Caught in the Act

by Jill Sorenson

  Ian accepted the imported soda and stared at the bottle for a moment, turning it in his hands. Adam’s mother had always bought this kind of soft drink when they were growing up, so it carried a kind of sentimental value. He knew Ian missed her—they both did.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a long swallow.

  Adam thought that Ian had lost a few pounds. He was leaner than ever, all ropy muscles and sharp elbows. “How’s it going?”

  Ian shook his head. He couldn’t talk about the specifics of his assignment. A visit like this was rare, and Adam was glad to see him, despite his broken-down appearance. “I find myself practicing, even when I’m alone. Staying in character.”

  “Come back to CBP,” Adam said, naming the Department of Customs and Border Protection. Ian used to work border patrol, hunting coyotes in the desert.

  “It’s not that bad,” he said.

  Instead of pressing the issue, Adam drank his beer. Ian had never loved CBP like he did. Adam’s family had been here—legally—for several generations, so he felt very strongly about enforcing immigration laws.

  Ian didn’t have the same conviction. He’d told Adam that he didn’t feel right about arresting good, hardworking people. Four years ago, Ian had reached the end of his rope. He’d found a girl on the dunes, raped and beaten within an inch of her life. The attack hadn’t happened on U.S. soil, so they couldn’t investigate. After the girl was sent back to Mexico, Ian resigned from his position.

  Adam had seen his share of tragedies, but he wasn’t as conflicted about the job. The department he worked for stopped terrorists and arrested drug smugglers. They protected the country from attack. It wasn’t a lost cause.

  “How’s your sister?” Ian asked.

  Adam smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Pregnant again.”

  His face lit up at the good news. “Goddamn, man. How many kids is she going to have?”

  Adam laughed. This was only number three.

  “Tell her congrats for me.”

  He promised he would, and they caught up on other family members for a few minutes. The only person they didn’t talk about was Ian’s mother. Adam already knew how she was doing—poorly.

  Ian shot him a canny look. “Are you ghosting again?”

  Adam froze. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch,” he said, meeting his gaze. “Something I saw in your expression, right before you recognized me.”

  Adam rubbed a hand over his mouth, uncomfortable with the assessment. He didn’t want to be so transparent. And his obsession with Moreno was an ugly thing. “I saw Karina Strauss at the border today,” he admitted.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Sasha Strauss’s sister.”

  “Ah.”

  “They look alike,” Adam said, getting defensive. He didn’t run a background check on every Strauss he met.

  “Pale and skinny?”

  “No.” The resemblance was in their facial features, he supposed. “Definitely not skinny. She’s more … healthy-looking.”

  Ian’s brows rose. “Sounds like you did a thorough inspection, officer.”

  “Her shirt was unbuttoned down to here,” he explained, touching the middle of his chest. “And she came on to me.”

  “Really?”

  “I think she was trying to distract me.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to jump your bones,” Ian said, smirking.

  Yeah, he wished. The presence of Moreno’s men at her house killed that fantasy. Adam was almost sorry he’d driven by.

  “Was she carrying?”

  “I don’t know,” Adam said. “There was a disturbance down the line, and I let her pass through.”

  “You didn’t check her vehicle?”

  “No.”

  Ian stared at him, astounded. “Why, because you liked her tits?”

  “They were pretty spectacular,” he said with a smile, evasive. He didn’t want Ian to know how easily he’d fallen back on old habits. Keeping secrets from the department, ghosting suspects after hours. He had no business following Karina Strauss.

  “You need to get laid,” Ian decided, scratching his chin.

  Adam made a scoffing sound. “Look who’s talking. I know you haven’t gotten any lately. You reek, dude.”

  “I could use a shower.”

  “Go ahead,” Adam said. He also offered his spare bedroom, which was always open to Ian when he needed it. His friend worked so much deep undercover it didn’t make sense for him to rent his own place.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, rising to his feet. “Is there a game on?”

