“How is everyone?”
“We’re fine. I talked to Hugo.”
Maria was cheered by this news. “Really?”
“He said he got robbed on the train. Some boys took his money and gave him a black eye, but he’s okay. He had to take a break from traveling to rest.”
“When did he call?”
“Two days ago.”
“Where is he?”
“He was in Mazatlán. I don’t know if he’s still there.”
“Mazatlán?”
“Yes. That’s where he called from. Where are you? Are you with your boyfriend? He is very handsome, but your father wouldn’t approve of you going away with a stranger. Señora Rivera told everyone you were an American puta now.”
“She did?”
“Well, no one believed her, but she did say it. You know she’s always been jealous because her daughter isn’t as pretty as you.”
“Her daughter married Juan Diego,” Maria pointed out.
“Good thing you didn’t marry him. He spends all of his nights at the cantina.”
“I have to go, Mamá,” she said. “I’ll call you later.”
Her mother protested, but Maria hung up.
Ian was standing right behind her. “Who’s Juan Diego?”
“My old boyfriend from Mezcala.”
His nostrils flared, as if he could smell a rival.
“Never mind that,” she said, grasping his arm. “My brother is here.”
“Where?”
“In Mazatlán. At the cargo station.”
“Why would he be there?”
“Some thieves beat him up, so he got off the train.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“He could be long gone by now.”
“I have to find out.”
He stared down at her, his expression inscrutable.
“Please,” she murmured.
For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. He raked a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. “This is insane.”
“No more insane than you looking for Sarai.”
“That’s my job.”
“And he is my brother. My family.”
“You think I don’t understand that? I never had a real family, so I don’t know how it feels to love someone or worry about them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, reluctant to argue. “I think that you are feverish. Maybe you should stay here.”
He scowled at this suggestion, seeming insulted. He grabbed the backpack and accompanied her through the station. Outside, he hailed a cab. They climbed in together. The cargo station was near the coast, according to the driver.
Mazatlán was a beautiful city. It was a balmy evening, thick with promise. Some of her tension drained away as she watched the palm trees sway in the breeze. She lifted her hair off the nape of her neck, enjoying the humid air on her skin. She wished she was here on a tropical vacation. She’d never been on a tropical vacation. Or any other kind of vacation.
“Tell me about this Juan Diego.”
She twisted her hair into a knot, glancing at him. He was slouching in the seat with his legs spread wide and one arm draped across his belly. She could tell that he was curious, but also half-joking. “You are a jealous man.”
“I am,” he agreed, without shame.
“Juan Diego is a boy from my village. We dated for two years.”
“Did he kiss you?”
She smiled at the question, fluttering her lashes. They’d held hands on the way home from school, and he’d stolen a few kisses, but it was nothing like what she’d shared with Ian.
“Why did you break up?”
“I left,” she said, looking away.
“He didn’t come after you?”
“No. He told me he would. Then I wrote to him about what happened at the border, because I thought he should know. He never wrote back. A month later, he married someone else.”
“He sounds like a fool.”
“What teenage boy is not?”
Ian conceded her point. “Why did you mention him on the phone?”
“No reason.”
“You were upset.”
“His mother-in-law saw you in town. She told everyone that I’m a whore.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Maybe I should go down there and kick her son’s ass to shut her up.”
Maria smiled again, shaking her head. She doubted he’d do that, but his anger over the insult was oddly comforting. “He’s her son-in-law, not her son. And it would not be a fair fight. He lost the use of his right hand in an accident.”
“Can he work?”
“Yes. He works at his father’s store.”
Ian fell silent for the rest of the ride, his brow furrowed. She didn’t know if he was broody or feverish or what. She stared out the window, soaking up the scenery. There were white-sand beaches in the distance, and dark waves lapping the shoreline. “Have you been here before?”
“No.”
“Which places have you visited?”
“Along this coast? Puerto Vallarta and Acapulco.”
She remembered him saying he’d taken a backpacking trip through Mexico when he was twenty. “Where else?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been all over. Baja California, Oaxaca, Yucatán.”
Her chest tightened with longing. He’d seen more of her country than she had. “I went to Acapulco once on a student trip. The ocean felt like a bathtub.”
“You went…once?”
“Yes. I would like to swim in the ocean again someday.”
“You didn’t swim in TJ?”
“No.”
He studied her with interest. “It doesn’t feel like a bathtub there, or in San Diego.”
“It’s colder?”
“Way colder.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Warm is nice, but I’d say cold, especially in summer. It makes you feel alive.”
She wondered if she’d ever experience that sensation. The thought of missing out on it, and so many other things, brought tears to her eyes. She took a deep breath, blinking them away. After they arrived at the cargo station, Ian paid the taxi driver to wait. They entered the nearby camp with caution. After two close calls with la migra and the federal police, they couldn’t afford to be careless.
