Ripped Apart

by Miriam Minger

“Better cover at this point. There’s been so much trouble on the Texas-Mexican border lately that Americans are staying away in droves. We’re a newly married couple, by the way. Having fun visiting the great state of Texas and then on to Mexico. Got it?”

  Clare nodded as she shrugged into a light jean jacket he’d bought her, but the newly married thing surprised her. “Where do we live? In Canada, I mean—”

  “Vancouver. Ever been there?”

  “No, but I’ve visited Seattle.”

  “Pretty much the same, just further north. Our new names are Matt and Kathy Fisher—at least that’s what they’ll be as soon as we get our documents. I called ahead and everything’s waiting for us. We just need to get our photos taken.”

  “But how do you…?” Clare didn’t finish but shrugged as she stared at Jake, at a loss.

  “Know someone in Austin who forges documents?” The wryest smile touched his lips, but his eyes held no humor. “You know what, Clare Carson? You ask too many damned questions.”

  * * *

  Xavier gripped the cold metal railing of the hospital bed while another agonizing wave of pain ripped through his raised right leg.

  Damn that gringo to hell. He’d heard the doctors discussing his prognosis. They were thinking of amputating at least one of his legs above the knee, maybe both of them. Too much tissue damage. Shattered bone. Severed tendons. A miracle he’d survived at all after losing so much blood.

  Yes, Xavier had survived and he’d vowed to himself that as soon as he escaped his present circumstances, he would hunt down that American and fire a bullet into his brain.

  Xavier dug his head into the pillow and screwed his eyes shut at another wave of pain. Where the hell was the nurse with the morphine? The opaque white curtain was drawn around his bed but he knew three police officers were standing guard right outside the hospital room door.

  Bastards. He doubted even if he was screaming in agony that they would lift a finger to help him or call for assistance from the night staff.

  He’d seen enough police and FBI agents since he had been brought by ambulance to the hospital to last a lifetime, and they’d all had the same look of contempt on their faces. Well, let them curse him. Let them ask their endless questions. He’d spilled his guts once today on threat of his life but he didn’t intend to again.

  All he wanted right now was morphine and then he would sleep. He needed rest so he’d be able to think. To think and plan a way to get out of this hospital and out of this miserable country…but after, of course, he found that gringo who’d crippled him and murdered Francisco—

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Rodriguez?”

  Xavier’s eyes flew open. His heart slammed in his throat. He stared in disbelief at the matronly, dark-haired nurse who pressed a finger to her lips in a clear command for him to be silent. He’d given no one his name, not even that gringo. How did this woman…? Oh, God, Mr. Ruiz must have sent her.

  “I haven’t much time, Xavier. The police let me in to check on you, but I don’t want them to become suspicious. Tell me quickly what happened.”

  “I…I was shot. Francisco was murdered.“

  “By whom? The police?”

  “No, a gringo, street clothes.” Xavier swallowed hard, his heart racing. “You have to help me get out of here. I’ve said nothing to the police. Nothing.”

  “That’s good, Xavier. What about the woman?”

  “She escaped. Francisco missed his shot and hit a cop instead—then somehow she found another man to help her, the gringo. Dark hair, blue eyes, tall—maybe six feet or better—”

  “Very good, Xavier. Did you say anything to this gringo?”

  Xavier licked his lips, panicked. Should he tell her the truth? Should he lie? The woman leaned over him as if to hear better, her heavy breasts pressing against him, and then he saw a slim, metallic flash.

  Cold realization gripped him. He was going to die no matter what he said, truth or lies. The woman hadn’t been sent to help him, but to silence him.

  So be it. Fuck you, Eduardo Ruiz.

  “I said nothing. The gringo shot me, took the woman and was gone.”

  “Very good, Xavier. I was told to thank you for many years of loyal service.”

  His heart slammed harder against his chest. Xavier closed his eyes tightly at the same moment the stiletto knife sliced open his throat from ear to ear.

