Blurring the Line

by Kierney Scott

There was nothing for Beth to do. She looked at herself in the mirror. She could never be described as an American Beauty Rose but now she looked like shit. The blood vessels in and around her eyes had burst. Her eyelids and forehead were covered in a thick dusting of red marks. Even the whites of her eyes hadn’t been spared. She looked like a crime scene photo; it looked like she had blood sprayed over her. She turned on the water and rinsed out her mouth but she could still feel the acidic burn of bile. She swished some Listerine around her mouth and spat it in the sink.

  She should get to bed. She doubted she would sleep but she should try. The sun would be up soon, as would Alejandra. Beth dragged herself up the stairs, holding onto the smooth wooden banister for support. The wood reminded her of Torres and immediately her eyes welled up. She ran her hand along the smooth wood. If Torres had built it, it would be better: more intricate. She wiped a tear from her eye and forced herself up another stair.

  Tomorrow she would force herself to make Torres one of the details she didn’t think about but tonight she was going to let herself cry. She could pretend to be strong tomorrow.

  Beth paused at the door to Alejandra’s room. The brass doorknob was cool. Beth opened the door and tiptoed across to her crib. The baby was sleeping on her tummy, her lips slightly apart, her hands and legs curled under her. Beth fought the urge to stroke her hair. It would wake her up, so she just watched her sleep until her eyes blurred from tears.

  Eventually Beth made the trip down the long hall to her own room. If she was lucky there was an hour of darkness left. She would use the time to grieve. She didn’t kid herself that that would be enough time. She knew she might always carry it with her, but she could pretend she didn’t.

  Beth closed the door to her room and kicked off her shoes.

  Suddenly a hand was over her mouth and another hand was wrapped around her waist dragging her back. She tried to scream but the sound was strangled.

  She needed to get the agents’ attention. They were in a van parked outside watching the house. If she could flash her lights, they might see and realise she needed help.

  Beth lunged forward with all her might but she couldn’t reach the switch. She was dragged back further, away from the door, away from the light…to the bed.

  She bit the hand across her mouth as hard as she could. She didn’t even stop when she tasted blood.

  But he did not let go.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Fuck Gatita, you even bite like a cat,” he whispered against her ear.

  Her heart stopped in her chest. Only one person called her that. But he was…unless…

  She screamed against his hand again.

  “I’m going to take away my hand. Don’t scream. I didn’t think you would want the agents knowing I was here. Next time I’ll use the door and save myself the stitches.”

  Beth spun on her heel. The room was dark but she could make out his solid form.

  “Torres,” she whispered. Her voice was strangled.

  “It’s me, Gatita.”

  Beth lunged at him, her hands balled into tight fists. She swung her arm and her hand connected with his face. It felt like his nose. She swung again, this time she hit him in the chin. Her knuckles burned from the impact. She flattened her hands and struck his face with her palms over and over. She grabbed his shirt and pulled until the fabric ripped and then she hit him again.

  “Fight back,” she hissed. “Hit me back.” She slapped him again and again and when her hands could no longer stand the sting, she kicked him. He didn’t move to stop her or block her punches. He absorbed each one. She shoved him hard against the bed. “I hate you.” She pushed him again. This time he fell onto the bed. “I hate you!” she said again. She climbed on top of him and hit him again.

  His face was wet from blood.

  “I hate you, Torres,” she said again. She lifted her hand to hit him again but she couldn’t. A sob tore through her body. She convulsed with tears as she fell to the bed beside him. He laid a hand on the flat of her back. “Let it out,” he whispered.

  She rose to her knees. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Her hands were not burning any more. She needed to feel something again. She pulled again on his shirt. The small tear she made gave way as she pulled on the soft fabric. Her hands ran across his chest, the knotted scars of burned flesh. “I hate you,” she sobbed.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached up to stroke her face.

  “No!” She slapped his hand away. “I hate you, Torres.” Her hands ran over his chest again and then lower to the waist of his jeans. She unbuttoned them and pulled them lower on his hips. She couldn’t get them all the way off but they were low enough for her to reach for him.

  She wrapped her hands around his soft girth. His body jerked as she stroked him, instantly growing hard in her hand.

  “I hate you,” Beth cried. She let go of him long enough to strip off her jeans and underwear. “I hate you,” she whispered again. She crawled over him and positioned herself with him at the entrance of her body.

  Torres reached for her again but she pushed his hand away, pinning it to the bed. “Don’t!” she shouted.

  She slid down his cock. She didn’t give herself time to stretch or adjust. She wanted him inside her and she needed the pain. She wanted it to hurt so she could feel alive. She winced. Her body was not ready for him but that is what she wanted. It hurt and that is what she needed more than anything else. She rocked against him, her hips crashing against his. She leaned back and rode him, rocking her hips faster and faster. It stopped hurting after a few strokes. She rode him harder, trying to capture more of the initial pain, but it felt good. She was wet now and she slid over him. God it felt good, the way he filled her so completely. She leaned back so each stroke was not rubbing her clit. She didn’t want it to feel good.

