“What about your sister?”
Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t care. I mean I hope she doesn’t but it’s her life.” She hoped her sister was smart enough to not be taken in by all his bullshit, but she didn’t want to know if she was wrong.
“You think your mom is stupid for standing my him?”
“Standing by him? You make it sound like there is something noble about being a schmuck. She gave him a chance, and he blew it.”
Torres turned the car down the steep road that led to his beach house. This time Beth wasn’t scared of the drop because her attention was tuned in to Alejandra.
“That’s one more chance than you would have given him.”
Beth looked up catching Torres’ gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Yep, I wouldn’t have given him another chance.” The truth was Beth wouldn’t have trusted him in the first place. That was the one gift her father had given her, she was nobody’s fool.
“But she loves him. Haven’t you ever loved anyone like that?”
Beth shook her head. “Nope. I never would. Would you?”
Torres thought about it for a minute. “I think I would. I can’t really say unless I was in that position but yeah, I think I would. If I ever found someone I loved like that, I don’t think I’d let her go either. I hope I love someone like that one day.”
Torres pulled into the driveway of the beach house. Beth got out of the car before she lifted Alejandra out. “Come on, baby girl.” Alejandra wrapped her small arms around Beth’s neck. Beth closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the weight of the small body perched on her hip. Having someone else to consider and worry about was strangely comforting. “Then all I can say to that is: be careful who you choose to love.”
Torres opened the door and stood to the side as Beth carried Alejandra inside. Beth put the baby on the ground and watched as she pulled herself up on the coffee table and scooted around. “Are you a walker, mija? I think you are,” Beth said in a singsong voice. She had no idea where it was coming from but it felt right.
Torres closed the door behind them. “So what’s your plan, Gatita?”
Beth looked up. Now that he knew she spoke Spanish she could finally address the stupid cat name. “Please stop calling me that. I’m not a crazy cat lady.”
Half of Torres’ mouth rose. “Is that what you think I mean?”
“Look, I know I am a little high strung but I’m not a pathetic cat lady. Please don’t call me that.”
Torres sat down on the couch beside her. “Your eyes,” he said finally. “They remind me of the cat. And you’re skittish. You hold back and observe people. You’re independent and don’t look for approval from anybody. And I’m fairly certain you’d scratch someone’s eyes out if provoked enough. You’re all cat, Beth.”
“Really?” she said dubiously. “It’s not because you think I am going to die alone, surrounded by cats?”
Torres smirked. “Not unless that is what you want.”
Beth shook her head. “No I don’t want to die alone.”
“Maybe you should start with not living alone.”
Beth slapped his chest softly with the back of her hand. “I’ll work on that.”
“Add it to your list. It will get done that way.”
“I will actually.” Beth took the glass out of Alejandra’s hand and replaced it with a cork coaster, which the baby promptly put in her mouth. Torres’ house was far from baby proof. At least his guns were locked away.
“You probably should add trusting people to the list too.”
Beth made a pfft sound, “Settle down. I said I didn’t want to die alone, I didn’t say I wanted to be a schmuck.”
Alejandra let go of the coffee table and took off towards the kitchen. Torres stood up and followed her. “A donde vas, niña?” Where are you going little girl. Alejandra turned and smiled when he spoke to her. She wasn’t scared of him, sixteen months old and she was braver than Beth. When she fell he scooped her up and turned around and brought her back to the living room. Alejandra patted Torres’ bald head and squealed with glee. Torres put her down and she immediately made a beeline for the kitchen.
Torres followed her and again scooped her up and again Alejandra laughed: a game had been established with Torres picking her up and bringing her through, only for Alejandra to smile and run back to the kitchen as soon as he lay her down.
On the fourth time, Torres didn’t follow her. Alejandra turned and motioned for him to catch her. Torres shook his head so Alejandra took a few teetering steps back towards him, hoping to entice him to follow her, but Torres shook his head. Alejandra took another step towards him but still Torres didn’t budge. Alejandra took another step forward and in an instant Torres lifted her up “Te tengo, mija!” I got you! The baby let out a howl and started giggling uncontrollably. She patted his head with both hands.
“She likes you.”
“Of course she does, what’s not to like?” Torres sat her down again.
Beth laughed. “I can think of a few things.”
“Yeah but we’ve established you don’t like most people.”
Beth shook her head. “That’s not true. I like people, I just don’t trust them not to screw me over.” Beth stood up from the couch. She scooped Alejandra up in her arms and carried her through to the kitchen to look for something to feed her. “Coffee or peanut butter, baby girl. That is what we have on offer at the minute.”
Torres followed behind them. “I’ll make her some scrambled eggs.”
Beth smiled down at the baby. “That sounds better doesn’t it? Torres would make a much better mommy than me, wouldn’t he? Yes I think he would.” Beth answered her own question.
Torres cracked an egg into a glass bowl. “So what’s your plan, Gatita?
Beth let out a stream of air. “I don’t have a plan. I don’t even know where to start with a plan on this one.”
