It was unlike any kiss that had come before. The body that was pressed against him was that of a woman, not a girl. And he was no longer a boy and hadn’t been for many years. He was one broken engagement, a cluster of ended relationships and a dozen years past his boyhood. But all the trouble and the years that had fallen between them were erased as the kiss went from soft to hot and hard.
It was a kiss that drew a man in and made him never want to let go. It was a kiss that made him hard and crazy. One that made him forget everything that was important for a precious minute, including getting her the hell out of Mexico.
The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun, it seemed almost by mutual agreement. The decision only leaving a memory of the passion they’d shared and a yearning for more. He felt it in his heart and saw the shared emotion in her eyes and in the touch of her hand on his shoulder.
As much as he’d like to see this through, they both knew they had to get moving. But to do that he needed a plan—a solid thought-out plan that took him from here and finally back home. There was no room for screwing up. Simply getting over the border wasn’t enough. He needed resources in place and somewhere to hide once they got there. But first he had to get there. The truth was that if he didn’t come up with a plan, get them packed and get them out of here in the next half hour, she might die. They had no idea how little time they had before someone else would be after her. That was all the motivation he needed.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head and laid a hand on her arm. “It will work out, Tara. I’ll get you home safely.”
“I’ll get packed,” she said but there was something in her voice that made him look up. Her chin quivered. He was afraid that she was about to burst into tears.
“Tara.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just all hitting me. I know that sounds strange but it’s finally becoming real.” The words trembled on her lips and she looked frightened.
He was on his feet and had his arms around her before she could say another word. Her body shook—hit by shock, he assumed. What she’d experienced—the trauma of being shot at, of having the danger that threatened her—must have been terrifying. Especially for anyone not trained to deal with such things.
“We’ll get you home, don’t worry.”
She gave him a half smile that was less confident than her words. “I never doubted you, Trent.” And then she went into the bedroom and he could hear the thump of her bag as she began to pack her things.
He sat down with the atlas on his lap.
Ten minutes passed. He looked up to see Tara in the doorway, a knapsack in hand. She was packed but he wasn’t yet ready to go. He needed to brief her. He wanted her fully on board, fully aware of the details. They had a cartel after them. He had to have her prepared for the worst-case scenario, the possibility that they would get separated. It wouldn’t happen, but he had to prepare her for the possibility that she might be left alone. That way, she could continue the way he had mapped and eventually get home.
“Let me show you the route we’re taking.”
She sat down beside him as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. A few minutes later, he’d shown her exactly what he’d planned. “At least, that’s what I have so far.”
“Thank you for doing that,” she said. “It helps to be involved.”
“I thought it might,” he said, although that hadn’t been the reason for telling her. There was no need for more specifics. There’d been enough fear in her life today. “You’re ready?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I hate leaving like this.”
“Carlos has as much as told us to leave. And without formally dropping off your key, he and Francesca can truthfully say we skipped on them and they have no idea when we left or where we went. Remember we can update them later, like we discussed. When this is over.”
There was a doubtful look in her eye. So he went in for the argument that he knew would clinch his win. “For now, they already know more than I’d like. Leaving unannounced will be the best way to protect them. I know you don’t like the idea of just leaving, of not thanking them.”
The look she gave him was one he couldn’t interpret. Not then. It was only later that he realized that much of what she’d said, her agreement, all of it—had been a ruse.
Chapter Fourteen
Tara stood in the bathroom doorway, her hand on the doorknob. She tried her best to appear cooperative. She’d listened as he’d mapped a route that he thought would eventually take them home. She also knew how methodical he was. He would have the lines of the map memorized.
She hated herself for what she was about to do but she had no choice. She’d used some of Siobhan’s foundation to make her face appear pale and she was doing her best to look pained. She took a deep breath. This ploy had to work.
She was terrified that it wouldn’t.
It had to.
She couldn’t allow Trent to risk his life. What had happened this morning couldn’t happen again. He could have died in the process of protecting her. She couldn’t have that on her conscience. The thought of that, of something happening to him, something happening to another man in her life was unbearable. She wouldn’t let it happen this time, not when she could do something about it.
But Trent was not the man in her life. The boy that he’d been was long gone. She’d loved and lost since then. Now they were together in a different way. He was her protector—no more. And yet, despite everything, her heart said otherwise.
She needed to focus. The priority was making sure that he wasn’t hurt or killed because of her. To do that, she had to leave. She had to get away from him, away from San Miguel. She needed to get far away and yet nowhere near home and the States. Somewhere she wasn’t known. Where she couldn’t be found. More important, where she wouldn’t endanger anyone and where she could disappear, whether that meant moving and staying or remaining on the move until this was over. She hadn’t figured that out yet. All she knew was that she’d be leaving San Miguel—alone.
