by Ellie Danes
Danny shook his head again. “We don’t stop moving when we’re on a delivery.”
The children all nodded, indoctrinated with the cartel rules. They all had dark circles under their eyes but no one looked sleepy. I faced the wide-open eyes and knew I was outnumbered.
Across the dark pasture, a coyote cackled. The group of children knotted closer to me and the littlest ones whimpered again.
I hugged them. “I guess I’m just scared. I’ve only done this once before.”
They all smiled, having crossed the border significantly more times than me. The fact was horrifying but, at that moment, it was giving them courage.
“This is my eighth trip,” Danny said.
I stood up and brushed off my pants. “And that is why you’re the leader. Keep going, but how about we stay closer together this time?”
They moved off in a closer clump and I followed along, hoping to see dawn soon. I couldn’t help but scan the horizon behind me. I felt sure I would see headlights at any time, and I prayed that Nathan had led the gunmen away.
Then my stomach clenched. What if Nathan had led them away but he’d crashed in the dark desert?
I tried to imagine Nathan escaping the wreckage of the RV and disappearing into the desert on foot. He had become more of a blockbuster action hero in my head, especially after driving the RV straight through the warehouse doors.
I rubbed my neck and hoped the action-packed part of our adventure was over.
If only I could convince myself that Nathan and I would meet again, then maybe I could imagine a Hollywood ending. I scanned the horizon again and didn’t see any headlights. The truth was that Nathan was gone and there was no guarantee that I would ever see him again.
“He’ll get away,” a skinny little boy told me. He slipped his hand into mine. “It was so cool how he drove. Bam! Right through the wall.”
I smiled. “What about all the bumps across the desert?”
“I liked the popcorn game.” The little boy smiled at me and then ran to the front of the group. “We should play it again when he gets back.”
My chest hurt. Nathan had done the right thing, like he always did, but I couldn’t help wishing he hadn’t. It was his hand I wished I was holding as I stumbled along the cow path in the dark.
When pale glimpses of dawn appeared, I was relieved to see we were heading north. Danny waved us over and knelt behind a small berm.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s a ranch over there. They aren’t usually out when I walk by,” Danny said.
I glanced over the berm and gave a heavy sigh of relief. Danny had us hidden from a group of cowboys. Real American cowboys.
I stood up and waved to them.
Seconds later and the thundering hooves scared the children, but we were safe back in the US. Then cowboys jumped down from their mounts in mid-stride and looked over our bedraggled group.
“Well, we better call the police, don’t you think?” The tallest cowboy tipped his hat back. “Anybody hurt?”
“No, we’re fine. They’ve had a long night but we’re all fine.” I stood up and shook hands with the rancher. “Except I really need to get back to the border, closer to the crossing. One of our group had to go back and I need to meet him.”
My throat clutched with panic but I didn’t have to say any more. One cowboy called the police while the other called the ranch hands to bring around a truck. I watched the trucks rush toward us and felt a wave of relief, but it couldn’t undo the panic I felt for Nathan. Within minutes, the children were all safely bundled in a truck bed and heading to the ranch house for breakfast.
“Boss says you need a lift to town,” a lanky ranch hand said. He opened the passenger side door of his pick-up truck.
“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much,” I said.
We started down the long track to the ranch gates and I wiped tears off my dirty cheeks. The sweet young man handed me a clean bandana and I did the best I could to wipe my dirt-streaked face clean. It would feel so good to get back to the motel and take a long, hot shower.
I closed the mirror and put the visor back up. A long cloud of dust raced down the road and we were headed to meet it under the ranch gate. I looked closer and felt my throat constrict.
“Police?” I said.
“Sheriff. You want me to flag him down? He’s heading to the ranch house but I bet you want to talk to him,” the ranch hand said.
I shook my head. “No. I can’t. Not yet. I have to find my partner, the one who helped me get the children free.”
The young man looked doubtful but he only tipped his hat as the sheriff passed. We continued into town without another word.
I directed him to the lonely portion of town where I had first crossed into Mexico with Nathan. He nodded and pulled the pick-up truck over in the same parking lot I had strolled while pretending to be Maggie’s mother. Then the young ranch hand jumped out and opened the truck door for me.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I said.
He tipped his hat and closed the truck door. “No problem, ma’am. You take care of yourself.”
I said a quick, grateful prayer for cowboys. The young man was ready to help but there was no judgment or argument. He lived on the border and had long ago learned how to live and let live.
I memorized his license plate, determined to send him a thank you someday, and waved until he was out of sight. When I turned around to face south again, my heart felt just a little lighter.
Then the man in the taco truck tipped his hat to me. He was the same man who had seen me come through with Maggie.
My blood began to sing with panic. What if he was a spy for the cartel?
I moved across the parking lot and into the shade of a neighboring building. Crossing the border in broad daylight was a foolish idea and here I was about to do it for the third time. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and thought again about a long, heavenly shower.
The motel.
