“Someone has ordered a hit on you.” Torres spelled it out just in case Beth had missed the point. She was either the bravest or strangest woman he had ever met.
Beth looked up briefly. “Yeah I get that.” She returned her gaze to the picture, studying intently, as if it held a vital clue.
“I think you might be in shock.”
She did not bother looking up. “I’m not in shock. Though I doubt I would know if I was, but no, this isn’t shock. This is me working.”
“You need to get out of here, go into protective custody.”
Beth’s head shot up. “No! This is my case. I have been on El Escorpion’s tail for two years. I’m not going to let someone else get the collar while I’m being babysat. There is a reason I’m heading this task force.”
“Then go back to California. Work the case there. Stay with your family.”
Beth shook her head. For the first time there was a look of panic in her eyes. “I’m not going to bring this shit storm to my family’s doorstep.”
She was more worried about her family’s safety than her own. Torres’ chest tightened as he considered the information; he understood that feeling.
“You can’t stay here.” She may not care about her safety, but he wasn’t going to let her martyr herself for a cause. He really shouldn’t give a shit about what Beth Thomson did or didn’t do. It was her life, but…but, shit, even he had enough sense to consider self-preservation.
“I know.” She stood up and crossed the room to where Torres was still standing. “We’re almost there. We strike now. Martinez is the key. Patterson thinks he’s a dead end, but he’s not. I need to re-interview him. I should have gone with my gut. It’s no coincidence that we find out Archila’s killer and then El Escorpion hires a hit. We are very close. We’re almost done.” Beth threw her arms around Torres and squeezed with a pressure that defied her frame. She was small but she was strong. “It’s almost over.” Elation and relief coloured her words. Torres stood rigid as she embraced him. He could not remember the last time someone hugged him. He remembered the last time he’d had sex, but that didn’t count, there was no emotion in that, no joy at least, just two people finding release.
A heaviness pulled at his heart as he realised the last time he was embraced must have been at Archila’s funeral; when he promised Moses’ sister that he would make things right. For a moment he could not breathe as the memory transported him back to the day. His arms felt like lead. He could not lift them to return the embrace.
But he did not fight it either. He closed his eyes and let himself feel the comfort of another body. She was closer than anyone had been in a long time, and it felt…good. This was what normal people did. They shared their joy…and their pain.
Too quickly it was over. Beth pushed herself away from him. Had he had the strength, he might have put his arms around her and not let her go until he had burned in the memory of what the simple act of embracing felt like.
The elation on her face was replaced by embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s just we have been working on this so long. I can now start to see the end. Martinez knows who El Escorpion is. I can feel it. I should have seen it before. I should have known Martinez wasn’t a dead end. We need to follow that lead. Patterson will get on board once he sees this.”
Beth stopped, suddenly her face changed, like she remembered where she was. “I’m sorry about that… I shouldn’t have done that. I mean I wish I hadn’t, so let’s just pretend I didn’t. Hell, maybe I am in shock,” Beth said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
“Yeah maybe,” Torres said, managing to keep the bitterness from his voice. Of course she didn’t want to be hugging him, who could blame her? She knew too much about him to think that was a good idea.
Beth’s mouth opened and then snapped shut again. She turned and left the dining room, stopping after a few steps. Even in the dim light he could read her features as she struggled to find the words. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
Torres’ jaw tightened. “Me too.”
He followed, aware that she had still not agreed to go into protective custody. Beth walked through to the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a flashlight before walking to the back end of the house, to a room he presumed was her bedroom. Her room was just as he would imagine it. The walls were painted a light yellow. Her bed was a wooden white four-poster. There were fresh blue bonnets in a vase on the table beside the bed along with a stack of books. Everything about the room was feminine and sweet. Nothing about it said DEA agent, it was just the room of a normal sweet woman. She didn’t fit in his world, and he didn’t fit in hers.
Beth pulled out a black carry-on bag from the bottom of her closet and sat it on the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out several pairs of underwear and bras. She did not bother closing the first drawer before opening the next.
“Have you decided where you want to go?”
Beth continued opening drawers and throwing clothing at her suitcase. If there was a system in place, it did not involve folding the clothes. She stopped briefly to look past him to the kitchen. “My passport is in my purse. I have a copy of my birth certificate. I’ll text Anna from the airport to ask her to watch my cat. I’ll call Patterson and tell him we’re following the Martinez lead. He can meet me at the airport.” Beth spun around, hand on hip, her fingers frantically tapping on her side as she ran through her to-do list.
“My gun.” She turned the dials on the black metal box on her dresser. “It’s such a pain to fly with a gun…I don’t want to leave it here… No, if Martinez knows we are looking for him, he could leave Mexico. If he crosses into South America, we will lose him. We need to find him. I need to speak to the Mexico City office. I wish I knew the agents there better. I don’t know any of them well enough to trust them.”
Torres doubted she knew anyone well enough to trust them. Every time he saw her, the more she reminded him of a skittish cat. He was confident she would do everything alone if she could. It must kill her to have to work in a team.
