Off the Rails

by Jill Sorenson

  But Ian had a hunch that LaGuardia wouldn’t give a flying fuck about a dead gang member. The SAC didn’t seem to care that much about rules and procedures, except when he was trying to shame Ian for having an affair with Maria.

  No matter what happened, Ian wasn’t going to leave Maria in this camp. He wasn’t going to get on the train again until he’d slept a few hours, either. He was so tired, he couldn’t think straight. His eyelids kept drooping. Sitting down in this steamy room was a mistake. He massaged the nape of his neck, drowsy.

  Then the faucet turned off, and he snapped to attention. “You finished?”

  “Don’t look.”

  “Okay,” he said, agreeable. He didn’t want to look, anyway. Looking would give him a hard-on, and he needed that like a hole in the head.

  She fussed around in the stall, doing who knows what. It sounded like she was wringing water from a washcloth. Maybe he drifted off for a minute, because she put her hand on his shoulder and he almost jumped out of the chair.

  “What?”

  “It’s your turn,” she said.

  He rose to his feet and turned around. She wasn’t dressed, as he’d expected. She had a sorry excuse for a towel wrapped around her lithe body. Although it covered her from chest to upper thigh, the lower edges didn’t quite meet. It gaped at one hip, exposing a smooth expanse of honey-colored skin. He wanted to sink to his knees and press his lips to that spot.

  She took a step backward, frowning.

  Don’t look, he reminded himself. He was supposed to be not looking. With some difficulty, he redirected his gaze. There wasn’t a safe place to put his eyes, though. Her shoulders were bare and sexy. Her face had inspired more fantasies than her body.

  “I need to put my clothes on,” she said.

  Yes, she did. After an awkward pause, he realized that she wanted him to move aside. If they switched places, he could shower while she got dressed. That was a more efficient use of their time. “I have to leave my gun out here.”

  She nodded, clutching the towel to her chest.

  He took off his shirt and shoulder holster, setting it down on the dry concrete. Then he went ahead and shed the rest of his clothes. He wasn’t modest, and it was easier to strip outside the stall. He unwrapped the ACE bandage and tossed it aside. He left his boxers on, for her sake.

  She didn’t peek.

  He stepped inside and pulled the curtain closed, disappointed. He knew she wasn’t interested in him right now, for understandable reasons, but he longed for her attention. He wanted her eyes on his body. Women usually liked him, even though he wasn’t super buff. They gave him admiring glances. Maria had, the night he’d taken her to bed. She’d bitten her lip, smiling.

  So much for avoiding dirty thoughts. Jesus. One minute, he was focused on work. The next, he was picturing her pleased expression as she’d stroked him. His dick strained forward as if she’d reached for it with her slender hand.

  He turned on the water and tried to ignore the dull throb of desire. Taking care of business in the shower was part of his usual routine. Maybe not daily, but often enough. After a long week of travel, and yesterday’s petting session, he was aching for release. There was no way he could get it, however. He wasn’t going to jerk off while she stood two feet away.

  The water temperature dropped from lukewarm to cool, so that helped. He washed quickly. When he was finished, he pushed down his wet boxers and removed the soggy bandage on his thigh. The skin around the wound appeared discolored, like a bruise. He wondered how the guy from the train looked today, lying dead by the tracks. Compared to that, Ian’s injury was nothing. Some pain and swelling was to be expected.

  He soaped the area and rinsed it off, shrugging. It felt damned good to be clean. He wrung out his wet boxers before he stepped out. Maria passed him a towel, which he wrapped around his waist. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and the same pants she’d been wearing.

  “I have a fresh shirt for you too.”

  He nodded. The other one was stained with blood and sweat.

  “Let’s take care of your leg first.”

  He sat down in the chair, cupping the towel over his junk. She brought him a handful of first aid supplies.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Okay.”

  “It looks bad.”

  “It looked worse before.”

