Marshal on a Mission

by Ryshia Kennie

Chapter Eleven

  “There can be no delays,” Trent said. He was ready to shut down any resistance she might have. “We leave not tonight or tomorrow morning but now. We’ll tell your landlords that you’re taking me to Cancún. The deal of the century, short notice, of course, and we’re leaving this afternoon. No arguments.”

  “None. I’m done,” she said. “Let’s go home.” She looked at him without tears. Her words were without emotion.

  He’d seen that kind of overwhelmed reaction before. And because of that, he believed her. She lived a quiet life, an artistic life. The last few days must have been a nightmare. Now that she had agreed to go back, he wasn’t sure how far he could push her. He didn’t know what she thought. Her silence was slightly unnerving. He feared he’d have another argument but this time he knew he’d win. There was no choice.

  “So we make an alternative plan. Cancún is the opposite direction and that’s where we’re going for a little downtime.”

  “Cancún.” She shook her head, not in affirmation or in disagreement but more as if she were trying to wrap her mind around it. “But we don’t go.”

  They were walking back to her apartment as they made the plan.

  “Exactly. We leave, but not for Cancún.”

  “All right,” she agreed. There was a quiver in her voice. “You know, I’ve been here such a short time. Yet I still feel bad about taking off and leaving Carlos and Francesca hanging, wondering what happened to us when we don’t come back.”

  “We’ll check out and give them the impression we’ll be back but we don’t have an exact day, could be a week or two. Our itinerary is so wishy-washy that we have no need of the room being held. Eventually, when this is all over, you can ease their minds and tell them you went home.” He shrugged. “They might worry but I think the chances are they’ll think you found a better place to vacation or decided to become a beach bum.” He smiled at her but there was no answering smile. “They’ll be fine. Especially as we’re not asking them to hold a room should demand suddenly go up and they want to rent it out to someone else. Taking that into account, you’re not doing them any disservice.”

  He squeezed her hand and she gave a tentative squeeze back. And with that, he believed that the pact was sealed. For better or worse, they were a team.

  “So, here are the specifics,” he said. “Let’s go with my time here is short and you want to show me the beach. We found a deal that flies us out of here later this afternoon. We’ll be taking my rental car and leaving it at the airport. In reality we’ll be on a flight that should get us home before this time tomorrow.”

  “It works,” she said. “Let me get my head around what I have to tell them.”

  “And let me worry about the logistics. That’s why I’m here. Your only job is to smooth the way with your landlords.”

  She nodded. As they approached the cobbled steps that led to her apartment, she glanced at him. There was nothing to say. Because of everything that had happened, they were now on the same page. At least on the page that would get her back to the States and into a safe house. He held her hand, as if sealing what they’d just agreed to.

  The complex where she rented an apartment was just ahead of them. They went up the stone stairs to the barking of the landlords’ dog.

  Her landlords were sitting at a table having coffee on the terrace. They both looked up as he and Tara approached. Francesca met their arrival with a smile, while Carlos had a stern expression, as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.

  Soon they’d be leaving Mexico far behind. Already, Trent had begun to map out the journey. They’d be heading for the airport in the next hour. Unfortunately, there was no airport within San Miguel’s city limits. They would have to drive a short distance to a nearby airport. But that was only a minor problem to work around. The goal was to be on the first flight that took them into the US. At this point it didn’t matter what the destination was. The important thing was getting home. Once they landed in the US, they wouldn’t be home free but they would be well on their way.

  It all sounded so much easier than it was going to be. He knew that. Roadblocks could occur and there was a chance he might not have clear sailing. The men who were hunting her down would expect that she’d flee. The sooner they could leave here, the better their chances.

  He stopped, waiting as Tara squatted down to greet a scruffy tricolored dog who scrambled over the cobblestone, barking with obvious joy.

  “Hello there, senor,” Tara said after a volley of petting. She bent lower to give the dog a hug.

  Trent was floored at how quickly she could turn on the charm for a four-legged creature. Especially after everything that she’d been through today. Her fussing over the dog only reminded Trent of who she was when he had known her and of the past they’d once shared. She’d always loved animals and now the little mixed-breed dog danced around until she scooped him up. He couldn’t help the memory of the past that seemed to merge with the present. Tara was a talented, bighearted enigma.

  He watched as she gave the dog a last scratch on his grizzled head and kissed his chin. Tara acted like all was right with the world. Except, as she set the dog down, her hands shook the slightest amount. He wasn’t surprised. She’d been through hell and the day was only half-over.

  “Are you all right?” Francesca asked in her heavily accented English as she got up and went to Tara. She hugged her and then held her at arm’s length as if searching her for signs of trauma.

  Trent liked Francesca and sensed that everything about her was on the up-and-up.

  “We heard what happened.” Francesca shook her head. “It is all so difficult to fathom, the gangs, the crime, the...” She let Tara’s hands go. “Sit, please. We’ve been watching for you.” She ran a hand through her shoulder-length gray-streaked hair. “I was worried sick.”

