by Robena Grant
“Thanks,” Rachel said, and tried to smile. She’d had no idea that Fred and his wife had an apartment upstairs. She’d imagined earlier that those stairs led to a den of iniquity and had preferred to ignore their existence. Now she wondered how they lived, what their apartment would be like. Not that she cared. She doubted she’d sleep anyway, and Fred was doing the best he could under the circumstances. She’d be grateful. Even though it irked her that Mr. Macho, standing beside her, thought women shouldn’t be in the battlefield.
“Going to the head,” Stanton said, and walked down the hall.
Michael cleared his throat, and she looked up at him and scowled. There wasn’t much to say. He’d go to the shootout. She’d be left behind like some kind of damn princess. Her grandfather would be caught somewhere in the middle of a lot of guns and bravado. Why didn’t they understand that she needed to be there?
“Make the goodbyes snappy,” Stanton said, coming out of the restroom. “I’ll wait in the car.”
Rachel saw the glimmer in both men’s eyes. They loved their work. They lived for these adrenaline soaked moments. They’d both been strutting around, making plans, talking on cell phones in hushed voices, doing guy stuff. How come she hadn’t seen that before? Stanton and Michael were the same. Like peas in a pod. They both put their work first. They both thought women were frail, and neither one wanted to be bothered by any permanent relationship. Good thing she hadn’t given Michael her heart. He was a cop. A one night stand, that’s all. She turned away, walked to the door and opened it. She scooped up Ralph and nestled him against her chest. At least nobody could take him away from her.
“Goodbye. Good luck,” she said without looking at Michael.
“Hey,” he said softly, catching up to her, and cupping a hand to the nape of her neck.
He stood beside her, yet somehow still giving her some space. She tried not to react, although her traitorous body began to lean backward as if drawn by a magnet to his chest. She wanted to turn and trace those wonderful muscles with her fingertips. But instead, she remained beside him, her hands clenched.
“All I can do is my best,” he said, bending forward to murmur in her ear. “There are no guarantees, but I’m planning on coming back.”
She nodded, but couldn’t turn, couldn’t face him. Maybe she’d been wrong? Maybe there was hope for them? Her pulses bounded, and she pulled in a quick breath. He dropped tiny kisses along her neck, and she felt her entire body flush with warmth. This might be the last time they got to hold each other. Ever. Would she survive that? Her eyes burned. Michael stepped around in front of her.
He ran a hand over his head, and then grimaced. He looked out at the waiting car, and then down into her face. “Look, I know you like being in the thick of things, but you’ll have to trust me on this.”
“I know.”
“Seriously, this is the one time I need you and Ralph to stay put. Okay?”
“I said, I know,” she said sharply. And she did, yet she didn’t.
“Do I get a hug, at least?” Michael asked softly.
She turned, put Ralph on the floor, and grabbing Michael’s jacket with both fists, buried her face into his chest. She swallowed back all of her fear, anger, and frustration. How could she be so hurtful? How could she be so cold? She looked up into his concerned face. The guy was going into a war zone. Even if he didn’t come back, she couldn’t let him go without a proper farewell. She lifted her mouth to his. Her lips brushed his tenderly, and all of the pent up emotion evaporated in that kiss. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to go, but it did mean she had faith in him.
He deepened the kiss, holding her as if she were fine china that he might break. “That will have to last you for a while,” he said, murmuring against her lips. “See you soon.”
She nodded, unable to speak. He lifted up Ralph and planted a kiss on his head. “Look after Mommy,” he said, and handed the dog back to her.
She stayed in the open doorway as he strode to Stanton’s old black car, which sat idling in the parking lot. He turned, raised one hand, and then slid into the passenger seat. A slim figure moved out from the shadows and disappeared into the back seat of the car. Rachel refused to cry, and she hurried out into the parking lot.
“I love you,” she yelled, too late as red taillights sped away toward the highway.
What a mind blowing realization. She was deeply and forever in love with Michael, she blinked back her tears and walked slowly into the bar.
