by Bella Juarez
Damn it! Her voice had given her away. Things were about to get bad. These men were mules or coyotes or both, and taking risks was everyday business for them. The idea that they were both and probably armed made it a worst case scenario for her. They’d know the agents patrolling the border had rules of engagement, and they’d often push the envelope just to scream that they’d been treated unjustly. She suddenly found herself in a no-win situation.
“Don’t move. Put your hands on your head, and get down on the ground!” she said firmly in English and repeated in Spanish once more.
“Let me show you a good time, mamma,” one of the men said as he laughed.
Rio leveled her weapon and took in the surroundings. It struck her that conditions were unusual for the smugglers. Dim moonlight illuminated the desert around her. Most illegal traffickers preferred pitch-black skies when they moved. In fact, she studied the lunar calendar and planned some of her most successful raids with the new moon. She’d gained a slight advantage by shining her flashlight in their faces. They were laughing at her. Being a woman, they didn’t believe she could or would inflict any serious damage. As much as she hated the idea of killing someone, she would use lethal force if she had to. Something wasn’t right about this situation, and her instincts screamed danger. She saw the man in the middle move.
“Get ’em!”
Schotzie dove into the middle of the man’s chest and took him down, forcing him to drop the weapon he’d just drawn on her. At the same time, the other man moved, and she didn’t hesitate. She fired first. When he fell, she got close enough to kick the dropped weapon into the darkness. Two agents from her team found her just as she called Schotzie away. The other man backed up bloody and wild-eyed from tangling with her dog.
“Are you okay?” Gonzalez asked as he surveyed the scene.
“I’m okay,” she replied, inhaling for the first time since the standoff had started.
The two agents who’d joined her looked over the men and started field first-aid treatment for their wounds. Making the split-second decision to wound the man, instead of killing him, had been the right choice; they needed the information these men had. As Gonzalez applied first aid, Rio noticed she’d managed to shoot the man in the upper chest near his shoulder missing any vital organs. The wounded man cursed her as she wandered off into the darkness to look for the pistol she’d kicked away. When she retrieved it, she tagged it as evidence.
“Your ass is mine! ¡Puta! Bitch!” This man had been given the pleasure of being Schotzie’s chew toy.
“You’re her bitch now. She owned both of you, bro,” Agent Gonzales said as he roughly restrained the coyote, making him howl in pain.
“Don’t listen to him,” LeFevre told her as he restrained the man she’d shot.
Rio shrugged and turned away indicating that she’d ignored the comments. She’d gotten used to the obscenities and degrading comments that were often thrown her way. It didn’t make them any less hurtful; she’d simply learned long ago not to let it show.
“Come on, Schotzie,” she called as she walked away.
The CBP agents processed the fifteen people they’d caught as they waited for the van to arrive to pick up their detainees.
“Lil’ bit!” LeFevre called out.
Rio turned and looked in the direction of the nickname some of her fellow agents used to refer to her.
“What’s up, Alan?”
“Can you and Schotzie go out? We saw some marks on some of the men in the group. It looks like those guys forced them to carry bundles across.”
“Sure. Schotzie, come! Let’s go play hide-and-seek.” Rio and her dog walked away from the people awaiting transportation back to the facilities near Bisbee. “Seek!” she commanded as she released the dog into the desert scrub brush.
Part of her CBP crew fanned out and searched the area for the bundles of drugs they suspected had been carried across. With every step she took, the angrier she got. She’d noticed the terrified and disappointed expressions of the people who’d probably sold everything they had to be led across the border in hopes of a better life. The children were tired, thirsty, and hungry. These people had been walking four days in the Arizona summer heat. When they got to the border, those bastards had apparently changed the terms of their agreement and forced some of the men, probably the fathers and husbands, to become mules. She would bet with a fair amount of certainty that the coyotes had threatened to kill the kids and the women if the men didn’t agree to carry the drugs across. At best, they’d abandon these people and leave them in no-man’s land to take their chances with the elements and unforgiving desert. Schotzie’s sudden barking and clawing caught her attention.
“Good girl!” She praised her dog as she tossed her a treat and radioed the rest of the team. “We found it.”
Rio pointed her flashlight into the brush where Schotzie had pawed the ground. She moved the loose branches cautiously. Rattlesnakes and other creatures that called the desert home could be dangerous if disturbed unexpectedly. She counted the bundles she could see, but as she moved the brush, more came into view. The agents approached, and she signaled them to her location, and they started pulling the bundles out of the brush. The coyotes had formed the drugs into backpack-like bundles with straps and spray painted them black so they wouldn’t be detected at night as they walked through the darkness. When the coyotes had sensed trouble, they stashed the drugs in the brush hoping to retrieve the packs once danger had passed. They hadn’t counted on running into a K-9 officer that could find their stash. The agents pulled out eight bundles from the brush, and she estimated they weighed between twenty-five to thirty pounds each. At nearly 109 kilos, the bust would be a painful one for the Montenegro cartel who ran this part of the border and most of Sonora.
“Load up, Schotzie,” she commanded as the huge German shepherd jumped into her patrol vehicle.
