was the reason that Trent had chosen it. From here, their route would be straight north, or as straight as he could go.
He needed to make a new plan. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether they’d be driving, flying or, as a last resort, going by water. The only solid fact was that he was bringing Tara home. Or at least to the States and the safe house where they’d spend the next few months.
“Thank goodness,” Tara said. Her face was pale and her new cut even rattier than before. The heat had done nothing for it. “I couldn’t have ridden on that bus another minute. Too hot.”
“You’d never survive living here,” he said.
“Maybe not,” she said.
They were near an area flush with accommodations of all sorts. There was no need to search for a hotel that met all their requirements: not too fancy, not too big, clean and accepted cash. He knew of one. It was a hotel where he’d stayed previously. From the hotel, they could even catch a glimpse of the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
“I’ll get us registered,” Trent said as they entered the worn lobby that smelled of disinfectant. A trio of umbrella plants took up the corner of the lobby and backed a couch and sofa. The tiles were a coppery color that was welcoming in the low lighting. To his right was the usual gathering of vending machines. The place looked all right. He could see no threat. It ticked all the boxes and it would do.
He’d used this hotel a few years back on a different case. His fake identification was still on file, just as it had been the year before that.
With the registration done and temporarily settled in another hotel room, doubts besieged him. Carlos had given them the route north on a little-used road, and on the very road he’d mapped, a truck had tried to run them off the road.
He’d thought about that as they’d traveled here, in the long monotonous hours as Tara had slept.
He remembered the conversation when he’d first met Tara’s landlords, Francesca and Carlos.
“We have rooms available,” Carlos said.
“Empty rooms because you refuse to advertise.” Francesca looked at Carlos with a frown.
Carlos laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve already talked about this, Frannie,” he said with a tone of gentle resignation.
At the time, when Francesca had gently chastised Carlos for not advertising, he’d wondered. As an ex-cop, Carlos hadn’t been paid well. Yet, he’d been sure to tell them how he’d invested well and worked on the side. Why would he make a point of saying that? Was it because the opposite was true—that money was an issue? Yet he didn’t seem driven to rent out more apartments and get more mone
y. Did he not need the money? If he did, he could have received a kickback from the cartel to feed them wrong information. Or maybe he just had his sights on more money and loftier dreams. He’d seen lesser men corrupted by easy money no matter how dirty it was. Trent barely knew Carlos. And while Tara claimed he was a trusted acquaintance, the truth was that she’d stayed on his property a few times. He was a landlord, nothing more. It wasn’t like they were old friends that he might feel any twinge of conscience about misleading them. Instead they were strangers he could misdirect for money.
Carlos more than likely knew nothing about the planned result of the deception. Trent guessed that he likely didn’t know that his directions facilitated a murder plot. He wasn’t sure why he was justifying the deception. But there was something about Carlos that made him want to doubt his guilt.
He pushed the speculation from his mind. What he needed to do was report this to Jackson. But first he needed to follow up with Enrique. They were too deep into Mexico and needed to get closer to the border. They either had to drive themselves or get in position for an extraction. Enrique was the expert on all of that.
After Trent lined that up, he would need to call Jackson and let him know what was up and that they were fine. He also needed any updates from Jackson. Without intel, he was only guessing that they were safe at all.
* * *
FIRST OFF, TRENT purchased another disposable phone and called Enrique.
“I don’t want to see you driving from there,” Enrique said. “You were attacked going north but who knows what else has been leaked. I think the only safe thing to do is to fly you out. Stay low in the meantime.”
They discussed what had happened. Enrique was adamant that Carlos would be charged with what he had done, and justice would be served.
“I’ll have my man meet you in San Patricio,” Enrique said. “He’ll fly you from there up the coast. But it won’t be until Tuesday.”
“That’s three days away. I don’t like any of this, Enrique. I wanted to get her home as quickly as possible.”
“I get that,” Enrique replied. “But speed doesn’t ensure safety. You know that. It’s not just Tara whose life could be in jeopardy. You could endanger others with the wrong move. Despite what I said, I believe you’re safe there. No one knows where she is. Let’s do this right.”
Trent agreed, and minutes later, he hung up. He put his next call in to Jackson and explained what had happened.
He gave Jackson the facts on how they’d been guided on their route by Carlos and then attacked. He listed his other doubts, beginning with the fact that the other rental units had been empty. The fact that Siobhan had mentioned how Carlos had turned renters away and yet he kept Siobhan on.
“I don’t like the sounds of this,” Jackson said. “Carlos recommends the route and then you’re attacked. I’m not a fan of coincidence.”
In the end, they agreed that the only thing that they knew for sure was that Carlos wasn’t making the bulk of his living from his rental units or he would have been pursuing tenants, not refusing to advertise. Carlos’s finances combined with his actions made him highly suspect and, as a result, untrustworthy.
“You went out on a limb on this one trusting Carlos as you did. And look where it got you. Stick to the known—Enrique. He’s always been our go-to man.”
Legally there are no financial benefits in a career as a cop in this country.
