“Last night.” Jake twisted around at the public telephone to keep an eye on what was happening in the bustling marketplace filled with morning shoppers. “I thought you might have moved on by now, but decided I’d give it a try. How’s life at the consulate?”
“Same old shit. This isn’t a secure line, by the way.“
“Didn’t think so. Look, Mike, we need to talk.”
“No problem. I’ll call you back in five minutes. What’s the number?”
Jake quickly recited the faded numbers etched onto the telephone.
“Okay. Stay where you are.”
“Will do.” Jake hung up, noting the time on his watch.
At least Mike Reed was still around. Two out of four wasn’t the best odds, but not so bad, either.
Pablo Sosa hadn’t been too hard to track down, his home phone number still current. His wife had told Jake where to reach him at a manufacturing firm outside of Monterrey, Pablo no longer working with the U.S. military. He’d been as surprised to hear from Jake as Mike, but why wouldn’t they be? Jake had dropped out of sight four years ago, no good-byes, no explanations, nothing. There hadn’t been time. Not if he wanted to stay alive.
Jake glanced at his watch. Another minute to go. Pablo had told him briefly what had happened to the other two Mexican agents who’d been a part of his team and men he’d trusted: Jose Rivera had been blown away during a raid near Juarez not long after Jake had left the country, and Alfredo Gomez had been kidnapped near Mexico City and never heard from again.
Poor bastard. Probably rotted in a car trunk somewhere when no one came up with the ransom. Both men had been aware of the dangers of working side-by-side with military attaches in the war against the drug trade, but Jake had hated to hear the grim news.
“Time.” Jake swept the marketplace with another glance while he waited for the phone to ring, but no one was paying him any attention. He didn’t anticipate any problems, yet it always helped to be cautious. He’d left a note for Clare on the bed for that very reason, telling her to stay put and not leave the room until he returned. The phone rang with a loud jangle and he grabbed it from the receiver.
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What’s the deal? Texas didn’t agree with you?”
Jake was caught off guard for a moment, until he realized Mike more than anyone else would have guessed he’d probably headed home to San Antonio. They’d served together off and on for thirteen years in Special Ops until Mike had switched over into diplomatic service, the two of them not really close friends but sharing a bond only the military could foster.
“Texas suits me fine, but something’s come up where I might need your help. You still working as chief communications specialist?“
“More or less. Covers a lot of ground, but you know the drill. They haven’t demoted me yet to man the security gate, if that’s what you’re driving at, and I’m not licking the ambassador’s ass as deputy. Status quo, but that’s how I like it. What’s on your mind?”
Jake shifted the phone to his other hand, Mike’s answer confirming that his position remained a smoke screen in embassy speak for a senior intelligence agent. “Not a good idea to talk about it on the phone, secure line or not. Any chance we might have a face-to-face sometime tonight?”
“If you catch a flight to Monterrey. No chance I can get away to come there.”
“No problem. How about that place where we used to grab a beer once in awhile?”
“You mean before you fucked your career to marry Miss Mexico and settle down—shit, Jake, I’m sorry, just slipped out.”
Jake said nothing, his gut twisting. Mike Reed was one of the people who’d given him a hard time about leaving the military, especially for a woman. He’d taken almost an instant dislike to Isabella, no telling why other than he’d always had a problem with assertive females, and Jake for that reason hadn’t seen him much after the wedding. He wasn’t surprised that Mike’s attitude still rankled him. Jake wouldn’t have called him if not that Mike might be able to help him.
“Wyatt, you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Look, I shouldn’t have said that to you, okay? I never got to tell you I was sorry about what happened to Isabella. You left in such a goddamned hurry—”
“You probably know why, too.”
Now Mike fell silent, leaving Jake to wonder at the wisdom of contacting him at all. If there was a bond between them, it had sometimes proved a thorny one, more on Mike’s part than his. “What? No rumblings in the intelligence pipeline after I left?”
“Sure, there were rumblings. She got too close, Jake, whatever your wife was digging into. Journalists have a short shelf life around here if they’re too nosey, that’s no secret. Another one got shot in Nuevo Laredo just last week. Best thing is to stay out of investigative reporting and opt for straight news. Isabella didn’t. You were married to her. I’d guess that attempt on your life was a warning. Get out of the country or get dead.”
“I got the message, believe me. Do we meet tonight or not?”
“Sure, whatever you want. You come alone?”
Jake felt his body tense, his mind working fast. Unless he knew Mike could help him, it didn’t make sense to let him know about Clare. “Yeah. It’s not a pleasure trip.”
“That’s what I’m concerned about. Must be important for you to head south after all these years. If it were me, I’d have stayed the hell out—”
“What time?” Jake heard a low curse in the phone. Mike had never liked people cutting him off, but they’d been talking for too damn long.
“Seven o’clock.”
“See you then.” Jake hung up the phone, deciding how things went with Mike would determine if and when he’d contact Pablo Sosa again to make some arrangements.
So far, so good. Now he and Clare just had to get to the airport and catch a flight to Monterrey.
* * *
Clare dug her toes into the sand and stared out at the huge oil tanker maneuvering into the harbor.