She still had a photo of Hugo in her bag. The health office was closed, so she approached a group of male passengers with his picture. They hadn’t seen him, but they’d only just arrived. There was a woman at the edge of the camp who offered laundry services. She had a barrel of hot water and a washboard. She didn’t stand up or dry her hands when Maria approached her. Still scrubbing, she took a quick glance at Hugo’s photo.
“He had a black eye,” Maria said.
The woman paused, as if this detail jogged her memory. “He was here with a girl.”
“A girl? Are you sure?”
“Yes, a girl. Short hair, curly. I washed her clothes. They smelled very bad.” She waved her hand in front of her nose.
Maria gave Ian a startled look. He dug out a photo of Sarai. “Was this her?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you describe the clothes?”
“Black hooded sweatshirt and men’s jeans. Both much too large for her.”
“They were together?”
“Yes.”
Maria couldn’t believe her brother was traveling with Sarai. But she supposed it made sense. They were both alone and vulnerable. After getting robbed, he might have been wary of other male passengers. “When did they leave?”
“Yesterday.”
Maria thanked the woman profusely, excited by the news. Ian didn’t appear happy in the least. He took her photo of Hugo and tucked it into his pocket, along with the picture of Sarai. Maria hurried to keep up with him as he walked back to the cab. Although she wanted to accompany him to Hermosillo, she didn’t mention it. He wasn’t in the mood to listen.
They rode
to the bus station in uncomfortable silence. He slouched in his seat and drummed his fingertips against his thigh, continually scanning the traffic. As they arrived at the station, she spotted a group of police vehicles parked out front.
“Don’t stop,” he told the cab driver in Spanish.
“Where to, señor?”
“Just keep going.” Staying low, he glanced out the rear window to make sure they weren’t being followed. “I need to catch a bus to Hermosillo without buying a ticket at the bus station. I’ll pay extra for the inconvenience.”
“No problem,” the cab driver said.
“You can arrange it?”
“There is nothing to arrange. The first-class bus stops at La Perla Hotel on the way out of town. You can board there and pay in cash.”
“What time?”
“Every two hours.”
Ian nodded, dragging a hand down his face. He looked the way she’d felt during the plane ride. She wondered if he was sweating over the fact that the police had arrived shortly after he’d called to check in with his boss again.
La Perla Hotel was a sprawling estate with a golf course, cabanas, and a private beach. The driver took them past the main entrance and stopped beneath an arched throughway. He dropped them off in front of a sign that said HERMOSILLO. An older couple waited on a stone bench nearby with their luggage. They were wearing casual clothes and diamond accessories.
“You don’t fit in here,” Maria said.
“Neither do you.”
She spotted a service entrance and tugged him toward it. “I have an idea.”
The door led to a maze of narrow hallways. She’d worked at a resort before, so she was familiar with the daily operations of a large hotel. After a few wrong turns, she found a huge laundry room. There were two maids inside, both teenagers.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Maria said. “The airline lost our luggage, and we need some clothes to wear to dinner tonight. Do you have anything that another guest left behind? A shirt or jacket, long forgotten?”
The girls looked at Ian and giggled. “Sure,” one of the maids said. She opened a closet in the back of the room and rifled through the contents. There was a pinstriped shirt for Ian and a black sequined shawl for Maria. Both items looked expensive and well made. Maria gave the girls a few dollars for their trouble. She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders while Ian tried on the shirt. He had to remove his T-shirt first, revealing his gun holster and bare chest. The maids gaped at him in awe. Maria moved to stand in front of him.
“Protecting my modesty?” he asked as he buttoned up.
“Someone should.”
Two more couples were waiting at the sign when they returned. The bus arrived soon after. Ian didn’t protest as Maria climbed aboard with him, perhaps because a lone American would attract more attention among tourists. Everyone else had purchased tickets in advance, but the driver accepted Ian’s cash without blinking an eye. There were plenty of open seats.
Maria had never been on a luxury bus before. It was nothing like traveling third class. This bus didn’t make extra stops to pick up locals. There was an attendant who served drinks and sandwiches. There were full bathrooms, lots of space, and comfortable, cushioned seats. Ian took all of this in stride while she marveled over every detail.
“How much money do you have left?” she asked.
“Enough.”
“The trip from Hermosillo to Benjamín Hill will be cheap.”
“Good.”
She wasn’t sure how to broach the next subject. His eyes were closed, his head turned to the side. “Do you trust the man you work for?”
He stayed quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep. “I don’t trust anyone.”
She curled up next to him, wishing she hadn’t asked. She was worried about him, her brother, Sarai, Armando. Even though her mind was troubled and her stomach was tied in knots, she couldn’t stay awake. The long, arduous day took its toll. Her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off, rocked by the gentle motions of first class.
Chapter 21
Ian jolted awake with a start.
He was still on the bus. It was daylight. The space next to him was empty. He straightened in his seat and glanced around blearily. He didn’t see Maria anywhere. There was a woman with a white blouse and a blue scarf pushing a cart down the aisle.
“Would you care for a refreshment?” she asked him.