  Adam grabbed the remote to check. “Padres.”

  “Sweet. I’ll be out in a few.”

  They spent the remainder of the evening watching baseball. It was a comfortable, bachelor-style existence. At one time Adam might have suggested an outing to liven things up. Now they both preferred to stay in. Ian had never been a fan of the club scene, anyway. He wasn’t the no-strings type. While on assignment, he wouldn’t engage in a one-night stand if a woman threw herself at his feet.

  Adam, on the other hand, had no qualms about casual hookups. During his self-destructive phase, he’d often trolled for women at bars, searching for someone who wasn’t there. Like tailing Moreno, it was a pointless exercise. Sleeping with strangers was almost as unsatisfying as sleeping alone.

  No one could fill the void Penelope left.

  The last woman he’d gone home with had resembled his ex in a superficial way. He’d stayed later than usual, studying the way her dark hair spilled across the pillow. For several moments he was awash with memories, his chest aching.

  He hadn’t been with anyone since.

  Karina Strauss didn’t look like Penelope. He considered that a plus. There was also no danger of him developing feelings for a drug smuggler. Anyone involved in that business had earned his contempt.

  Using her to get to Moreno would be his pleasure.

  He said goodnight to Ian, who was already dozing on the couch, and went to his room. Tucking his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, ignoring the empty space beside him. He’d relegated his favorite photo of Penelope to the top drawer.

  Instead of taking it out, he conjured a vivid mental image of Karina Strauss. Although he couldn’t fault her face or figure, he resented her for being clear and vibrant, while his memories of Penelope had faded.

  3

  Kari awoke with a plan.

  She rose and dressed quickly, looking forward to an early jog. Morning was her favorite time of day, cool and quiet. She stepped out on the sidewalk and took off at a steady pace, gaining momentum as she rounded the block. Soon her body felt strong and her mind alert, ready to conquer any obstacle.

  She completed her usual three-mile loop and came to a stop in the front yard, panting lightly in the shade of an overgrown ficus. Feeling renewed, covered in a light sweat, she went back inside.

  Maria was standing at the stove, her hair mussed. An oversized nightgown hung from her slim frame, almost touching the floor. Her bare toes peeped out from under the hem. “Is okay if I cook?” she asked, spatula in hand.

  Nodding, Kari poured herself a glass of water. After slaking her thirst, she said, “I thought of something.”

  Maria turned off the burner. “What?”

  “I’ll talk to my sister. Convince her to leave Moreno, enter a witness protection program. Whatever it takes.”

  “Witness program?”

  “It’s when the government gives you a new identity, new name. She’ll have to move away, and I might not see her again, but she’d be safe.”

  “And you will be safe also, yes?”

  Kari didn’t think she’d be relocated. Once Sasha was out of Moreno’s clutches, he couldn’t blackmail her. Problem solved. “Yes.”

  Maria looked doubtful. “Your sister wants to leave her boyfriend?”

  Kari took another sip of water, deliberating. Sasha wanted to do drugs, go shopping,
and party all night. “When I tell her we’re both in danger, she’ll come around,” she said, optimistic. Her sister would see reason. She had to.

  They sat down for a light breakfast of eggs, fresh fruit, and toast. “This looks good,” Kari said, digging in.

  “You talk to sister today,” Maria said, taking a bite, “and I go to work at hotel.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes. I need money, and it is better to act … tranquilas.”

  Kari smiled, remembering Maria’s hostile attitude toward Moreno’s men. She hadn’t looked very peaceful yesterday afternoon. “Okay,” she said. “I agree that pretending to cooperate is a good idea.”

  “This job is for maid, nothing more?”

  Maria’s trepidation was warranted—many illegal activities occurred at the Hotel del Oro. “I think so,” Kari said, “but that place is full of bad men. If someone tries to grab you, run away. My store is close by.”

  “Bueno,” she said, fearless. “I don’t mind cleaning hotel rooms, but I have never worked on my back.”