She was hungry, and she had no idea where Jake had gone or for how long. Her stomach rumbled noisily but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Jake carried all the money, the small fanny pack he’d gotten for her empty but for a comb, some Kleenex and her Canadian passport.
Jake hadn’t bothered to retrieve her handbag from Detective McKain’s car. He’d insisted he would cover their expenses and that they would work out any financial details later. It made sense at the time, especially since they’d been in such a hurry to leave for Austin. Now she wished she’d had him divvy out a few dollars so she’d have some cash.
She’d thought of charging something to the room, at least a cup of coffee, but she was told when she called the front desk that the hotel restaurant was closed that morning because of a water leak. That left her with nothing to do but wait and wonder what had happened to Jake.
He hadn’t bothered to wake her and tell her where he was heading. She’d woken up with the sun shining in her face, the alarm clock reading nine a.m., and no Jake in sight. She’d thrown back the covers and immediately went to knock on the closed bathroom door, but no answer confirmed she was alone.
The realization had unsettled her.
She already depended on him too much, but to be completely alone for the first time since she’d met him was like a reality punch in the gut. What would she do if something happened to him and he never came back? Fall to pieces, and turn tail and run back to San Antonio without ever seeing Tyler? Devise a plan on her own to rescue her son?
Between the silence and disturbing questions swirling in her mind, she’d finally fled the hotel room to find some relief. Staring at the ocean had helped a little bit. Hot coffee would be better. Seeing Jake again was what she really wanted, another jolt of reality that made her angry with herself.
She wasn’t helpless. If he didn’t return—although she wanted nothing more than to push that dreaded possibility out of
her thoughts—she’d figure something out. She’d have to.
Growing more anxious, Clare glanced at the hotel about fifty yards down the beach and decided to head back to their room. She’d strolled about as far as she dared to, not wanting to go too far away.
The morning was beautiful, brilliantly sunny and warm, and already people crowded the beach, the place she’d found to sit no longer secluded. She realized then it was a Sunday. She wasn’t surprised that she’d lost track of the days of the week. Ever since Tyler—
“You alone, pretty lady?”
Clare was startled to hear herself addressed, and especially in English. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at an attractive young man in jeans and a shabby white T-shirt who appeared to be in his twenties. “Yes…I mean, no, I’m not alone. I was just going back to my hotel.”
“Good, I will walk with you.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary, but thank you.” Clare quickly slipped on a pair of Keds that Jake had bought her and then rose to her feet, brushing the sand from her jeans. She jumped when another man appeared next to her, not so attractive and older, both men flanking her.
“Here, let me help you,” insisted the younger one.
Clare jumped when he moved his hand down the back of her jeans as if to brush off sand, while the other man took her elbow. “I-I don’t need your help—”
“Walk with us, gringa. Do not scream.”
Clare had already thought to yell for help but the sharp point of a knife digging into her ribs made her stare in shock at the older man.
It was broad daylight! Her heart pounding, she glanced from his acne-scarred face to people sunning themselves on blankets along the beach, but no one seemed to pay them any attention.
The knife dug deeper. She willed her legs to move as the two men began to walk with her toward another hotel just off the beach, a seedy five-story place in stark contrast to the one she’d left only a half hour ago.
“Look…please, I have no money.”
Neither man said a word. Clare’s heart sank, fear building inside her. If they didn’t want money…
Oh, God. Wishing futilely that she’d never left the hotel room, she thought of jerking herself free in spite of the knife but her captors read her mind. They moved closer to her, both of them tightly gripping her arms and speaking over her head in Spanish.
It flashed in her mind that maybe somehow Eduardo Ruiz’s people had found her, but these two didn’t resemble at all the hit men who’d been after her in San Antonio. Their clothes appeared faded and worn, and both men wore scuffed sandals.
Hit men, no, but surely muggers or thieves…or worse. The two herded her toward the hotel like a lamb to the slaughter, the younger one going so far as to squeeze her bottom.
She jerked away but her movement only made them both laugh. The older man’s dark eyes fell to Clare’s breasts. She knew then exactly what they had in mind. Tears jumped to her eyes that made her furious with herself even as her throat tightened in fear.
No, this wasn’t happening. She’d come too far to find Tyler. She’d been through too much. There had to be something she could do.
As they climbed a short flight of stone steps leading up from the beach to the hotel, Clare glanced down at the older man’s bare toes sticking out from his sandals and seized her moment. She feigned a stumble and ground her heel into his big toe. At the same time she shoved the younger man away from her with all her strength.
One man grabbed his foot and screamed curses and the other toppled sideways into the sand. Clare scrambled up the steps, free, her blood pounding in her ears. This time people sunbathing nearby noticed the commotion but she ignored them and ran like hell along the sidewalk in front of the hotel. She nearly tripped when she looked over her shoulder to see that the two men weren’t following her.
Thank God, thank God. She drew herself up short and stopped, her breathing hard, her face hot. She suddenly noticed a man lunging up the steps two at a time from the beach and coming after her.
Jake.