“Tara,” Trent said as he turned, his blue eyes dark with worry. “What’s wrong?” A hand was on her forearm, a frown between his brows.
“I have a killer headache.” She kept her voice low with little inflection. Would he believe her when only minutes ago she was kissing him with all the passion she felt for him in her heart?
“I’ll get you some aspirin,” he said with a look of concern. “I’ve got some in my bag.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t work. I get migraines often and that might be where this is going.” She was dredging up symptoms from memory and what she’d been told by a girlfriend who suffered from debilitating migraines. “It should clear up once I’ve lain down for a bit. I’m just afraid that it could turn into a full-blown migraine and I could be puking sick.”
She realized that using the term puking sick might have been pushing things. But she needed him out of here long enough for her to implement her exit strategy. She needed a good head start to get on a bus and get out of town. This time she was sure that he wouldn’t be able to find her. She’d post nothing on social media. The mistakes of her recent past were well learned and remembered. She’d run in a blind panic, and she’d paid for her mistake. She had to disappear so deep that Trent would never find her until it was safe and then she’d return on her own.
Regret ran deep through her—she knew that he’d feel used. He’d think that she’d kissed him without feeling anything for him, that she’d played on his emotions. But that wasn’t how it was. She’d felt the depths of that kiss to her soul. And felt the pain of losing him again more poignantly than she had the first time.
“I hate this. I endanger you all,” she murmured.
“No...”
She held up her hand. “Don’t, Trent. There’s nothing you can say. We both know the truth. People almost die
d because of me and one woman was injured. Who knows what pain she’s suffered because of me.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging them as if to ease the pain.
“Is there anything that might help?”
“There is something that works—not all the time. But nothing else touches it.” She mentioned a painkiller that she was pretty sure he didn’t carry.
“I’ll get it,” he said, standing up. He looked at his watch. “We need to be on the road I’d say by three at the outside. Do you think you can make it?”
“If you have to, carry me,” she said. “Seriously, if I get the medication before it turns into a full-blown migraine, I should be okay in an hour.”
“There’s a pharmacy a few blocks away. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll lie down while you’re gone. Thanks.”
She stared at the door for a good minute after he closed it. She doubted after what she was about to do that he’d ever want to see her again. And as a result, she wished that she could say so much more. Instead, thanks had to be all. He’d never know but it was thanks for so many things.
For being there for her and saving her life this morning. For the beautiful kiss and the promise of a romance that, again, could never be. Risking his life to protect her was unthinkable but he’d done it. She wouldn’t have him do it again. He’d already done so much. The most she could do was protect him by getting out of his life and leading the danger away from him.
She left him a note explaining why he needed to return home. Explaining that she was safe and that there was no need to worry. She promised to contact him when she got to her destination. It was the best she could do, but whether he searched for her or not, he wouldn’t be with her. And that alone was a much safer option.
The second hand on the wall clock ticked away another minute and then another two. At the five-minute mark, she grabbed the atlas and shoved it into her knapsack, slinging the bag over her shoulder. She opened the door he’d closed so recently and breathed in a sigh of relief.
The courtyard was empty. Siobhan was gone and there were no other tenants. There were only her landlords and she hoped they remained inside. Her hand shook as she closed the door, thinking of what could have happened if it hadn’t been for Trent.
Trent. She owed him so much. Protecting him was the least that she could do.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. She stood there for a few seconds that seemed so much longer. She didn’t move, just breathed, garnering the courage to go ahead with what needed to be done. If all went well, the next time she saw him would be in court. When or how that would play out, she didn’t know.
Carlos had already outlined what he thought the cartel would do. Following the local bus wasn’t one of the things he’d mentioned.
She looked at her watch. It was one thirty. The bus left in thirty minutes. She’d checked on that yesterday before Trent had arrived.
To her, Guadalajara had always seemed, because of its size, a good place to disappear and figure things out. She’d planned to be there for a few days and then she’d be off again, possibly heading south. Last night, after drinks with Siobhan and Trent she’d retired to her closet-size bedroom, where she’d considered her options and mapped out a number of routes before settling on this one. She’d never planned to stay in San Miguel de Allende anyway. She’d known that she’d eventually have to leave. The only change since Trent had arrived, and the incident this morning, was that she was leaving sooner.
It was time to move on, alone. She squared her shoulders and headed to the steps at the back of the property. They led to a narrow residential street. From there, it wasn’t a long walk to the bus depot.
When Trent returned and found that she was gone, he might be angry, but he would no longer be in danger. He would look for her. But he wouldn’t find her. Because of that he wouldn’t die.
Unlike her father, he would live.
Chapter Fifteen
Trent had the package of medication in his hand and was ten feet from Tara’s apartment when Carlos called to him.
“Trent, can I speak to you?”
He didn’t hesitate—Carlos knew the urgency of their situation. He wouldn’t delay him for anything that wasn’t extremely important. He sat down across from Carlos at an outside table.
