by Ellie Danes
What else connected me to the gunman? Why did I think his name was Adrian?
He had asked me where the drugs were, so I started to search for newspaper headlines about cocaine. There were so many that my head started to pound.
He had an accent. Bree had heard him speaking Spanish to the other men. I got up and switched to newspapers across the border from El Paso. Ciudad Juarez was the biggest city on the Mexican side of the border. The stories about cocaine tripled in the local papers from that city.
I sat back down and ignored my rumbling stomach. It was hard not to think of Bree waiting for me back at the motel room. As I scrolled through the newspapers, my mind kept wandering back to her soft skin, the way her lips tasted.
I shook myself and tried to focus.
I had to change tactics. The next reels I grabbed were again from El Paso but I focused on missing children. If I could find anything about the little girl, Maggie, who had written that postcard, maybe I would find the connection. There was only a small blurb about a girl her age going missing and my fist clenched. Everywhere I looked was a dead end.
"Any luck?" the thin volunteer called from his stool. His movie was over and he stood up to stretch. "Sure you don't want any help?"
I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. "I'm not sure anyone can help me," I said.
The amateur historian wandered over to look at the pile of microfilms I had pulled out. "Runaways and drugs. Yeah, that's a pretty broad topic, man. Hey, did you see that movie? The one about the drug kingpin?"
"'Scarface?'"
He shook his head. "Nah, a new one. Lots of great special effects. There's this one scene where they blow up a whole section of the border. It was way cool."
I dropped my head into my hands as the volunteer described the movie scene in detail. He rummaged through the microfilm file cabinets and threaded a new one into my archaic machine. He was so into his description that he didn't think twice about leaning over me as he scrolled through the microfilm.
"A little space, please?" I asked.
"You just gotta check out the movie poster. Way cool," the thin volunteer said.
"Wait! Stop!" I knocked his hand away from the microfilm knob. "When did this movie come out?"
"About a year ago. I can't believe you haven't seen it. There were all these protests because people thought the movie inspired these actual events, instead of the other way around." The volunteer shrugged. "I guess I can see where they're coming from."
I looked closer. The drug war headlines were sensational, definitely enough to inspire a Hollywood movie, but it wasn't the article that had caught my attention.
"How do I zoom in?" I asked, pointing at the grainy newspaper photograph.
The volunteer zoomed in. "Whoa. Did I actually help you?"
"Yes, thanks." I tried to focus but had to turn around and stop him from hovering. "Mind if I concentrate now?"
"Sure, man. I'm gonna go watch that movie."
When I turned back to the photograph I had to rub my eyes again to make sure what I was seeing was real. The man I recognized was there in a surveillance photograph identifying the suspected leader of the New Mexico City Cartel. He was in the background, partially turned away, but I knew it was him.
I settled in to read everything I could about the drug cartel, focusing the best I could as the thin librarian recited lines along with the movie he was watching.
They were based in Mexico City. Despite their known drug operations, the New Mexico City Cartel had been in uninterrupted business since the seventies. The authorities had tried dozens of different angles, brought them up on hundreds of charges, but nothing stuck. They had a far reach into the United States and showed no signs of falling apart.
"They really can't stop these guys?" I asked the librarian.
"No, man. The best the DEA can hope for is that in-fighting would break 'em up, but looks like the money's too good for anyone to be unhappy," the librarian said.
I searched a half dozen more articles and read every word. The man I recognized did not reappear, and he was never named, but I was certain he was still involved.
The New Mexico City Cartel dealt primarily in heroin and cocaine. While other cartels branched out and got into trouble, it seemed this cartel focused on what it did best. The results were streamlined operations that nevertheless eluded the authorities.
I thought about the cocaine I had found in my bank security deposit box and was even more certain I was on the right track.
What I still didn't understand is how I came to be tangled up with a drug cartel. The gunman I recognized had seemed to know me, as if we’d had many dealings together. I had to sit back for a moment and take a deep breath. It was sickening to think about how far I must have sunk after leaving the base.
What was a SEAL doing with a member of a drug cartel?
"Oh, man, this is the best part!" the librarian called out.
I ignored him and kept reading. There had to be an answer there somewhere. Countless articles later and the only other thing I had learned about the New Mexico City Cartel was they were very nearly unstoppable.
The cartel was infamous for finding creative ways to smuggle drugs across the Mexican border and into the United States. There were endless articles about tunnels discovered only after thousands of kilos had poured through them. There were reports of unfortunate drug mules dying of cardiac arrest at the airport and death-defying plane landings on backroads. The cartel had used every vehicle known to man to cross the border with pounds of drugs hidden inside, only to have an accident uncover the smuggling.
The only constant was that the authorities couldn't stop them. With the ever-changing tactics, it was impossible to predict what the cartel would try next, and the DEA needed to catch them 'red-handed' to build a strong enough case.
My head was reeling. I finally stood up and stretched. That's when I noticed the time.
"Oh, my god. Have I really been here two hours?" I asked the librarian.