  “Where’s Siobhan?” Tara asked as she glanced around and saw no sign of her friend.

  “Siobhan took a few days off,” Francesca replied. “She went to Puerto Vallarta. The opportunity dropped in her lap early this morning. A friend offered her a free flight and she had an hour to decide. She was in a cab to the airport just before all the excitement.”

  “You’ll be shorthanded,” Tara said.

  Francesca shook her head. “No. It’s slow this time of year. Have a seat.” She gestured with her hand. “I’ll get us some tea.”

  “No tea, not for me,” Trent said. “Thank you.”

  “Or me,” Tara added.

  Trent glanced at her and it was like time and life hadn’t separated them. A silent communication seemed to run between them. Again, he put his hand over hers. The gesture had seemed to become in a very short time their silent pledge of allegiance. They needed time and they both knew that was what they didn’t have.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I can’t believe this all happened literally blocks from our house,” Carlos said a few minutes later when they were sitting down at one of a half dozen metal patio tables in the courtyard that was framed by the U-shaped brick building that held the apartments, their landlords’ abode and a common kitchen. He threw in a curse for good measure.

  “Carlos,” Francesca said in a chastising tone.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but when my family or guests are in jeopardy I worry, and my language goes south.” He leaned forward. His eyes locked with Trent’s as if he and Trent were somehow charged with the investigation. “I heard there were shots fired. And you witnessed it? What the hell happened?”

  Trent held Tara’s hand under the table. He gave it a gentle squeeze before he answered, but still, he could feel the slight tremble. Talking about what happened only brought back the fact that just a few hours ago, she had escaped death.

  “There was a gunman. A woman was hit. Fortunately, she should make it.” Trent said nothing about Tara being the target. “Unfortunately, he got a
way.”

  “There’s more that you’re not telling me,” Carlos said. “I don’t blame you but...” He pushed back in his chair. “You can trust me. You should know that I worked for the San Miguel Police. And I can vouch for the fact that this used to be a peaceful place. Of course, that was then. Many places were peaceful back in the day. People were different. Damn, I’m resorting to clichés.” He frowned. “And for the most part, it’s still pretty peaceful. That’s what draws the tourists, the retirees and the artists. Still, the police corruption, the cartels... It has changed. Mostly in other areas but it touches on us once in a while. There’s an undercurrent starting to ripple through this town that I don’t like. It’s not like it used to be when I was working the beat.”

  Trent nodded. It was information he knew. He’d suspected the truth about the man from the very moment he met him. He’d researched him online in the hours of the night when he couldn’t sleep. What he’d found again didn’t surprise him.

  “I ended my career fifteen years ago as an inspector. Retired early.” He shrugged. “The excessive workload and the internal corruption finally did me in. Trust broke at the highest levels. The feds—” He broke off. “I’m sorry, that was a bit of a rant.”

  “No worries. What about the feds? Anything on them.”

  “Nothing. Just moldy cop stories.” He frowned. “Once a cop, always a cop.”

  “There is some truth to that,” Trent said.

  “You knew,” Carlos said, reacting to Trent’s lack of surprise. “Tara told you?”

  “No,” Trent said. “But I thought right off that you might have been a police officer.” Although that wasn’t the whole truth, he’d only guessed. Now he knew, and what he also knew was that despite the time that Carlos had been retired, contacts made in law enforcement could carry forward for years. In every way, law enforcement seemed at all levels and in all countries, at least those he’d seen, to be its own old boys’ club.

  “We need to talk,” Trent said with his gaze focused on the older man. “Privately.”

  Francesca stood up. “Tara?”

  Tara shook her head. “No, Francesca. I sense this is more about me than about anyone else at this table.”

  Francesca nodded as she turned and walked away, heading toward the apartment she shared with Carlos.

  “The police force is worse than it’s ever been,” Carlos said once the door closed behind his wife. “It wasn’t like that in the beginning, when I first joined. But over the twenty years that I was part of it, it slowly devolved. The last few years I was a cop, the department spiraled quickly, and in fact, that was what spurred an early retirement for me. It wasn’t so much crime on the street but police willing to take bribes to pad their meager paychecks.” He shook his head. “Good thing I invested well and worked on the side.”

  He looked into the distance as if contemplating what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it. “In legitimate ventures,” he added. “Legally, there are no financial benefits in a career as a cop in this country. The salaries are low, and the benefits are based on those same salaries or in many areas of the country, completely nonexistent.”

  He reached for his coffee, held the cup in both hands and then pushed it back. “Look, I’ve lived in San Miguel for sixty years. That combined with knowledge of how the policing system works here tells me that you have no option. Whatever is going on, whatever you’re running from, this morning only proved that you’re not going to find safety here.”

  Trent could feel Tara tense beside him. She hadn’t said a word.

  “I don’t know what you’re running from. But I’m guessing whoever is after you has some influence,” Carlos said as he looked at Tara. “San Miguel is a great place. It’s a quirky place. But it also has an undercurrent of corruption. Whatever you’ve been caught up in...” He looked at them thoughtfully before going on. “I spoke to one of the officers I know, one of the few I can trust, and he tells me that whoever is after you has ties with a Mexican drug cartel. He was also concerned that they might be offering bribe money for some police support. I can’t tell you if that went down or not, or even how many police might be involved. I wish I could tell you more. Do more. But my hands are tied.”