“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I thought you might need some help, so I got in touch with someone I know with the feds. He had some information in regard to which routes might be the safest and fastest to get to the US border and avoid areas where the cartels have become problematic. I don’t know what your plan is but if you’re going home, watch these areas.” He pointed to highways on the map he’d brought with him, those north of San Miguel de Allende and some of the roads heading west. “There’s been a lot of violence, tourist kidnappings, a laundry list of crap happening that way. The cartels have been busy. I’d advise dodging the area. Your best bet would be to take the main highway to here.” He tapped the map. “Come around the west side of Guadalajara. Then from there, take this road. It’s mostly used by farm workers, and there isn’t a lot of traffic, but it heads north and eventually connects with a main highway.” He ran his finger along a route that would take them straight to the border. “If you run into problems, let me know. Maybe I can help.”
“I’ll pick up a disposable phone along the way, in case I need to reach out to anyone,” Trent replied.
Five minutes later, Trent entered Tara’s apartment and went immediately to the closed bedroom door. He knocked once, twice, and waited.
No answer.
He guessed that Tara was sleeping. He glanced at his watch. They were tight on time. He had no choice but to wake her; they had to get going soon. He hoped that the painkiller would help and that she could sleep while they were driving. He knocked once more and opened the door.
The room was empty.
He swore a litany of words, some of which he hadn’t used in years.
He’d been gone twenty minutes. He’d shaved five minutes off his time by jogging the entire way back from the pharmacy. He’d even ignored the offer of a bag. He wasn’t wasting a second in getting back to her. Except for the few critical moments with Carlos. And now she wasn’t here. The apartment was empty. He backed out of the tiny room and looked around.
His knapsack sat where he’d left it. Her bag and the atlas were gone.
He didn’t need to search the property any further. He knew she wasn’t there. He also knew that her claim of a headache had been the perfect decoy, coming out of the blue like it had. But there’d been other hints and he’d missed them all. The way she hadn’t questioned anything about his plans to get them out of San Miguel. He’d showed her the route. Now her total lack of curiosity was only a foreshadowing of what was to come.
He’d missed all the clues, including what she had said before he’d headed for the pharmacy. When she’d been faking her headache. It was a neon light in hindsight.
I hate this. I endanger you all.
He spewed another flood of curses that changed nothing. He looked at the counter and saw a small piece of paper. He picked it up and saw his name at the top. He quickly scanned the note and then read it again.
He was shaking his head when he was done. She’d gotten it all wrong. She didn’t need to run to protect him and he sure as hell wasn’t returning home as she’d suggested. As far as where she planned to head—he took no account to that. He knew right off she was trying to misdirect him. The most the note had done was convince him what direction not to go to find her. He could only hope she hadn’t had much of a head start.
He ran outside. He looked to the main street; nothing. He turned instead to a side staircase that led to a narrow back street. He stood at the top, his gaze sweeping the area. There was nothing except a man in the distance with a wheelbarrow and a small pack of stray dogs.
He
was too late. But if he thought about it, she would have run as soon as he’d left. That gave her close to a thirty-minute jump on him. If that was the case, she could be anywhere. All he had was the knowledge that she hadn’t stayed here in San Miguel. Apparently, he thought grimly, that was the only thing that they had agreed on.
He knew she was trying to protect him and the others around her. The thought of that when protection was his job was beyond insulting. Of course, he knew that she hadn’t meant it like that. He knew she was always concerned about others and this was only an extension of her personality. Still, he was frustrated and angry, not at her but at himself. He should have picked up on this. He should have known. And he never should have left her and given her this kind of opportunity.
He glanced at his watch. He’d wasted a minute in a situation where he had no time to waste. He needed to spend the time getting inside her head and figuring out where she was headed. Blaming anyone, including himself, wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere. There was no changing the past.
She’d agreed to everything too easily. He knew that now. He’d completely believed the headache. He’d seen how pale she’d looked. He’d never thought twice that she wasn’t sick. He’d never even considered that she might be faking it. She’d hoodwinked him. He’d fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book.
“Damn it.”
But something had bothered him from the beginning. Mainly it had been a fear for her safety. Although they’d felt like a team, he’d feared losing her. He couldn’t explain the fear for he’d never felt anything like that before. But, because of it, he’d planted the bug in her knapsack more as a precaution to keep her safe, than as a sign of mistrust. Now he was glad that he had done that.
Trent grabbed his go bag. He pulled out the receiver. It had a signal, and from the looks of things, she had a twenty-five-mile jump on him. The next time he looked, it was thirty. It could be a tech glitch or it could mean that wherever she was, she’d hit the highway. She was moving too fast to be in the city or on foot. And he still had to get through the tight city streets.
Marshal on a Mission Page 10
