It was a time that would never return and one that he would never forget.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Tara woke up earlier than usual. What little sleep she’d gotten had been broken by troubling dreams. She’d finally drifted off in the early hours. She was troubled at Trent’s presence as much as she was by the nightmare that he’d so recently resurrected. Him being here, him finding her, had completely thrown her. What he’d told her had terrified her. As a result, she’d had one horrifying dream after another.
Thoughts of him had kept her awake the majority of the night. He still made her heart race, but in a different way than he had all those years ago. She’d had to stop herself from staring at his confident stance as he stood taking in the activity in the street, or noticing how his hair curled dark and rich over his collar.
This was not the boy she had left behind when her family had moved all those years ago. She hadn’t seen him since he was seventeen and there was no comparison. His physique was that of a man who worked out. His manner was poised. He was a man used to winning and that both frightened and attracted her. And still she stumbled on memories of the past.
She remembered it all. She’d never forgotten. Six months out of their life—she’d been fifteen and he’d been seventeen. He’d been her first love, part of the magic of Pueblo. It was what made Pueblo different, and because of that, the city had lured her back.
She smiled as details of their relationship flooded back to her. They’d been so young, so naive. She remembered talking with him for hours, lying on their backs in the park, sharing their dreams and aspirations. He’d wanted to be in law enforcement. She’d never doubted him. But she’d never thought that one day he would not only succeed but become the United States marshal she needed.
Yesterday she’d dodged reality. She’d spent the remainder of the day with him in the market. It was a place that provided little chance for serious talk. Later, she’d used Siobhan’s presence to ward off any chance of him continuing to push her to go home. Now she wished that she could hit Rewind. The ploy had backfired especially in the evening when Siobhan had flirted shamelessly with him.
Tara had learned that even after all these years, she didn’t like anyone else stepping between her and Trent.
When his intense blue eyes had locked with hers, she’d known that she was in trouble. She didn’t trust herself alone with him. That was why she’d invited Siobhan to join them for a drink last night. She needed a buffer against his seductive looks and strong will. And from his questions.
Tired after the emotional roller coaster of the day, she’d gone to bed early, shutting the door on the two of them and leaving them still chatting at a table in the courtyard.
This morning, the realization of all that had happened yesterday hit her full force. Now it was strange to think that Trent was sleeping on her couch in the tiny apartment that was too tight for two adults. The place had a hot plate and a fridge so small that it might be used in a camper. That, along with a quarter-size table was what defined one end of the room as the kitchen. The entire apartment was hardly more than one room with two closets. One closet for the bed and the second for the bathroom.
She stretched, yawned and stuck a toe out from under the blanket. She needed to sneak past him without waking him up. She wanted a few minutes to herself before the day began. Plus, she was craving a coffee that was a little more jazzed up than the one she could make in the apartment. She reserved that coffee for later in the day or evening. Now she thought she’d head down the street and pick up two coffees from a vendor, one for her and one for him. It would be kind of a peace offering for ignoring him much of yesterday.
She knew that she had to face him but first she wanted a few minutes alone and a start on her coffee. It was still early, shortly before seven o’clock. She got up and dressed. She opened the door and stepped out in her bare feet, her sandals in her hand with only a backward glance to the figure on her tiny sofa. Trent was sound asleep.
Outside, she passed vendors who were just setting up. Others had their wares out and called to her, urging her to give what they were selling a chance. Stray dogs and early shoppers added to the chaos.
Tara’s attention was on her destination, a small cart at the bottom of the hill at the end of a long street. She’d discovered the stall yesterday. She’d been thrilled to find their coffee had a dark, rich nutty taste to it. It was too early in the morning to think of much other than her wake-up coffee.
* * *
TRENT WOKE UP with a start. Instinct told him that something had changed. And one thing he never did was ignore his instincts—they’d saved more than one life, including his own.
He sat up with his head pounding. His back ached from the rock-hard, too-small sofa. He hadn’t planned to sleep. He was annoyed that he had. He’d been up late trolling the internet for information on one-half of the married couple who were her landlords. There’d been something about Carlos that had his instincts on high alert. He’d pretty much guessed that the man had worked in some sort of law enforcement capacity. That assumption hadn’t been made because of anything that Carlos had said. Rather, it had been the assessing look he’d received on their brief introduction that had triggered a warning that there was something different about the man. There was a protective air to him that was different than a layman’s stance. It had taken some work but he’d finally found a link that revealed that the man was different in a good way. He was a retired San Miguel de Allende police officer, and his last position, before retiring fifteen years ago, had been inspector.
He sat still for a moment thinking about what he’d learned, listening, gathering his senses. Light streamed through the window. A car horn sounded. In the apartment there was silence, as if he were alone in the place. He looked at his watch. It was just after seven o’clock in the morning.
“Tara! Are you in there?” he asked as he rapped on the bedroom door.
