He looked at her as if considering everything about her. “You’re still single. Why?”
She was surprised both that he asked the question and that he asked it in such a blunt way.
“I wondered,” he said into her silent nonresponse. “That’s all. I know that’s an intrusive question. None of my business and—”
“Broken heart one too many times,” she interrupted. “Maybe I’m a coward but I didn’t want to ever lose someone I loved again. Three times,” she said. “My father, my grandfather and Mark... He was a man I almost married,” she said.
“Tell me about him,” he said.
“He was my first serious romance. And I went out with him for too long. Long after I knew that he wasn’t the man for me. The second time I came to San Miguel de Allende I was mourning him.”
“Mourning?”
“He died in a traffic accident. He had an engagement ring in his pocket and our names were engraved on it.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. I think the worst of it was that I didn’t love him.”
He took her in his arms and just held her while she sobbed. And it was then that she knew that the tears were those of guilt and regret. It was time to leave Mark behind. She pushed away from him and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry. Grief goes away but it seems guilt hangs on.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes as she blinked back tears.
“I wish I could change the past,” he said in a husky whisper.
“It’s all right,” she said in a whisper.
“No, it’s not,” he said and kissed her.
It was a kiss of comfort, at least that was what she thought she wanted. But in the end, it became a kiss of passion, of promises that lay unspoken between them and of a future that lay uncharted ahead.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, Trent woke up to a nagging sense of urgency. The little sleep he’d had was restless, disturbed by the slightest noise. His eyes roved through the dark room as if ferreting out any secrets that might be lurking, threatening her safety. He could hear Tara’s soft, steady breathing telling him that she was still asleep. He looked at the old-fashioned clock radio on the nightstand. It was five o’clock. He flipped off the alarm so that Tara could have another few minutes of sleep.
They needed to hit the road and they needed to do it soon. Dark or not, in the next thirty minutes, they’d be coffee’d up, showered and on the road.
He slipped out of bed and went over to the coffee maker that was the only real amenity in the room. They’d needed a place to sleep and recharge, not luxury.
He’d been awake much of the night, listening to her every movement, hearing her mumbles and mutters as she fought a restless sleep. It was only when it sounded like she was crying in her sleep that he’d gotten up.
The sound of her crying had ripped at his heart and whether it was only a dream it didn’t matter. He couldn’t stand it. He had bridged the distance between them and took her in his arms. But holding her had been a mistake, for she’d been hot and soft in his arms, all the things he’d known she would be. He’d held her until she settled or, more aptly, for as long as he could stand to have her warm and supple in his arms. For as long as he could pretend that he wasn’t affected, that it meant nothing.
When he’d returned to his bed, he’d lain on his back and stared at the ceiling. It seemed like he spent much of the night like that. He could have closed his eyes, but he’d known that it would make no difference. She was imprinted in his mind and, he feared, his heart. Holding her had only made it all so much worse.
He began to make coffee with the packets the hotel stocked the room with and added water from the bathroom sink. He never found this sort of coffee appetizing but right now he needed the caffeine jolt to face the day ahead. It was still early, too early, but they needed to get going.
With the coffee maker rumbling along, he took a quick shower. Five minutes later, he was dressed. The coffee was ready. He moved quietly over to the bed where Tara was still sleeping. He looked down at her. She looked so peaceful, her face beautiful as it was lit by the faint light that came from the back of the room.
He’d thought that the sound of the shower or the smell of coffee brewing might have woken her. Whether it was because she was exhausted or she was just a sound sleeper, she hadn’t stirred. He’d let her sleep as long as he could. They couldn’t waste any more time. They were still hours away from the border and even that didn’t make them safe. They wouldn’t be safe until he had her in a safe house where she couldn’t be found. The fact that she’d been found once already—that there’d been a close call—was disturbing. The next time, they might not be so lucky.
“Tara,” he said. His voice was soft. He didn’t want to scare her or bring her out of sleep with a start. She’d had enough to deal with already. He wanted to make today better, make her feel safer.
“Tara,” he repeated. He gently took her upper arm and gave her a little shake.
She mumbled and rolled over. In the muted light that spilled into the bedroom, her hair was a dull brown, so different from what it had once been. The cut was squared off, short and lifeless. He’d done her no favors there. But hair was hair, and like she’d said, it would grow back. A bad haircut or even a crappy color was nothing when compared with saving her life. That was what was important: keeping her alive.
“Tara,” he said again, giving her another shake.
She opened her eyes. “Trent?” She sat up with a start, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand. “What time is it?” she asked in a voice that had a bit of a grumble in it.
“Ten after five. We need to get going,” he said.
“Of course.” She pulled the covers back, revealing the T-shirt and shorts she’d slept in.
He handed her coffee in a cardboard cup. “Black, just the way you like it,” he said.