  Kari wished that Sasha had the same amount of self-respect. She finished her breakfast and left the table to get ready, hoping her sister would realize she’d hit rock bottom. After a cool, soothing shower, she slipped into a white cotton peasant dress, adding a colorful woven belt and brown leather sandals.

  When she came out of her bedroom, she saw that Maria had also transformed her appearance. She was wearing baggy jeans and a drab T-shirt, her long hair pulled back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck.

  “What do you think?” she asked Kari.

  “You still look pretty.”

  She squinted at her reflection in the hallway mirror. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe I need a hat.”

  “I have one,” Kari said, rummaging through her closet for an army-green baseball cap that she’d never worn.

  Maria donned it with relish, pulling the bill down low on her forehead.

  “That makes a big difference,” Kari mused. The cap didn’t turn Maria into a troll, but it disguised her best features. Her elegant, wing-shaped brows and thickly lashed brown eyes were cast in shadow, and her shiny hair was hidden.

  “I am Ugly Betty, yes?”

  Kari laughed. “Not quite.”

  Maria turned away from the mirror, her gaze wandering over Kari’s dress. “You would not be able to hide from men.”

  Kari made a rueful agreement, acknowledging that her curvy figure attracted attention. She didn’t try to downplay her femininity anymore; it was a lost cause.

  “Why no husband or boyfriend for you?”

  “I’m always working,” she said with a sigh. “And very few eligible bachelors come to my boutique.”

  “What is bachelor? Un soltero?”

  “Yes. I met my last boyfriend at the grocery store.” Brendan had been a firefighter, handsome and charming. They’d hit it off really well at first, but their opposing work schedules made spending time together difficult. Neglected too long, the spark burned out. “We broke up last summer,” she said, frowning at the memory. She couldn’t believe it had been so long. “How about you? Do you have someone special?”

  She shook her head. “There was a boy in my village, but he found another.”

  “Men,” Kari muttered, understanding exactly how Maria felt. Brendan had started seeing someone else before they split up.

  “They say that Tijuana is a city of heartbreak.”

  She imagined there were just as many failed relationships on this side of the border, if not more, but she knew that TJ was filled with men who’d left their wives behind. It also had a booming sex industry and rampant crime. Every year it became more dangerous for Kari to shop for inventory there.

  “Then maybe San Diego is the place for starting over,” she replied.

  They left the house just before 9:00 a.m., opening time at Zócalo. During the summer season, Kari kept extended hours. On Tuesday, her only day off, she locked the doors for her weekly trips to Mexico. It was a hectic schedule, but business was good.

  Zócalo had started to turn a healthy profit for several reasons. First, she was picky about the merchandise. She carried a wide range of figurines and folk art, many inexpensive, but none poorly made. Some of her pottery pieces were gallery-worthy.

  The store also had a choice location. It was close enough to Old Town to draw in tourists, but far enough to avoid the traffic gridlock. A few blocks south, the neighborhood deteriorated into seedy hotels and rundown apartment complexes, but Kari didn’t mind. She liked the hustle and bustle of downtown, the noise and vibrancy. There were several parks and historic buildings within walking distance.

  The third reason for increased sales could be attributed to changes within Mexico. Passports were required for all U.S. citizens now, so fewer shoppers were walking across the border to browse. Tight security made traveling by car more time consuming. And an upswing in violent crime, compliments of the drug cartels, discouraged tourism to Tijuana.

  Kari sold a lot of items online, and she’d been attracting plenty of foot traffic as well. This summer had been her busiest yet.

  She parked the van in the loading zone, near the back entrance. Maria helped her carry the boxes into the storeroom. When that task was done, Kari unlocked the front door, flipping the OPEN sign around to face forward. “Hotel del Oro is just three blocks down, on the right,” she said, pointing.

  Maria nodded, looking in that direction.

  Kari remembered the extra can of pepper spray she kept under the counter, near the cash register. “Take this,” she said, handing it to Maria.