There was no sound. He didn’t wait. He opened the door.
The room was empty.
He’d told her not to leave without him. He’d told her that it wasn’t safe. But he’d forgotten the Tara he had known. Telling her not to do something would have been taken as a challenge. He’d seen hints yesterday that some things hadn’t changed. He knew she continued to dance to her own drum, like she always had. Despite her fear, yesterday she’d stuck to her belief that San Miguel was safe. He’d found her because of a suggestion but social media had confirmed that clue. The bank robbers didn’t know her at all. She was confident enough to listen to her own belief that she was safe here for now.
A rush of adrenaline ran through him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. But she hadn’t left that long ago. He now realized that it was the click of the door as she closed it behind her that had awakened him.
His mind sped through the possibilities. For she’d never mentioned anything yesterday about leaving early, even though he’d spent the day shadowing her. She’d talked to shop owners and participated in a lesson on sidewalk painting. It had felt like he had, if not all the time in the world, at least enough to convince her that they needed to go back to the States.
It was only in the evening when things had seemed to change especially when they’d met her friend Siobhan for drinks. He couldn’t get close to Tara with Siobhan there. So he’d endured Sioban’s endless flirtations in an evening that seemed to drag on forever. The only bright spot had been Tara’s reaction. She appeared to have lost her ability to smile. He wondered if she was jealous and couldn’t help hoping she was. For him, there was still something there, something he felt for the girl who had broken his heart so many years ago.
Frustration seethed through him. Why couldn’t she understand the danger she was in? He couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t here. He guessed that she’d gone to the market.
His gut screamed, “Danger.”
He swore
as he grabbed his shoes. He balanced on his left foot as he rammed a shoe on his right. The market was a place that she loved, and she could pick up breakfast or coffee there. Yesterday he’d learned more about her and her environment. Then, there’d been no immediate danger. Instead, he’d gotten to know more about her just by watching. He saw how she was quick to praise the work of the vendors and offer a smile. There had been no reason to believe that the danger level had changed. Now something was different. He sensed it and he knew that there was no time to question that feeling. He needed to find Tara.
The courtyard was empty.
In seconds, he was out the door and taking the stone steps to the main road in a series of leaps. He missed the last three steps as he hit the street.
He stopped in his tracks when his phone started ringing.
He yanked it out of his pocket and hit Talk as soon as he saw the number on the call display.
“Yeah, Jackson.” He had nothing but respect for the man on the line. Still, a mother lode of impatience boiled through his veins. He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t ignore it; the call could be anything from a check-in to a complication that he needed to know about ASAP.
“I’m on a timer,” he said shortly.
“Trouble,” Jackson said and carried on before he could interrupt. “Another armed bank robbery. The good news is that we have an anonymous tip that gave us a name of a possible contact, Yago Cruz.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Unfortunately, I have. He belongs to a small cartel that’s quickly becoming known.” He listed a few other key members of the gang.
“Those names I know,” Trent said. “The gang has been on the Mexican authorities’ radar lately.”
“There’s a connection between them and Lucas Cruz. While Lucas is involved here with the gang that’s been robbing banks, his brother, Yago, like I said, is a member of a Mexican cartel. Despite the small size of the cartel, they’re involved in more crimes than you’d imagine—everything from drugs to murder. Worse, at least for us and this case, they have a solid network of connections. I’m afraid that if anyone can find her in Mexico, they can. If Lucas Cruz had anything to do with the break-in at the witness’s house, then he knows that her flight took her to Mexico City and he’s got the perfect man to greet her.”
“If Lucas tries to chase her, he’d have to cross the border twice if he wanted to return back to the States,” Trent said thoughtfully.
“The chance, with his background, that he’d make it across either way is remote.”
“Unfortunately, engaging his brother is perfect. Lucas can have her chased down without ever leaving the States—” The words broke off as Trent clenched his fist and his heart seemed to speed up. Despite already speculating on that possibility, hearing it said aloud only reminded him of the danger Tara could face.
“Interestingly enough, the caller had details of a couple of robberies that only someone on the inside would know.”
“So the caller wants to take Lucas Cruz down?”
“Probably. Whether this information is usable is my concern right now. So I did some research on Lucas Cruz. He’d been up on break-and-enters before and served time for petty theft and has no record of any recent employment in the last four years. It gets worse. There’s evidence that Lucas Cruz and his brother have been in touch recently. What that connection was about we’re not sure but—”
Trent interrupted Jackson with a curse. The implications of what he might be facing slammed into him. Despite that, he had a more immediate problem. His gut screamed at him that he needed to find Tara. There was no logical, no physical evidence—only instinct telling him to get moving. Right now, finding her superseded even this bit of intelligence. “Look, I’ve got a situation. I’m going to have to deal with this information later.”
“Deal and call me back,” Jackson said. “Immediately,” he added in the split second before Trent disconnected.