  She knelt by his feet and gave him some antibiotic ointment. He applied it dutifully. Then she placed a large square of gauze over the wound and rewrapped his thigh with the stretchy ACE bandage. Her touch was disconcerting. Comforting and tantalizing all at once. “How’s that?”

  He liked her on her knees, taking care of him. “Good.”

  She glanced up, as if the huskiness of his voice had given him away. Her eyes sort of got lost on the way to his face. They lingered on his lap for a second. Then she flushed and rose to her feet. She handed him a shirt and socks, avoiding his gaze.

  He put on his pants first, towel-changing like the surfers at Sunset Cliffs. His socks and boots came next. He left the shirt hanging over the chair and stood. “You have toothpaste?” he asked, because he could smell it on her breath.

  She gave him the tube. “No brush.”

  He made do without, leaning over the edge of the sink. She watched him with her arms crossed over her chest, mouth pursed.

  “What?”

  She gestured to the shirt on the chair. “Will it fit?”

  He shrugged, spitting out a mouthful of water and toothpaste. “Probably.”

  “Are you going to wear it?”

  Her irritated expression made him laugh. She didn’t seem scared or nervous, like she had before. Something else was bothering her now. He picked up his gun holster and put it on. Then he tugged the shirt over his head. “This better?”

  “Yes.”

  The T-shirt wouldn’t hide his weapon as effectively as the flannel, but he didn’t care. It was too warm to wear long sleeves. He slung the flannel over his shoulder and watched her gather the rest of their belongings. They walked out together, into the muggy air. By the time they reached the front of the building, he was sweating.

  “It’s hot,” he said.

  “You are spoiled by San Diego weather.”

  “You could’ve stayed and been spoiled too.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t mean it. You don’t think, you just say things.”

  He glanced at her, surprised by the sharp observation. There was a strange charge between them, like a storm brewing. “I mean what I say.”

  “You are mad at me for leaving. That is what you mean.”

  Yeah. She’d hit the nail on the head. He shouldn’t have brought up the sore subject. He’d been a fool to ask her to marry him. Now he was an even bigger fool for suggesting that everything would have worked out fine if she’d said yes. “I don’t want to argue.”

  She fell silent, her brow furrowed.

  He stared at the railcars in the distance. He didn’t like the feelings he was having. He didn’t like feelings, period. She was right about him being angry. He was tired, and angry, and frustrated. Any man would be after what they’d been through. “Maybe I do want to argue.”

  “Why?”

  “The same reasons I gave at the cargo station.”

  Her lips parted with understanding. Then color rose to her cheeks and she looked away. “If that’s how we argue, I would like to argue also.”

  He groaned at this answer, trying to suppress a deluge of erotic memories. Making out with her, showering with her, listening to that sexy accent…it was all too much. He couldn’t take it anymore. The heat and humidity added another layer of pressure, like a steamy blanket on his shoulders. If he didn’t get some release, he was going to explode.

  “I need to make a phone call,” he said, wiping his face.

  “You need to rest.”

  He inclined his head and studied their surroundings. They were
in a valley, which wasn’t great from a security standpoint. There was a tree at the top of the nearby hillside that looked promising. It offered a panoramic view, some shade, and maybe a hint of breeze. “We can go up there.”

  She followed his gaze, nodding. “I’ll buy some bottled water.”

  He stood in line for the phone while she went inside the store. There were only three men in front of him, so it went quick. His gut clenched with trepidation as he waited for the call to go through. LaGuardia’s secretary connected him almost immediately.

  “Why are you calling on an unsecured line?” he asked.

  “I don’t have my phone. I got robbed.”

  “By who?”

  Ian told the story in as few words as possible, with no inflection. This part of the job had always come easily to him. Just the facts, ma’am. He didn’t mention Maria.

  “You sure he’s dead?” LaGuardia asked.

  “I’m assuming. I didn’t check his pulse.”

  “Why didn’t you use your Sig?”