  “For the eyes?” she asked, mimicking a spraying motion.

  “Exactly.”

  Maria clipped the small black canister to the waistband of her jeans, flashing Kari a thankful smile. Her chipped tooth gave her a cute, quirky edge. As she straightened her blouse, bells chimed at the entrance, signaling a customer.

  Kari watched, her mouth dropping open, as Officer A. Cortez walked through the front door. He was wearing dark sunglasses again, but she recognized him instantly. The man was an eye magnet. His white T-shirt fit well, hinting at a flat stomach and hard chest. The jeans he was wearing were the comfortable kind, wash-faded, and saved from riding too low on his hips by a black leather belt.

  Kari stared. Maria stared.

  He removed his sunglasses, hooking them to the neck of his T-shirt.

  A couple of thoughts occurred to her. First, he had brown eyes, as she’d suspected. Second, he wasn’t in uniform. He might not be here to arrest her. “Hello,” she said, pasting on an awkward smile.

  He nodded, browsing the shelves.

  Kari dragged Maria out the front door, which was difficult because her new friend was still gazing at A. Cortez.

  “Good luck,” she said to Maria, meaning get lost.

  Maria didn’t ask who Kari’s customer was, but she seemed to realize it was time for her to leave. “Thanks,” she said, giving Kari a warm hug, followed by a friendly kiss on the cheek. “You too.”

  Maria took off in the direction of the hotel, and Kari went back inside, her heart pounding. Although Cortez was still perusing the inventory, she got the impression that he’d watched her say goodbye to Maria.

  What did he want?

  Maybe this was a coincidence. A bizarre, untimely coincidence.

  As she made her way to the front counter, she felt his eyes following her, and it dawned on her that his visit might be … personal in nature. She’d almost flashed her breasts at him yesterday. He hadn’t seemed impressed, but he’d been on duty. It wouldn’t have been professional of him to ogle her.

  A different sort of tension filled her body, making her skin flush and her hairline tingle. This was not good. She had to get rid of him. But what excuse could she give for coming on to him one day and snubbing him the next?

  She fumbled for a bottle of water behind the counter, taking a qu
ick sip. There was only one thing to do: feign innocence. Encouraging him would be very stupid. Her sister had drug cartel connections, and she was harboring an illegal alien!

  Squaring her shoulders, she pushed away from the counter, approaching him as she would any customer. He was studying the Day of the Dead figurines, her most popular items. Again she noticed how handsome he was. Her last boyfriend, Brendan, had also been nice to look at, but she couldn’t remember having this strong a reaction to him. Maybe fear had heightened her senses, causing her to fixate on irrelevant details.

  As she stepped closer she detected a hint of spicy soap. His clean, masculine scent unnerved her. She stared at his smooth brown throat, trying not to breathe him in. The fact that he was attractive made her more nervous. She was both drawn to and repelled by him. This man was a threat to her livelihood—and her libido.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  He gave her a speculative glance. “Do you remember me?”

  She moistened her lips. “Yes.”

  “I saw the sign on your van,” he explained, gesturing to the dancing skeleton figurines. “My mother collects these.”

  Kari almost sagged against the shelves, giddy with relief. Apparently he wasn’t here to arrest her or to flirt with her. He was just a nice guy buying a gift for his mother. How embarrassing.

  “Now I realize that I should have studied her collection before I came in,” he said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m not sure which ones she already has.”

  Her brain kicked back into gear. “The figurines are fairly common,” she admitted. “No two are exactly alike, because they’re handmade, but many are similar.”

  “Some of them look familiar.”

  “All of the pieces in the display case are one of a kind,” she said, trying a different tack. The skeleton-embossed stemware and blown-glass skulls were unique, original, and much more expensive than the papier-mâché sculptures.

  “I think she only collects the figurines.”

  “If she’s been here before, I can access her previous purchases,” Kari offered.