She looked at him with surprise. “What did I do to deserve you?” she laughed as she swung her legs off the bed and sat up. The sound of her laughter was a relief against the night gloom that had yet to show hints of daybreak.
“Happened to be at the right place at the wrong time.” What an idiot, he thought. Of all the stupid things to say, that was one of the worst. He was surprised when she laughed.
It wasn’t a happy laugh. Instead it was abbreviated and dry.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes before we hit the road,” he said.
“Time enough to shower,” she said.
“Exactly,” he replied as he made his way to the door to the room, closing it softly behind him. He needed to get away and get some air. He knew he couldn’t be near the sound of running water because it would just stir up images of her naked beneath that water.
Outside, the air had a warm, muggy feel. It was going to be warmer than it usually got at the lake. The area was famous for year-round springtime temperatures. It was information he’d read in a pamphlet while waiting for the inn’s manager to settle their bill. But the weather wasn’t why they were here and the least of what he needed to consider.
What mattered was getting Tara out of here with no screwups. Time was tight.
The route Carlos had given him would take them along the back side of Guadalajara. The road would take them north without ever coming anywhere near the city limits. Trent trusted Carlos’s information. The man had been in touch with a contact he’d claimed was at the federal level. Carlos hadn’t named the contact, but it was his intel that had provided what routes were the best and quickest to get them north with the least trouble.
Getting confirmation of a solid, safe route had been a huge bonus. Tara had been through enough. The last thing she needed was more drama.
Carlos had painted an easy drive, a safe getaway. Trent hoped that it all turned out like that; from what he knew of the man, his conne
ctions were strong.
Trent jogged over to the twenty-four-hour convenience store and bought a disposable phone. Enrique needed to know about this delay.
“Sure enough. Safe trip, my friend,” Enrique said before disconnecting.
When Trent returned to the room, Tara was ready to go. She was at the door, holding both their bags. “Ready to go.” She smiled at him in a way that brought back other memories, memories from long ago.
He wondered what that smile cost her and appreciated the fact that she was trying valiantly to stay on an even keel, to pretend everything was normal. In a way, the smile brought him back to the girl he remembered as much as the woman he was just getting to know. They had one thing in common, the jokes they’d told and the joy she’d gotten from making the room at large smile. It was a joy he’d thought that he’d long since forgotten. They needed that talent now like he hadn’t all those years before.
Except he couldn’t think of one thing that might be funny enough to make either of them laugh.
* * *
“COME UP WITH the extra money or there’s no deal. I’m not chasing her across the country. I’ve already got one man hurt and another on the line demanding more,” Yago said.
“What do you mean?” Lucas asked, dread seeping into his belly. He had no control over Yago or the cartel that Yago belonged to. Instead, Lucas was stuck in the States and left to trust a brother he’d never trusted to do what needed to be done.
“Never mind. We had this conversation before. Ten g’s aren’t going to cut it. You need to double it. Otherwise, be prepared to face the little witch in the courtroom and kiss your little game goodbye,” Yago said in a voice that held no emotion. “She’ll be laughing in your face on trial day. But that’s no surprise, is it, little bro?”
“Never mind,” Lucas said, ignoring the gibes. Some things about their relationship would never change. “Get her. I’ll have your money by the end of the week.”
“You know what happens if you don’t...”
The threat dropped but Lucas knew exactly what happened. There were people on both sides of the border who cared about nothing but money, or not even that. There were those who would do someone’s dirty work because they owed favors. Or they were in it for the love of the kill. And his brother seemed to know them all.
Now there was no choice. Yago had to stop her. If his brother didn’t, Lucas would go to jail. And if that happened, he’d never see the light of day again if they figured out what he’d done. He’d added one more murder to his list only yesterday when he’d killed Rico and his big mouth with a bat to his head. He hadn’t thought. Instead, rage had taken over.
It was a complication he didn’t need. But Rico had pushed him one too many times. He’d threatened Lucas’s leadership of the States-based gang and shaken the rest of the gang’s faith in him. It was time. Now Rico’s body was buried in a ditch and his absence questioned by no one who wanted to live.
The pressure was on. Lucas needed the money, needed her dead to keep his freedom. Armed robberies spread thin was one thing. But stringing them together as he was doing was upping the chances of discovery.
But he had no choice. And it was all because of that little witch. It had gotten to the point where what mattered most was the day the news arrived telling him she was dead.
Chapter Twenty
Trent looked in the rearview mirror. Lake Chapala was nothing but a speck of blue in the distance. At another time, he might have regretted leaving. It was a beautiful, calming place. If he’d had time, he would have explored each of the communities that called the lake home. He vowed that it would be a place he returned to under different circumstances. He couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the large, still expanse of water.
They were heading north, taking the back way up and around Guadalajara. They would head to the town of Tala but they wouldn’t stop. From there, they would angle their way farther north until they reached the border.
In the midst of these serious thoughts, his stomach rumbled.