"Almost three," he said, now engrossed in his movie.
I thanked him as I rushed out to the parking lot. I drove back to the motel as fast as I could, only stopping to pick up two fast food meals. Not only had I lied to Bree but I had left her stuck in the motel without any idea of when I would be back.
She clearly didn't know if I was going to come back or not because when I pulled in she was seated on the curb outside our motel room. When she saw me, she stood up, went inside, and slammed the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bree
The wave of relief that ran through my body when I saw Nathan's car made my knees weak. I had already exhausted myself pacing back and forth in our small motel room. He'd been gone nearly three hours.
At first, I had been occupied scanning all the news channels like Nathan had suggested. He was right that we needed to keep an eye on the headlines. After those men opened fire on us outside the bank, I was sure our names were known to the police. After all, we'd sneaked out of the bank just minutes before it all happened. And that bank manager had been nervous of Nathan from the get-go.
After forty-five minutes of solid of channel-surfing, I had been certain nothing on the news pertained to us. That's when I had started to worry.
I had gone over every possible scenario from the gunmen finding him to the police pulling him over and then as far as the military police finally tracking him down. I had agonized over whether I should stay hidden in the motel or somehow come to his rescue like he had come to mine. Then I had sunk into despair at the thought that Nathan had left me.
Why would he come back for me?
I had beaten myself up over harassing him that morning. Nathan had explained to me repeatedly why we couldn't contact the police, but I hadn't let up. So, when he didn't come back after two hours, I had just figured he was fed up with me and had gone on alone.
So, I was relieved to see him pull up. Then relief turned to anger. I got up on wobbly legs, went into our motel room
, and slammed the door behind me.
Nathan followed me seconds later. "Bree? Are you all right?"
I swiped the tears off my cheeks and spun to face him. "Am I all right? How about I just spent the entire morning wondering if you were dead or not?!"
His mouth quirked up at the corner. "Not dead, just hungry."
I watched as he dropped a sack of fast food on the motel room table. "What happened to bagels? I thought you were at least going to go to the grocery store. Remember? Strawberry jam, my favorite?"
Nathan had the decency to wince before he shrugged. "I didn't like the look of it. I could have been spotted there."
"So, it took you three hours to go through a drive-through?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"Sit down, Bree. You're hungry. I know it's not great food but you'll be able to think a lot clearer after you've had something to eat." Nathan sat down and pushed the other chair out toward me.
I fought the urge to sweep the bag of greasy food off the table and onto the floor. "Tell me where you were."
Nathan opened the bag and took his time laying out the food. "I told you. I didn't like the look of the grocery store so I drove around a bit but couldn't find anything better. Then I hit up the fast food place a few miles down the highway and drove back. Sorry, it took so long."
I sat down only to put the table between us. My fingers itched to slap his face. "You're lying. Where were you?"
His jaw tightened where he was biting his tongue. "I took a drive. I'm back. What's wrong with you?"
I stood up again and slapped both hands flat on the motel room table. "Liar! You've got the worst tell. Every time you're going to tell a lie, you bite your tongue first."
Nathan glared at me. "I don't have a tell. I'm a great gambler. Best on the base."
"And it never occurred to you that that's what might have gotten you into trouble in the first place?" I asked.
"My gambling?" Nathan asked.
"Your arrogance." I was spitting mad. "Did it every occur to you what was happening with me while you were out on your drive?'"
Nathan tossed down the cheeseburger he had just unwrapped. "I'm sorry if you were worried."
"Worried?" I gave a sharp laugh. "How about terrified? Stir-crazy? Abandoned?"
"I came back." Nathan stood up so fast his chair toppled over. "And I said I'm sorry. I'm not going to say it over and over again."
"Where are you going?" I raced to block the motel room door but he was already outside.
"Relax, Bree. I forgot to get sodas and I'm thirsty. I'm just going to the vending machine," Nathan said. "Don't let your imagination run wild while I'm gone."
The only thing I could do was slam the door behind him. The cheap door bounced against the doorframe and popped back open. I dodged back, narrowly missing getting hit in the face. As I was about to shut it again, I looked at his car.
Nathan was already around the corner, and he wouldn't be gone long but I figured there had to be a clue in the car. I raced to it and yanked open the driver's side door. There was nothing in the front seat, only the receipt from the fast food place. Still, I knew he was lying and I was determined to figure out where he had been all morning.
I dove into the backseat and rummaged around but there was nothing except the normal build-up of a long road-trip: empty soda cans, burger wrappers, tourist maps, and a ridiculous mooing cow that he had gotten me from a roadside tourist trap. I started to get out but the feeling that he was lying still hadn’t abated.
Then I looked under the driver's seat. Tucked into the springs of the seat itself was a shiny rectangle. I reached under and gave it a tug. The object fell to the floor of the car with a heavy thud.
I had to press both hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. It was a gun.
Nathan would be coming back around the corner any second but I was frozen, crouched in the backseat of the car with the gun just inches from my nose. After what felt like an eternity, I forced myself to sit up. Then I slowly got out. I shut the door and jumped back into our motel room before Nathan saw me.
