She nodded and stood up. She was too stunned to do anything but put her hand in his. She quietly followed as he led her to the front of the bus.
“I’ll be right back,” he said in Spanish to the driver. “I’ve got something that will hold these two.”
Outside, he led her to his car, parked some distance away. He let go of her hand as he opened the trunk and took out some rope.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Two minutes later, he’d returned. “They’re tied up and the police are on their way. There’s nothing more I can do.”
“You saved my life again,” she said in a whisper. It was all she could think to say.
She’d stood waiting for him, leaning against the trunk and wondering what she would do without him. For the first time, doubt set in. She couldn’t do this alone. The hazards of this country, combined with the threat that was for her alone, were more than she could overcome. She was an amateur. He’d been right all along. There was no disputing the fact that he was good at what he did. He’d defeated odds in a situation that was unimaginable. This kind of danger, the kind she’d faced today alone, was beyond anything she could have comprehended a week ago.
“You’re okay?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Thanks to you. Thank you.”
“It’s what I do,” he said, confirming her earlier thoughts. He took her arm. “Let’s you and me get out of here. They’ll be fine.” He nodded toward the other passengers. “And the authorities have more than enough witnesses to the crime. The police will be here soon, and we can’t afford any more delays.”
He held the car door open for her. It was the rental car that she knew had already taken him through a good chunk of Mexico to find her.
“Should I give you hell for running on me now or...?” he asked.
The quivers stopped at his words and were replaced by outrage. “Don’t you dare, Trent Nielsen. Don’t you dare. You shouldn’t have followed me.” She was being outrageous, and she knew it. He’d saved her life—again. To add to that, he’d saved the lives of twenty other people. He was a hero and she was treating him like dirt.
She was all over the map and she could only say it was because she was terrified. Terrified for him, for what he did to her. And she was doing her best to push him away. She’d endangered too many people already, including him.
“That’s not what I meant,” he began, his voice soft.
“Go home, Trent,” she said. “Go back to the States. This is my problem. Let me handle it. Please.” She knew even as she said it that she was being ridiculous. She’d proved in less than two hours that she was capable all right, capable of putting herself in a mess with no way out.
“I can’t. I won’t go home without you.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Yes.” He took both her hands in his. “Eventually, I’ll get you to Colorado, where you belong but for now, until that happens, you are my home.”
Her heart raced at his words for they almost brought her to her knees.
Chapter Eighteen
“Get in.”
There was nothing harsh in his voice. He could tell by the look she gave him that she’d taken no offense. They both knew that the time for niceties was over. They needed to get the hell out of here, fast. Already his mind was running through the options. He hit on one place. Hide in plain sight. The more he thought of the option, the more it became the most viable. At least for tonight.
She got into his car, her knapsack slung over her shoulder.
“Wait. Give me your bag,” he said. He didn’t wait for her reply but instead he slipped it off her arm before she had a chance to react.
“Hey!” she objected. “It has all my stuff...”
She stopped. Her eyes were dark with disbelief. He glanced only once. He could feel the heat of her glare. He opened her pack and pulled out the device that had brought him here. He threw it into the ditch. When he turned back with the bag in his hand, he met her wrath.
“What the hell? You had me tracked. I can’t believe it.” The look she gave him was one of surprise and betrayal.
“And you’d be dead if I hadn’t,” he said.
He wished he hadn’t been so blunt, but his words had the intended effect. She didn’t say a thing.
“We need to get moving,” he said in the face of her silence. He’d explain later. But in the meantime, he hated letting her believe that he’d tracked her for all the wrong reasons.
The authorities were on their way and the last thing he needed was to be here when they arrived. There would be questions that would take them nowhere and help no one. They would have all their answers on that bus. He needed to get her away from here without further delay.
Seconds later he pulled onto the highway heading in the direction of San Miguel de Allende.
“We’re going back? No, Trent. We can’t—”
He could see that her anger was gone and was now replaced by panic.
“No.” He cut her off with a shake of his head. “You’re right. You can never go back.”
He sensed her confusion. He didn’t blame her for what he’d said and what he was doing was contradictory. His eyes never left the road as he said, “We’re laying a false trail by stopping at a few places before we turn around. Then we’ll get off this route and head to the Lake Chapala area. We can blend in there, at least for tonight. Unfortunately, I’m winging that. It wasn’t part of the plan—any plan.”
“It’s familiar,” she said.
He nodded. Chapala was Mexico’s biggest inland lake. Villages and towns stretched out along its shores. The population consisted of Mexicans as well as Americans and Canadians. In fact, it was a popular retirement and travel destination, especially for Canadian snowbirds. For tonight, they would go unnoticed in such an environment.
“The tracking device was in case we were separated. I meant to tell you. But there was never time. I wouldn’t have found you otherwise.”
