"Damn it, Wara!" he hissed at her. He felt his breath coming in puffs of smoke.
Seriously? She thought he was jealous?
"I'm not talking about offing Lázaro Marquez because you slept with him! I want him dead because he tried to kill you! And this isn't going to end until he does kill you, or I take him out first."
Alejo felt his chest heaving. He didn’t remember when the last time he had yelled at Wara was. She was still glowering at him, a wet, shiny swatch painted across her eyelashes.
They sat there staring at each other with narrowed eyes, breathing hard. Alejo had no idea how much time went by. Finally, Wara swiped at each of her eyes with her sleeve. She pulled her knees up into her chest and clunked her head back into the couch.
"I understand," she said. "I just didn't expect you to say that about CI. But I really, really understand." Her voice dropped to something scratchy. "And I'm really glad you're here. Thank you."
The heat in his face had finally died down. Alejo heard her thank him for being here, supposedly to protect her, and he felt the words stab him, sharp and hot.
Today Lázaro could have killed them. Alejo hadn't been able to protect her.
To keep Marquez from killing Wara next time, or taking her away for whatever his whacked purposes might be, Alejo was going to have to take him out.
There was no other solution.
Artsy Beer
THEY FINALLY GAVE UP AND WENT TO sleep at 3 a.m. They'd finished off the darn pitchers of water, then waited another half hour to take a last turn in the basement bathroom before heading off to bed. It was surprising the toilet still worked after how much they'd peed in it since being drugged that afternoon. Wara supposed that the stupid poison must be nice and flushed out of her and Alejo's systems by now.
On a normal day, she might have found taking turns with Alejo every fifteen minutes to pee kind of funny, but now Wara did not feel like smiling. She left Alejo in the basement with a quiet goodnight and a drawn out hug. She wasn’t a hugger, but hey, they had almost died. Together. Taking that into account, a hug was not overkill.
Alejo usually slept in one of the rooms just down the hall from the bathroom down in the basement. Wara padded up the carpeted basement stairs, through the cavernous living/dining room, up the open flight of stairs to the little landing and her room.
The house was silent except for the olive green fridge, hauled out here to headquarters a good three decades ago. The thing buzzed like a spacecraft down in the kitchen. It sounded like it was about to take flight.
Wara closed the door to her room carefully and tiptoed over to the sliding glass doors, making sure they were locked.
As if that would stop Lázaro from getting in here.
She almost turned right around and slipped back down the stairs. What was she doing back here in her room, when Lázaro had just tried to kill her? She should have camped out on the floor in Alejo's room. Or barge in on Cail. Anything to not be in here alone.
But Rupert said Lázaro wouldn't be able to track her out here to the house.
He and Alejo had insisted Lázaro would never find her in Morocco, either.
Rather freaky, how wrong everyone was turning out to be.
Not near as freaky as how Lázaro had imitated her mother's voice to draw her over to the Western Union.
Alejo's room downstairs was pulling Wara towards it like a magnet. She almost gathered her comforter into a wad to haul it downstairs, but instead sank down onto the bed, remembering what Alejo told her downstairs.
"After I make sure you're safe from Lázaro," he'd told her, "I'm done."
Wara flopped over onto one side on the quilted comforter, feeing the pattern of white Celtic-looking flowers press into her cheek. She curled up into a ball, pulling the bottom half of the comforter over her without unmaking the top.
It was suddenly very cold in here.
Alejo was going to leave CI. Less than a year after he brought her here, trained her. Besides the survey trip to Iran, they never even got to go on assignment together.
He didn't want to do this job anymore, and as soon as he got the problem of Wara getting killed out of the way, he was going to leave. And just leave Wara to do whatever she wanted to.
This was terrible. Not only was their relationship complicated by Wara questioning the faith Alejo had just found, but Alejo was acting so weird around her ever since he came back from Timbuktu.
For some stupid reason I thought we were going to be partners here. When I had more experience. Someday.
Yeah, and she had also thought they would be a lot more.
