Off the Rails

by Jill Sorenson

  “Enough!” Tito roared.

  Güero disentangled himself from Foster and scrambled to his feet. He kicked Foster in the ribs as a parting shot.

  “Send Sarai away with the gringo,” Armando said. “You want me, not them.”

  “Who is he?”

  Armando chose his words carefully. Sarai needed someone to protect her. Foster was strong enough to get her to safety. And Maria loved him, so maybe he was worth saving. “He’s nobody. Just a private investigator I hired to find her.”

  Tito considered this information. A private investigator wasn’t a threat to him or the cartel. Tito pulled Foster to his feet and cut the rope at his wrists. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said in English. “You come back, you die.”

  Foster didn’t waste any time. He took Sarai by the arm and started dragging her away. She refused to cooperate, predictably. Even with her hands bound, she was difficult to manage. She started wailing and kicking his shins. He had to pick her up and haul her over his shoulder. Her screams echoed through the canyon as he carried her to safety.

  “She takes after her mother,” Tito said.

  Armando let the comment pass. There was nothing Tito could do to him that hurt more than watching his daughter suffer. He removed his jacket before he walked down the hill. When he reached Tito, he sank to his knees, awaiting execution.

  Tito surprised Armando by stepping back. He gestured for Güero to come forward. The boy traded the rifle for the handgun and moved in front of Armando. He tugged the bandanna down to his neck and pointed the gun at Armando’s head.

  “Don’t make him do it,” Armando said to Tito. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “He wants to do it,” Tito said.

  “You killed my father,” Güero said. “You shot him on our front doorstep.”

  “He killed my wife,” Armando ground out.

  Güero stared at him with pale brown eyes that matched his hair. “No, he didn’t. He wasn’t even involved.”

  Armando refused to believe this. The three men he’d assassinated were guilty. They were all ruthless cartel members. He’d collected information from very reliable sources. He’d been thorough and diligent in his quest for vengeance.

  “It was me,” Tito said.

  Armando jerked his head toward Tito. “What?”

  “It was me, not Memo. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I was there. I grabbed your wife and tied her up. She was wearing a pink dress.” He kissed his fingertips in appreciation. “Guapísima.”

  A wave of red-hot fury washed over him, like fresh blood. He didn’t want to die anymore. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill them all. He wanted to fight and rage and tear off limbs with his bare hands. He shouldn’t have surrendered.

  Armando returned his gaze to Güero. The boy was sweating profusely, vibrating with intensity. His eyes swam with tears. This was the most critical moment of his young life. He’d been dreaming about it, planning for it, awaiting it with sick anticipation.

  That made two of them.

  Perhaps Armando had killed the boy’s father by mistake. He didn’t feel good about that, but it was done. Memo Maldives hadn’t been an innocent man by any stretch of the imagination. He’d been a top member of Los Rojos, a hardened criminal who’d committed dozens of atrocities. His son would follow in those footsteps. Armando entertained a brief fantasy about grabbing Güero’s weapon and shooting his way to freedom.

  But what about Sarai?

  Even if Armando managed to escape this bloodbath, he’d never be free. There would be more Los Rojos members. More brothers and uncles and sons and daughters. More death and pain. As long as Armando was alive, Sarai would never be safe.

  This had to end.

  He took a deep breath, letting go of his anger. Letting go of vengeance. Dying here felt right. Sacrificing his life for Sarai felt right. If he could reunite with Alma, he’d welcome his fate with open arms. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in the cards. He didn’t believe in salvation for someone like him. A murderer who’d shot the wrong man couldn’t be redeemed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said to Güero, meeting his eyes.

  The boy seemed infuriated by his apology. The gun shook in his grip. His breathing was labored, nostrils flared. “You’re sorry? You think that makes any fucking difference to me? You think you can apologize and walk away?”

  Armando shook his head. “I’m ready when you are.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He folded his hands behind his back and stared at the ground. He didn’t think the boy could pull the trigger with him watching. He might not be able to pull the trigger at all. Killing a man at point-blank range was no easy feat. The aftereffects were unpleasant, as well.

