“And tomorrow?”
She kissed away the question, because it couldn’t be answered.
Chapter 26
Caitlyn woke up in an empty room.
She rubbed her eyes and looked around, disoriented by her surroundings. She wasn’t on the uncomfortable cot in the corner. She was curled up on a couch in front of an unlit hearth. There was a cozy wool blanket draped over her. She felt woozy, as if she’d been drugged.
Had she been drugged?
The last thing she remembered was sharing a meal with Carlos on the veranda. He’d been feeling well enough to sit outside, in a wheelchair. He’d made pleasant conversation, as always. He was almost handsome when he smiled, even with his charred face. But the smile hadn’t reached his eyes. He’d been in constant pain, and he seemed to relish it. She hadn’t been able to convince him to take morphine after the first day.
He’d told her all about his life. His carefree childhood, his troubled teens, his rise to power in the cartel, and his out-of-control drug addiction. He’d met his girlfriend, Sasha, at a nightclub in San Diego. He’d introduced her to heroin. He’d been a functioning addict, but she had not. Her rapid decline had scared him straight. Although he’d tried to help her get clean, he’d failed. He’d been struggling to manage his empire, and looking for a way out, when she’d overdosed.
Armando had been part of Carlos’s exit plan. He’d needed someone to take over the business and run things with integrity.
“Integrity?” Caitlyn had interrupted. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I have standards for temperament and conduct.”
“What standards? No killing after midnight?”
“I don’t allow women or children to be harmed.”
“I was kidnapped. That’s harmful.”
He waved a bandaged hand in the air. “Villarreal is a little rough around the edges, but he shares my views.”
“If he’s so great, why did your men treat him like a captive?”
“They were told he was a traitor.”
“Is he?”
Carlos shrugged. “He’s been loyal to me. Like most men, he puts his family first.”
She learned that Armando had killed several members of the Los Rojos cartel in retaliation for his wife’s murder. The recent upheaval in Tijuana had created a power vacuum. Everyone connected to Carlos was a target, especially Armando. Armando’s daughter wasn’t safe, either. He’d been desperate to survive for her sake.
Caitlyn’s opinion of the two men didn’t change after hearing this story. They were still drug dealers. Live by the gun, die by the gun. She felt sorry for the women with the misfortune of having relationships with them. She’d told Carlos again that she wanted to go home. Instead of making promises, he’d asked Domingo to bring her a glass of wine.
She’d had one glass—and passed out.
“That bastard,” she breathed, throwing the blanket aside. Her shoes were sitting on the tile. She put them on and stumbled through the house.
She was the only person there.
The room where she’d been held against her will for over a week was deserted. Carlos wasn’t inside. His hospital bed and the medical supplies were gone. Everyone else was gone too. She wandered back to the living room area. Her keys were sitting on the kitchen countertop next to a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills and a brief note.
Thank you for your excellent medical care this week. Please accept this modest payment, and forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye. There is breakfast in the fridge. May life treat you well.
Yours fondly,
Carlos
The modest payment was five thousand dollars. She stuffed it into her pocket and checked the fridge. There was a cinnamon spice muffin and iced coffee. Taking both with her, she walked outside and found her car in the garage. Her purse was on the front seat.
She left the house and drove through the Tijuana foothills to the border. It took almost four hours of waiting at the line in San Ysidro. When she finally reached the inspections booth, the U.S. customs officer asked for her passport and driver’s license.
She gave him the second item. “I don’t have my passport with me. I’m Caitlyn Weiss.”
He studied her driver’s license with a frown. Then he stared at her as if she was a ghost. “Caitlyn Abigail Weiss?”
“That’s me.”
“You’ve been missing.”
Tears flooded her eyes. She hadn’t been sure she was going to make it out of Mexico until this very moment. “I’m back.”
He instructed her to pull forward into the secondary inspection area. Then she was escorted to an interrogation room. She had to pee really bad, but they wouldn’t let her go until a female officer appeared to search her. Caitlyn endured the indignity, squirming with discomfort.
After she used the restroom, she was given a tray of terrible food that she suspected was for detainees. Another hour passed. Finally two men entered the interrogation room. One was tall and lean, with a mustache and a bandage on his eyebrow. The other had dark eyes and silver-threaded hair. They were both handsome, but not in a way that put her at ease.
“Ms. Weiss? I’m Special Agent in Charge Mark LaGuardia and this is Special Agent Foster.”
She nodded hello.
“We just flew in from Nogales. We’ve been looking for you.”
“Here I am.”
“You were taken hostage by Armando Villarreal and forced to drive across the border.”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
She told them about arriving at the house in Tijuana and being held against her will for over a week. When she mentioned Carlos and his extensive burn injuries, Special Agent Foster exchanged a glance with LaGuardia.
“The man told you his name was Carlos Moreno?” Foster asked.
“He introduced himself as Carlos.”
“Go on.”