  * * *

  “The hospital. It’s done.”

  Sitting on the toilet, Eduardo let go of his held breath but not his tight-fisted grip on the phone. Something about the Facilitator’s grim tone told him all the news was not good. “The Carson woman?”

  “She disappeared with the man who killed Francisco and shot Xavier in the knees. That puzzles me. Doesn’t sound like the police but a civilian. A police officer was killed earlier but she got someone else to help her. Who knows?”

  “Who knows?” Rage filled Eduardo as he squeezed the phone, but he did his best to keep his voice steady. “We don’t have any time to screw around. We have to find her.”

  “I’m already on it. Wherever she is, she’s probably still with this guy. Not much of a physical description to go on, but something. At least Xavier didn’t spill his guts to the police. My contact got a firm answer on that one. Didn’t tell anything to the guy who shot him either, or so he said.”

  So he said. Had Xavier’s loyalty stayed with him to the end? Eduardo wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t be sure. Best to believe the worst and be prepared for any possible consequences.

  It had been bad enough to discover Francisco was dead and Xavier in the hospital, the Facilitator’s contact sent there to find out more information and to do what needed to be done. This latest news left him ice cold, Maria’s threat ringing fresh in his mind.

  “So now we’ve got two to hunt down, the woman and her friend.“

  “I said I’m on it. Something you could do is send more people to San Antonio…just in case. I’ve got my contacts, but some back-up wouldn’t hurt.“

  “I’ll charter a plane.” Eduardo ended the call without saying goodbye, but to hell with niceties. It was a shit situation and getting deeper. Even the Facilitator had abandoned his usual formality, so maybe he’d felt the chill, too.

  Eduardo flushed the toilet and stood up, hoisting his trousers.

  It was too bad about Xavier, though, but what the hell else could Eduardo have done?

  * * *

  “Fuck.” The Facilitator threw the phone onto his desk, his head beginning to pound.

  He was getting nervous and he hated that feeling. Such emotion was weak, unpredictable. He liked control and precision and nothing left to chance. If Xavier had spilled his guts to the guy who’d helped the Carson woman, any number of scenarios might be possible and they all pointed to Mexico.

  To Eduardo Ruiz.

  One day, maybe even to him.

  God, he wished he’d retired six months ago and gotten the hell out of this country like he’d originally planned. Instead he’d shoved to the back burner his dream of a remote island retreat and long tranquil days of doing absolutely nothing, and stayed to play the game a little while longer.

  The money was too damned good. America’s lust for illicit drugs was too huge, the Third World’s appetite for small arms and ammunition insatiable. He’d simply helped to sweep up the scraps from beneath Manuel Castillo’s solid gold table to make him wealthier than he’d ever imagined possible.

  He should have been enjoying that money right now instead of still playing the dedicated employee at his job and living to all outward appearances on his regular salary, his only indulgence a couple of designer suits. He should have been lying on a white sand beach with some native girl sitting on his face and another sucking his dick than having to deal with Eduardo’s bullshit—

  He jumped at the cell phone ringing and that made him even angrier. “Hello?”

  “You’re in this as deep as I am. If you disappear, I’ll find you. Unde
rstand?”

  He didn’t get a chance to reply, a sharp click telling him that Eduardo was gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Austin-Bergstrom International Airport

  “Okay, we’re next in line. Any last questions before we step up to the plate?”

  Clare shook her head at Jake, who to her surprise reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. Warmth rushed to her face but she told herself to relax, it was all part of their newly married couple charade.

  He’d held her hand from the moment they left his dusty pickup in the overnight parking. Now inside the terminal he seemed determined to play the attentive husband to the hilt, and she blinked when he tilted her chin up to him.

  She stared into his eyes and forced herself to smile, but it wasn’t the best attempt. With everything that had happened to Tyler these past months she’d practically forgotten how to smile, how to laugh. She’d certainly forgotten what it felt like to have a man touch her…and how stirring it could feel no matter it was all a ruse.

