by Rachel Renee
I finish my third taco and watch as she adds orange juice to her glass of tequila. The smile that crosses her face after she takes a drink of the new concoction causes a similar look to decorate my own face. “Bring that over here.”
“Not much of a tequila drinker yourself?”
“I like tequila but it definitely goes down easier when it’s in something.”
She hands the jug to me and I add some to my cup. Selena sits once more, reaching her hand out to pick a piece of steak out of my container. I like someone who is comfortable with themselves, but this woman has got some gall. I stare at her as she places the meat in her mouth. Now that I’m genuinely looking at her, I realize she doesn’t look much older than high school age. “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”
“Little late to be asking.”
“Never too late.”
“Well, if you must know, I’m well over the drinking age.”
“In Mexico?” It’s only eighteen here.
“In the United States.”
I eye her a little longer, trying to get a read on her. There’s not a wrinkle on her face or an age spot to reveal her age, or a zit to reveal her youth. Her tanned complexion is unblemished. Her dark-brown eyes find mine, and she grins. I turn away because I’m afraid she got the wrong impression by the way I was staring. Sitting back in my chair, I pull my drink to my lips and gulp.
“Much better.” I try to chase away the awkwardness with conversation, but the look in her eyes tells me I need to change the topic and preferably to something that will get her to leave.
I shove half of the last taco in my mouth, hoping my caveman behavior will deter her.
“You got a girlfriend?” Guess not.
“Not here,” I answer.
A devious look crosses her face seconds before she’s out of her chair and practically in my lap.
“I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.” I put a halt to her advances before she moves in too far.
“You didn’t. I’m just a woman who sees something she wants and is going in for the kill.”
“I’m afraid I’m not available.”
“That’s too bad.” She pushes herself off of the forearm I’d used to keep her at bay.
I relax into my chair but I was too quick to let her off the hook. She’s on me instantly. Her mouth colliding with mine. This woman is going to take what she wants, and she will apparently stop at nothing to get it.
9
“SELENA. I’m not that kind of man. I’m in a committed relationship. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no ring on your finger.”
If she looked close enough, she’d see the outline of my wedding band. “That doesn’t mean…”
“Save me the speech.”
And I do. She’s embarrassed and I can’t help but feeling like an ass myself. “Listen, I appreciate the drink, but I think…”
“If I promise not to throw myself at you again, can I just stay?” Her head is tilted down but her eyes peer up at me through her long, dark lashes. “I’m sorry,” she adds since I’ve not answered.
I don’t think it’s a great idea, and I tell her, “I think you should head back to Miguel’s.”
“Please. I don’t want to be alone.” Her head whips up and she’s looking at me straight on now. Fear flashes through her eyes. I saw it and she knows I saw it because she looks back down immediately. This isn’t the same woman who entered the apartment completely confident. Vulnerability has taken the place of her fierceness.
Against my better judgment, I give in. I don’t know what has her spooked, but as long as she can respect my boundaries, there’s no harm in her staying here. Apparently where she feels a little safer. “Just until Miguel gets home. I’ve got some work to do after dinner. You can watch television or something.”
She nods her head and her lips upturn ever so slightly. She doesn’t even know me and she feels safer here than going back to Miguel’s apartment alone. Why is that? Does Miguel have a roommate?
“You want to tell me why you feel the way you do? Is something going on at the apartment?”
“I’d rather not talk about it, at least not now. If that’s okay?” she adds.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She grins somewhat, giving me a knowing shake of her head.
I finish my dinner and down the rest of my drink while contemplating my newest predicament. Selena says she’s old enough to drink in the U.S. by a few years, but she still seems younger than that. The way she talks, handles herself, even the way she’s dressed. Those holey, light-washed jeans and band t-shirt she’s wearing make her look even more youthful than the possible mid-twenties she’s claiming.
We make more small talk as I clean up the kitchen, throwing my trash away and placing my cup as well as the one I just dumped the remaining liquid of down the drain, in the dishwasher.
“I’m in town most of the summer. I was supposed to have an internship at the hospital but it fell through. Now, my parents are leaving me here until my master’s program begins back in Texas this fall.”
“Could you apply for another position?”
“Too late. Everything is filled. There aren’t many here in Chihuahua, and I was lucky to even get a chance in the first place.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Ugh. It’s not worth talking about.” Selena slumps onto the couch, folding her arms and crossing her legs. “I’ll find something else to do once my parents officially leave in a couple of days,” she adds with a sigh.
She’s smart, real smart, I realize as we converse. The more she talks, the more mature she sounds. I grab my laptop at one point and sit back down at the dining room table. She asks me what it’s like to be an engineer and I feel marginally inadequate speaking to her about the job I’m pretending to do. She was so vehement about being a nurse, and here I am fumbling through a synopsis of my faux career. I know enough to get by and will learn more as I go, but I’m not as knowledgeable about my career as she is about the one she’s planning to enter. By 11:00, she’s on the couch, half-asleep with the TV on, but the sound barely above a whisper. I’m still surfing the internet, checking out the facility manifesto, searching for Mr. Mustache. There are a couple of male voices booming up the stairs, echoing through the hallway. Selena sits up, her face pales, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s shaking.