In hindsight, Carlos’s words rang like an omen. Was it possible that he’d been on the take and Trent and Tara had been delivered into the hands of men paid to take them out? If that was the case, fortunately, they’d escaped.
“Yeah, I got it, Jack.”
“Now, as far as getting you home. We’ll use Enrique’s plan. He’s there and he knows Mexico intimately, not something I can claim.”
A minute later, Trent hung up. What he’d gotten from both the calls was that for the next three days, he and Tara were on their own.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“There’s no proof,” Tara said with her hand on Trent’s arm after hearing the new plan and the doubt cast on Carlos. “I don’t think Carlos is guilty of purposely giving us information to put us in harm’s way.”
“I don’t know. What Carlos said was pretty damning,” Trent said. “Like I said, he gave us the exact route and that was where we were attacked.”
“I hate to believe it. I saw no evidence that he was dirty at all. That he was getting money from criminals.” Tara shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it.”
He agreed with her to a point and yet he was reluctant to side with her. This would play out as it would no matter what either of them thought.
They talked as they walked along the shore. It was early evening and he’d remembered that only a block away from their hotel was a small restaurant that specialized in barbecue steak. Five minutes later, they had a table.
She looked at him with a smile. “Two meals in a row that remind you of home. And I thought you were a traveler.”
“I am but not by choice,” he said. “For a time, I went overseas. My assignments took me there.”
“Paris, South Africa?” she guessed dreamily.
“Neither one,” he said. “Lately my assignments have been closer to home.”
“Mexico with me,” she said with a laugh.
He looked at her and was overwhelmed by the sense of wanting to know everything about her, everything that he had missed in the years they’d been apart.
Whoa there, he thought. You’re on a fast track to nowhere. But he’d known from the moment he’d taken this case that he’d done so because he wanted another chance to make her his.
“So, anyone special in your life?” she asked. “Did you ever marry, have kids?”
“No kids but I was engaged once,” he said.
“What happened?” There was a strain in her voice as if she thought every relationship ended in tragedy.
“We weren’t right for each other,” he replied. “She liked the rush of what I did for a living more than she liked who I really was as a person. And,” he added looking at her, “I’d already lost my heart a long time ago to someone else.”
Tara said nothing. But it was clear that she was uncomfortable. Instead of looking at him, instead of replying, she looked away.
Damn it, Nielsen, he said to himself. Wrong time, wrong place.
A street hawker motioned to them through the window to look at the tray of dolls that hung from his neck.
“Trent, you have nieces. Let’s go take a look.”
Her voice had a forced happiness to it.
Some things didn’t change. She still had that knack for making him talk about his personal life. During their long bus ride, she’d asked him about each of his sisters, forgetting not a name nor an age, and she’d wormed out of him the fact that he was an uncle courtesy of his oldest sister. She seemed to take joy in talking about his siblings. Maybe, he thought, because she had none.
Now she grabbed his hand and dragged him outside, where he waited while she examined the porcelain dolls dressed in vibrant red, green and orange costumes. They were small, easy to transport and in the end, she convinced him to purchase two of the dolls, one for each of his twin nieces. The girls were only two and he guessed that his sister would appreciate the gesture more than the twins would enjoy the dolls.
“Here,” Tara said. “Give them to me. They’re small enough to fit in my bag.” She’d bought a bag with the same vivid design as the dolls only fifteen minutes earlier. Or more accurate, Trent had bought it for her.
They slipped back into the restaurant. Their absence seemed to have gone unnoticed amid the laughter and music. A quartet of men and women dressed in white shirts with either red pants or skirts danced to the music of a guitarist and an accordion player. The music was more amateur than professional, but the enthusiasm made up
for any lack of skill.
“Strangest steak house I’ve ever been in,” Tara said with a giggle.
The light laugh was music to Trent’s ears. He enjoyed watching her as she laughed at the antics of a girl who got up and tried to dance with the band. And she clapped as loud as the others when it was over.
They ordered steak, and margaritas were brought to their table. Trent had ordered his usual virgin drink. He had a hard rule: no alcohol of any kind while on assignment. For Tara, he didn’t think it would do any harm. There was no danger around, but it was his responsibility to make sure of that, not hers.
“So, there’s someone in your life now?” he asked. There wasn’t, not that he knew of. But he wanted to make sure. He’d lost his heart to her once, although his treatment of her at the time would illustrate otherwise. He’d been a typical teenage boy, projecting his hurt onto someone else.
She shook her head. “No. You?”
“No.”
Their steaks arrived and for a few minutes they ate in silence.
“I feel silly saying this,” he said.
She looked up, her fork in one hand and concern in her beautiful eyes.
What the hell, he thought. He needed to get this off his chest.
“Say it,” she encouraged.
“It was a long time ago, Tara, but I always wanted to say I was sorry for the way we broke up. I said there was someone else but there was no one. It was just a boy’s hurt feelings. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Your family was moving, you had to go. But I blamed you and acted like a jerk because of it. We could have kept in touch. We could have seen each other even, just not as often. Instead I broke it off.”
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