Their eyes met and there was a spark in hers, a tremble of her lips the only sign of the trauma she’d escaped. “Brilliant, Trent,” she said but there was still a quiver in her voice. “For you found me in the end. Now, I have a confession. The atlas didn’t make it.” She explained what she’d used it for and how it was left on the bus.
It was dusk when they hit the fringes of Lake Chapala. They stopped at a small worn inn where they checked in and left their few belongings in the main floor room that was also close to an exit. The inn met Trent’s requirements. He’d listed them to her on the drive. More to keep her entertained, she thought, than to keep her informed. It was a place where the owner asked for none of the usual identification or credit or debit card payments. Trent wanted none of the hoopla of a larger hotel. The place couldn’t have been any more perfect.
She’d set her knapsack down on the luggage rack and was now perched on the edge of one twin bed.
“I’m sorry, Trent. I screwed up. There was never a reason to run.”
He glanced at her with surprise. He hadn’t expected that. “In your shoes, I don’t know if I would have believed that my plan was the best either.”
“Now I know that I can’t do this alone. I don’t know what I’m doing. It was crazy to run. Stupid even. I’m not my father.”
“It’s done, and no one is the worse because of it,” he replied, skating over the reference to her father, who had died in witness protection. He took her hand and squeezed it.
“I didn’t want to endanger you.”
He almost laughed at the statement. From anyone else, it would have been insulting. From her, it wasn’t. He knew she was stressed, exhausted and more than likely didn’t have a clue what she’d just said. “It’s what I do. In some circles, I’m even considered good at it.” He glanced at her. “All your running on me has done is set us hours behind.�
��
“I didn’t want you to be hurt. It’s me they’re after. I thought—”
“I should have been one step ahead. It’s my job and you outmaneuvered me.” But she’d always been too smart for her own good. It was what he’d loved about her, that and so many other things. He pushed those thoughts from his mind. They were irrelevant.
“No,” she whispered in a shaky voice bringing his mind back to the conversation at hand. “I was stupid, arrogant even, to think I could go it alone.”
This wasn’t where he wanted this to go. There was no room for chastisement. He needed her on her game, with him and not blinded by a pity party. Bad things happened, and they needed to move on. He glanced at his watch. It was eight o’clock in the evening.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. It was a stupid question as his stomach rumbled. They hadn’t eaten all day. There hadn’t been time for it.
“Starving,” she said with relief in her voice.
He glanced at her. Her face was pale. Her jaw was set. She looked at him with determination in her eyes.
“Then let’s grab something to eat,” he said. His stomach rumbled again. It was as if what to eat was the most important thing he needed to decide, as if they were on vacation rather than on the run.
Once on the narrow sidewalk that bordered an equally narrow street, he took her hand, telling himself that would make them look more like any other couple out for a stroll. In reality, the heat that streaked through him at the feel of her flesh against his only made him want her more. Only made him want her in every way.
But such thoughts were outrageous and dangerous. He had to be alert. Especially here, on the street. Lake Chapala might appear safe, but appearances could be deceiving.
“Here,” she said as they passed a restaurant with tables set out on the sidewalk.
It was a relief to have those thoughts broken. He smiled at her. She reciprocated and grabbed his arm, pulling him over to take a closer look. The food smelled good and the menu board told him it would be affordable. Her nod told him everything he needed to know.
A minute later they were sitting across from each other. But any hope of conversation ended as a pair of guitarists began playing on the nearby boardwalk. Still, the music compensated for its volume by actually being good, and Tara claimed that the outdoor pizza bar was perfection when their food arrived with little delay.
“This might be the best pizza I’ve eaten,” he said ten minutes later, agreeing with her assessment. “Or maybe I’m just that hungry.”
“I know what you mean. It’s good, but you know, this could be anything,” she said with a laugh. “I’m so hungry that...” She took a last bite of her slice.
“You forgot the end of your analogy,” he reminded her.
“Literally,” she said. “You’re right. I have no idea what I was going to say.”
They laughed. It was a relief to have that moment of lightness. So much had happened in such a short period of time. He could barely comprehend it himself. Few cases changed with the rapidity that this one had. It was an adrenaline rush that he hadn’t expected.
It was dark by the time they left the restaurant and headed down a dead-end lane toward the inn they’d checked into. Some might have thought a shared room was not ideal but that was what he preferred. He didn’t want her out of his sight, not until he got her home and into the promised safe house and probably not even then.
“I’m so tired I could sleep leaning against a wall,” she said with her usual humor but without the smile. “Trent? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your hair,” he said as he stopped. They’d come around to the street in front of the hotel.
“My hair?”
“Yes. Damn, it was something we should have done earlier.”
“There was no earlier, Trent. It’s been the day from hell. I don’t think we stopped for a minute except when we checked in, ate and now we’re here.”
“You’re right but we need to do something now. It stands out,”
“I know,” she said. “I thought of doing something myself.” She looked at him and laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to give it a try?”