LeFevre climbed into the passenger seat, and they took the forty-five minute drive back to the station near Bisbee, Arizona, to determine the exact weight and value of the bust. Rio glanced at the clock on her dash as LeFevre leaned his head back onto the seat to relax. She watched in sadistic amusement as Schotzie licked his ear. He jumped at the sensation.
“Shit! Fucking dog!”
“No sleeping on the job! Even she knows that,” she said with a laugh.
“Jeez, boss! I wanted to take a little combat nap on the way back. These shift changes are killing me.”
“Go ahead,” she said with a giggle. “Schotzie, lie down.”
The unit she supervised had to be a very tight-knit group. They depended on one another for their lives every time they went out on duty. LeFevre pulled his hat down over his eyes and relaxed. She knew her human partner probably wasn’t getting much sleep right now by his soft snoring. Five weeks ago, he’d become the proud father of a baby boy.
Just under forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the station and met the second transport vehicle out back, and assisted as the bundles were taken to the property room to be weighed and tested. The contents were indeed drugs—marijuana. After a couple of hours at the station, LeFevre and Rio returned to their patrol along the fence up and down the International Road.
“Sierra five-three, report of a group walking south of Highway 92 approximately one mile east of the Miracle Valley Airstrip.” The dispatcher’s voice cracked over the radio.
“Here we go again,” Alan said.
Rio and Schotzie finally got home around eight in the morning. Her boss had canceled her mandatory leave for drawing and firing her weapon because the mules they’d picked up had federal warrants for drug trafficking. There’d been another reason, they couldn’t afford to lose anyone right now. They were shorthanded and illegal traffic had overwhelmingly increased. The CBP regularly rotated their agents because of the cartel scouts who constantly watching them. The scouts would watch and detect weakness by figuring out a successful agent’s habits. The group she managed was among some of the most
effective agents in the country, and they caused a lot of interruption to the Montenegro cartel. Whatever ground the CBP gained wasn’t enough to put a dent in the never-ending stream of people, drugs, money, and contraband in general crossing the border every day.
Rio took her shower, checked e-mail on her phone, and shook her head as she read the messages. This afternoon would be busy and hot, and she’d rack up some unwanted overtime.
Chapter 4
St. Elmo’s Tavern
Bisbee, Arizona
June 16, 2010/0345 Zulu
The crowded tavern in the middle of Old Bisbee hadn’t changed since Dan first crossed the threshold when he turned twenty-one and able to legally drink in the state of Arizona. This was where the working people hung out and it wasn’t the nicest place to go in Bisbee but it was home. When Friday, Dan, and Dan’s longtime friend, Davey Jensen, arrived, they commandeered one of the raggedy pool tables toward the back. He scanned the room and saw people he hadn’t seen since he’d graduated from high school.
“Hey, squid! It’s your shot.”
Dan turned his focus back to the table and took four more shots before he yielded the table to Davey. They had been friends since first grade. At times, he considered himself closer to Davey than to his own brothers. They were roommates through all four years of college and were in the ROTC program at Arizona State University. At graduation, they’d chosen different paths, Dan the Navy, Davey the Marine Corps.
While in Officer Candidate School, Dan had been recruited by the SEALs. He recalled the conversations he’d had with Davey as he struggled over his decision. The special operations community needed his designated career set. They recognized how warfare had changed. Modern warfare had become more cyber-based. He would be part of a new breed of Special Forces, one proficient in the traditional weapons of warfare as well as keyboards, software, and the Internet. Of course he still had to get through BUD/S and SEAL Qualification Training.
Dan’s dual degrees in Computer Science and Mathematics opened up some of the most advanced electronic warfare schools the US government had to offer. By the time he saw his first duty station and awarded the coveted SEAL Trident badge, he’d been in training for half of his six-year commitment.
Davey’s tenure in the Marine Corps had been much more difficult. He’d spent most of his time in Afghanistan, and it had been rough. Dan knew from their conversations that Davey was haunted by what he’d seen. The war had been intense during his time in the Corps. He’d told Dan he couldn’t make watching good men die a career, so he’d returned to Bisbee and went back to where his father had left off running their family’s Lazy J Ranch. Even though he didn’t talk much, Dan knew that whatever had happened had fucked Davey up to such a degree he’d been separated from the Corps on a medical discharge.
Dan took a long swallow of his beer and lined up for his next shot when a soft hand slid over his back. He turned his head sharply and found himself staring at a nice set of tits. He straightened himself and blinked at the woman who’d come up behind him.
“Sylvia?”
“Hi, Danny. I heard you were back in town.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. “It’s so good to see you again. How’s the Navy?”
Dan disengaged himself from the ex-girlfriend who’d dumped him after high school. Seeing her furthered his resolve to look up Rio as soon as possible. As he looked at this woman, he wondered what he’d ever seen in her and why he’d asked her instead of Rio to his prom. He cleared his throat.
“It’s good,” he said.
“I can see that.”
Her sultry, low-pitched voice didn’t leave him guessing at her intent. Catching the hand she moved over his chest, he moved it away and planted the pool cue he was holding between them.
“How’s Beau?” Dan asked.
Sylvia frowned. “You’re not still mad about that?”
