The little boy reached up to finger the braid hanging over Benny’s shoulder, pulling its curly end through his fingers. He was a skinny, bright-eyed child, tongue loose at both ends, and his black hair stuck up in a rooster tail on the back of his head. Reminded Owen a lot of his nephew, Danilo.
Benny must have been thinking the same thing. “Did Eli mention Isabel and the kids when you talked to him yesterday?”
“Nope. Too busy yelling at me for not calling sooner. And for not filing a flight plan. And for breathing.” He laughed. “You responsible people should cut us ADHD folks some slack.”
“Maybe you’re used to thinking of yourself that way, but you’re just a little impulsive.” She gently touched Jefe’s cheek. He’d fallen asleep with his head on Bernadette’s shoulder. “After all, you made it through college and you’re good at your job.”
He flushed, pleased at her praise. Her opinion meant a lot. “I did fine at Baylor once I got to the courses I liked.” He laughed. “Freshman comp nearly did me in.”
She smiled. “I used to be pretty impulsive myself.”
“No way.”
“I had to learn the hard way.”
“The hard way?”
“When I was about thirteen—fourteen, maybe—I remember feeling like a bird caught in a tornado. When you don’t have any control over your life, you beat against the wind, trying to get it back.”
“So what made you change?”
“Well, once I settled in with people who cared enough to give me boundaries, I was able to focus on long-term goals.” She looked at him, eyes intense, hugging the two children in her arms. “You can do anything if you have hope.”
“I suppose.” As they entered the Ciudad Victoria city limits, the truck jounced over a tope, a speed bump. Owen grabbed the nearest crate and hung on for dear life. “I don’t think I’ve ever had long-term goals, beyond moving up in the Agency.”
“Doing a job you love is a fine ambition. Plus, you have your Mission Aviation Fellowship flights.” She tilted her head. “Aren’t you satisfied with that?”
“Satisfied? Yeah, but since Eli and Isabel moved to San Antonio, I just have my mom and myself to look out for. And Mom’s pretty independent. I confess, it gets a little lonely sometimes.” Now where’d that come from? Until the words came out of his mouth, he hadn’t acknowledged their truth. He leaned over, forearms on his knees, so that he could talk to Bernadette without yelling against the wind. “I told you, I’m a closet homebody.”
She looked thoughtful. “I know what you mean, even though I really like to travel. I’m happy for Meg and Jack, of course, but I miss her companionship. That’s part of being human—you know, wanting to connect with somebody who loves you no matter what.”
So she got it. Something warm bloomed under his rib cage. What would it be like to be able to communicate this way all the time? Being raised by a man’s man like Dennis Carmichael wasn’t exactly conducive to exploring the tender side of one’s character. And stoicism was a hallmark of the Border Patrol profession. He’d developed a habit of clowning around to cover his feelings. Maybe without even realizing it.
Bernadette didn’t mind laughing at his teasing, but she never treated him as a lightweight. Which, in a backward sort of way, made him feel stronger.
He put his chin on his fist and studied her for a moment. Her gaze was on the black splash of Jefe’s eyelashes, but she looked up and their eyes held.
She knew. He didn’t know how, but she did. Had he really imagined he could hide his feelings?
“So how are Isabel’s classes going?” She looked away, voice studiously bright. “Last time I talked to her, she was planning to take fifteen hours this semester.”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to acknowledge what was between them. Probably just as well. Reyna had tired of her doll and was playing with Bernadette’s silver-and-turquoise ring. The little girl probably didn’t know much English, but you never knew what small ears would pick up.
“Oh, Isabel. She’s got a 4.0, naturally. Eli has seriously outmarried himself.”
Bernadette laughed. “They’re perfect for each other. I was afraid he was never going to get around to asking her to marry him.”
“Might not have if that thug Medeiros hadn’t gone on his vendetta.”
“Taking on the U.S. Border Patrol wasn’t his smartest move, was it?”
“He’ll be in the slammer for the rest of his life.” He paused. “And when I find out who shot down my plane, he’s gonna wish he’d busted into somebody else’s school yard.”
The fact that he felt a lot more possessive and protective about Bernadette than about the plane was information he’d probably better keep to himself.
Holding Reyna by the hand, Benny stopped to examine an array of brightly colored scarves displayed on a wooden table in one of the many open-air booths that comprised the mercado in Ciudad Victoria’s downtown Plaza Hidalgo.
They’d had a quick but filling meal prepared by the women at the campground. Then Noé, Ana Maria and Marta had retired for a siesta. Owen and Benny had taken the children to the market.
On a sleepy afternoon there were few shoppers, and the atmosphere was relaxed. Trays of colorful fruits and vegetables alternated with dry-goods displays, and beautiful historical murals adorned the walls of museums and theaters. It was a city where the modern bumped up against the ancient with charm and artistic flair. A storefront window featuring a statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe briefly caught their attention before they moved on to the scarf booth.
“Look, Reyna. Let’s try this on you.” Benny plucked a silky red-and-orange length of fabric from the pile on the table and draped it around the little girl’s head. Smiling, the woman behind the table picked up a hand mirror and held it for Reyna to look.