  Ian transferred the phone to his other ear, agitated. “Because there were dozens of innocent bystanders in the vicinity, and I wasn’t on steady ground. I didn’t have a clean shot.”

  “Keep your pants on, Foster,” LaGuardia said. “I had to ask. For the record, I think you made a smart decision. I could use more guys like you on my team, in fact. Last week I had to write up an agent for shooting himself in the leg. While he was on his fucking lunch break. Can you believe that?”

  Ian didn’t answer. He could believe it, because he’d worked with some real dipshits.

  “Listen, I have a meeting in two minutes, but I wanted to tell you a couple of things. First, don’t worry about your phone. None of your information is accessible. We can wipe it from here, and I’ll have Pam send you a new one as soon as possible. Second, we got your pictures.”

  “You did?”

  “They were automatically uploaded. IT went through the images and we found a match. Sarai Tomás is on that train.”

  Ian switched ears again. This was unexpected news. “Which railcar?”

  “Railcar nine, I believe they said. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, but her face was visible. You haven’t seen her?”

  “No.”

  “What’s your status?”

  He shifted his weight off his injured leg. “I haven’t slept, but I’m okay.”

  “No dizziness?”

  “Just fatigue.”

  “All right. I know it’s been hell out there, but you’ve done an excellent job so far. I’m working on sending you some support. I don’t need you to apprehend the girl. Just stay on her trail and try to establish visual contact.”

  The instructions caught him off guard. Not only did LaGuardia want him to finish the assignment, he expected him to get back on the train. Instead of being pulled from duty, Ian was being praised for his performance.

  His chances of securing a permanent position just went up. Way up.

  “No problem,” he said, his thoughts churning. This was probably a good time to come clean, while they were on stronger footing. He was also dying to relieve some tension. “There’s something I should tell you. It’s about Maria Santos.”

  “Is it personal or professional?”

  “A little of both, sir.”

  LaGuardia made a noise into the phone, like a hard exhale. “When this is over, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. But for now, unless Miss Santos is involved in a life-or-death situation, I’m going to ask you to hold off.”

  It was Ian’s turn to exhale. “Yes, sir.”

  “Take a break for a few hours,” LaGuardia said. “That’s an order.”

  Ian promised to do that and hung up the phone. Maria was standing in front of the store with her new canvas tote bag. She looked beautiful, even with dark smudges under her eyes. He liked her fresh-scrubbed face and wet hair. He picked up the second tote, which had two full water bottles inside.

  “Looks like rain,” she said.

  The dark clouds on the horizon gave credence to her prediction.

  “What did your boss say?”

  He started walking up the hill, toward the tree. The second he reached it, he was going to drop. “He said Sarai is here. And to get some rest.”

  “Sarai is here? Where?”

  “She was on railcar nine.”

  Maria fell into step beside him. “You think she saw us?”

  He shrugged, though he figured it was likely. They’d been on railcar seven. Sarai couldn’t have missed the bandit falling to his death. Ian sat down in the shade and drank some water while Maria spread out the tarp. It was a remote area. They had a nice view of the valley. The other side of the hill gave way to a lush green forest.

  Maria lay on her back, hands folded over her flat stomach. “What will you do if the train comes?”

  “Get on it.”

  “With me?”

  He stretched out beside her and tucked his hands under his head. “I don’t know. I can’t leave you here alone.”

  She didn’t press him for more answers. She just curled up next to him, using his biceps as a pillow. Her damp hair tickled his bare skin. He put his arm around her shoulders to draw her closer. She smelled clean and wet, but not like the river. More like summer rain. Lovely and fleeting, too perfect to last.

  Chapter 15

  She woke with a start, pressing a hand to her wet cheek.

  It was raining. Little droplets pelted the leaves overhead and slipped between the branches, landing on her upturned face. Ian continued to snore beside her, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She stayed snuggled up next to him, relishing the warmth of his embrace. The rain was gentle enough to ignore, and there was no place she’d rather be.

