Evasive Action (Holding the Line Book 1)

by Carol Ericson

  “Sounds good.” She pointed to the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”

  She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and closing her eyes. She didn’t have to worry about a wife or a girlfriend. She’d kept tabs on Clay the past few years. She shouldn’t be happy that he’d remained single, but he always would have her heart. Ridiculous to think she could blot out the memory of Clay with someone like Jimmy—no matter how much Jimmy had seemed like Clay...at first.

  She hadn’t known just how ridiculous until this morning—her wedding day.

  She reached around and tugged at the zipper of the dress. She shrugged out of the straps, and the gown slipped from her body, pooling at her feet.

  The shimmering white strapless bra and the lacy panties had to stay. She stepped out of the satin pumps and over the heap of material resembling a small mountain of foam on the floor.

  She rummaged through Clay’s dresser and snagged a pair of army-green sweats with the Border Patrol insignia on the left thigh. She paired the sweats with a white T-shirt from a 10K in Tucson and tiptoed into the living room on bare feet.

  Clay hadn’t moved from the kitchen counter but now sat perched on a stool, hunched over his phone and a second bottle of beer.

  “I’m going to have to do some catching up.” She pinged his empty bottle with her powder-pink-tipped fingernail.

  He shoved the other bottle toward her. “Haven’t touched it.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want it?”

  “I probably need a clear head for what’s coming.” With his foot, he nudged the other stool in her direction.

  Hitching up the legs of the sweats, she sat down and grabbed the beer. She raised the bottle. “Here’s to catching the SOBs who murdered that woman and defiled her body.”

  “The particular SOBs? Probably not, but we’re working night and day to bring down Las Moscas.” Clay scratched at the damp label on the empty beer bottle. “That wedding dress?”

  April took a long pull from her beer and squared her shoulders.

  Clay’s cell phone buzzed next to his hand and he held up one finger. “Hold that thought. I’d better get this.”

  How much should she tell Clay about Jimmy and the whole mess? She’d never even told him why she ran out on their own wedding—and she never would.

  “You sure Adam’s not here?” Clay held up his phone.

  “Of course.” She squinted at the call coming through and pressed a hand to her chest. “Why is Adam calling you?”

  Clay lifted a shoulder and answered his phone. “Adam?”

  He paused for a few seconds and then held out the phone to her. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Me?” April’s fingers curled into the soft cotton of the T-shirt. How did Adam know she was with Clay? She hadn’t told him where she was going. Hell, she hadn’t even known she’d wind up in Paradiso when she’d texted him.

  She grabbed the phone from Clay’s hand and hopped off the stool as he swept her beer from the counter and headed for the back rooms.

  “Adam? How’d you know I’d be with Clay?”

  “C’mon, April. Give me some credit. You’re in one big mess. Where else would you go?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “What do you know about my big mess?”

  “I know a lot more than you indicated in your text. When you told me the wedding was off and to steer clear of Jimmy, I figured you’d found out.”

  April gritted her teeth but managed to grind out the question on her lips. “You knew about Jimmy?”

  “I did.” Adam had the decency to cough. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? Why did you...?” April braced her hand against the front door. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “April, I know I don’t have the right to ask you this, especially after what I just admitted, but do not tell Clay about Jimmy. You haven’t told him anything, have you?”

  “Not yet.” She pounded the door with her fist. It was happening again. “Why shouldn’t I tell him?”

  “Because if you do, Jimmy will kill me...and then he’s gonna kill you.”

  Chapter Three

  “Everything okay?” Clay peered into the living room from the hallway.

  April started and spun around, the phone clutched to her chest, her face as white as that wedding dress she’d stripped off. “Yeah.”

  “Or as okay as things can be with Adam.” He cocked his head. “Is he still getting into trouble?”

  “You could say that.” She held out his phone. “Thanks.”

  He crossed the room and took the phone from her trembling hand. “Why’d he call for you on my phone? Where’s yours?”

  “I thought I told you. I took off with nothing—no phone, no money, no ID.” She shrugged her stiff shoulders.

  “Where’d you get that car?” He jerked his thumb toward the window.

  “A—a friend. I got it from a friend.”

  “What’s the story, April?” He held up the beer bottle, the label shredded to bits. “I finished your beer. Do you want another?”

  “I’ll take one.” She smoothed her hands over her face and emerged with her lips stretched into a smile. “There’s no real story.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and sat on the edge of a stool. “I ran out on another wedding. That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, of all people.”

  He popped up from the fridge, beer in hand. He set the new bottle on the counter in front of her. “I never got the whole story on that wedding, either. I guess I can’t expect to get the truth out of you when it comes to your wedding to someone else.”

  “I decided he wasn’t the one for me.” She pressed the sweating bottle against her pink cheek.

  “You just figured that out on the morning of the blessed event?”

  She nodded and took a sip of beer.