But downstairs between trips to the bathroom, there had been no: What do you think, Wara? You told me you're sick of the violence, too. Want to quit together with me and get a peaceful chalet in the Alps or something. Maybe get married?
Or he could have just pulled her in his arms and kissed her like in a cheesy movie.
But he hadn’t done any of that. Except for the time in his tent when they were trying to escape the Prism, Alejo had still never kissed her.
He caught her totally off guard tonight. Again.
At the airport, Wara had been expecting him to be as happy to see her as she was to see him.
Nuh-uh.
And on the couch downstairs, for a while, she had been so sure she saw the horror in his eyes about what had happened, that she had been in danger and he couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't stand to lose her.
Something wasn't right, and to top it off, Wara had to travel to Timbuktu tomorrow, in the middle of the Sahara. Running away from an ex-boyfriend who had gone psycho.
She just couldn't sit Alejo down and do the "let's talk about our relationship" thing.
Wara’s heart was hurting. And she just wanted to stop thinking about this.
Thankfully, before too long the hum of the alien fridge downstairs pulled her eyes closed and Wara dropped off to sleep.
Cochabamba, Bolivia
Six years ago
When Wara reached for the stem of her glass of iced caramel cappuccino, her fingers brushed the flower. She started, then grinned at the pristine little white rose made from a napkin, sitting there right by her fancy glass of chilled coffee and whipped cream.
Across the glossy black table, Lázaro grinned back at her. Techno music bounced around the coffee shop, one of her favorites right in the heart of Cochabamba. Multi-colored graffiti art splashed around the dark matte walls, and two of those giant Asian cat statues were mounted on the walls above her head, bouncing their golden paws in time to the dance beat. Little kids in color-splattered smocks painted canvasses of swans or Despicable Me in the courtyard outside the café door.
"Wow. Thanks." Wara raised an eyebrow at the guy across from her. Lázaro adjusted his black Irish hat, looking pleased. He was drinking espresso with a shot of vodka. In the three weeks since camp, she and Lázaro had hung out quite a bit. He wasn't really the kind of guy she had imagined dating at all, but he was pretty darn cute and he made her laugh.
Getting used to living in Bolivia to do her linguistics major had not been as easy as Wara had thought. She studied the Quechua language part time and also worked with the mission she had come here with.
Lázaro Marquez was a very nice distraction from homesickness.
Wara kept smiling at him while she slurped coffee and cream from her straw. What had they been talking about? Oh yeah.
"So,” she drew the word out at him. "That picture of you on Facebook was pretty wild." Yesterday Wara had done a double take when Lázaro's brother tagged him in a picture of the four brothers as kids back in Puerto Rico. All of them were dressed like little gangsters, complete with sagging embroidered jeans and fat gold chains on their skinny brown chests.
"That was me and my brothers," Lázaro shrugged. "We kind of ran wild back in the day. Well, I guess some of them still do. I'm trying to change, at least."
Wara knew that Lázaro had been going to church here in Cochabamba for a coup
le months now. An uneasy weight settled in her chest, which she tried to ignore. How wild exactly had this guy been?
Lázaro was still talking. "My mom was really worried about us there for a while," he said. "We had run-ins with the police." Wara felt her nose crinkle. "Two of my brothers did some time in jail there in San Juan. But at least we've mostly grown out of it." He grinned at her. "That's why Mom is going to be so excited to meet you! The girlfriends me and my brothers have made her put up with…" Lázaro sipped espresso and set the white ceramic mug down with a clink, eyes sparking at her. "The worst was Helda. That was Nathan's girlfriend, the brother who's getting married now? Oh my gosh! She was such a witch!"
Lázaro chuckled at the memory of Nathan and good old Helda. Wara laughed along, but felt more than a little lost.
She grew up in Montana, for goodness sakes. At church every Sunday. And now she was a missionary and studied linguistics. She didn't have any siblings. The whole running away from the cops with your bros in Puerto Rico thing was something she really couldn't relate to.
But tomorrow she was about to get an education.
"Well, let's hope your mom doesn't think I'm another Helda," Wara said slowly. "That would suck."