He took a breath as he shoved the phone in his pocket. That was the beauty of Jackson. There was no need to explain the intricacies of working in the field. Not to him. Unlike others, Jackson had been there, put in his time. He knew both ends of the game—management and working in the field. That gave him the critical ability to assess any situation or at least sense when he needed to back off.
Trent wasn’t downplaying Jackson’s call. Cruz was important but finding Tara was crucial. That was his number one priority. He had to keep her safe, and to do that, he had to find her.
He couldn’t guess what the contact might have been between Cruz and his brother. As Jackson had said, they could only assume the worst. Tara needed him. She needed protection.
He ran, veering around other pedestrians. He dodged vendors and their customers. He darted around a middle-aged man pushing a cart across the street. Some vendors were set up and others were still getting their wares in place. The street was a jumble of activity, moving toward organized chaos.
Where the hell was she?
For a moment, he second-guessed the gut feeling that had him here, chasing her down. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t dismiss the feeling that had rung true on too many assignments. The urgent sense that immediately followed the click of the door that had awakened him, hadn’t lessened. It was a feeling that told him that this was the direction she was heading.
A dog barked. To his left, two children were jumping on and off the curb, laughing about everything and nothing as children do.
It felt as if time were the enemy. Jackson’s call hadn’t helped anything. A connection in Mexico was not good. She was the key to shutting down the gang’s run of bank robberies. The stakes were high.
He scanned the street. It would have been so simple if he could have called. But she’d left anything trackable behind when she’d fled her home and country. He could see nothing but strangers. Locals and tourists but no Tara.
He clenched his teeth as a woman carrying an overflowing bag of vegetables jostled him. Her dark eyes met his and seemed full of silent apology as she pushed past him.
“Excuse me,” he said as he bumped into a middle-aged man. Working his way into the middle of the street was like navigating an obstacle course. But in the center, should he ever get there, there were fewer people and he might be able to see something.
Jackson’s call weighed on his mind. The fact that he’d easily found Tara also nagged at him. With the new information about Lucas Cruz’s connections to Mexico, Trent realized that if it hadn’t been difficult for him to find her, Cruz might find it equally easy.
I just know that I’m safe here.
He remembered Tara’s insistence about that. He remembered her determination to cling to her independence. He hadn’t rushed her to leave but he hadn’t said that it was safe for her to be alone without him. It had been unspoken that danger was on the horizon, not that it had arrived. Now everything had changed. How close were Cruz’s connections to finding her?
He’d had her social media history of San Miguel de Allende purged. But even the best computer teams couldn’t remove everything. If the gang was good enough, they could have found her by trolling through her social media. They didn’t need Enrique’s mention of the city to know that if she’d been there once, she might well go there again.
She was an amateur at this. She needed to be home, under his protection, where he had full resources at his disposal. Here, it was just him and the possibility that the resources of an entire gang was being used to find her. Right now, for anyone with any skill, it was all too easy. She hadn’t changed anything, not even the simplest thing, like her appearance or her name. It was something he’d meant to address today. Instead he found himself afraid that he might very well be behind the eight ball.
But this was all speculation. There was no proof that she was in danger. There were only his instincts. He kept moving, driven by the sense that something was te
rribly wrong.
Chapter Six
There’s nothing better than a good cup of coffee in the morning.
Tara’s voice echoed through Trent’s mind like she was standing right there. She had told him that only yesterday. He cursed under his breath. He should have thought of that immediately. In one of the few moments when she’d seemed to let her guard down, she’d joked about the weak coffee served by her landlady. Then she’d pointed out the best coffee she’d found so far.
He picked up his pace, moving as fast as he could along the crowded street. He had no patience for delays. Jackson’s words, the feel in the air, all of it was beyond troubling.
Yet, there was nothing tangible. Everything appeared normal.
He headed to where, only yesterday, she’d pointed out where the coffee vendor was. A group of children raced up one side, one stopped to ask for money and he gave the boy what change he had in his pocket.
“Gracias, senor,” the boy said and ran past him, a half dozen other boys and a girl following close behind.
He tried to skirt a group of tourists. They all carried shopping bags with San Miguel stamped on them and clutched cameras as they clustered in the center of the street. He pushed past them and with little room to maneuver, jostled an elbow.
“Sorry,” he threw over his shoulder. Still, a few choice words followed him.
His mind was already past them as he searched the crowd. But there was no sign of her. He only hoped that he was on a wild-goose chase and she was safely back at the apartment.
Then, a quarter of a block ahead, he knew he’d found trouble when he saw a tall dark-haired man with a mellow face that had an intense, focused look. But that wasn’t the problem. It was what he held in his right hand. It was only a glimpse of dark metal that shone as the sun hit it. And then Trent’s view was blocked as a woman moved into his line of sight. But he knew instinctively what the man held. He clenched his fists. He was too far away and there were too many people between them.
Marshal on a Mission Page 5