Reyna preened and grinned, her perfect white teeth gleaming. The bright stripes of the scarf contrasted with the ebony sheen of her hair and made onyx gems of her eyes. “My papa will buy this for me if I ask just so.” She tipped her head and artfully pouted her bottom lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Benny laughed. “I think, sweet baby, you are going to break some hearts one day.”
“I’d say that’s a given.” Owen had crossed the narrow street with Jefe trotting at his heels. Each had a sugar-dusted curl of fried dough on a stick and a multicolored lollipop.
“Ooh, I want one of those.” Reyna pointed at Jefe’s candy.
“Here, have this one.” Owen handed her his wrapped sucker and gave the bread stick to Benny. “Too much grease and sugar for my taste.”
Benny bit into the crusty pastry and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Mmm. What’s not to like?”
“Give me a jalapeño popper any day.”
“I like those, too.” Benny took another nibble, savoring the sweetness. “Come on, let’s go over to that—” She stopped dead, nearly dropping the bread stick.
Owen caught her by the shoulders to keep from running over her. “What’s the matter?”
“Did you see that guy?” she said in English. No need to alarm the children.
Shading his eyes against the glare of the sun off hard-baked streets and whitewashed buildings, Owen peered over her shoulder. “What guy? Where?”
“He just went between those two jewelry stalls at the end of the square.”
“I didn’t notice anybody. What did he look like?”
“Heavy shoulders, black sunglasses and a big nose. Dark skin, but he looked more Italian than Latino.”
“What was he wearing?”
Benny felt her heart pumping harder by the second. Gripping Reyna’s hand, she took Jefe by the elbow and pulled them toward the campsite. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Owen followed, looking over his shoulder. “Did you recognize him? Was it the guy who shot at you?”
“I’m not sure.” She didn’t want to slow down to find out. “He had on navy-blue pants like my shooter did but not the jacket and tie. It might have
been him.” By now, she was panting, running down the side street they’d taken to the market.
Owen picked up Jefe and ran with him. “Last one back to the truck has to give Fernanda a kiss,” he said in Spanish.
Clutching Benny’s hand, Reyna looked up, brows puckered.
Benny gave the little girl a reassuring smile. “Come on, we can’t let the boys win.” They were running flat out now.
Glancing back, she didn’t see Mr. Big Nose, and Owen stayed between her and the street. But she couldn’t help the tremors that shook her body.
Could that really have been the shooter? How could he have tracked them down so fast? Maybe deep down she’d feared he would eventually find her. She shouldn’t have let Owen talk her into eating at that restaurant. Too many people had seen them.
Mexico was a big place, but a man who could locate her on the Yucatán, even after she’d changed her name, could do it again.
Finally. The truck was in sight. The two children ran ahead to the tent.
“Mama!” shouted Jefe. “I won! Reyna has to kiss the pig!”
But Reyna was right on his heels. “I do not! Fernanda has bad breath.”
“Wait, Benny.” Owen grabbed her arm and pulled her behind an RV two spaces down from the Fronterases’ truck. He was barely breathing hard, though her lungs were bursting from fear. “Who was the guy you saw?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe nobody.” She leaned against the door, sucking in air. “I’m probably spooked over nothing. A shadow.”
“Bernadette.” Owen searched her face, brows drawn together. “Come on. So he had on the navy-blue pants. What color was his shirt?”
“White. Or maybe light blue. I’m not sure.” She put her hands over her face.
“Calm down.” Owen lowered his voice, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “All right, say this is the guy…our shooter. Did he see you?”
“I don’t think so. Like I said, he went down that alley. If he’d seen me, he would have followed, right?” What did she know about hit men?
“Probably. Give me every detail you can. Better yet, could you draw a picture?”
“Owen!” Benny gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t sing, I don’t dance and I certainly don’t draw. Meg was the artist.”
“Okay, then just describe him as best you can. Start with height and weight.”
“C-can we sit down? My legs feel like spaghetti.”
“I’m sorry. Sure.” He let go of her shoulders and they both dropped onto the grass in front of the camper.
She leaned over, arms crossed over her middle. Closing her eyes, she could feel all over again the stunned realization that a bullet had just whizzed over the top of her head and planted itself in the wall of the building. It could have killed her or one of the women still in the dormitory.
Her stomach lurched.
She felt Owen slide closer. His knees didn’t quite touch hers, but she could feel the strength of his presence, his comfort. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m just thinking. He was about five foot ten and weighed about two hundred pounds. Solid muscle. Like I said, big, thick shoulders and long arms.” She closed her eyes in thought. “His hair was getting a little thin on top, one of those hairlines that recede at the sides. He wasn’t an ugly guy, just…hard faced, you know?” She looked at Owen and he nodded.
“How would you describe the shape of his face? Any complexion abnormalities?”
“Oh!” She sat up a little. “He did have a rough complexion, like maybe he’d recently had a skin peel. Square jaw and a slight cleft in his chin.”
“And you said he looked Italian?”
“Yes. That olive skin tone, thick black brows and really dark eyes.”