“More breakfast?” Tara asked with a laugh.
He looked over as she dug into her bag. They’d been prepared for an early start and bought breakfast at a local convenience store last night. The choice of food had been grim if one was at all health conscious. But it hadn’t been the time to think about that; they’d needed quick and easy. Food in their bellies and coffee to keep them sharp. While the coffee hadn’t set gourmet records, it had been strong. So far, they’d had bad hotel coffee and an extra strong cup from a specialty store on the outskirts of Lake Chapala.
The muffins she pulled out of her bag weren’t much. But he’d take anything right now, including a slightly stale muffin purchased at a convenience store. He wondered if they should have bought more. While there were towns along the way, their next stop was hours away. He guessed they’d be living on packaged food until they hit the border and even beyond. Time was a precious commodity and they couldn’t waste another minute.
Plus, they needed to stick to the back roads. Carlos had been adamant about that, telling Trent it would be the safest. In fact, he had a whole map from Tala onward in his head, courtesy of Carlos. Food was the last thing he needed to think about, he reminded himself. They wouldn’t starve. They were talking days not weeks. Right now, he had more important things to consider. Getting the hell out of Mexico in one piece being the priority.
“Do you want to split the last one?” Tara asked.
He looked at her. She had a muffin in her hand and was peeling the paper from it.
“It’s all yours,” he said. “You finish it.”
She shook her head. “Nope, mister, not going to happen.” She broke the muffin in half and handed one half to him.
He smiled. She’d never been one to follow instructions well. He wasn’t sure why she’d given him the option to refuse when acceptance was never her intent.
“It’s yours,” he insisted.
Dust drifted across the hood of the rental car. The road was paved but covered by the sandy soil of the fields that ran on either side.
His thoughts went from the road and back to Tara. She followed her own drum. She always had. That was fine back in Pueblo as kids, but here it was bloody dangerous. She’d already failed to follow his instruction more than once. Both times could have ended badly. First in the market with the gunman chasing her and then at her landlords’ when she’d made a run for it. She’d been lucky, and if this were baseball—three strikes and you were out. The thought sent a chill running through him.
“Remember you used to always save me the last piece of any sweet?” she said with a smile.
He glanced at her and thoughts of wrongdoing fled. He’d do anything for her smile. “It’s all yours,” he repeated.
She shook her head. “No. We’re grown-ups now. We share.”
“As you wish,” he said with a laugh.
“Milady,” she replied, finishing off a phrase they’d used so many years ago.
He looked in the rearview mirror and could see a pickup truck coming up behind them. He dropped the muffin in his lap. He kept his attention on the road and on the mirror. He guessed that the truck had turned on from a side road. This was the first he’d seen of it. His attention went back to the road.
But a few minutes later, it was clear that the truck was intent on overtaking them. Nothing out of the norm, except for his gut, which was ringing alarm bells.
Tara looked over at him.
“Trent, what’s wrong?” There was an edge to her voice as if she felt his tension.
He was concentrating on the road and on the truck that had halved the distance between them. Still, nothing wrong with that, and yet he felt uneasy.
“Is there a problem?” She turned to look behind them. “There’s a truck behind us. It seems to be catching up.”
“I’m not sure,” he sai
d. “It’s the first traffic we’ve had behind us since we got on this road. That’s not a problem, except they’re coming on fast.” He didn’t say more. He didn’t want her to worry in case he was wrong. Except he was never wrong about things like this. They needed to get rid of this truck, and instinct told him that they needed to do it soon. He put his foot on the gas, pushing the car five miles an hour faster, then ten.
The pickup truck was still gaining on them and sticking to the inside lane. The distance closed to a few yards. The truck should be getting ready to pass. It wasn’t.
Tara turned around and let out an uncharacteristic swear word. “I think he’s trying to run up our butt. Go faster.”
His foot was heavy on the gas as they sped down the road. Still, he could see the face of the driver before the truck hit their bumper and sent them sailing ahead.
He choked back a curse as he slammed his foot hard on the accelerator, taking it to the floor.
But there was no escaping the truck. It was a bigger vehicle with a bigger engine and it sent them flying ahead on the road two more times. It would only be a matter of time before it sent them sailing into the ditch.
The truck rammed their back end again.
Tara screamed.
The rental car leaped forward as Trent fought to keep it on the road. The next time the truck clipped their bumper, it sent the car spinning. It was a fight to regain control, and they spun until they were in the other lane, facing the direction from which they’d come.
Trent did the only thing he could. He gunned the engine, taking the little vehicle to its limits and in the opposite direction of where they needed to go.
“Hang on!” he said, not even glancing at Tara. They needed to get out of the wide open, they needed people, a town and a place to disappear.
The pickup was coming up on his right-hand side. He veered. There was only one way out of this from what he could see.
“Get down!” he shouted. “Lean into me.”
Marshal on a Mission Page 13