“You doubt me,” he said with a laugh. “But yes, I am.”
He looked at it, assessing what needed to be done. Her long blond hair was thick and hung straight to her waist. It was beautiful and that was part of the problem. Right now, she had it in one long braid. But even that wasn’t enough. It was still too unique, too unforgettable.
She was silent, as if needing a moment to absorb that. “I thought I should color it at the least. And I was never sure if that was enough.” Her voice shook.
“As it is, it definitely makes it a lot easier for you to be spotted,” he said. He was pissed at himself for adding to her fear. But her hair was a key identifier and they both knew that.
“All right,” she said as her eyes met his. “Get rid of it. Hair will always grow back. And color isn’t forever.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” she said and squeezed his hand. “Without you, I might not be standing here now. I’m in no position to worry about hair. And, besides, I knew myself that it needed to be done.”
A block away from the inn, they crossed the street to a small market. Five minutes later, they were heading back to their room. He had a bag that contained a pair of scissors, hair dye, towels and a brush. He’d included the towels because the last thing he needed was to get dye on the inn’s. For one, that was destruction of private property, but two, it would be evidence of what they’d done.
He glanced at her, saw the way she was puckering her bottom lip with her fingers. It was a nervous trait. He knew she wasn’t happy with this, even though she’d thought of doing it herself and had admitted that. He admired her ability to compromise and do what was required. He guessed it was tough on her.
It took years to grow hair like hers. And it wasn’t just the length, but the beautiful color that was as natural as everything else about her.
It was a messy process but an hour later it was finished. Tara’s gorgeous locks were now mousy brown and styled in a blunt cut that squared off below her ears. The cut was amateur, and yet, while it didn’t enhance her looks, it didn’t take away from them either. He couldn’t imagine any cut, any color, no matter how bad, doing anything to that. She was a classic beauty, and even without her iconic hair, that would still shine through. But they’d done what they could to make her less conspicuous.
“You’ve done this before,” she teased him as she looked in the bathroom mirror. “You actually got it straight. Did you practice on your sisters?”
“No,” he said. “They wouldn’t let me touch their hair.”
“But you knew exactly what you were doing so you must have done this before.”
“Once,” he admitted. And wished he hadn’t. That case had almost had a tragic ending. Again, it had been the hair color that had made the difference. The woman had been able to slip under the wire. He never forgot that lesson, to consider even the most minor detail. It had been his first time in the field, and a close call. Things hadn’t turned out well. And now he’d come close to doing it again.
“A bad end,” she guessed. Her lip quivered as if she couldn’t bear the thought. “She died. I’m so sorry.”
“No, nothing like that. The witness is alive and well. She turned evidence. Turned out she was the guilty one,” he said with a shake of his head.
A choked sound. Her arms clutched her elbows. He’d made her cry, damn it.
“I’m sorry,” she said and wiped her eyes. “I was so prepared for you to say she died that I kind of heard that instead of what you actually said.” She smiled and then laughed. And, he couldn’t help himself, his laugh joined with hers.
* * *
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Trent
asked as he came up behind her minutes later. He’d cleaned up the mess he’d made in the sink as he’d colored her hair and he’d cleaned up all the damning blond hair that was evidence of what they’d done.
Now he put his hands on her shoulders and she turned around. His dark blue eyes locked with hers. Their unchanging expression took her back to other times and other places. Only their separation had allowed her to forget for a time. There’d been other romances, other men and yet none had left a place in her heart like he had. Only one had come close: Mark. And even he hadn’t been right. Worse, she hadn’t broken it off when she should have, and it had ended in tragedy. It didn’t make a girl lean toward romance.
“No,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Tara?” He took a step closer. “Talk to me. I know what you went through was hell. I’m sorry you had to get caught up in...”
There was nothing to say. Much of it was inconceivable. What had happened, what could happen, even his being here. Her thoughts were mired in her emotion and she could explain none of it. Instead, she stopped him with a kiss. Her lips on his, the heat of them combined with a long-ago promise...
Her heart beat wildly as the kiss merely reminded her of what she’d never forgotten. It was a truth she’d feared facing. Her feelings for him had never died. They’d only changed. She was no longer the young girl with the runaway libido. And now it wasn’t that she feared intimacy—she feared intimacy with him because it would bring back all those past feelings and then there would be no turning back.
She put her hands on his shoulders, meaning to step away when he claimed the kiss. He pulled her closer, his lips hot and full against hers. The kiss took her back in time and brought her forward. He’d been her first love. Gone were the wet, unskilled kisses of her youth. This kiss had only one thing in common with those: the heat.
“I never forgot,” he said against her lips.
She pulled away from him. She needed distance before things went too far, pushing into a realm where they could never return.
“It was a long time ago,” she said.
Marshal on a Mission Page 12