Beth spoke quickly, asking and answering questions as she planned.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he finally asked after watching her open every drawer.
She did not look up from shoving clothes into her bag to answer. “Mexico. I’m going to find Martinez.”
Torres ran a hand over the stubble of his shaved head. She was insane, certifiably insane…with a death wish. “You’re not going to Mexico.”
For the first time, she stopped and looked at him. A flash of defiance shot through her eyes. “Because you want Martinez.”
Torres let out a long breath. Martinez had nothing to do with this. He didn’t want her to go…because…shit…why didn’t he want her to go? He didn’t give a shit about her, but he could not let her go…hell if he knew why. He shook his head. “We’re not talking about spring break in Cancun. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb. It’ll take all of five minutes before you get yourself murdered…or kidnapped …or God knows what.” He knew exactly what kind of danger waited for her on the other side of the border and he was not above spelling it out for her if she didn’t stop being stupid.
“Don’t. Don’t try to scare me. I know what happens down there. I have read every file ever written about every cartel operating in Central and South America. I trained you after all. I know how they operate. I also know today has been the shittiest day of my life until ten minutes ago. I finally see a way out so I don’t care what horror stories you tell me, because I am going to find El Escorpion and I am going to get moved back to California. Hell, I will be running the Sacramento office, if we pull this off. This is win, win, Torres. We both want out. Neither of us wants to be dealing with the Treintas or Zetas any more.”
She was pleading with him, her voice thin and panicked.
Torres narrowed his eyes and considered her words. God he wanted out, more than she could ever know. “Why do you think Martinez knows
who El Escorpion is? No one knows who he is. The guy they shot in Mexico City was his bodyguard. We can’t even cobble together a composite sketch because all eyewitnesses end up dead. Now that all Treintas have the scorpion tattoo on their hand, we can’t even rely on that for an ID.”
Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I won’t know if I don’t at least try. I can’t do this any more. I need to get out of Texas.”
Torres eyed her dubiously “You hate Texas that much?”
Beth shook her head. “Texas is fine.” She hesitated like she was trying to decide what to tell him. “My family needs me back in California.”
“Why?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
Beth’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting a follow-up question.
“Yes, why? You want to go off on a suicide mission, I’d like to know your motivation.”
Beth was silent for a long moment. “My mom is sick. She has…” She shook her head. Her lip trembled. He thought she would cry but she didn’t “She has Alzheimer’s,” she whispered. “My God that is the first time I’ve said it out loud. My mom has Alzheimer’s. My mom has Alzheimer’s” Her voice grew louder, stronger.
“I’m sorry,” Torres said. He remembered her bloodshot eyes when he had come in. She had been crying about her mom.
“Me too.” Beth sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes. “She can’t live by herself any more and my sister has a fantastic job opportunity in Southern California. I need to get back to California so I can take care of my mom. My chances of a spot in California at my pay grade are nigh on impossible, but if I could identify El Escorpion, I would be running the Sacramento office by the end of the month.”
Torres felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who would take care of your mom if you’re dead?”
Beth was silent for a long time. “I know…I shouldn’t say this…but…geez, I tell you stuff I shouldn’t, but if I was dead, it wouldn’t be my problem any more. I’m a shitty person. I know, feel free to judge me.”
Torres crossed the room and took a seat beside her on the bed. Had he ever been in a woman’s bedroom, other than of course to have sex? He hadn’t, as far as he could remember. But why would he? There was no need. Heart to heart conversations on the end of the bed were out of his realm. Ask him to dissemble a bomb on the roadside, or hit a moving target, he was your man, but talking was definitely not in his skillset. Luckily Beth didn’t seem to want comfort or platitudes, she just wanted to talk, and even he could manage that, he just needed to keep his mouth shut and let her keep going. Thank God she wasn’t crying. In truth he actually respected her for keeping it together. He assumed she would lose it. She wasn’t stupid or strange; she was brave, and despite himself he admired her for it. It wasn’t an attribute he had ever assigned a woman.
He realised that he had never had a female friend. There were plenty of women in his life, his mom and aunties, but no one he would call a friend.
“I get it,” Torres said.
Beth looked up. “What part? The being a shitty person part or the not really being worried about dying because life is pretty hard right now part?”
“Both,” he admitted. “But if you’re shitty, I’m diabolical.”
Beth smiled. She was pretty when she smiled. She did not do it often, but when she did her face brightened and the deep creases in her forehead became just a shadow. “To be fair, anyone short of the devil would seem like a decent person to you at this point. So I probably shouldn’t gauge myself by your standards.”
Torres nodded. “Fair point. But you’re still not going to Mexico.”
Beth gave a soft laugh as she stood. “That’s cute, you acting like you have a vote in what I do. This is my case, Torres. You’ve helped tremendously, but this is mine.”
This wasn’t a game and she needed to know that.