  “Okay, you’re going to have to work a little harder on feigning wedded bliss.”

  Jake had bent his head to whisper in her ear, his breath so warm against her neck that she felt goose bumps.

  “Take it nice and easy and we’ll do fine, Mrs. Fisher. Let me do the talking and you just look at me adoringly. A hopeless male fantasy, I know, but humor me.”

  “Next in line, please.”

  She must have been standing there like a complete idiot because Jake grabbed her hand and steered her toward the Continental check-in desk. The firm squeeze he gave her fingers was both reassuring and a sobering reminder to play her part. Suddenly she felt chilled in spite of her jean jacket.

  “Good morning—”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Matt Fisher,” Jake announced.

  Clare watched silently as he flashed a friendly smile at the plump, middle-aged woman behind the counter and handed her their newly minted Canadian passports and e-ticket receipt.

  “Any luggage this morning, Mr. Fisher?”

  “Two carry-ons, a backpack and a duffel bag. My wife and I like to travel light.”

  Clare felt another squeeze on her hand and somehow managed a smile when Jake threw his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. She had to remind herself to breathe as the woman studied their passports for a moment and then seemed satisfied enough to slide them back across the counter.

  “Tampico, state of Tamaulipas. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there on the Gulf coast. Lots of colonial architecture.“

  “Never been, but we heard that, too,” Jake said in easy conversation. “We’re looking forward to it.”

  The woman nodded and Clare breathed easier. Everything was going so well, their charade clearly convincing no matter it could land them both in prison for years. She wasn’t surprised that Jake could lie so effortlessly and without any trace of a Texas accent. She imagined subterfuge had been a big part of his previous occupation as a military attaché or whatever he’d been in Mexico.

  She glanced up at him, wondering again what manner of man she’d entrusted herself to, then she shoved away the thought. Better to think only of Tyler. Anything she said or did was worth having him safe at home with her. Anything. Including playing a new wife.

  She reinforced her resolve by winding her arm around Jake’s back and snuggling closer to him. He stiffened but his expression gave no note of any surprise.

  “Very good, Mr. Fisher, everything’s in order. I’ve reserved your seats through to Tampico. Your flight leaves out of Gate 6, and you’ll change flights in Houston. We hope you’ve enjoyed your stay in Austin. Have a pleasant trip.”

  “I’m sure we will. Ready, sweetheart?”

  Clare disengaged herself from Jake so he could pick up the duffel bag and adjust the backpack over his shoulder, but in the next instant he grabbed her hand again and threw her a smile.

  He wasn’t the most handsome man she’d ever seen—no one had come close to Billy Carson in that department—but he had a compelling masculine attractiveness that she’d have to be blind not to notice. And when he smiled at her like that with those blue, blue eyes—

  “Okay, we’re past that hurdle but security’s next. That means police.”

  Clare must have turned pale because Jake let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “You’re doing great, okay? Pretending you’re someone else isn’t that difficult, but you’ve got to stay focused. Besides, I left all my guns at home, so no problem.”

  If he’d thought that comment would reassure her, Clare instead felt her breath stuck in her throat as they neared the security area.

  He was right. Police officers were everywhere, although more likely it was the official-looking uniforms worn by the security personnel that made it seem like so many.

  Jake didn’t appear to be concerned at all, but he wasn’t the easiest person to read. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and then they moved apart, Jake to dump their carry-on baggage on a conveyor while she walked through a metal detector. A policeman stood not far from her, surveying the crowd, and for one heart-stopping moment Clare felt as if he studied her a little too closely.

  Jeans, jean jacket, the black hiking boots Jake had bought her, closely cropped dark brown hair. Surely she didn’t look anything like she used to. Surely he wouldn’t somehow guess her real identity—

  “Looking for me, babe?”