  “What was the hurry? You took off in a borrowed car with nothing? Not even your purse? You didn’t have the backbone to tell the poor sap?” He clicked his tongue. “April, April. You’re getting worse and worse at ditching weddings and fiancés. At least you had the guts to tell me to my face.”

  April bit her bottom lip. “H-he’s not a good guy, Clay.”

  “Did he hit you?” His fists curled at his sides, despite his resolve to steer clear of April and her problems.

  “No. Nothing like that.” She blinked her eyes. “But he has a bad temper, and I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Call me a coward.”

  “Will he come after you?” Like he never did.

  She twisted a lock of blond hair around her finger, and Clay swallowed as he remembered the smell of that hair—all sunshine and foolish dreams.

  “He doesn’t know where I am. I was actually on my way to Mexico when I saw the highway for Tucson and thought...” She curled her hand around the bottle and took a swig of beer. “Oh, hell. I don’t know what I thought. I just had a strong desire to see you again.”

  “Did you love this guy?” Clay held his breath. He couldn’t stand the thought of April in love with someone else, wanting someone else the way she once wanted him.

  She rounded her shoulders. “I don’t think so.”

  “You have a bad habit of agreeing to marry men you don’t love.”

  Her blue eyes flashed and her nostrils flared, but she pressed her lips into a thin line.

  Had he been fishing? April had loved him. Nobody could fake emotion...and passion like that. But something had happened the week before their wedding. It was as if she turned off a switch. When she’d broken the news to him that she was backing out, it hadn’t even surprised him.

  “Why’d you get engaged...again?” He crossed his arms, digging his fingertips into his biceps. She’d already told him more about why she ended this en
gagement than why she’d ended their own. Maybe one thing would lead to another.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I was looking for some stability. Maybe I was tired of handling everything on my own.”

  “By everything, you mean Adam.” He clenched his jaw. He could’ve handled Adam. He could’ve offered stability. He thought that’s why she ran. She’d become addicted to drama and what he represented lacked excitement. Hell, he knew he worked too many hours, got too involved in his cases.

  “Yes, Adam.” Her eyes glittered a dangerous blue as she dragged a fingernail across the label on the bottle.

  “Why did he call?”

  “To make sure I’d landed here. To make sure I was safe.”

  Clay snorted. “When has Adam ever been concerned for your safety? Unless he’s changed.”

  “He’s had it rough, Clay.” She sniffed and swiped the back of her hand across her nose. “He’s the one who found Mom.”

  He passed on the opportunity to remind April that Adam had been a screwup before the murder of their mother. April would defend her brother come hell or high water.

  He released a long breath as his stomach rumbled with hunger. “What now? Are you going to Mexico? How are you going to do that without ID?”

  “C’mon, Clay.” She tilted her head. “I’m a Paradiso girl. I know how to slip across the border with the best of ’em.”

  He jabbed a finger at the baggy T-shirt she’d picked from his closet. It had never looked so good. “Are you going to get some clothes? A bag? Toiletries? Or is Adam going to pick up your stuff for you?”

  “Oh, no. He can’t...he’s not going to do that.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t want him to.”

  “You mean he couldn’t be bothered.” He held up his hand as she started her defense of her brother. “Save it. Do you have a friend who can get your stuff? Send it to you? Where is your stuff?”

  “Albuquerque. Don’t worry about it. It’s just that—stuff. Anything I have of importance is right here in Paradiso.”

  Too bad she didn’t mean him. “Your place looks good. Your cousin’s taking good care of the house.”

  She twisted her mouth. “I suppose I should stay with Cousin Meg while I regroup here.”

  As he carefully picked up her empty bottle and turned toward the trash, he said, “Regroup in Paradiso?”

  “I think I should at least try to get my wallet, ID, credit cards and all those other items that tie you to civilization.” She clicked her nails against the tile counter. “People do disappear, though, don’t they?”

  “Your father did it. You thinking of following in his footsteps?”

  She dropped her hands in her lap and slumped. “No.”

  Clay bit the inside of his cheek. Talking to April had become a minefield. He couldn’t mention her brother, her mother, her father or her most recent fiancé.

  He poked the paper bag containing his burrito, which must be a soggy mess by now. “Are you going to drive to the house? You can call Meg on my phone first to warn her.”

  She slid from the stool and stretched her arms to the ceiling, the loose T-shirt taking shape around her body. “Can I buy one more day at your place before facing the inquisition over there? I’ll even drive into town and pick up some dinner for you. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

  “I’m good.” He rubbed his empty belly. “I have some leftover pasta from last night. Do you want some?”

  She covered her mouth. “Ugh, no. I can’t get the squishing sound of that head hitting the porch out of my head. Makes me feel queasy every time I think about it.”

  “Do you mind if I eat in front of you?” He plucked up the bag from Rosita’s with his fingertips. “This has been through the ringer tonight. Dropped on the ground, probably stepped on and who knows what got into the bag.”

  “I don’t want to think about that, either.” She crossed her hands over her chest. “Water?”