****
Michael talked with his chief, back at the Indio PD, while Stanton drove. Then he contacted the chief at the Brawley PD. He shut off the cell and glanced over at Stanton. He had everything set up as best as he possibly could. He had to keep sight of his goal and achieve what his undercover assignment had been about. Find the dudes who were out to snuff a DEA agent. Get to them before they got to the agent. He closed his eyes; almost home.
“A SWAT team is being briefed,” he said a few moments later. He sat up straighter, opened his eyes. “I’m to notify them of the exact location of the cabin once we’ve found it. We have to wait for them. Have to wait for orders on how to proceed.”
Stanton shot him a quick look.
“Chief’s orders,” Michael said, in case Stanton had plans of his own. “This could be a set-up, and we don’t want civilians harmed.” He looked over into the back seat. Mantis slept soundly, curled up like a baby. He hoped and prayed this would not be a wild goose chase, or a set-up. He’d put his and Stanton’s reputations on the line by placing score on his snitch’s findings.
Chapter Fifteen
One hour’s drive later, heading toward the small mountain town of Julien in San Diego County, Michael peered out at the dark landscape. He’d never been in the area, but he remembered Rachel talking about picking apples at a festival. With no traffic and Stanton’s lead foot, they made it to Ocotillo Flats in good time. As the name implied, it was the flat of the desert floor, at the base of the mountain range. Ocotillo plants covered the desert for as far as the eye could see.
“You up, Fernando?”
Like a spring, Mantis snapped up into a seated position and surveyed the highway. “Almost there,” he said, rubbing at his eyes, and then smoothing his stringy hair. “About two miles down the road, on the right. It’s a motor home park with cabins way at the back, almost pressed up to the mountains.” He pulled out a pack of gum. “Want some?”
About to refuse, Michael thought better of it. “Thanks,” he said. He took two pieces, unwrapped one and handed it to Stanton, then popped the other piece into his mouth and chewed.
Mantis shoved several pieces into his mouth and chewed with enthusiasm.
A few minutes later, and a mile away from the campground, Stanton pulled off the highway, turned off the lights and cut the engine. “What’s the best approach?”
“There’s an office up front,” Mantis said, chewing and talking at the same time. His head darted from side to side surveying the area. The empty highway stretched ahead of them. “A few motor homes here and there, not much business.”
“I’d lay a bet that the manager is asleep,” Michael said. “But, we can’t risk driving in the main gates and heading for the cabin. Are there any back roads?”
Mantis shook his head.
“What about if we crossed those Ocotillo fields?” Michael asked, looking out through the open window. “The car would be safe here.”
“Good idea,” Stanton said. “What’s the distance?”
“We’re about a mile away,” Mantis said. “There’s a shallow river bed we’d have to cross. It runs behind the cabins. It’s easy. I did it when I followed them yesterday.”
Michael nodded. He looked out the window at the huge cactus plants, a large stem rising from the middle of each one like a sentry. Some were so tall they looked like the giant stalk in the fable Jack and the Beanstalk. They lined up as far back as he could see, the stems thin but sturdy. They would be cover for someone with Mantis’
frame, maybe even his. Stanton would be out of luck once day break hit. With any luck they’d reach their destination before then. He squinted into the dark. “How far back do these plants go?”
“All the way to the foothills,” Mantis said. “They’ll be good cover. Not that I expect anyone is sitting watch. We might run into a coyote, or some other wildlife out here. There’s bighorn sheep up in those hills…maybe a big cat or two…scorpions.”
Stanton shrugged.
Michael did the same. “Let’s go.”
****
Rachel tossed and turned on the narrow couch in Fred’s den. One minute the blanket made her too hot, and she’d toss it off, and then the dampness seeping through the thin walls made her shiver. No way she’d get any sleep tonight. Besides, the memory of Michael driving off to whatever hell he was driving to, and her desperate last minute shouted declaration of love, well, both had left her with too many frightening thoughts.