  Clare was spun around so suddenly and wrapped in Jake’s embrace that she gasped. A few somber-faced security personnel glanced in their direction but then went back to their work. Clare glanced over her shoulder and saw that the policeman was looking elsewhere, too, an affectionate couple clearly not worthy of further notice.

  “See? No trouble at all,” Jake whispered in her ear. “Public displays of affection make most people uncomfortable and they look away—a good thing right now. Did you think I’d said newly married just for grins? Let’s get some coffee.”

  He released her, picked up their bags and strode into a nearby Starbucks and Clare followed him. She stopped in her tracks, though, at the TV blaring from a perch in the corner.

  “We’ve got an update from our affiliate in San Antonio where the story we’re following of a missing San Antonio woman grew more deadly this afternoon. Authorities reported earlier that the main suspect in a rash of recent slayings was found murdered while in policy custody, and now fears are growing for the woman—”

  “Oh, God, Jake, look—”

  “Matt, the name’s Matt.”

  Jake had hissed so fiercely in her ear that Clare’s face grew hot, mortified at what she’d just said. He took her arm and steered her away from the coffee stand and toward a row of plastic seats.

  “I already heard the story on the news when you hit the bathroom at the hamburger place. Now sit down and don’t blow this for us.”

  She obliged him, glad to be sitting down as she thought of the latest development. The news station had flashed a recent photo of her and Tyler on the screen that the police must have found in her home. The other footage had been of a white-shrouded figure lying on the ground—Detective McKain. Suddenly she felt sick, the steaming cup of coffee that Jake waved under her nose only making her queasier.

  “Drink it. It’ll help.”

  She glanced at him as he sat down beside her, astonished again that he could read her so clearly. “I don’t think I can—”

  “There’ll be a lot of things you think you can’t do, but you’ll do them because you have to. Drink.”

  She took the cup, her hand shaking, and forced herself to take a sip. The hot liquid scalded her tongue but she didn’t care. The pain helped to bring things back into sharp focus, why they were there, where they were going.

  She needed to think of the future, not the past. She couldn’t do anything about Doug McKain, Billy, or the Garzas but she could for Tyler, at least Clare hoped so, dear God, she hoped so.

  “Why so surprised?” Jake said, his voice jo
lting her. “Did you think the story wouldn’t be headline news throughout Texas? Might even be national by now. A sensational so-called crime spree—”

  “Diabolical, you mean. Insane. Horrible.”

  “All that and getting worse. The other channel reported the hit man was murdered in his hospital bed, his throat cut. Seems someone was afraid he might talk.”

  Clare stared at Jake, who took the coffee cup from her so she wouldn’t drop it. “You heard all this and you didn’t tell me—”

  “And spoil our wonderful day? No way. We’re here and checked in, soon to be on a flight to Tampico, Mexico which is right where I need you to be.”

  “You need me to be?”

  “I meant where you need to be. I told you I wanted to get you a long way from here where it’s safer and then we’ll figure out our next step. Drink some more coffee.”

  Jake handed her the cup but Clare didn’t take it, noticing instead that he suddenly looked uncomfortable. His discomposure didn’t last long, though, whatever had bothered him. In the next instant he met her eyes and took her hand.

  “Newly married couple, remember? Having fun together. We’ll talk about all that later when we’re alone.”

  “But that won’t be for hours—”

  “Exactly. Now let’s make it look good for that police officer strolling toward us, okay?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but set down the coffee and leaned toward Clare, his arm going around her shoulder. She realized he intended to kiss her, his lips touching hers before she could say a word.

  Any thought of remaining rigid in his arms, of feeling nothing and only playing along with the charade flew out the window as his mouth moved over hers like she hadn’t been kissed in years. No, make that ever.

  “Okay, Mrs. Fisher, maybe that’s too much fun, but great job of playing along. The coast is clear.”

  He’d whispered against her lips, but Clare found some shred of composure and pulled away to meet his eyes. “I-I’m glad you think so—that I’m doing a great job, but how long a flight did you say it was to Tampico?”