I quickly changed direction and headed into town. All our things were still at the motel. We’d locked it up and left it before getting in too deep with the cartel. I could go back and gather everything up before trying to find Nathan.
My exhausted body didn’t feel the pavement as I rushed back to the motel. Never had I been so glad to see a run-down motel in my life.
The clerk said nothing when he saw my tangled hair and dusty clothes. He didn’t even blink at my request for another key. Though on the way through the lobby door, I heard him call out, “Late check-out’s in an hour!”
A giggle escaped, and I knew I was on the edge of exhaustion and hysteria. My overwrought brain even spun a fantasy of finding Nathan in the motel room. I dragged myself to our room door and paused there, wishing it was a reality.
I would open the door and find Nathan just stepping out of the shower.
No. I shook my head. I was more likely to find gunmen from the cartel waiting for me inside. I had to think like Nathan and approach the room with caution. The only problem was I was too tired to see the last step, stumbled on my own feet, and fell into the hallway.
Nathan would have laughed.
No one saw me pick myself up and struggle to fit the key in the motel room lock. When it finally opened and I saw our room had been untouched, I erupted in hot tears. I shut the door behind me and sank to the floor, crying harder.
Nathan was not there.
Instead of a shower, I dragged myself to the motel bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television. I scanned all the news programs for any story involving an RV. There was nothing. It was such a slow news day, there was a ten-minute report on how to make potato salad.
Then it hit me. What if Nathan was waiting where he had dropped us off?
He could have driven the RV off into the night, ditched it somewhere in the opposite direction, and then hiked back to the border crossing. I imagined him pacing back and forth, hoping that I would come back the same way I’d gone.
/> “No. Slow down, Bree, you’re not thinking right,” I told myself.
My head was fuzzy from lack of sleep and too much adrenaline. I just needed some quiet time to think.
The knock on the door sent me flying two feet in the air. “Check-out time,” the motel clerk called.
“Just a second,” I said. I swore and scrambled around the room until I found a small wad of cash that Nathan had hidden there.
The motel clerk took the money, glanced at the room to make sure it wasn’t trashed, and then disappeared back to the lobby.
It might have been stupid to waste my limited cash on another night at the motel, but I had to hope I would see Nathan again. I had to stay and wait in case he came.
If he didn’t, I had no idea what to do next.
Chapter Seventy-Three
Nathan
I left Bree and avoided the rearview mirror for miles. She was better off without me. There would be more questions if I was caught with them. Bree didn’t need to get caught up in the whirlwind that awaited me.
Navy SEALs never went AWOL.
The only way I would see Bree again was if I made it to town ahead of the cartel. I could get into our motel room, grabbed enough cash, and be gone before they came looking. One man was hard to find in Mexico, and I knew I could get away.
I could make it out now that Bree was safe.
And if I didn’t make it, then I would find out what kind of deal I had struck with the cartel. I considered it null and void now that I had sprung the children from the warehouse. If they saw it that way, too, then they’d be out for my blood.
And I’d never be able to see Bree again.
I sped up as I heard the GPS announce Ciudad Juarez, determined to lead the cartel as far from Bree and the children as possible. There was still a chance I could disappear.
Only then would I be able to find Bree again. I’d be a different man then. Free.
The thought flashed across my mind, a whole future with Bree. Our own life, no rules, just the road and her skin against mine. It was so bright that I was blinded.
I cringed under the bright headlights and swerved down a side street. The cartel had caught up with me but it was too late. I recognized the section of town and tore through it. Two black sedans and a bull-like black pick-up truck roared after me.
The RV was a less than ideal getaway vehicle but I had the perfect plan to make it work. I swung the RV the wrong way up a narrow one-way street. Ramming the last car on the right, it jutted out and blocked the roadway.
The sedans had to pull back so the pick-up truck could blast past the barricade. It gave me enough of a lead to make the next turn and drop out of sight. Halfway down the block was an underground parking garage. It looked too low for the RV, and I knew the lifted pick-up truck would hesitate as well. I turned sharply and hoped my estimations were correct.
I cleared the first signs and stopped to take a ticket, then held my breath as I eased under the archway above the ramp. At the bottom, the RV leveled out and cracked the sign that pointed which way to go. I ground the pedal down and heard it shred a section off the RV’s roof. Then I sprang free and the RV squealed down the first row of parked cars.
I wedged it far in the back, blocking three luxury cars in reserved parking spots, and turned off the ignition.
The parking garage was unmanned and the street level showed no damage. I calculated the black pick-up truck had already barreled past and taken a guess at my next turn. The sedans would follow and see no reason to check the underground lot.
I stood up and stretched, then went to the back of the RV to search for a disguise. The closets held a ragtag assortment of clothes intended to fool the border security’s quick checks. All the shirts were different sizes, and the women’s clothing was a garish mix of styles and prints.
I had to settle for a faded Hawaiian shirt, a stiff pair of jeans, and souvenir cowboy hat with a beer logo stamped on front.