She’d never allowed herself to feel like this about anyone and had never said those three words to a man. Ever. Except Grandpa. But it was true, she was in love. He’d never commit anyway, because he’s an adrenaline junkie. She sat up at that thought, and then pulled the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. Ralph had given up on sleeping beside her, and he’d curled into a ball on the floor and fallen into a deep sleep. Poor little guy. He’d had such a scary night. Yet, she envied him his ability to sleep at all. He’d dragged the t-shirt that Michael had changed out of earlier and used it as a pillow. Smart dog.
Maybe if she’d inhaled Michael’s scent too, she’d have gone into a deep and comfortable sleep herself. He’d been wonderful with Ralph. She liked that about him, and felt he would be equally as gentle with children. Would he even want children? Oh, stop it already. He’d never commit. He’d never had a long-lasting relationship. She stopped herself. Well, she wasn’t that much better at relationships. She couldn’t commit either. Relationships had always been her biggest failing.
She huffed loudly, and drew the cover up over her shoulders, certain that she wasn’t giving up Cliffs to go wander the country with some guy who lived on the edge of danger twenty-four-seven, even if he did get around to asking her. Nor would she sit at home by the fire and wait for her wanderer to return. And she probably couldn’t even have kids at her age, so why would she want to get married? Not that he’d asked her or anything. She turned onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling.
Hell, we’ve only known each other for a few days. And he’s never said he loves me.
But what an amazing few days they’d been. She figured some couples wouldn’t go through what they’d been through in a lifetime. And while she knew the improbability of any lasting union after knowing someone for such a short time, she had to admit, they really did fit well together. And making love to him filled her with happiness beyond anything she’d ever thought possible.
When the pale shades of daylight showed in the strips of light around the blinds, and she’d worried herself more than enough about her feelings for Michael, and their future, she decided to get up. Fred snored somewhere toward the back of the apartment. She wouldn’t disturb anyone. A walk on the beach would help to settle her thoughts. Ralph opened one eye and looked at her. She picked up his leash, uncertain. She could leave him here and know he’d be safe. If he followed her downstairs, fine.
She tiptoed down the creaky old steps, and sitting on the bottom one, put her shoes on. The light click of toenails on the stairs told her Ralph was ready for a walk. Good, she wanted his company. She slipped out through the back door of the bar, closed it behind her, and hurried past the hulks of the rusting cars, not putting Ralph down until they were well past all of the junk and filth. What a crappy place to live.
A mile or so down the beach, Rachel realized she’d headed to where the craziness of the last couple of days had first happened. Remembering that morning, she turned her cell phone on in case she ran into danger. Within minutes, it rang, and she nervously glanced at the number. Manuel. Michael had warned her not talk to anybody. But this was Manuel.
She hesitated long enough to let it go to voice mail. Sitting on a rocky outcrop, she waited a moment, and then tried to retrieve the message but got static. Okay, so he must be out of range, but where? And what did that mean? Why would he call her at this hour? She checked her missed messages: Three from Manuel in the past thirty minutes, and they all begged her to call back, one from Jack, another from Debbie.
Her cell phone rang again, and Ralph cocked his head to one side and focused intently on her face. This time she took the call.
“Hello.”
“Rachel, thank God. Stay with me for a moment, we might get more static.”
“Manuel—”
“There’s something bad going down. My roommate, Arturo Suarez…ah geez…listen I don’t know how to say it, but he’s into some heavy stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Not sure…exactly. I picked up the house line at the same time he did. I think somehow you and your grandfather are involved. Talk of gang wars, drugs, something big that went down at midnight. And some of his friends came into the bar last night, and they all seemed puffed up with excitement, like pre-date jitters. Then he asked to leave early, even though I know he needs the money. Something else is going on right now. I thought maybe you… maybe you were in danger.”
“I’m okay.” Rachel’s heart pounded, and Ralph squirmed closer to her side. She hesitated in saying more. What if Michael had been right? What if Manuel attempted to find out her location, or Michael’s? “Why would you think I was in trouble?”
“I couldn’t get you at home, so I went there. I hate to tell you this. Ah, your house has been trashed. I could see through the back windows, and—”
“Yes. That happened the night before last. The police know about it.”