  The irritation she’d felt with him earlier had faded. She blamed her reaction on lack of sleep and overabundance of hormones. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster the past few days. One moment she was fighting tears, trembling with unease. The next she was ogling Ian’s hard body, fresh from the shower. He’d seemed aware of her mood change after she’d showered. Instead of keeping his eyes politely averted, he’d stared at her exposed flesh. Worse, he hadn’t bothered to cover his own. He’d stepped out of the stall dripping wet, penis dangling.

  Dios mío. Her pulse raced just thinking about it.

  Even with a towel wrapped around his waist, she could see the size and shape of his male parts. It was difficult to ignore that area when she was on her knees before him. The damp towel clung to his organ, outlining the tip. After he put on his pants, her focus shifted to his torso. His broad shoulders, biceps flexing as he brushed his teeth. She knew he’d noticed her preoccupation with his lean physique. He’d rubbed it in by waltzing around shirtless.

  She hadn’t known whether to slap him again or jump on him.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, threatening heavier rain. She sat up to study the dark clouds on the horizon. Then she spotted a caravan of army vehicles on the dirt road leading to the camp. “Ian,” she said, grasping his arm. “Wake up.”

  “What is it?” he mumbled.

  “La migra.”

  He bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, glancing from the road to the thick copse of trees behind them. “Get ready to run.”

  She folded the tarp with shaking hands and shoved it into her tote bag. Within seconds, the immigration police had entered the little valley. One of the vehicles screeched to a stop and uniformed men piled out, wielding clubs.

  “Que Dios los bendiga,” she whispered.

  An officer swung his club at the first man in his path. The man fell onto the wet ground, blood trickling from his mouth.

  “God isn’t here,” Ian said. “Go now, before they see us.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He drew the gun from his holster. “Cover you.”

  She bit the edge of her fist as the mayhem below continued. The other vehicles formed a circle aroun
d the camp. Two heavily armed men guarded the boundaries, shouting orders, while their companions rounded up the passengers. They appeared to be taking everyone in the vicinity. Maria said another prayer, this time for Sarai. If the girl hadn’t found a good hiding place, she’d be captured—and there was nothing they could do about it. Ian couldn’t defeat a dozen men.

  So Maria ducked her head and ran.

  She almost slipped on the grass as she set off. For a few seconds, she was completely exposed. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to burst. No gunfire peppered the hilltop as she sprinted over it. Then she was running down the opposite side, toward the safety of the trees.

  At the base of the slope, she lost her footing, tumbling like the circus performers she’d so admired. Sharp pebbles bit into her knees and elbows as she landed. There was no time to catch her breath. She scrambled upright and raced into the lush greenery.

  Once there, she rested against a large tree and waited for Ian. He wasn’t as lucky with his escape. Shots rang out as he flew over the hill. She smothered a scream of terror, watching the scene unfold. He dropped and rolled on purpose at the top of the slope. In the next breath, he was on his feet again. He didn’t lose his balance on the way down, by some miracle. Even with a pronounced limp, he was swift and sure-footed. He didn’t appear to have been hit.

  “Go,” he said when he reached her. “Run until they fire again. Then get flat on the ground.”

  She didn’t ask questions. She kept moving, deeper into the trees. Just as he’d predicted, gunshots erupted. Bullets ripped through the forest and struck the branches, dangerously close. With a yelp of panic, she hit the dirt. She covered her head with her arms while Ian returned fire. She could hear the loud pop of his handgun. Although it was no match to their rifles, maybe it would deter the officers from advancing down the hillside.

  He caught up with her a moment later. “Come on,” he said, lifting her to her feet. “That won’t hold them off for long.”

  She ran as fast as she could through the thick vegetation. Thorns snagged her arms and switches whipped across her face. It continued to rain, and that was probably what saved them. Visibility was limited in the deluge. They both took a number of spills. She was soaked to the skin, breathing hard, when he slowed down and holstered his weapon.