“What’s your plan, Gatita? Going to fly down to Mexico and start asking question? Going to take on a convoy with your six bullets?” Torres rose and in an instant he was beside her, his hand covering the worn leather gun holster. If he wanted he could have it out, and pointed at her. Beth pulled away, but his other hand had circled her waist. He pulled her in, crushing her against him. Fear flashed in her eyes and he pounced on it, used it against her. “Do I scare you, Gatita? There are plenty more just like me where you’re headed.” Torres pushed her against the bed, holding onto her as he lowered her against the mattress. He was on top of her, pressing against her, pinning her in place, his body hard against hers at every juncture. Her breath was coming in small frantic pants. She was trapped and at his mercy.
He lowered his head and whispered into her ear. “Remember when Flores had you? What do you think he would have done if I hadn’t stopped him?”
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice strained, as she struggled to turn her head away from him.
Torres held her head in place, a large hand on either side of her face, his thumb pressing into the delicate hollow of her neck where her heart beat fast against him. “Open your eyes.”
Slowly her lids rose. Far from the fear he expected, there was defiance. And something else…
“What would he have done to you, Gatita?”
Her lips pursed together. “He would have hurt me.”
Torres shook his head. “No, Gatita. He would have tortured you and then raped you, and then tortured you some more until you begged him to kill you.”
“No,” she said defiantly. “He would have raped me and tortured me, but I would have never begged him to kill me. I would have gotten through it and then I would have gone after him. And I wouldn’t stop until I found him and he begged me to kill him.” She barely had enough oxygen in her lungs to breathe but she spat the words out with enough force for Torres to know they were true.
He leaned in further until his lips brushed her ear. He breathed in deep, letting the clean scent of her wash over him. He shouldn’t be aroused. She was plain, even boring; she said it herself. There was nothing special about her. Her face was forgettable. Her breasts were small. But there was something…something there…his body responded to. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten what it felt like for the blood to pool at his core, for his body to strain almost painfully, ready for the slightest touch to ignite the fire. This time it was he who closed his eyes, not wanting to move. He wouldn’t let himself go any further. It was every shade of fucked up to even think about it. If she knew even a tenth of the depravity that he had been involved in since he joined Los Zetas, she would recoil. The desire he saw in her eyes before would be replaced with disdain and fear, maybe even hatred.
But he didn’t want to let go yet. Once it was over, there was no telling when he would feel it again, the normality of craving another person’s touch. He had had plenty of opportunities for sex over the last two years but any of the women that were willing to take him into their beds wasn’t a woman he wanted to be with.
He breathed in another deep scent of apple from her hair. He moved in closer, just a fraction, so his lips almost brushed her temple. She was so close but he wouldn’t go any further. He could almost feel the softness of her skin. He couldn’t let himself touch her but he could imagine what it would feel like.
And then she turned her head towards him, and he could feel her skin, warm and soft, exactly how he imagined. Her breath was hot on his neck, her body slack and supple beneath him.
“Don’t move,” he breathed against her forehead. Speaking allowed his lips to caress her skin without kissing her. He wasn’t crossing any lines. He was just speaking to her…holding her…letting himself remember what it felt like.
“I can’t, even if I tried.”
Torres closed his eyes again. He would move. He just needed another minute to feel her heart beating against his chest, another minute to smell her hair, and another minute to pretend this was something he could have.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do normal any more, maybe he never could.
“Yo
u’re not going to Mexico,” Torres said as he shifted his weight, allowing her to wiggle free if she chose to.
But she didn’t.
“I have to. I’m out of choices, Torres. I need this. I know you want Martinez. And by all rights, he is yours, but I need this.” Her voice was strong but her eyes were pleading.
Martinez. At least the devil had a name now. For two years he had just been the man who had shot Torres and killed Archila. Why had Moses gotten involved with the Zetas? Why had his life deteriorated so much, that he felt that was a viable option? Guilt clawed at him. He should have been there for Moses. He should have tried to get him help sooner. If he had, none of this would have happened. “And then what?”
“Then we’re done. Both of us can move on. We go our separate ways and this all becomes a distant memory that we bore our families with.”
Torres rolled off her. God he wanted to be done. For two years “done” had meant avenging Archila’s death. He never kidded himself that “done” would be moving on. Where could he go where the guilt wouldn’t follow him?
“Martinez was last seen on the border of Sonora and Sinaloa,” he said. He told her as a warning.
Beth was quiet for too long. “You figured that out faster than I thought you would. But actually he is in Culiacan.”
Torres narrowed his eyes. The muscles of his back knotted uncomfortably as anger worked its way through his body. The taste of betrayal was bitter in his mouth. “You knew where Martinez was and you didn’t tell me. You said it yourself, Martinez is mine.”
Beth took a protective step back. The small movement was pointless. Torres could have her pinned again in an instant if he wanted. And he might if he trusted himself. He didn’t have the self-control, anger had robbed him of it.
“I told you enough to find him. I knew you would figure it out eventually. I gave you the gun, I wasn’t going to give you the bullets too.”
Torres nodded slowly. “Is this all part of your credible deniability? Or do you get off on control? What a nice world you live in, where you can get to pick and choose the truth. You get to decide what you know. You tell yourself lies and you actually believe them. Christ I wish the real world was that simple.”
Blurring the Line Page 8