“Sounds like Miguel’s home.”
She swallows, her eyes blinking furiously.
“I can walk you down there. Thank Miguel for the drink he sent you with.” I try to sound cheery, hopefully lift her spirits, but her look never changes.
She nods but doesn’t speak.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She bobs her head once more but remains silent.
Standing from my chair first, I grab the Jose and motion for the front door. Before I open it, I tell her, “You know where to find me if you need something.”
She gives me the same response as before as she slips her flipflops back on and meanders toward me.
“Hey, Miguel,” I call out, spotting him unlocking his door. I lift the bottle up. “Thanks for the drink.” I move in his direction before Selena enters the hallway.
“She left you the bottle?” I can’t tell if he’s mad, or curious, but when Selena falls in behind me, he gets a huge grin on his face. “La botella y la niña.”
“She kept me company for a while.”
Miguel wags his brows at me.
I shake my head from side to side, but he’s already got the wrong idea. “Dinner was great too.” I’d try anything to move away from the subject of his cousin.
“I bet it was,” another male voice rings out. Before I see his face, I know who it is. Mustache steps around the wall he was hiding behind, sneering in my direction. His upper lip rises on one side, forcing the thick hair to move with it.
Selena slips out from behind the right side of me, but not entirely. I feel her shiver as h
er arm brushes mine. The two men are sharing a look I don’t appreciate and I’m sure Selena doesn’t either, if she’s seeing it.
Miguel misses the exchange between me and Mustache and introduces us as if we’ve never met before. “Liam.” He points to me, then to Mustache. “Thiago.” He reverses the introduction. I reach my hand out to shake Thiago’s, to be polite, but he scoffs and turns the other way. There are words back and forth between the two men, but they’re muffled. Mustache enters Miguel’s apartment with a slight tilt of his head in my direction. I know his name now, but I’ve already donned him with one that suits him better. There’s nothing about him that makes me like him, and after our heated meeting the other day, the list of reasons to suspect him is ever-growing.
“Buenas Noches, Selena. Miguel,” I offer before leaving my company.
Selena’s eyes are watering as she says goodnight to me. She turns, but I catch her gaze and mouth to her, “Remember what I said.”
She nods her head forward before walking past Miguel and entering the apartment.
Miguel’s eyes are lowered at me, and he never offers a good night of his own. I give a wave and saunter off toward my own apartment. He doesn’t enter his until I go to shut my door and that’s when I hear the one down the hall slam against its latch.
I feel like there are so many things interconnected in this case. I need to put the pieces together to see how everyone fits.
THE NEXT MORNING, as I’m leaving for work, I slow walking past Miguel’s apartment. There’s a heated conversation going on between the two men inside. Miguel is telling Mustache to leave Selena alone. He grumbles, but I can’t understand what he replies. I think Thiago asks Miguel about me. He wants to know what Miguel knows. He replies, not much. Mustache says he’s going to talk to Selena. See what she knows and if she’d be willing to find out more. Miguel warns him off her once again. It sounds as if someone punches the door and that’s my cue to get out of here before I get caught.
I wonder what the connection between Miguel and Thiago “Mustache” is? I don’t think they’re related because of the way Miguel warned him off of Selena at the beginning of the conversation I overheard. Could Miguel be working with Mustache? Selena could turn out to be a valuable resource if she knows what Mustache is up to. I don’t want to seem as though I’m using her, so I’ll have to tread lightly.
Dom’s truck is speeding out of the parking lot as I open the door to leave. I hear a door slam up above and quicken my pace. I’m not looking for a confrontation this morning. Thiago is really a nobody at the facility. He works in the factory on a line. It was easier to find him once I knew his name and now I know a name to be listening for around the office. I don’t know for certain he works for the cartel, but I’m feeling there’s a connection.
As I’m pulling out of my spot, the man in my thoughts appears just outside the front door of the building. He’s clearly watching me once more, his face directly pointed in my direction, even as I leave the lot. He doesn’t trust me and I don’t trust him. At least we know the score.
A small older man steps out in the road in front of me and I have to slam on my brakes to keep from hitting him. He looks at me, a bewildered expression in his eyes, and then he keeps right on walking, without a care that other cars are struggling to brake for him as well. Some parts of this city are modern, but other parts, and most of the streets I drive through, are rundown and ancient. The man, who I’m pretty sure was living when the buildings on this road were constructed, finally makes it safely across.
I glance in my rearview before taking off once more and see my new friend a few cars behind me. That little bump in the road allowed him to catch up. He swerves in and out of traffic, dodging cars on the opposite side of the road a couple of times on the two-lane streets. By the time we make it to the factory, he’s directly behind me, tailing me all the way into the lot and parking in the spot next to mine.