  “Beth, I’m going to come if you don’t stop.” Was he telling her as a warning or as a consideration? She didn’t care. She kept going until he grunted and she felt the hot release against her inner walls. She collapsed onto him and cried. Her whole body shook from the sobs.

  “Shh, don’t cry.” He ran his hand over her back. She was still wearing her T-shirt. “It’s OK.” He said again but she couldn’t stop shaking. “I drove all night to get here,” he whispered into her hair.

  Beth’s cheek rested against his; it was wet from her tears and his blood.

  She realised she had made his nose bleed. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I know. I wanted to get here before you saw it. I’m sorry.”

  “What happened? Four people were killed. I thought you were dead.” She started to cry again.

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  “I thought they made you,” she sobbed.

  He guided her hand over the scarred tissue of his chest. “Nobody questions my loyalty,” he assured her.

  Beth sat up and gently kissed the Santa Muerte tattoo on his chest. “I love this tattoo,” she said between sobs. And she did, if it kept him alive. “You’re not a detail I can pretend not to know.”

  “I know.”

  She didn’t have to explain herself. He understood what she was saying.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Beth shook her head. “How can I not worry about you? I worry about everything. You’re my agent.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “And you’re my friend.”

  “If word got out this was one of the perks of going undercover, the DEA would never have a problem with recruitment again.”

  Beth smiled. “Oh God, you’re still wearing your boxer shorts…and your jeans.” She covered her eyes. “Oh God. First you do something illegal to me and then I return the favour with a felony. I punched you and then forced myself on you. My God, who does that?” She pushed herself up but Torres wouldn’t let her go.

  “Trust me, Gatita, we were going to be having sex tonight.”

  “Please don’t try to make me feel better about it.” She turned her head. She coul
dn’t bear to look at him. She had completely lost control.

  “Look at me.” He reached for her face but she turned away.

  In an instant he rolled her onto her back and pinned her against the bed. He held her head between his hands so she couldn’t move. “Do you honestly think you could make me do anything I didn’t want?”

  Beth considered his question for a second. She could barely breathe. There was no doubt he could overpower her in seconds, he had done it before. If he didn’t want to have sex, they would not have had sex. “I hit you,” she said.

  “You were scared.” He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “If it really bothered me, I would have stopped you.”

  Beth’s lips trembled. “OK. Thank you, Torres.”

  “Again with the last name. What do I need to do for you to use my first name?”

  Beth laughed through her tears. “Sorry Armando. Nope that just doesn’t sound right.”

  “OK, Torres it is.” He kissed her again, this time her neck.

  Beth squeezed out from under him. “What happened in Colombia? Why were you there?”

  “Martinez is there. Los Treintas are bringing more drugs through. After you left, Jessop contacted me to give me the heads up.”

  Beth stiffened at the mention of her boss. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  Torres shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t want you going back to Colombia.”

  Torres sighed. “Is it selfish that I kind of like that you worry? It’s been a long time since someone worried about me.”

  “I mean it, Torres. I will speak to Jessop. It’s not safe. Four agents were killed.”

  Torres shook his head. “No, they weren’t agents. Three were Treintas and the other was Carlos Leguna. He was one of the guys you met with Flores.”

  Beth’s body tensed. “What happened?”

  Torres let out a stream of air. “Flores didn’t trust him, thought he was working for the DEA. I could have stopped him but I didn’t.”

  Beth nodded. “It would have blown your cover.” Fear gripped her again as she contemplated it.

  “He was just a kid.”

  Beth sat up. “No,” she said adamantly. “He was a Zetilla. He was dead the moment he joined Los Zetas. I want you out.”

  Torres didn’t say anything.

  “I mean it. I am speaking as your superior.”

  Torres smiled. “No, you’re not. You’re talking as my friend…and I appreciate that. It means a lot that I have someone who has my back.”

  Beth shook her head. “It nearly killed me. You’re not a detail.”

  Torres pulled her head down against his chest and stroked her hair. “I know.”

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Jessop told me before I went to Colombia.”

  Beth smiled. “I hate him a little less for that but he shouldn’t have sent you to Colombia.”

  “If El Escorpion is there, that’s where I need to be.”

  Beth entire body tensed. “You can’t go back, not to Colombia. Nor to Mexico. It’s just not safe.”

  His heartbeat was so strong, so steady against her.

  “It’s not safe for you with El Escorpion alive.”

  She shook her head again. Why did this have to be their problem? Why couldn’t they both just run away and never look back? “Torres, when you’re close, I feel safe. I don’t even understand it because you used to scare me more than anyone. But now when you’re here I feel like everything is OK.” She couldn’t make him stay. If she could, she would. “When do you need to go back?”

  “Now. I shouldn’t be here now.”

  Beth ran her hand over the scarred skin of his chest. “Can you spend the night? I want to wake up next to you.”

  “You did once, remember?”

  “The night in the hotel doesn’t count. I was drunk and I didn’t like you very much at that point.”

  “Darlin’, you told me a dozen times tonight that you hate me and that ended very well for me.”

  Beth leaned in and kissed his tattoo. “I don’t even need a whole night, just a couple of hours where I get to pretend everything is OK.”