  Güero edged closer. He took careful aim. Armando held his breath and waited for the blast. Seconds ticked by, but it didn’t come.

  “Stop being such a pussy and shoot him in the head,” Benito said.

  Güero scowled at him. “I’ll shoot you in the head if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

  “In the chest, por favor,” Armando murmured. “For my daughter’s sake.”

  Benito strode forward. “Let me do it.”

  Tito started arguing with his son, telling him not to interfere. They shuffled around in the dirt, kicking up dust. If Armando wanted to fight, he should do it now, while they were distracted. Even though his wound ached and he was weary of violence, he had a strong survival instinct. His muscles tensed with anticipation, but he held still.

  For Sarai.

  The chaos sparked Güero into action. He aimed at Armando’s chest and fired twice in rapid succession. Both bullets hit their mark.

  Armando fell over in the dirt and stayed there, his heart exploding.

  He’d imagined that he wouldn’t feel anything, but he did. He felt an incredible amount of pain. Agony wrenched through his entire torso. His chest locked up and his lungs seized. Dark clouds floated across his vision. He thought about Sarai, and how she’d loved him as a little girl. She used to beg him to pick her up every day when he came home from work. He’d swing her in a circle and lift her up like an airplane, flying her around the house.

  He also thought about Alma. The light of his life. His true love. Maybe, by the grace of God, he’d find a way to join her.

  Chapter 24

  Ian carried Sarai as far as he could.

  She fought the whole way, kicking and screaming. When she bit his shoulder, he dropped her in the dirt. After a moment of rolling around on the ground and struggling to free her wrists, she stopped. She stared up at him with a dusty, tear-streaked face.

  “Untie me,” she ordered in Spanish.

  He didn’t think that was a good idea.

  She stomped her feet. “How much is my father paying you? Go back there and help him, you coward!”

  Massaging the nape of his neck, he glanced around for Maria. He spotted her with Hugo at the edge of the canyon. Relief overwhelmed him at the sight. She was safe. Her brother was safe. Hugo was sitting on a rock while she made a sling out of Ian’s pin-striped shirt.

  “We’re going that way,” he said. “You can walk, or I’ll carry you.”

  She followed his gaze, sniffling. “I’ll walk.”

  He lifted her to her feet warily. His eyebrow was swollen and bloody, and his shoulder smarted from her bite mark. He didn’t need any more abuse. She walked at a fast clip, seeming eager to reunite with Hugo. He tried to stand up to meet her, but Maria urged him to sit back down. She tied the shirtsleeves in a knot over his shoulder.

  Hugo waited for Sarai with an expression that was part lovesick puppy, part extreme discomfort. Jesus. The poor kid already had it bad.

  They were about twenty yards away when more gunshots echoed through the canyon. Sarai froze, glancing at Ian. It was the Smith & Wesson. Ian knew what that meant, and so did Sarai. She turned and started running the opposite direction.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered, taking off after her. His leg wasn’t completely
healed, and it was difficult to keep his footing on the sandy earth. But Sarai couldn’t run fast with her arms tied behind her back, either. He picked up the pace and started gaining on her. Then she tripped over a rock and went down hard. The impact snapped the ropes at her wrists. She got one hand free and kept going, sprinting through the canyon. He couldn’t catch her.

  By the time they reached Armando, it was too late. He was lying on his side, eyes open. There were two small bullet holes in the center of his chest. The exit wounds in his back weren’t as neat.

  The men who’d killed him were gone.

  Sarai sank to the ground and started pummeling his dead chest. “You can’t leave me like this,” she screamed. “I hate you! I’ve always hated you!”

  Ian winced at these harsh words. He was no fan of Armando Villarreal, but Sarai’s emotional reaction was tough to watch. Ian couldn’t think of anything worse than a daughter shouting that she hated her father right after he’d been executed. After he’d sacrificed his life for hers.

  Ian considered his own relationship with his mother. How would he feel if he found her dead of an overdose on the bathroom floor?