He must have been looking for her. He must have seen everything. He couldn’t have been that far behind her and her two assailants. Why hadn’t he stepped in to help her? They’d been so close to the hotel. Those men could have hustled her inside and onto an elevator before he’d caught up with them—and then what? Would he have searched for her from floor to floor?
Something told her that he would have done just that, but as Jake drew closer Clare shoved away the mental image of him banging his fists on doors. His expression was grim, the tight set of his jaw telling her that he wasn’t happy. She was so relieved to see him but she was growing furious, too.
Damn him, why hadn’t he told her where he was going? She wouldn’t have left the hotel room if she’d known when he might return, rather than have her become so anxious about him and his whereabouts. She wouldn’t have gone to the beach and nearly been assaulted—
“Hey!” Clare cried out, startled. Jake had grabbed her arm so roughly that she winced. He spun her half around as he kept walking, bringing her up alongside him.
“Don’t say a thing, Mrs. Fisher, just keep moving. You’ve got enough people watching us already.”
Clare bit her tongue. She wanted to jerk her arm away from him but instead she did as he’d told her. She was so angry that it seemed within a moment they were back in their hotel and past the front desk, the elevator door closing behind them. She kept her silence as Jake stood stiffly beside her, his fingers still digging into her arm.
She could understand him being upset at what might have happened out there, but he seemed as furious as she felt. He glanced at her only once when they stopped at another floor, his eyes so intensely blue and angry that she was taken aback, some of her heated emotion fading.
Had something else happened that morning? Had he learned something about Tyler?
He didn’t release her arm until he’d ushered her into their room and shut the door behind them. She rubbed her elbow and stared at him. “Jake, has something—”
“What the hell were you doing outside alone?”
His voice sounded so harsh that Clare bristled. Fresh fury overwhelmed her though somehow she managed to keep her tone calm. “Staring out at the water, to be exact, and wondering what the hell had become of you, Mr. Fisher. You could have at least woke me up and told me you were leaving.“
“You were sound asleep so I didn’t want to disturb you. Dammit it, Clare, I left a note right next to you.“
“No, you didn’t. I didn’t find any note.”
“What’s that over there?”
Clare followed his gaze to the floor on the opposite side of the bed where a piece of ivory-colored paper stuck out from beneath the bedside table. “I…I didn’t see it. It must have slipped off the bed—maybe when I got up.”
“So instead of using common sense you decided to head outside and nearly got yourself into a helluva lot of trouble.”
“Only because I was so worried that something might have happened to you. I’d already decided to come back to the hotel when those two men—”
“I know. I was on the balcony and saw them walk up to you. Dammit, Clare…”
He fell silent, staring at her, while Clare felt like she’d let him down for thinking he would have disappeared without leaving her some word. “Look, Jake, I’m sorry, really. I should have stayed put—”
“Saw what you did to those guys, too. Someone teach you self-defense back in Texas?”
She shook her head, not sure if he’d even registered her apology. “I said I’m sorry, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I was just lucky out there.”
“Not lucky at all. Quick thinking. Courageous—”
“Hardly. I was scared to death.” Clare looked away, still feeling the point of that knife pressed into her ribs. Guns, knives, when would the madness end? She started when Jake touched her cheek, and she met his eyes.
“Sometimes it’s
a good thing to be scared, trust me,” he said quietly. “It made you do something you normally wouldn’t have done.”
Clare didn’t say a word, her heart racing but not because she was afraid. She couldn’t have said how long they stood there looking at each other, Jake’s fingers warm against her skin, until he swore under his breath and abruptly moved past her to pick up the note from the floor. He crumpled the paper in his fist.
“Won’t need this anymore. Time to head for the airport.”
If Clare had been slapped out of a dream, she wouldn’t have been more startled. “Already? What about your contacts?”
“Still out there, a couple of them anyway. I’m meeting one tonight at a drinking hole in Monterrey. I’ll tell you more about that later. Get your stuff.”
He’d already grabbed the duffel bag and tossed it onto the bed, stuffing the crumpled note inside while Clare scanned the room for any belongings.
She’d already packed everything earlier, just in case. She took a moment to change out of the Keds back into her socks and hiking boots and then picked up her jean jacket from a chair and shrugged into it. “Ready when you are.”
“I was ready a half hour ago, but you weren’t here.”
Clare bristled that his tone could have gone from so low and intimate a moment ago to so grim again, but she supposed she couldn’t blame him. “I got the message.” She picked up the backpack and moved to the door, but then she turned around to face him. “I know you said before you didn’t want any thanks—”
“I don’t.”
“Tough. Thanks for coming after me on the beach.” Clare started to turn back to the door but she paused. Strangely, she sensed from his hard expression that he knew just what she was going to ask him. “What would you have done? I mean, if I hadn’t gotten away and you’d caught up with us in the hotel—”
“You really want to know?”
His eyes looked so dark in the shadows, almost black, that she felt a chill.
She only had to think of the dead hit man in San Antonio, a hole in his forehead and his brains splattered onto the ground behind him, and the other man writhing in the bloody dirt with his kneecaps blown away to have her answer.
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