Owen bumped his thumbs together. “Wow. Going to be a little hard to pick him out in a country where ninety percent of the population fits that description.”
A short silence fell, and Benny wished she had something more descriptive to say about her attacker. “The only time I saw him close up was when he came to the clinic to interview me.”
“When was that?”
“Tuesday afternoon. The day before we left. I was holding babies while Dr.Wes gave inoculations. There was a mother who wanted me to take her baby back to the States. To keep it. They do that sometimes and it’s so hard….”
His knees pressed against the outside of hers. “I know, Benny.”
Opening her eyes, she met his gaze. Electric awareness passed between them. This morning in the truck she’d almost told him about that year in Memphis. The year she’d sold herself, body and soul.
Looking down at Owen’s big, callused hands, loosely linked between his knees, she clutched her fingers together to keep from reaching out to him.
“Anyway, he came right into the clinic, ignoring all those people standing in line. Like they weren’t worth beans. And he insisted on talking to me, even though there were babies screaming and that long line—” She gulped down a fresh wave of anger. “So I went outside with him.”
“What did he want?”
“He said he was FBI and he had reason to believe someone had a contract on me. He wanted me to come back to the States with him right then.”
“A contract.” Owen’s hands clenched. “Bernadette, this is not normal. Come on, look at me.”
He would want to touch her, hold her hands, and she couldn’t give in to that weakness. But she was so tired. So afraid.
NINE
Owen had years of experience questioning illegal aliens who slipped across the border and got stranded in the Texas desert by their coyotes. But getting a simple explanation out of one small American woman was proving to be beyond his capabilities.
He sat very still, watching Bernadette struggle, wishing he could see inside her head, wanting to deliver her. Maybe that was the key. Nobody but God Himself could right whatever was wrong.
But Lord! I’m involved up to my eyeballs. Why did You let me fall for her and then find out she’s being chased by a hit man?
Slowly, as if completely against her will, Benny’s heavy, exotic eyelids lifted and bang, he was sucked into her pain. He knew she’d made her decision. She wasn’t letting him in. Fear had won.
And the worst thing was, she was more afraid of his knowledge than of dying.
“Don’t, Benny. Don’t do this.”
She pressed her lips together, gave a tiny shake of her head. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. You’re closing up again, and I—” he couldn’t help reaching for her hands “—I don’t want to go back.”
But she slid her fingers free and stood. “We’re not going back. We’re going to see if the Fronterases are ready to go, and we’ll head for the border with them.”
He got to his feet, feeling like the ground had shifted beneath him. “But what if that guy—”
“We’ll outrun him again. Come on, help me find a phone. I’ve decided I’ve got to call Meg after all. She—she won’t be surprised at what’s happened.”
That stopped him. “Benny…I have to tell you something, and you’re not gonna like it.”
She stiffened. “What have you done?”
“I already told Eli to call Meg and Jack.”
“You did what?” Red flags went up in her cheekbones. “Owen, this is my personal business—”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty involved, wouldn’t you say?” He lifted his hands. “Somebody has to know what’s going on in order to help us when we get to the States.”
“I can’t believe you did that without telling me!”
“Feels pretty rotten to get left out of the loop, doesn’t it?”
At an impasse, they stared at one another. Bernadette looked away first. “I told you a long time ago you didn’t want to get involved with me.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like being told what to do.”
She laughed, short and hard. “I guess control is the issue, isn’t it?”
“Ri
ght now, our lives are the issue. If you’ll tell me who we’re running from and what you’re trying to accomplish, I can be a help instead of a big lump who keeps getting in the way.”
Her eyes flashed to his. “You’re not a lump! And you’re not in the way.”
But clearly she wasn’t going to tell him anything more. He was getting really tired of the runaround. “Let’s just get back to the States as fast as we can. You can use my cell phone to call whoever you want to. I’ve been saving it for emergencies.”
“I’d say emergencies R us.” Bernadette gave him an unhappy look.
“Yeah, whatever.” He turned and headed for Noé’s truck, but couldn’t quite make himself leave her behind. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she followed.
One day chivalry was going to get him killed.
Stacy Garrett sat down on Bernadette’s bottom bunk bed in the women’s dormitory at the Agrexco mission. It was still made with military precision, the pillow smooth as glass and the items on the camp stool beside the bed arranged in a perfect square. Hairbrush, mirror, glasses, toiletries in a one-gallon Ziploc bag. As far as Stacy could tell, there was nothing missing.
Except Benny herself.
In the brief time the young woman was here in Agrexco, the two of them had gotten surprisingly close. Benny was a huge help in the clinic—more than a translator, she would set her hand to anything that needed doing. And it was nice to have another woman to talk to, even if Benny was private about her personal life. What fun to see the way Owen Carmichael had looked at her. But Benny had been gone for three days now, without a word. No matter what Wes said about minding her own business, Stacy was going to do some poking around.
She got down on her knees and pulled the suitcase out from under the bed. That was just one of the weird things about this whole situation. Why had Benny left without her clothes? Maybe there was something in here that would shed some light on what was going on.
On Wings of Deliverance Page 9