Taking a deep breath, I realize this has to happen sooner or later, so we might as well make it sooner. The gun is secure in the holster under my jacket and the other is strapped to my leg. I wonder how many non-agents have to carry a weapon into work every day? I look around at the type of people walking into this building in particular and think there are probably more people packing than I want to know.
I open my door slowly, almost hoping Mustache will get out of his car and go in before me. No such luck. He steps out the moment I do. “Hola, Thiago,” I call out.
His dark glasses are still on so I can’t see his eyes. His mouth is in a flat line before he speaks. “I’m watching you,” he growls out in perfect English.
“I’m not sure what I’ve done other than accept a position in this factory, but I’d appreciate you backing down. I have nothing but a drive to do my job and do it well.”
“I don’t like the way you look.”
I chuckle. “Nothing I can do about that. I was born this way.”
He moves his glasses down his nose so his eyes are visible. “You’re smug. Miguel and Selena seem to think you’re on the up and up, but I’ve got my reservations.”
“Again, I’m not sure what I’ve done to give you a bad taste in your mouth, but as long as you do your job, I can do mine. We don’t even have to communicate if that’s what you want.”
“We will have to eventually.”
I shake my head, not understanding why. He and I shouldn’t have to have any contact as his position isn’t attached to mine in any way. “My boss needs to make sure the engineer designs him what he wants and I make sure my boss isn’t disappointed.”
My suspicions were correct. Thiago isn’t talking about his factory job. He’s referring to his position in the cartel. I’ve got to figure out how to get this guy to trust me. “I take pride in what I do and will do everything in my power to make sure your boss is satisfied…completely,” I add, “with whatever I design for him. Maybe you should come by my office later so we can discuss his plans. I’m not sure I know who we’re talking about here.”
“I’ll show up when I’m ready.” His left index finger pushes the glasses back up and he turns from me.
“I’ll be waiting,” I call out as he strolls away.
I shut the door and head into the office, looking forward to that meeting, whenever it may take place. If I can get an in with Thiago, that’s one step closer to finding out the identity of cartel leader he works for. I also plan to try my hand at befriending Miguel. If he’s not working for the cartel as well, I’ll be shocked.
As I walk by the front desk, Rosamaria raises her hand up to ask me to wait. She’s on the phone, but as soon as she hangs it up, she speaks to me. “There is someone in your office waiting. I didn’t want you to be surprised when you walked in.”
I grimace, wondering why she thought it was okay to allow someone in my office without me. “I appreciate the heads up. Maybe next time, you have them wait out here?”
“Si.” She answers with a smile, her bright pink lips spreading out wide.
I’m curious as to who’d be waiting for me and happy to see it’s Dom when I round the corner to the room. His back is turned, but I know it’s him. “What’s going on?”
“Been trying to figure out a way to talk to you here without it seeming out of place.”
“So you thought my office was a good spot?”
“Yes. Plenty of people come out here to talk to you.”
“Not so many thus far.”
“Well, it shouldn’t seem too far-fetched. Was Thiago the man you encountered your first day?”
“One and the same.”
Dom looks at me confused but then suddenly understanding comes over him. “Not good to be on his bad side.”
“I don’t know what I did, other than the fact I showed up.”
“I think he was hoping to get one of his men in the position.”
“So, you’re aware of who he is and who he works for.”
“I know he’s cartel. Even if I didn’t know what was goi
ng on, I’d know that. He basically broadcasts it to everyone. Thinks it gives him clout amongst the people.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew it was him the other day when I mentioned it?”
“I wasn’t certain. You should see how many guys with mustaches there are in the factory.”
“That thick?”
“Si. It is unreal.”
“Huh. I thought mustaches were out of style.”
“Mexico is behind the times on some things.”
“Never the less, if you know something, please tell me. Even if it’s just a suspicion. I can investigate. Thiago thinks he has clout, but I should be the boss of more people than he can dream of ruling over here. There’s not many people who have dominion over my position and what I do.”
“I would not be so sure. The cartel runs more of the show than you know. More than even I know. You should watch who you befriend here.”
So far, I haven’t friended anyone. Although, I may have someone looking out for me. I want to ask Dom about Luis but I decide to wait. I should see what he has for me first.
“So, what do you want to talk to me about?”
“It’s going around the floor that there’s a possible leak at the plant. It was said someone was spotted spying on the delivery the other night.”
My breath catches.
“No one has been able to identify a person of interest, but when they went to look for him, they found a spot in the grass had been smashed down and several patches that had been torn from the earth. They know for sure someone was there.”
“Dammit. I was afraid of that. I couldn’t believe it, but the guy in charge looked me dead in the eyes. It was pitch black, but something caught his eye. He’d loaded those trucks so many times he knew where every pebble lie and apparently every blade of grass grew.”
“That’s why you’ve got to get inside next time. The factory changes daily, depending on what has been manufactured and where the parts are being shipped. Once the men begin work on the new engines, I’ll be able to figure out the best place for you to hide out.”