The first people I met when I stepped onto the sidewalk were a couple. The man was dressed almost identical to me. I nodded to the tourists and continued down the street, confident I would blend in. I even took it one step farther and bought a churro from a street vendor.
I was chomping down the delicious treat and trying to remember the last time I ate, when I saw the first gunman come around the corner. His dark suit stood out against the lazy streams of tourists. In the bright sun of the morning, he stood out like a black hole. I buried my face in the churro wrapping and kept walking.
The tourists were oblivious to the cartel men even as they appeared from every store front. The shop owners, on the other hand, were tense and quiet. When I stepped into a small bodega, the man behind the counter was tight-lipped and didn’t smile.
I bought a pack of cigarettes. The act of smoking, hand to mouth, and the smoke would distract the gunmen from my face as I walked. They were looking for the man they saw through the RV windshield. I hunched my back, let my left shoulder droop a little, and shortened my stride.
As close as I was to the motel, I couldn’t risk it. Cartel men were everywhere. They questioned every shop owner down the street I walked. When I saw another wave of gunmen come around the corner, I ducked into an open-air market.
It was worse than being a rat in a maze. The booths were overflowing with bright goods, leaving the already narrow aisles an unpredictable obstacle course. I gritted my teeth and kept to my new awkward stance and gait. The gunmen would have to pass too closely to me in the narrow aisles. It was only a matter of time before one of them encountered me and I was recognized.
A man in a dark suit rounded the corner twenty feet in front of me. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw me. We were the only ones in the aisle; the booths were now abandoned.
I ducked between two and waited for the man to follow. He was behind me in seconds. I spun fast enough that he didn’t see the punch coming. I caught him before he hit the ground and dumped him in the neighboring booth.
When he woke up, he’d stink like fish.
I pushed my way through the back of the booth and found myself at the edge of the market. A narrow strip ran out to the street, and I squeezed along it. It wasn’t safe to go back the way I came, so I rounded the block and slipped into a large clothing store.
“Looking for a new shirt?” The clerk was anxious to help a customer and escape his furious-looking wife.
I didn’t question his domestic problems, just nodded and let him lead me to the back of the shop. “Great, I’ll try it on,” I said to the first shirt he held up.
The man smiled and pointed to the small, curtained dressing room. It was perfect. I slipped inside and started counting. I estimated it would take the cartel men ten minutes to clear the immediate area around the market and move on past the motel.
“Does it fit? Do you like the color?” The helpful clerk was still avoiding his wife.
“Maybe a different pattern?” I asked.
The clerk returned sooner than I wanted him to and handed me a large selection of shirts. “I picked out our best Hawaiian shirts though I threw in a few Cuban-style, too. Little less flashy.”
“Thanks,” I said.
The first shirt had a neon-blue background with bright red lobsters and enormous palm trees. I was afraid of what the clerk would consider ‘flashy.’ I flipped through the ridiculous patterns and even brighter color mixes and felt bad. There was not one single shirt I could bring myself to buy as a thank you.
I opened the dressing room curtain and shook my head. “I’m no good at this. My wife is the one who can pick the shirts I like.”
The clerk’s eyes shone with opportunity. “Then how about a gift for your wife? We have a wonderful selection of sterling silver charms.”
“Charms?” I estimated I still had six minutes until it was safe to head to the motel.
The clerk showed me to a wall display of miniature silver pendants. “Women love it when you choose a few that remind them of good things.”
/> I laughed out loud when I saw a small ‘charm’ in the shape of an RV. “I’ll take this one and a bracelet.”
The clerk rang me up and was so happy that he walked me to the door and patted me on the back. I thanked him and shook his hand as I glanced up and down the street. The gunmen had moved on. It was time to get to the motel.
I could see the motel when it struck me. When would I be able to give Bree her present? She was probably in some Texas police station by now. Not only was Bree back in the US, but she had a new driver’s license and passport. She could start her life all over.
I closed my eyes and could still see her passport on the card table in the small storage room. If she stuck with her new identity, I could find her.
The thought sent me soaring up the motel stairs without stopping to retrieve a new key from the clerk. Then I saw the curtain move. Someone was in our room. I staked out the corner for a moment, wondering if the person would reveal themselves. Then I slipped back downstairs.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the motel clerk said when I opened the lobby door. “Your girl already paid for the extra night.”
“My girl?”
The clerk cocked an eyebrow at me. “Yeah, remember? The one you can’t keep your hands off whenever you’re in here.”
Bree.
I took the steps three at a time and called her name. The door flew open, and she was in my arms again.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Bree
“You just walk in here like everything’s fine?” I couldn’t control my voice and it came out with a sharp edge. “Was this your plan all along and you just forgot to tell me? Again?”
Nathan tried to put a finger over my lips to quiet me down but I had too much pent-up worry and anxiety to turn down the volume.
“Bree, wait, just listen—”
“No, you listen, Nathan. How can you still not understand what teamwork is? Do you know what a slim chance this was?” My heart was beating too fast and my chest was heaving. “We might never have seen each other again!”