"Are you kidding?" Lázaro's mouth gaped open. "My mom is gonna love you! None of us have ever dated a nice girl before. My brothers are gonna be so jealous I have such a good girl for a date at the wedding. My mom is gonna ask you when's the wedding date, within five minutes of meeting you!"
Wara tried not to frown.
O-kay. So not ready to hear the word “wedding.”
Tomorrow she was going to fly off to San Juan with Lázaro for the week. She looked down at her caramel-colored coffee, then the cute little flower he'd made for her, quivering on the table to the beat of the techno music. Despite herself, Wara felt her lips curving into a smile.
She was going on an adventure. After months of too much studying and missions stuff, she was going to have a week of fun.
Her mission leaders the Bennesons gave her permission to go on a trip to relax a bit, but of course they didn't know she was going off to the Caribbean with a hot guy.
Wara Cadogan, what in the world are you thinking?
This was probably going to be a lot of fun. It's not like they were going to be sleeping together or something. She was just his date to the wedding.
Wara and Lázaro were staying at his mom's house, for goodness sakes. Lázaro made it clear she'd get her own room there.
Besides, Lázaro had paid for her ticket to Puerto Rico. Free vacation!
How could she say no?
They finished their coffee and got up to pay. Marc the owner was behind the shiny black counter, all gelled hair and a little bit of Ricky Martin going on with the trimmed beard and oh-so-trendy clothes. He charged them thirty-six bolivianos and then leaned a hip against the counter, arms in front of his chest.
"You guys are gonna take some beer home tonight, right?" Last week when she came here with Lázaro, Marc had been telling them about the latest batch of artisan beer the café was coming out with.
Chocolate beer. Raspberry beer.
Wara had to admit that she really liked beer.
But in order to work with the mission, she'd had to sign this thing: No alcohol.
Marc was clinking frosty brown bottles onto the glass counter and Wara gulped, thinking that the no-alcohol policy was really a kind of stupid idea.
Tomorrow they were going on vacation! What better night to drink some beer.
"Oh my gosh." Lázaro was practically drooling at the stuff. "It's hard to find beer like that here in Bolivia. Totally want some."
"Me too." Wara unzipped her gold and blue hippy bag with a grin, shuffling stuff around to make room for a bunch of bottles. The napkin flower she'd stuck in there was about to get pulverized. Guess the thing wasn't going to be saved for Wara and Lázaro's children someday.
"Awesome." Marc flashed even teeth at them and winked. "How many should I pack up for you?"
They left the place with a dozen beers, packed between Wara's bag and Lázaro's backpack. "You know I'm not allowed to have this stuff," Wara told him as they left the throbbing music behind and hit the dying sunshine on the sidewalk.
Lázaro frowned. "Yeah. You told me last week at that restaurant."
"Hmmm. Well, we're gonna have to go over to my house, if we're gonna keep hanging out and drink at the same time. If we go to your place, Martha will see us." She gave him a pointed look and Lázaro winced. He rented a room from a lady who made no secret of being a very faithful church member. If you spent five minutes with her, you already knew she hated dancing. And loud music.
And of course, frosty cold bottles of artisan beer.
"Well that sucks," Lázaro was still frowning. "Cause you're not allowed to drink, and if we go to your place those missionaries who live upstairs could see us. You’re not allowed to have boys over, either."
That's it! Wara pulled at the strap of the bag on her shoulder as she and Lázaro brushed by people on the crowded sidewalk. Cheesy little patties of yucca and llama meat sizzled on a street grill just at her elbow. Hamburgers and fried eggs browned next to bowls of shredded lettuce, onions, and red wheels of tomato.
"We can go to my place," she told him triumphantly. "Because the Bennesons are gone. Until Tuesday. When they come back, I'll already be in Puerto Rico. But they don't know that." She chuckled and Lázaro gave her a high five.
"Oh my gosh,” he laughed. “I wish I could open one of those bottles right now. The chocolate one is amazing. Last month the guys and I had a few too many beers from that place."