  “I like your pretending game. Have I told you that before? ’Cause I do.”

  Beth smiled. “Tonight I’m pretending that I am in charge of the Sacramento office. My mom is fine. She was misdiagnosed. You’re teaching at a small Catholic high school outside of Austin.”

  “Why a Catholic high school?”

  Beth scrunched up her nose. “Because you’re Hispanic and so I assumed you’re a Catholic. Is that racist? God I’ve been around Patterson too long. Next I’ll be calling Alejandra my little tamale.”

  “It’s only slightly racist, you’re going to have to work a lot harder to bring it to Patterson levels. And yes I’m Catholic. Are you?”

  “No. I’m heathen.”

  “I’m unfamiliar with that particular variety of Protestant.”

  Beth smiled. “You’re funny and scary and sexy. You got a whole lot going on, Torres. Oh and you can make things.”

  “Is this one of your lists? I like your lists. So efficient and neurotic.”

  Beth shrugged. “I could make a reason I like Torres list. But most of the things on the list would be dirty so I won’t.”

  It was Torres’ turn to laugh. “If you start making dirty lists, I might never leave.”

  “Then I am going to make that list.”

  Torres picked up her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “How is Alejandra?”

  “She’s good.” Beth raised her head. “Wait, how did you know she was here? Did you see her?”

  “No. I told Jessop you should be put up together. I can tell you like the little tamale.”

  “You did? And he listened?”

  “I don’t know if you know this about me, but people are frightened of me, and frightened people tend to do what they’re asked.”

  “Alejandra is not scared of you.”

  “That is because the ladies love me.”

  Beth flicked his face with her finger. “I bet they do. That whole bad boy thing is working for you.”

  Torres grabbed her hand again and gently placed her finger between his teeth, licking the tip, before kissing her palm.

  Beth laid her head on his chest. “Torres, I won’t be able to work. I’ll be too worried about you. I need to know you’re safe. Well, as safe as you can be. Call me every day. You don’t even have to speak to me, just call and hang up so I know you’re alive.”

  “OK.” Torres kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep, Gatita.”

  “I don’t want to go to sleep. I know you’ll be gone in the morning.”

  Torres didn’t deny it. “I’ll call you tomorrow night.”

  “OK.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t be one of these guys who says he is going to call and then doesn’t because I’m still your boss and I will make your life unbearable if you do that.”

  He kissed her forehead again. “I promise I’ll call tomorrow, and every night until I find El Escorpion.”

  “OK, Now promise me you’ll be safe. If you promise me, I’ll believe it.”

  “Will you?” he asked.

  “Of course I’ll believe you. I trust you, Torres.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Beth woke up, Torres was already gone. The only sign that he had been there was blood on the sheets from his bloody nose and a pack of M&M’s on the bedside table with a note: Don’t get too stressed, Gatita. If these don’t work, I have something else you can suck on.

  Beth laughed when she read the note. She folded the paper and held it in her closed hand for a long time.

  He’s going to be OK. She closed her eyes and repeated the words to herself as if saying them often enough would make them true.

  She spent the rest of the day re-reading files and playing with Alejandra. Beth was glad Torres had asked Jessop to keep them together. The baby was a great distraction. They laughed and sa
ng and ate cereal off the floor, and dug holes in the back yard.

  By 7pm Beth had given her a bath and put her to bed, but still no word from Torres. She checked again to make sure her phone was on and then she checked her email in case he had messaged her. He never had and she didn’t even think he had her email address, but checking distracted her for two minutes.

  She emailed her sister to check on her and her mom. She could call Paige but she didn’t trust herself to not start crying and spill everything to her sister. She hadn’t even told her family she was in a safe house. There was no reason to worry them too. Once her sister’s finals were over, she might tell her, but probably not, it was Beth’s job to worry not hers.

  Beth switched on the TV and started flipping through the channels. She settled on a rerun of an eighties sitcom. It was mindless and sweet; she really just wanted the noise.

  At 9:00 exactly the phone rang.

  “Hello?” she nearly shouted.

  “Hola, Mami.”

  Beth smiled. Those were the words he used when he saved her from Flores.

  “Where are you?”

  “Laredo.”

  He was only two hours away. The knowledge that he was in the same country, the same state, made her happier than she had been in a long time. “Are you alone?”

  Torres laughed. “Nope, I’m here with my harem. You know how all women love bad boys.”

  Beth couldn’t help but smile. “The stupid ones love them, the rest of us just have a really good time.”

  “Touché.”

  “I’m glad you’re in Texas.”

  “Me too. Wish I was in San Antonio. Ever been? My very high-strung friend is there. She can be a pain in the ass but she’s great in bed, so I put up with it.”

  Beth flushed at his words. No one had ever accused her of being good in bed. “Is she? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”

  “I think so. Small girl, great tits. Doesn’t smile enough. I’m sure you’ve met.”

  “Now I know you’re not talking about me. My breasts are too small.”

  “Who said that?” he demanded. “Your breasts are perfect.”

  “Flores said it, for one. ‘Pequeno pero agradable.’”