  Trent muttered and shook his head. This was worse than he’d anticipated.

  “I can’t have you stay here,” Carlos said. “It brings danger and I won’t have Francesca put in harm’s way for anyone. But I’m guessing you already knew that. Besides, I don’t think you should stay anywhere in the area. You need to get out of here, out of the country as quickly as possible.”

  “I agree. And we were planning to leave,” Trent said.

  “The sooner the better,” Carlos said. “If you go immediately, the cartel won’t expect it. If you wait, they will have a contingency plan in place.”

  “This afternoon,” Trent said. “We’re gone.”

  “It’s imperative that you stay away from the airports,” Carlos said. “The odds that the cartel, the police or someone else is watching are high. They may well have paid someone off to do it. Any way you look at it, they’ll have the airports covered.” He looked only at Trent, as if Tara was out of the picture when it came to the planning. “Wherever you’re going, drive.”

  Trent shook his head. “No. We’ll drive to the airport and—”

  “Did you not hear what I just said? The airport is what they’ll watch first, all of them. There’s no airport near here that will be safe. You have no option but to drive, unless you prefer to be found dead on a Mexican tarmac.”

  Trent glanced at Tara. She put a hand over her mouth. All thoughts of a ploy to lie about going to Cancún had become unnecessary. They didn’t need to trick her landlords. Carlos didn’t know where they were going but he’d minced no words at telling them that they needed to get out.

  “How big is this cartel?” That was one of the questions that couldn’t be answered on an internet search and that even Jackson had no intel on. There was only the priority system as to how much respect they received. That system was based on how large they were, how feared, how many kills. But they could have any number of nonofficial members jumping to help for what pesos they could get.

  “I don’t have numbers. From the information I hear off the street, it’s small, but the problem is it’s growing and quickly. I’m not sure why. Originally, the members were nothing but castoffs from some of the larger cartels but they’re coming into their own. That’s unfortunate for San Miguel. Seems the police force has allowed some leniency, or shall we say, a little bribery. And I fear now that the cartel is here, they might not leave.” Carlos stroked Maxx’s head as the dog sat in his lap, eyes half-closed as if there was not a trouble in the world. “Now that you’ve clashed with them, you’re in danger every minute you stay here.”

  Trent frowned. The news meant driving across the country, which ran a different kind of risk.

  He glanced at Tara. Her lips were pressed tightly together. He squeezed her hand.

  All thought of a quick flight out vanished. Their travel plans had just become a cross-country drive. Already, his mind was going through the possibilities. They’d dump electronics. That was a given. He’d seen an atlas in her apartment. It was old-school and exactly what he needed to map out the route that would allow him to bring Tara home. No one could hack an atlas. There was no electronic footprint left on a book.

  Trent looked at his watch. “We need to get started.”

  “You’ll make it,” Carlos said. “I heard you’re one of the best.” He stood up with the dog under one arm. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.” He took Tara’s hand and kissed it. Then he took Trent’s hand and shook it. “It’s been nice knowing you both,” he said in Spanish. “Godspeed.”

  He turned and without another word, headed into the main house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trent took Ta
ra’s hand. “Let’s get moving,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to do and not much time to get it done.”

  They got to their feet in silence and headed to her apartment. He couldn’t imagine the drive ahead. They were about to head out toward an unknown place, a safe house, somewhere in the United States. But first they had to drive across Mexico just to reach the border. Jackson hadn’t given him the name of the city where the safe house would be. Trent would get that information once they crossed the border. For now, he could only assume that the safe house was set up and that it was there, waiting for them. He could be wrong. And if he was, it didn’t matter. He’d deal with it when or if the problem presented itself.

  He was out of communication for now and had to focus on one thing: getting Tara out of Mexico. Tara had already ditched her phone when she’d ran from her home and everything that was familiar. And considering all that had happened, he was now ditching his. They were in an electronic blackout from here on.

  He would rely on Enrique, but he didn’t trust the local police. There had been something off when they had questioned him earlier. He didn’t plan to give them any further information. For now, he’d check in with Enrique and Jackson only as needed. It was the safest way to go.

  Although they’d no longer have their phones, Tara’s past visits to San Miguel de Allende, recorded on social media, were still retrievable to the best hackers. He assumed the cartel knew someone who fell in that category. They’d clearly found her and now she had to disappear again.

  “How long?” she asked.

  He knew without her saying more that she was asking how long before they needed to leave the apartment. “As soon as possible. Thirty minutes,” he said. “Can you do it?”

  “I’m going to have to.”

  They would head north, taking as direct a route as possible and hitting the border without delay.

  He opened the door to the apartment and Tara paused in the doorway.

  “You saved my life,” she whispered. And then her arms were around his neck like they had been so many years ago, and she was kissing him.