“Where’s my wife?”
The woman tilted her head toward the back of the bus. Maria came out of the bathroom. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. She looked bright-eyed and fresh-scrubbed, as if she’d just washed her face.
Ian returned his gaze to the attendant.
“Orange juice? Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She dispensed two coffee cups with lids and two juice boxes before moving on to the next row. Maria sat down next to him. The shawl she’d been wearing was draped over the seat. She stuck a straw through the juice box and sucked prettily.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better.”
“You slept ten hours.”
He removed the lid on his coffee cup and added a sugar packet. If she hadn’t been sitting beside him, he wouldn’t have rested so easily, and he’d needed the rest. He felt like a new man. Groggy, but that was nothing the coffee couldn’t cure. He downed both cups before he went to the restroom. Then he used the facilities and washed up, studying his appearance.
He needed a shower and a shave. The stubble on his jaw was so thick he couldn’t distinguish his beard from his mustache anymore. His pin-striped shirt was incongruent with his scruffy face, and too tight across the shoulders. After taking it off, he splashed his armpits with soapy water. Then he put it back on, securing one button before he returned to Maria.
“Do you have another shirt for me?”
She rifled through the backpack and handed him a ribbed undershirt. He eased the pin-striped one off his shoulders. The attendant chose that moment to offer them some breakfast pastries. She gave him a little smile before she moved on. He put on the undershirt and added the pin-striped shirt over it, unbuttoned.
“This isn’t San Diego,” Maria said.
“What?”
“You can’t take off your shirt anywhere.”
He glanced at the female attendant. “In front of other women, you mean?”
“How would you feel if I walked around topless?”
“I’d love it.”
“You would not.”
“Try me. We can go to a nude beach someday.”
Her lips parted in surprise. Then a flush rose to her cheeks, as if the suggestion intrigued her. “Have you been to one?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go naked?”
“No. I just enjoyed the view.”
She pulled her gaze away from his, seeming flustered. He watched a pulse flutter at the base of her throat. Her skin was so smooth and fine, like warm honey. He pictured her standing on the sand, breasts exposed to the sun. She’d be dazzling. She was a sensual woman, innocent but adventurous. He wanted to take her to all the places she’d never been.
Hell, he wanted to take her to the bathroom in the back of the bus.
His pulse quickened at the thought. Blood pooled to his groin, hardening him to a painful degree. He shifted his legs, uncomfortable.
“Now I know you’re feeling better.”
He half groaned, half laughed. It was a natural reaction to an inappropriate conversation. He hadn’t forgotten that they were in a dangerous situation, however. Nothing had changed between them. He knew he should be thinking about how he was going to get out of this country alive, not how he was going to get into her pants again. But it was difficult to maintain a level of constant vigilance. They were in a safe place. His fever had passed. It felt pretty goddamned great to be with her, and in possession of a strong, healthy body. Of course he wanted to put it to good use.
He took a deep breath and tried to refocus. An announcement sounded over the intercom:
“We’ll be arriving in Hermosillo in thirty minutes.”
While they ate their breakfast pastries and drank the rest of the juice, Maria’s question from last night echoed in his mind. Did he trust LaGuardia? The SAC wouldn’t have sent Ian down here just to set him up. That strategy didn’t make sense. Although ICE worked with Mexican officials on a regular basis, Ian’s assignment wasn’t part of that collaboration. The details were supposed to remain confidential. There was no reason for LaGuardia to leak Ian’s location.
Ian definitely didn’t trust the federales, but his gut feeling told him they had no idea who he really was. They were after him because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe they thought he was working for Carlos Moreno. The most important factor was Sarai. She’d been at the apartment where the federales had chased him. She’d been in El Limbo, according to ICE intelligence. She’d been in Mazatlán. They were looking for her—and he kept getting in the way.
Not everything was a conspiracy. Not everyone was dirty. Most people were corruptible, but only under certain circumstances. True evil was rare. Periods of extreme duress and lifelong hardship were common.
That didn’t mean Ian felt sorry for a desperate criminal like Armando Villarreal. Fuck no. He didn’t care about the target’s unfortunate circumstances. What happened to Villarreal after his arrest wasn’t Ian’s problem, and his backstory was irrelevant.
“We should avoid the bus station,” he said to Maria.
She nodded, gathering her things. He had to assume there would be police officers in Hermosillo. They might be swarming around the tracks at Benjamín Hill. If Maria thought it was a smart place to look for Sarai, so would they.
He waited until they were within city limits, in a heavily populated area, to ask the bus driver to pull over. They got off the bus and caught a cab on the street.
“Where to?” the cab driver asked.
Ian wasn’t eager to get on another bus. Benjamín Hill wasn’t a big city like Hermosillo. It was a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, like El Limbo. Additional caution was required. They could rent a car, but rental cars were easy to identify in small towns. They had stickers or special plates. He needed a vehicle that offered stealth and maneuverability.
Off the Rails Page 19