“I’m sorry, didn’t you two get married?”
“We did. And now we’re not.”
“Oh, it’s been a while,” he said, picking up his beer.
Sylvia gently grasped the bottle he held and took a drink. “You’re not a stranger. Drop in for a visit. Let’s get reacquainted.”
Handing him the bottle, she turned and walked away.
“Holy hottie, Batman! Are you dropping in?” Friday asked as his gaze followed Sylvia around the tavern.
Dan tossed the almost full bottle of beer into the recycle bin next to the pool table and fished a twenty out of his pocket. He handed the money to Friday.
“Get me another beer, will you?”
“Still haven’t forgiven her?” Davey asked as Friday walked away.
“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m not interested,” he said as he took his shot.
“Danny…”
Turning away from the table, he gave Davey his full attention. He didn’t want to rehash his past with his ex-high school girlfriend. He’d come home at the end of his junior year at ASU to a wedding invitation from his girlfriend who was marrying a total dickhead from Sierra Vista. It had turned out to be one of the worst summers of his life. During that break he’d also been told that Rio had left home for the military. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s not Sylvia I want to talk about. I wanted to tell you about something else. Something I probably shouldn’t,” Davey said.
His friend took a long drink and a seat at one of the small bar stools lining the wall next to the pool tables. He set his beer down and looked away.
“What is it?” Dan asked.
“Do you know that Rio’s back?”
“Emily told me last night. I thought she’d moved to Cali or something like that?”
“Jesus, Danny, that was almost three years ago. I told you she’d moved to San Diego and she’d joined the CBP. Why didn’t you ever look her up? You’ve had to be going TAD there all the time.”
“I don’t remember you telling me that.”
“Seriously?”
“Okay, I’m a clueless motherfucker, so?”
“Danny, I used to see the way you looked at my sister. And while I appreciated the fact that you had enough respect for me to keep your dick beaters to yourself, you didn’t do her or you any favors. She’s back and unattached.” Davey raised the long-neck in a mock salute.
“What does she do?” Dan looked around the tavern—anywhere but directly at Davey.
“She’s an agent and the director of the K-9 program there. Do you want to change the subject again?”
Friday returned with Dan’s beer. “Who’s next?”
“You are,” Dan said, handing him the pool cue. Taking the hint, Friday went to finish out the game.
“You should go by and see her while you’re here. She lives a couple of streets over from Emily on Santa Cruz. She drives a brand-new red Jeep Cherokee. It’s parked in the driveway when she’s home.”
“What are you telling me, man?”
“I’m telling you to get a fucking clue,” Davey said, picking up his pool cue and returning to the table.
* * * *
It had been a brutal two days. The illegal traffic along the border had been relentless, and the cartels were becoming increasingly more aggressive. Rio hadn’t had time to speculate about what had caused the uptick in action. Even Schotzie was losing focus from the long days with no breaks. As she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, she heard the doorbell and Schotzie’s low warning bark. Damn it! Being so tired and wanting to rest, the interruption irritated her. She threw on some clothes and ordered her dog back to her bedroom. As she rubbed a towel through her hair, she looked through the peephole and couldn’t believe who stood outside her door—Danny Gamez.
Turning to lean against the door, she grabbed her midsection as her tummy did the familiar flip whenever she saw him. She remembered having the same reaction when he’d come by to visit her brother. She’d close the door to her room as if it was a protective barrier that could keep her feelings co
ntained and secret. She couldn’t believe that after so many years he still had the same effect on her.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus! I’m not thirteen, and he’s never looked at me as more than a friend. What the hell is wrong with me? The doorbell rang again. She turned to face the door and leaned her forehead against the wood. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I can do this.
“Yes?” Rio opened the door. The response sounded so lame and cold.
“Rio, I need your help.”
His response wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He’d always been a prankster, but even after all these years, he’d made it clear something was wrong.
“What’s up, Danny?”
“There are some illegals not too far from here; they’re not Mexicans.”
Rio opened the door wider and invited him inside with a wave of her hand.
“Wait here a minute. Let me get dressed.”
Shivering as she closed her bedroom door, all feelings she’d had for him growing up came rushing back. She needed a minute to regroup. In the ten years since she’d last seen him, his average build had filled out. Broad shoulders, powerful, sculpted arms, and a torso that tapered to a narrow waist. His legs, covered by the well-worn jeans, were just as well formed. A physique achieved by a very active life. His face was weathered, more mature, and something about his eyes she couldn’t quite classify. She didn’t dare allow herself more than a cursory glance, or his body would’ve become the only thought in her head.
Her attraction to him all those years ago had never died. After he and Davey had left for college, she’d been determined to get over him. Leaving home to join the Air Force had helped her move on, but she’d never forgotten him.
Pulling on her uniform, she tried to remember if Davey had told her Danny was coming home. She couldn’t resist another glimpse and silently opened the bedroom door just enough to see without being seen. She studied him as he looked at the pictures she had displayed on the bookshelf. Schotzie took the open door as her cue and jumped off the bed clearly ready to accompany Rio. When the pair stepped into the living room, Schotzie gave a low warning growl. Dan stood absolutely still.