They headed towards Wara's place, the apartment she rented in the bottom floor of a sprawling cream-colored house with clay coral tiles. The sun was beginning to sink behind the Andes and the walk was beautiful, shaded with violet and tangerine bougainvillea flowers on top of the stucco house walls.
"So, since we're going to your house," Lázaro told her, "I have a little favor to ask you. I have all this money on me, cash I want to have on the trip. It's kind of a lot." He glanced over at her, brown eyes twinkling. "Five thousand. Dollars."
Wara blanched. "You're walking around Cochabamba with five thousand dollars?" Her eyes automatically flitted behind her, making sure they weren't being followed.
Lázaro rolled his eyes. "I've been watching. We're good. So yeah, I have that, and I also picked up my brother's ring this afternoon." Lázaro had told her that his brother was buying the wedding ring here in Bolivia, since it was a whole lot cheaper to buy a huge diamond here than in Puerto Rico. Apparently, Helda's replacement demanded a fair amount of bling.
"What I'm thinking," Lázaro said, "is that I can leave this stuff with you, because tomorrow on the way to the airport I really wanted to go to the market and get something for my mom. Some Bolivian tablecloth or somethin' cool like that. It would really suck to get robbed in the market."
"Oh. Ok." They were pulling up at the door to Wara's house, round-topped and wood with ancient black metal clasps. "Sure, I can keep that stuff for you. I'll bring it right to the airport in the morning."
But the night at Wara's apartment with the beer got a little crazy. And then a little crazier.
When Lázaro went to the airport for their flight to San Juan in the morning, Wara wasn't there.
Just the Entire Underworld
LALO SPENT THE NIGHT PROPPED IN a folding chair just outside the Timbuktu hospital gate. Dawn spread over the sandy city in shades of butter and ruby red.
It had been a long night. Darkness in a mysterious African city where a feared bounty hunter roamed was not exactly conducive to peaceful meditation. Getting the call from Rupert yesterday about the attack on Alejo and Wara hadn’t really been good news, either. Lalo had spent the entire night shift staring dumbly at the hulking buildings around the hospital block, bathed in starlight. After about ten, nothing on the streets had moved. Caspian was inside the hospital, slumped in another chair outside
the big communal room where the kids from the school stayed.
They’d both stayed here last night. It was Caspian’s turn for the night shift, but after the news about the Tuareg bounty hunter and how Lázaro Marquez nearly blew up Lalo’s friends, sleep had been the last thing on Lalo’s mind.
He hauled his bones out of the rickety chair and cracked his shoulders inside the body armor vest, inhaling the only hint of cool air Timbuktu ever got. The city already smelled like cooking fires.
This morning, Cail would set out for Timbuktu. She’d get to Bamako tonight, then hopefully catch a flight to Timbuktu sometime tomorrow.
He should have insisted more when he talked with her yesterday. It would have been better if she stayed away from him. It really would have.
But Lalo really wanted to see her.
Maybe all this tracking device crap would end up being nothing.
He clunked his head back against the scratchy mud building and exhaled loudly about six times. At that exact moment, the cell phone in his pocket started playing a wild techno beat.
It was Rupert, getting back to him. Lalo had called him yesterday afternoon after hearing the bounty hunter news at Amadou’s house.
The morning temperature suddenly heated up to suffocating. “Hello?” Lalo hated that his voice sounded a few shades on the pathetic side.
“Good morning,” Rupert said gruffly. Normally, imagining the balding ex-CIA employee sitting there at his computer desk in one of those fuzzy robes and plaid slippers was enough to cheer Lalo up.
Not today.
“Rupert. Hey.” Lalo felt a smile paste itself onto his face. He probably had the look of a guy a few crayons short of the whole box, if anyone was looking. “Thank you for…calling me. Did you happen to find anything out?”
“I did some checking,” Rupert said. Lalo heard him slurping coffee. “How are you?”
Lalo gritted his teeth against the loopy smile. “Not so well, actually. Thanks for asking.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Rupert seemed to frown. “I don’t think you’re in any real danger, but I know how this has to affect you. I’d like to reassign you. Alejo, Cail, and Wara will all be there tomorrow.”
Burn (Story of CI #3) Page 13