“Oh?” Manuel went quiet for a few seconds. “You didn’t say anything. Hang on.”
Rachel waited while static crackled around them. “Where are you?” she yelled.
“On Highway 86. I’m going to Ocotillo Flats, where Arturo is.”
Rachel’s whole body froze. Okay. So he got that right. What did this mean? She looked along the edge of the sea, and then on to the bait shop. It seemed like forever, but she knew it had only taken a second or two to decide. “I want you to turn back. Go to Debbie’s place first. Pick up Jack. I’ll call him and give him a heads up.”
“Okay, but—”
“Do it. You’re two minutes from them. Then pick me up. I’m in Desert Scapes. I’ll be near the old bait shop.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“Pick. Me. Up.”
“See you in five minutes, boss.”
Manuel ended the call, and Rachel dialed Jack’s number. She brought him up to speed, but not before she had to yell at him to shut up and listen.
“My pants and shoes are on,” Jack said.
Rachel could hear him huffing as he dressed.
“I’ll jog to the front gates so Manuel won’t have to turn up the long driveway,” Jack said. “We haven’t got a second to lose.” His cell phone went dead, and Rachel left hers on but shoved it into her jacket pocket. She scooped up Ralph and ran up the shore like her life depended on it. Maybe Michael’s life did. Whatever happened in Ocotillo Flats she knew that the good guys were going to need all the help they could get.
If the same gang, the one that had turned Grandpa’s cabin into a sieve, were going there to back up the Suarez brothers then Michael was in even greater danger. She wondered if Manuel was armed. She knew Jack would be, and maybe he’d have several guns. Suarez? She stopped. Arturo’s last name is Suarez?
Her heart pounded. Hell. She always referred to her workers by their first names, but she also made out the paychecks. He must have used an alias. She had him listed as Arturo Managa. Many Latino workers had two last names—their mother’s, and their father’s family name—probably Arturo Managa-Suarez. A lot of the guys this close
to the Mexi-Cali border walked through life dropping one name, using the other, sometimes using both. But with her insistence that nobody in her employ, nobody in her life, was a bad guy, she’d placed Michael in trouble.
If she’d only insisted that he examine her books, and interview everyone she knew, maybe he’d have found a clue. She wiped her sweaty brow and jogged on. If anything happened to him, she doubted she would ever forgive herself for her foolish pride. She stopped, leaned a hand against the wall of the bait shop, and caught her breath. Ralph licked her face. Damn. She’d forgotten that the little guy would have to go along with her.
Dear God, what do I do? The silent prayer had barely been formed when the answer hit her. It came in Grandpa Henry’s voice. Trust your gut. Her gut said, trust Manuel. “We’ll be okay, Ralphie. We’ll be fine.”
Headlights shone on the exit road from the freeway. She moved out of the shadows of the bait shop and waved. She’d stayed hidden, on the off chance that Fred might wake early and raise an alarm. She felt guilty. She should have left him a note.
Chapter Sixteen
The river bed was shallow but Michael didn’t feel like spending however many hours they’d be here in wet boots. He pulled them off, then peeled off his socks, and rolled up the legs of his pants. He stuck his feet into the cold water and a slow hiss slipped through his lips. Stanton glanced his way.
“Arterial spasm,” he whispered.
Michael looked around for Mantis. Like a freakin’ nature spirit, he’d blended in with his surroundings. He heard the faintest snap of a twig, and turned to look in that direction. Mantis slid out from behind a skinny tree trunk, grinned, and shook his head. “There are rocks you can step on to get across,” he whispered. Then he beckoned for them to follow.
Now he tells me. Michael put his socks and boots back on. They took their time making sure not to alert anyone. If a twig snapped, they stood still for a few minutes; the dark and the trees their only protection. Out in the opening it was lighter, and at almost five o’clock, the sky showed the first signs of daybreak. He hadn’t contacted the chief yet. First, he needed to document that the men were in the cabin, and that they were indeed the Suarez brothers. How he’d go about doing that, he had no clue. It will all work out.