She continued her story, concluding with this morning’s surprise release. They stared at her with inscrutable expressions. “You don’t believe me?”
“That’s not it,” LaGuardia said. “It’s just that Carlos Moreno had already been declared dead. I investigated the scene of the fire myself. Reliable witnesses saw him go inside the house before it blew up. The conditions weren’t survivable.”
“I see,” she said, reconsidering. “So the more plausible explanation is that a strange man set himself on fire to impersonate a drug lord?”
Foster arched a brow at LaGuardia. “That does seem far-fetched.”
“We’ll look into it,” LaGuardia said. “What else can you tell us about his condition?”
“He was improving, which surprised me.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m a veterinarian, first of all. I have very little experience with burns and gunshot wounds, so I didn’t expect any miracle cures. He wasn’t a very good patient, either. He refused morphine and couldn’t sleep. He was in constant pain.”
“Did he have a head injury?”
“He might have. Smoke inhalation can prevent oxygen from getting to the brain. But he seemed sharp mentally. He said he wanted to die in the fire, so I don’t think it caused his depression. He continued to get better every day, sort of despite himself.”
LaGuardia leaned back in his chair, absorbing this information. “We found Armando Villarreal’s body in the Sonoran Desert yesterday.”
Caitlyn drew in a sharp breath. “What killed him?”
“Two bullets to the chest.”
She wasn’t sure he would have recovered from the previous gunshot wound. Which was ironic, because he had more will to live in his little finger than Carlos Moreno had in his entire body. “Did he save his daughter, by chance?”
Foster drummed his fingertips against the table, not answering.
“We can’t discuss the confidential details of the case,” LaGuardia said.
“What about the money I was given?”
“I don’t know anything
about that,” LaGuardia said, glancing at Foster. “Do you?”
“No, sir. Sounds like a lot of paperwork, though.”
“Another agency handles issues like this. We’re required to seize bribes and criminal assets, but going after payments for legitimate services isn’t worth our trouble. You’re welcome to surrender it to HSI if you feel more comfortable.”
Caitlyn wasn’t worried about Carlos showing up on her doorstep to demand his money back. He’d given it to her without obligations, and that amount was probably nothing to him. She’d earned it. A real hospital visit would have cost him thousands more.
When she was finished with the interview, Caitlyn called her parents. They were overjoyed to hear from her. They’d spent the entire week in San Diego communicating with local law enforcement. They’d just flown back to Arizona this morning.
“They told us to go home,” her mother cried.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine.”
Her parents insisted on coming to visit her anyway. Caitlyn didn’t argue. She said she’d call them back later and hung up.
Then she drove home to pick up the pieces of her life.
Chapter 27
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Ian parked in front of the pottery shop in Mezcala, his heart pounding with anticipation.
He hadn’t seen Maria since the night they’d spent at the hotel in Nogales.
And what a night that had been. The best of his life, by far. He’d been insatiable. She’d been right there with him, naked and trembling and whispering hot things in his ear. He’d done everything she wanted and then some. He’d had her on the dresser, in the shower, against the wall. She’d taken every inch of him, reveled in every touch. She’d told him she loved him over and over. He’d showed her he loved her with his hands and mouth and body.
When they were finished, he’d pleasured her with his tongue again. She’d climaxed one last time and pushed him away in exhaustion. He’d fallen asleep on her belly. He’d woken at dawn with his face between her thighs and her taste on his lips.
Damn. What a way to start the day.
He’d thought about that every morning since. He’d replayed it in his head while he showered. He’d jerked off to the memory a hundred times. They’d talked about it on the phone, and he’d begged her to touch herself for him. She’d done it, to his delight.
After he returned to San Diego, he’d attended his investigation hearing. Ian was cleared of misconduct and negligence, but not reckless endangerment. This was grounds for termination. If Ian hadn’t resigned from the DEA, he’d have been fired. He couldn’t reapply to that agency ever again. That was the outcome he’d expected, and it was more than fair.
The good news was that he could keep his weapon, his credentials, and his federal agent status. He could transfer to another agency at the same pay rate. The fact that he had a pending job offer with ICE probably made a difference. As soon as he left the hearing, LaGuardia booked him a flight to the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in Brunswick, Georgia.
Ian had completed basic agent training before he’d started working for the DEA. He’d done eighteen weeks in Quantico for the DEA. He’d also spent thirteen weeks in New Mexico for U.S. Customs and Border Protection. He had more academy hours under his belt than most ICE agents, but he didn’t mind having his skills tested. He passed the physical and written exams with flying colors. He was in great shape, he understood immigration law, and his Spanish was excellent.
Although the ICE program was twenty-two weeks total, and the competition was fierce, they’d sent Ian home after twelve weeks. There was no need for him to take the same classes twice, or three times in some cases. He did the advanced coursework and tactical exercises. Then he went back to San Diego to wait for placement.
That had gone better than expected also.