  The same way. The exact same way.

  Sarai pounded her fists against Armando’s lifeless body for another minute. Then she collapsed on top of him and released a series of ragged, gut-wrenching sobs. Hugo and Maria appeared in the distance, a twin mirage on the blurry horizon.

  “My mother is a drug addict,” he told Sarai in Spanish.

  “So what?” she shot back, wiping her nose.

  “I hate her. I try not to, because it’s an ugly feeling. It makes me ugly.”

  She stared at him with a mixture of contempt and despair.

  “I love her, too, but the hate…” He made a claw shape over his heart with one hand. “It’s there.”

  “How do you get rid of it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She returned her gaze to Armando, uncurling her fists. More tears slid down her face. He didn’t know if his words had any effect on her, but he was glad he said them. Voicing those thoughts out loud felt better than holding them inside.

  When Maria appeared next to him, Ian wanted to draw her into his arms and never let go. Instead he kept his distance while she hugged Sarai. He watched Maria cry for Armando Villarreal, real tears of sorrow and affection. Ian didn’t begrudge her tears as much as he’d anticipated. It was difficult to be jealous of a dead man.

  Ian climbed the hill to make sure the cartel members were gone. He could see the cloud of dust from their vehicles on a dirt road leading south. There was a fleet of U.S. customs vehicles coming in from the north. They entered the canyon and parked in the same spaces the cartel members had just vacated.

  Before Ian walked down to greet them, he gestured for Maria to stay back with Sarai and her brother. LaGuardia stepped out of the first van, his sunglasses glinting in the late afternoon sun. He was flanked by a man he introduced as Special Agent Ernesto Bell.

  “What did I miss?” LaGuardia asked.

  “Everything,” Ian replied.

  Special Agent Bell and a group of customs officers swarmed the scene while Ian filled LaGuardia in on the basic details. Sarai had to be dragged away from her father’s body. She was put in the back of a van with Hugo, who needed emergency medical treatment.

  “How did you know to come here?” Ian asked LaGuardia.

  “The federal police in this area are friendly with ICE and CBP. We were working together to hack into Sarai’s phone. They called to tell me that Villarreal had been spotted in Benjamín Hill. As soon as we arrived, they pointed us in this direction.”

  Ian nodded his understanding. The federales had probably fed the same information to the cartel members. Those men had been waiting for Villarreal. “I wasn’t sure how much communication was going on between our agency and theirs.”

  LaGuardia arched a brow. “Is that why you didn’t disclose your exact location?”

  Ian shrugged, looking away. LaGuardia had sent him down here on his own, to sink or swim. Ian had made decisions based on what little intel was available. He’d been injured and without resources. It was a miracle that he’d managed to stay alive, and stay on Sarai’s trail. The operation hadn’t gone by the book, but neither had LaGuardia.

  Armando Villarreal Castillo was dead. Now the case was out of their hands. The crime scene would be turned over to Mexican officials, who wouldn’t investigate.

  Ian told LaGuardia why he’d stopped in Benjamín Hill and how he’d ended up in the middle of the murder scene. Although he didn’t mention Maria by name, he couldn’t pretend she wasn’t involved. She was standing twenty feet away with Special Agent Bell.

  “Miss Santos, I presume?” LaGuardia said.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s been with you this whole time?”

  “Most of it,” he admitted. “At first she was looking for her brother, who was on the train. Then I got sick, and she became a valuable asset.”

  “A valuable asset,” LaGuardia repeated, arching a brow.

  Ian didn’t think he’d get scolded for endangering Maria, because she wasn’t an American citizen. He was going to get scolded for disobeying direct orders.

  “How was she?” LaGuardia asked baldly.

  Ian flushed at the question. He stared straight ahead, refusing to answer.

  “Maybe I’ll ask her how you were.”

  He gave LaGuardia a warning look.

  LaGuardia put his hand on Ian’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be so fucking uptight, Foster. I told you not to touch that girl. I could write you up.”

  “Will you?”