“You can’t keep her,” Torres said, only half joking. At least he had calmed down. He no longer looked like he was going to murder her and bury her in the desert. He just looked like he would gladly wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze, but that was his normal look, so she should be OK.
“I know I can’t keep her. She is not a stray kitten I found on the side of the road.”
“Is that how you got your cat?” Torres cracked another egg and whisked them together with a fork.
“It is actually.” Apparently she had a pathological need to rescue things. Maybe she got that from her mom.
“So what are you going to do? She isn’t a detail you can ignore.”
Beth nodded. He knew her too well. She needed time to think. A cold settled over her. “I don’t know what went wrong this morning. Everything was planned.”
“You can’t plan for a mole. Someone inside tipped Martinez off.”
“We don’t know that yet. We don’t even know if Martinez is still alive.”
“He’s alive,” Torres said adamantly. “Someone tipped him off and he killed Sanchez. This was straight up retribution.”
Beth nodded. “Probably. But his family…”
“It sends a loud powerful message to anyone you thinks about crossing him again. Smart move.”
The apathy in Torres sent ice through her. He was discussing it as casually as he would chess strategy. In his mind, annihilating a family was a smart move.
It scared her that she agreed.
“I need to call Patterson and figure out went wrong.”
Torres pulled a plate from the cupboard and placed a helping of fluffy scrambled eggs in the centre. He put the plate on the table before he reached for Alejandra and sat down at the table with her perched on his knee. The scene was completely incongruous, a massive tattooed man, who looked like he had just come from the prison yard, and the small angelic little girl sitting happily on his lap.
Immediately the baby made a swipe at the eggs. Torres pushed the plate back out of her reach. “Can you hand me two spo
ons please? Small ones.”
“Sure.” Beth opened the drawer and found two teaspoons. She handed them to Torres who gave them to Alejandra. The baby fisted the tiny cutlery, swinging her hands back and forth like a conductor leading a vigorous rendition of the Aaron Copland’s ‘Hoe-Down’, but the distraction worked and Torres was able to feed her without her making any more grabs for the food.
“You know what went wrong. You just don’t know who,” Torres said as he continued to feed Alejandra.
“Martinez is smart. He could have figured out that Sanchez ratted him out. We shouldn’t jump immediately to corruption within the DEA.”
“Said the woman who claims to trust no one.”
Beth shook her head. “This has nothing to do with trust. I’m looking at the most likely scenario. Retribution is the most likely answer, but we won’t know anything until we find Martinez. First things first: we need to find a safe place for Alejandra. Her maternal family is in San Salvador. Sanchez’s family are all dead or involved with Los Treintas.” Beth would not leave a dog in their care, let alone a helpless toddler. “I need to call Patterson. I am going to let him deal with the bureaucracy of getting a minor out of the country. See Torres, I can delegate.”
Torres crossed himself. “Isn’t that one of the signs of the apocalypse, you delegating?”
“Believe me, I’m not happy about it, but it will be easier dealing with it from the American end. There is not a lot I can do from here.”
Torres agreed. “I feel like I should take a photo to document the moment you realised you can’t do everything single-handily.”
“I’m really not that bad,” Beth scoffed.
“You really are.”
Torres grinned as Alejandra babbled her agreement.
Chapter Nine
Beth couldn’t breathe. She was submerged in thick water…viscous and warm…dark.
It was blood.
Everywhere was blood: between her fingers, on her face, in her hair. Where was the surface? She needed to get to the surface. But where was it? She couldn’t see; everywhere was blood. Finally she was at the top. She made it. She screamed but nothing came out. She thrashed her body, her hands fisting, beating against the scarlet torrent, trying to make herself heard.
“Oh God,” Beth gasped. It wasn’t blood surrounding her; it was wet sheets. Beth squinted into the inky darkness. Panic seized her. Was it the baby? Was she OK? Had she wet the bed? Beth reached out and laid her hand on Alejandra’s back. It rose and fell in slow cycles. Thank God. She was OK. The baby was OK.
It was Beth: the sheets were drenched in her sweat.
Beth sat up. It was just a dream. She pushed the sheet off her and stood. She was consumed with the desire to run. She had no idea where, she just wanted to run and run until her legs gave out. Twenty-four hours ago she was convinced the nightmare was almost ever. How wrong she was. How epically stupid had she been? Turns out she was worse than her dad at recon. At least her dad hadn’t actually killed anyone.
She needed some air or a glass of water. Hell, a stiff drink wouldn’t go amiss.
She tiptoed out of the room so she wouldn’t wake up the baby.
Beth ran the water until it was cool on her hands.
“Hey, you OK?” Torres asked from the doorway.
Beth flinched, the cold glass slipped through her hands and shattered on the terracotta tiles. “Damn it. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke as a tear slid down her cheek. “Stupid. I was so stupid.”