Then I started to shiver, as if ice was racing through my veins instead of blood. My teeth chattered in between sharp attempts to catch my breath. I paced back and forth but couldn't calm down.
Why did Nathan have a gun?
More than that, the real terror came from the fact that I really had no idea who Nathan was. Maybe he was the kind of man who carried a gun with him. Maybe he was the kind of man who needed a gun for the kind of things he did.
How would I know?
The cold, hard truth was that I had no idea what kind of a man Nathan was. It was entirely possible he had lied to me about everything, not just where he was that morning.
Nathan opened the motel room door, shielding himself as if expecting an attack. "Is it safe to come in?" he asked.
I dodged into the bathroom. "Be right out," I called.
I ran the water and forced myself to take long, deep breaths until the panic subsided. I didn't know who Nathan was but he had never done anything to hurt me. In fact, he had saved my life when the men in dark suits had kidnapped me. I focused on that and went back to the motel room table.
"I'm really sorry about the food, Bree. Next time, we'll find a motel with a kitchenette, and I'll cook you a real meal. Bet you didn't know I could make a mean stir-fry," Nathan said.
"It'd be nice to see a few green vegetables again," I managed to say.
Nathan leaned across the table and caught my hand. "Please, Bree. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been gone so long. I didn't mean to make you worry."
I tugged my hand away before he could feel the icy fear in my veins. "I thought you'd left me."
Nathan caught my hand again and squeezed it gently. "I wouldn't do that. I won't. We're in this together, remember? I promise."
Again, I pulled my hand free. I picked up my cheeseburger and forced myself to take a bite. "You don't have to lie to me, Nathan."
Nathan stopped and stared at the table for a long time. "I'm really glad you're here with me," he said finally.
I cracked open a soda and wished we could skip back to when we had fallen into bed together, laughing. Nathan flipped on the motel room television and skimmed through a few channels.
"There's nothing on the news that connects to us," I said.
"You ever see that new movie about the drug cartel?" Nathan asked.
"The one that came out last year? No. Not my kind of thing," I said.
Nathan laughed. "Yeah, me neither."
"Luckily, they don't get much of that kind of thing here in Kansas," I said.
"We're in Colorado," Nathan reminded me.
I gave up pretending to eat and tossed down my cheeseburger. My head spun. Not only was I miles away from my normal life, but I was with a man who was a complete stranger. Not only did I not know who Nathan really was, but I was beginning to worry he wasn't a good man at all.
It didn't make sense. Every instinct I had told me that I could trust Nathan, told me that he was a good man. He had tried to keep me from getting tangled up in his mess. And then he had saved me when I had gotten myself enmeshed with the armed men.
The only problem was there were facts I couldn't ignore. Like the fact that good men weren't chased by armed men.
"Bree, I'm sorry but you've got to eat something. I'd take you out but I really don't think it's safe. We'll hole up here for another night and then head out." Nathan pushed the cheeseburger back toward me.
I picked it up and took another bite but it tasted like sawdust. "You really couldn't go to the grocery store?"
Nathan sighed. "I'm trying to keep us safe, Bree. I swear."
He wasn't lying about that but I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. I didn't have all the facts and those that I did have didn't look good.
Good men didn't disappear for hours without an explanation. And good men certainly didn't need to hide guns in their cars.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nathan
We'd been in the car two hours, and Bree still hadn't smiled. I flipped on the used car's ancient radio and found the oldies channel. Bree cringed but I saw the corners of her mouth start to curve up.
"Come on, sing along. You know you want to." I reached over and tickled her knee.
Bree tugged down the hem of her sundress and shook her head. "Not really my song."
"Bet you know every word," I said.
Bree let me squeeze her knee before she shoved my hand away. "I don't hear you singing."
"Challenge accepted." I deafened us both with my off-key accompaniment to the radio, but, by the time we pulled into a roadside diner, Bree was smiling.
I turned off the car and pocketed the keys as I got out.
Bree sighed and rolled down her window. "Coffee's on you?"
"We've got about a hundred miles to cover if we want to hit New Mexico," I said.
"Get extra sugar," Bree called after me.
I caught her humming when I returned with two tall coffees and a handful of sugar packets. "Ready for another sing along?" I asked.
Bree groaned. "How far is it to New Mexico?"
"Honey, we're going all the way to El Paso. Better buckle up."
She swatted my arm with a sugar packet and laughed. It was a relief after the quiet morning we'd had. Bree had softened in the night, in my arms, but when we woke up and hit the road, I could tell she was still fretting over where I had disappeared to the day before.
Bree waited, even sang a little, until we drove over the border into New Mexico. The big sign decorated with chili peppers had just flashed by when she turned serious again.
She shifted in her seat to face me and took a deep breath. "Nathan, why is there a gun under your seat?"
My foot slipped off the gas and the car behind changed lanes and passed us. I'd been waiting since the bank for her to ask me that question, and I still didn't know what to say.