Grinning, he exited the vehicle and walked into the shop. He hadn’t told Maria about the visit. He’d wanted to surprise her, and honor her family tradition of showing up unexpectedly.
Her mother was behind the front counter, alone. “Señor Ian,” she said, brightening. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“¿Está Maria?” he asked.
“No.” She came out from behind the counter to greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “I think she’s down by the river with Delfina.”
“I’ll go look for her.”
She clasped one of his hands between hers. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Hugo.”
He hadn’t done much, so he just shrugged. He’d bought plane tickets for Maria and Hugo so they didn’t have to take the bus. Sarai had flown with them.
U.S. and Mexican authorities had agreed that she would be safe at her school. Now that her father was dead, the danger had passed. She took care of the burial arrangements before she went back to Taxco. There was no funeral, as far as Ian knew. Maria had visited Sarai twice to check up on her. Maria said the girl was quiet and withdrawn. She’d been exchanging emails with Hugo.
“How is his arm?” Ian asked.
“It’s healed. He’s already playing fútbol again.”
“Good to hear.”
“If you don’t mind my asking…what are your intentions toward my daughter?”
He smiled at the question. “I intend to marry her, if she’ll have me.”
“I’m sure she will.”
He didn’t tell Maria’s mother that he’d already asked twice. Perhaps a third time would be the charm. Nodding goodbye, he left the store and walked down the cobblestone streets, enjoying the warm air. It had rained a lot in Georgia. The past week had been cool in San Diego. Mezcala felt warm and lush, like a lover’s embrace. He found a path along the riverbank, so he followed it.
High-pitched laughter and splashing led him to a swimming hole. There were children of various ages in the river. Someone had attached a rope swing to the branch of an overhanging oak. He watched them play for several minutes. Two boys were doing daredevil tricks, swinging from the rope to the deeper water.
He’d gone to his mother’s house the other day. He hadn’t seen her in over a year. She hadn’t looked good, and she’d asked him for money. It was a typical visit in many ways. His childhood home appeared small and shabby. She hadn’t changed, but he had. He told her he loved her, and she cried. Then he gave her the cash from his pocket. He’d felt lighter after he left.
Now, watching these children, he felt lighter still. He thought about making a life with Maria, different from the one he’d known as a kid. They could do it right. They could start a family. They could have something pure and good, like her.
“Tu novio,” a female voice cried. “¡Tu novio, tu novio!”
Your boyfriend.
Ian glanced around and saw Maria’s little sister, Delfina. She was standing in the shallow water, waving her arms over her head. Maria was wading toward her. She was wearing a long black skirt with a red blouse. The skirt was wet, clinging to her bare legs. She had a plastic bucket in one hand. She dropped it and started running.
He met her on the shore.
“I’m all wet,” she said, breathless.
“I like you that way.”
She didn’t protest as he drew her into his arms. The children hooted and hollered, heckling them, but he didn’t care. He kissed her anyway. He’d kiss her in the middle of the river, or the middle of town. He wanted everyone to know that she was his, and he’d come to claim her.
When he released her, she stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
She gave Delfina the bucket, which had three fish in it. “Take these home to Hugo.”
Her sister left the riverbank with a group of children. Maria pulled him behind an oak tree for another kiss. A passionate kiss, with her tongue in his mouth and his hands in her hair.
“I missed you,” she said.
“I can tell.”
“How long can you stay?”
�
��It depends.”
“On what?”
Her lips were moist and parted, her hands gripping his shoulders. She was so fucking beautiful. He thought about their night in the hotel room, and blood pooled to his groin. She felt him swell against her and smiled, kissing him again.
“Wait,” he said. He needed to focus, so he disentangled himself from her embrace. “I have important news.”
A crease formed between her brows. “Is it about your job?”
“Yes. I got my assignment.”
She moved away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I see.”
His stomach clenched with unease. Maybe he should have called ahead. They’d spoken almost every night on a cellphone he’d purchased for her, but they hadn’t talked about the future. He knew she didn’t want to wait for him. He couldn’t convince her to marry him. So they’d focused on the present, and he’d said things that made them both feel good.
He stared at the river, swift-moving and surrounded by vibrant greenery. Teeming with life. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“Happy you’re leaving me and going far away?”
“I got assigned to Mexico City.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “What?”
“I’ll be working at the U.S. embassy in Mexico City for the next two years.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. I’m serious.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. Now she looked happy, and his heart rejoiced.
“I have the choice to stay in employee housing or rent my own apartment. I thought we could share an apartment. You can come to the city with me and pick a place you like.”
“You want me to live with you…in sin?”
He laughed at her delighted expression. “Yes.”
“My mother wouldn’t approve.”
“I already told her I plan to marry you.”
“When did you say that?”
“Just now. She asked about my intentions.”
She groaned, fisting her hands in her hair. “Did you tell her we slept together too? If she knew what you did to me in that hotel room, she’d take us straight to the church.”
Off the Rails Page 25