Torres turned on the light. He was wearing boxer shorts and nothing else, his scars and tattoo were more prominent than she remembered. Half of his broad chest was covered by the morbid illustration. Beth sucked in a sharp breath of air. Instantly her fear intensified. Why? He wasn’t going to hurt her. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. So why wouldn’t her heart slow down?.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Her voice trembled. She tried to bite her lip to stop the hot torrent of tears but nothing would stop them. They fell faster than she could wipe them away.
“Are you hurt?” Torres demanded, his face contorted by fear.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you up.” The words barely made it past the sobs. God she needed to get it together. It was just a broken glass. Beth sunk to the ground and started scooping up broken shards. “God I’m so stupid. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Beth, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
But it was too late. Beth’s hand was already bleeding. She wished she could feel it. Maybe the pain would dull the ache in her heart. “It’s my fault,” she whispered again.
“It’s not your fault.” Torres leaned down and pressed the softest kiss against her forehead. It was so gentle and tender and nothing she would expect from him. If she hadn’t already been crying, she would have started.
“It’s my fault,” she said again. She wiped another stream of tears away, the salt nipped at the fresh cuts on her hands.
Torres helped her to stand and led her through to the bathroom.
“Sit.” He gestured to the closed toilet lid.
Wordlessly Beth complied.
“It’s not your fault.” Torres examined her bloody palm. He squinted to focus as he pulled a small sliver of glass from the fleshy pad of her hand, just below her index finger. He rustled through his medicine cabinet until he found some antiseptic cream and a box of plastic bandages. He rubbed the cream gently unto her cut before covering it.
“I’m sorry,” Beth said.
“It’s just a glass.”
Beth cried harder. “No not the glass. I’m sorry for everything. I’ve screwed everything up. I’m a bad agent and I’m a bad daughter. I’m a bad sister. I’m a bad friend. I pretend to be good at things but I’m not. I can’t fake anything effectively. Oh God I’m a bad faker. Remember I couldn’t even fake an orgasm.” Beth couldn’t speak any more through the tears. She gulped frantically to get her breath.
“Shh,” Torres said as he scooped her up from the toilet and carried her through to the couch.
“You’re strong,” Beth said between gasps. She probably should slide off his lap but she didn’t want to move. She felt small and vulnerable but on his lap she felt protected. For the first time she was thankful for his menacing appearance. No one would mess with Torres and she felt safe by association. He was like a gargoyle warding off evil spirits.
She felt rather than saw his smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“Three people died today because of me. Martinez got away. We might never find El Escorpion. All your work has been blown to hell.”
“There is also a hole in the ozone and the national debt is spiralling out of control. You’re not responsible for those either.”
Beth shook her head. “Oh, Torres. I’m a fake. I can’t do this. I’m not brave enough or smart enough. I’m just not. I can’t do this.”
Torres pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You’re brave, Beth, and you’re smart. You’re just shaken up. I was wondering when it would hit you.”
“No I’m not brave. I’m scared. Flores scared me, you scare me, my mom’s disease scares me. The thought that I really am a cat lady scares me. I’m scared I will die in my sleep and my cat will eat me.” God she was pathetic. Why did she admit these things to him?
“You probably should get rid of the cat. He’s causing you no end of grief.”
Beth choked on a laugh. “I’m serious. I’m faking it. All of it: the good agent part, the loving daughter part. I’m actually angry with my mom for getting sick. That is how bad I am. You said once you like me because I’m so normal but I’m not. I’m faking that too.”
Torres stroked her hair. “Everyone is faking it, Beth. You are brave and smart and kind and a far better agent than you give yourself credit for. Give yourself a break. You saw three people murdered today in cold blood. This right now is normal.”
Beth w
iped another tear away. “Really?” she asked dubiously.
“Really.”
“But you’re not blubbering.”
Torres sighed. “It wasn’t my first murder.”
Beth started to cry again. This time her tears were for Torres. Oh god, the things he had seen. The things he had done, she had made him do. They were just details for Beth but for Torres they were real. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you in that position. I took advantage of you.” She had manipulated him, used his past against him. There was nothing nice about it.
Torres laughed softly. “Darlin’, look at me and then look at you. You’ve never made me do anything I didn’t want to do.”
“You wouldn’t have joined the DEA if Archila hadn’t been murdered.”
“Unless you tell me you’re actually a double agent working for Los Treintas, I’m going to have to tell you to let that one go. The list of things you’re beating yourself up over is long enough. Take that one off. No one makes me do anything I don’t want to do.”
Beth nodded. He was right; he had to be. She didn’t need that guilt too. There was no way she could force him to do anything. If she could she would have forced him to give up his plans for revenge. “I’m being stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. I was waiting for this part to kick in. You kept it together far better than most people would.”
Beth’s skin warmed at the praise. She wanted to make him proud. “Except for the kidnapping a small person part. That wasn’t great.” She still didn’t know what she was going to do with Alejandra. So far Patterson had had no joy in locating any family in Mexico or El Salvador. Oh god, what had she been thinking? Part of her wished Torres had murdered her and dumped her in the desert; then dealing with the baby would be his responsibility. She had screwed up. Shit she had really screwed up.
Blurring the Line Page 13