  “Probably not. Now that I’ve seen her, I understand why you couldn’t resist.”

  Ian didn’t like getting a pass because LaGuardia thought Maria was hot, but the last thing he needed was another mark on his record. They watched Maria climb into the backseat of the customs vehicle with Sarai and Hugo. Special Agent Bell approached them with the news that she was going to the hospital in Nogales with her brother.

  “Unless you want her detained for questioning,” Bell added.

  “No,” LaGuardia said. “She’s free to go.”

  Ian let out a slow breath of relief. One of the customs officers brought him some first aid supplies. He used the side mirror from the nearest vehicle to clean up the cut on his eyebrow. It didn’t need stitches. He slapped on a bandage and called it good.

  They didn’t stick around to process the scene. After the federales arrived, LaGuardia shook hands with the general and left them to it. He gestured for Ian to sit next to him in the customs van. The driver headed north, away from Benjamín Hill. They would spend the night at a hotel in Nogales and fly back to San Diego in the morning.

  “What’s the status on Caitlyn Weiss?” Ian asked LaGuardia.

  “No word. Villarreal left Tijuana two days ago. Maybe he dumped her somewhere.”

  Ian wondered if Armando Villarreal was capable of killing a woman in cold blood, after making it his mission to avenge his wife’s death. “Did they ever find Carlos Moreno’s body?”

  “No.”

  That was odd too. Moreno had been inside his house in Salsipuedes just before it blew up. Mexican police had bagged several other bodies at the scene, but not his. Moreno had either been obliterated or he’d disappeared without a trace. They might never know what happened to him. Villarreal certainly wasn’t talking. Neither would anyone else.

  This was another mystery that the Tijuana police wouldn’t dare solve.

  Ian drifted off on the way to Nogales. When he woke up, it was dark. They were parked outside the Plaza Hotel. He exited the vehicle with LaGuardia, shaking off the remnants of sleep. LaGuardia handed him a zippered bank bag. Ian’s ID and credit cards were inside.

  “Keep track of your expenses so we can reimburse you,” LaGuardia said. “You can eat here at the hotel, of course. I booked you a room. But you’re not on the clock, so whatever you do from now until to
morrow morning is your business.”

  Ian pocketed his belongings, excitement coursing through his veins. He could take a cab to the hospital and see Maria.

  “Speaking of paperwork, are you interested in a permanent position?”

  He swallowed his surprise. “You’re making me an offer?”

  “If you’re cleared by the DEA investigation, yes. I’d like to have you on my team.”

  “Why?”

  LaGuardia smiled at the blunt question. “I’m pleased with your performance, Foster. You’ve got good instincts and you can handle yourself in dangerous situations. You’re smart enough to navigate obstacles instead of shooting at everything. Those are admirable qualities.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Your weakness for beautiful women is a problem, but an enviable one.”

  Ian studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. Ian didn’t have a weakness for beautiful women. He had a weakness for Maria because he was in love with her. But he figured LaGuardia already knew that. The SAC was a puppet-master type. He understood human nature well enough to exploit any situation.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” Ian said.

  “Say yes.”

  Having a job lined up would be a major advantage in the event of a misconduct hearing. Ian wanted to work for ICE. LaGuardia would be a challenging boss, but he wasn’t dirty. And he’d basically given Ian permission to spend the night with Maria.

  Just one night.

  In the morning, he’d have to return to San Diego. He’d have to face the consequences of his actions as a DEA agent. Even if he was cleared of wrongdoing, he’d have no control over his next assignment. He could be sent anywhere in the world.

  But none of that seemed important right now. Because tonight, he could be with Maria.

  He shook LaGuardia’s hand, sealing the deal.

  Chapter 25

  Maria held Hugo’s hand until he fell asleep.

  He’d told her that he’d been running with Sarai when someone had fired a warning shot. The bullet had struck a boulder near him and bounced off, hitting him just below the elbow. His ulna had shattered on impact. The bone had been reset and his forearm was in a cast. He’d come out of surgery a few minutes ago, heavily drugged.