  Clay retrieved the leftover pasta and a bottle of water from the fridge. He stuck the plastic bowl with the pasta in the microwave and poured the water into a glass with ice. As he placed it in front of April, he said, “You’re serious about staying here tonight?”

  “If you’re serious about having me.”

  “I don’t think I answered either way.” The microwave buzzed, and he pivoted away from April as her lips parted. He picked up the bowl and dropped it on the counter as it burned his fingers.

  She wrinkled her nose at the steam that rose from the pasta. “Better let me know one way or the other because I’ll have to drive to the house, and I’d rather do it before it gets too late.”

  “Are you worried about who and what’s out there?” He took the seat beside her and pointed his fork at the windows in the living room.

  “Why did someone leave that head on your porch?” She pinned her hands between her knees, which bounced up and down. “You just found the woman’s body today?”

  “We found her this afternoon after an image came through from our drone we have out there. She was on our side of the border at the mouth of a tunnel. Nash crawled through the tunnel to see if she left anything behind.”

  “Like her head?”

  “Drugs, money, cell phone.” He twirled his fork in the pasta drenched with marinara. “Nothing. They left her with nothing.”

  “Except the carving of a fly in her cold, dead hand.” April jumped off the stool and took a turn around the room. “You didn’t answer me.”

  “Sure, you can stay here for the night.” Clay stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. He could resist this woman for one night, couldn’t he?

  “Thanks, but that’s not what I was talking about.” She gathered the hem of the T-shirt in her hands, bunching it in her fists. “Why you? Why was that woman’s head on your porch?”

  He swiped a paper towel across his mouth. “I’m Border Patrol. I found the body. The other agent on the scene is a new guy and doesn’t live in town, and Nash’s property is too big and those pecan groves are monitored. I’m the default guy.”

  “It’s dangerous that the drug dealers know you and know where you live.”

  “The cartel members from Mexico don’t, neither do the runners coming through. It’s just the guys who distribute locally. They’re not going to make a move against the agents. That would be suicide for them.” He planted his elbows on the counter. “I’m glad you didn’t surprise them in the act. You didn’t see anyone driving around when you arrived?”

  “No, but I wasn’t paying attention. I probably passed a couple of cars on the road before the turnoff to your place.” She wagged a finger at him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t notice anything about the cars—make, model, color, license plate—nothing. I didn’t realize we’d be finding a head on your porch. I would’ve told that detective if I’d noticed anything.”

  “What was it about Detective Espinoza that set you off? The man was just doing his job.” Clay pushed away the bowl of pasta, losing his appetite all over again.

  “Why was he asking about my dress?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “The dress had nothing to do with the head in the box.”

  “He’s a detective. He’s supposed to be curious.” Clay rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his jaw. He must look like hell and for once he cared. “What surprised me is that Nash didn’t ask about the dress.”

  “Didn’t surprise me a bit. That’s Nash.” A giggle escaped from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide and glassy above her fingers.

  “Humor is allowed—even with a head on your porch, especially with a head on your porch. It’s a coping device.”

  “Yeah, you’re talking to the queen of coping devices.” She tapped a fist over her heart.

  “Your coping device is to take care of everyone
around you and ignore your own pain.” Except when she’d left him. He’d always told her to look out for herself, but he didn’t think she’d take his advice at the expense of his happiness.

  Be careful what you wish for, Archer.

  She dipped her head and toyed with the ties at the waistband of his sweats, her hair creating a blond veil around her face. “I’ve kept you away from your routine tonight.”

  He glanced down at his dirt-smudged shirt and dusty boots. He did look like hell. “I think that pink box on my porch disrupted my routine...such as it is. But I’ll take the hint and hit the shower.”

  Her head shot up. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I usually do take a shower as soon as I get off work, especially after a day like today.” He snatched the bowl from the counter. “I won’t be long. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, or if you’re tired, I can make up the bed in the guest room.”

  “I can do that myself. Sheets?”

  “There’s bedding in the hall closet, top shelf. I just have a bedspread on that bed, but the sheets in the closet are clean.”

  Flicking her fingers in the air, she said, “You go ahead. I’ll fix the bed.”

  Clay pushed open the door to his bedroom and tripped to a stop at the discarded dress on the floor. He gathered it in his arms, burying his face in the silky material to inhale the scent of April’s perfume, mixed with her own undeniable smell of sweet and spice.

  She’d had enough time to spritz on some perfume before the wedding. What really happened? He had a hard time believing April would put up with someone abusive, but she’d been through a lot in her life.

  He tucked a trailing bit of lace into the pile in his arm and stepped out of the room. He’d probably never know the truth, just like he’d never know the real reason why she ran out on him.

  When he tapped open the door to the guest room with his toe, April gasped and dropped the stack of folded sheets in her arms on the bed. Still jumpy.

  “Sorry. I’m just going to leave this with you.” He dumped the dress on a chair in the corner where it flowed over the sides. “You can figure out how you’re going to get the sample to Detective Espinoza.”