Off the Rails Page 17
“We’d prefer to avoid the inconvenience of a barricade,” Maria said.
José looked back and forth between them, shrugging. “I don’t blame you, muchacha. But this is the only road out.”
“There’s no other way?”
“The mountains.”
Hiking through the woods wasn’t an option in his current condition. Ian rubbed a hand over his mouth, wary. He hadn’t checked in with LaGuardia for more than twenty-four hours. He could feel his assignment going down the drain, taking his future with it.
“We have money,” Maria said.
José brightened at this news. “Don Pablo has a plane.”
“What kind of plane?” Ian asked.
“A crop duster. He is crazy enough to fly it, if you are crazy enough to ride.”
“How far away is he?”
“A few miles. I will take you.”
Ian climbed into the passenger seat with Maria. She sat between him and José, her face pale. Five minutes later, they arrived at a sprawling rancho in a state of mild disrepair. Dogs trotted around in excited circles and chickens roamed freely. “It’s lucky we’re here early,” José said, cutting the engine. “He might be sober.”
Ian removed the cash from his gun holster and glanced at Maria. He didn’t want her boarding a plane with a drunken madman. “You should stay,” he said in English, for her ears only. “They’re looking for me, not you.”
Her mouth twisted with irritation. “Not that again.”
He exited the vehicle, conflicted. He hadn’t considered abandoning her earlier this morning. He was too weak and tired to travel on his own. But now the stakes were higher. The police were closing in on them. He didn’t know whether to leave her here or bring her with him. Both options were potentially dangerous.
Don Pablo answered the door with a booming hello. He was a loud, boisterous man with a thick white beard and an eye for the ladies. José told him about the barricade and their need for alternate transportation. Pablo took one look at Maria and said yes. He seemed thrilled to assist a fugitive and his beautiful lady.
Pablo led them out back to his hangar. His crop duster had an open cockpit, like an old fighter plane. Ian took a look inside. The interior was clean and well cared for. The pilot’s seat was in the back, while the passenger sat up front.
“There are only two seats,” Ian pointed out.
“She can sit on your lap,” Pablo said, wagging his brows. “She’s light as a feather, and you’re no heavyweight. The three of us won’t exceed the limit.”
Ian figured that was true. Pablo wasn’t a big man, either. All together, they probably weighed less than five hundred pounds.
Pablo elbowed him. “She can sit on my lap, if you’d rather.”
“No.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Feel free to get frisky up there. I’d love to boast about someone joining the mile-high club in my duster.”
Ian arched a glance at Maria, embarrassed on her behalf. Pablo had said everything in Spanish, except “mile-high club,” because there was no direct translation for the phrase. Maria seemed to understand what it meant, perhaps by context. She frowned in disapproval.
“How far can you take us?” Ian asked.
“There’s an airstrip in Salto. It’s about an hour away.”
Ian liked the sound of that.
“You two married?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky man,” he said, winking.
The safety equipment consisted of a pair of dusty goggles and what appeared to be an old leather football helmet. Pablo gave both items to Maria. She donned them without complaint. Ian climbed into the front seat first and she settled in on top of him. It was a tight squeeze, but his injured leg felt pretty good. So did her sweetly rounded bottom, pressing down on him. If he wasn’t so worn out from illness, he might have gotten aroused. She trembled with unease as he secured the harness around her slim waist. When they were ready to go, Pablo fired up the engine.
Maria’s body went tense at the sound. She’d probably never been on a passenger plane before, let alone a small aircraft. He hoped Pablo wasn’t a daredevil.
Ian felt guilty about his actions with Maria. He’d already taken too much from her, and gone too far. He’d done exactly what he’d promised LaGuardia not to do. It was hard to regret the best sex of his life, but he knew he’d made a mistake. He was in over his head. How could he walk away now that he’d felt her come apart underneath him? One night would never be enough to satisfy him.
The plane took off and his thoughts fled. Ian had no idea if Pablo was a good pilot, because he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the wind velocity. Little bits of debris pelted his face and a deafening roar thundered through his ears. Maria stayed frozen with fear on his lap. She had a front-seat view of their high-speed escape. He turned to look at the ground below, but he couldn’t see much. Rows of cornfields stretched far and wide. He slouched down behind Maria, using her as a windbreak, and settled in for the ride.
The next thing he knew, he was jolted awake by a swift descent. They were heading toward an airstrip. The landscape looked completely different, sandy hills speckled with cactus. It was a jarring finish. The plane skimmed the tarmac, wheels bouncing several times before Pablo got it under control.
They rocketed across the strip and slowed, easing into an empty hangar. Maria scrambled out of the plane like it was on fire. His muscles were stiff and sore, so he took his time climbing down. When they were on solid ground, she yanked off the helmet and goggles.
“Did you have a nice nap?”
Ian massaged the nape of his neck, chagrined. He had fallen asleep, while she’d nearly peed herself with anxiety. “Sorry.”
She shoved the safety gear at him, eyes flashing with pique.
Pablo slapped Ian on the back in congratulations. “Ay señor, you have your hands full with this woman. How I envy you.”
Ian gave him a hundred-dollar bill, which he accepted graciously. Pablo pointed them toward the highway and bid them a fond farewell. Maria walked away from Ian in a huff, cursing in Spanish, her hair a wild tangle down her back. His eyes were drawn to her cute, irritated little ass. He followed at a safe distance, enjoying the view.
Seeing her in a temper set his blood aflame. He loved her heat, her intensity, her passion for life. He wanted to grab her and kiss her hot, angry mouth. She’d probably go nuts if he put his hands on her. She might even slap him again. The thought made his pulse race with excitement.
Yeah, he was a bastard. A sick, horny bastard.
When he caught up with her, she whirled around to face him. “I was scared out of my mind, and you fell asleep.”
“Maria, come on—”
“Don’t touch me.”
He held up his palms, defeated.
“I thought we were going to crash!”
“You could’ve stayed there.”
She stabbed a finger into his chest. “You need me, menso. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in that barn, burning up with fever.”
He didn’t appreciate her poking at his chest after telling him not to touch her. He swatted her hand away. When she raised it once more, he grasped both of her wrists and trapped her arms behind her back. Hauling her against him, he crushed his mouth over hers. She didn’t melt in his embrace, acquiescent. She bit his lip and drew blood.
“Ow,” he yelled, releasing her. She turned away from him, but not before he saw her distraught expression. There were tears in her eyes. “What are you so upset about? I didn’t fall asleep on purpose. I was unconscious yesterday, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget, you fool. I was worried about you!”
“Oh,” he said. He wasn’t used to anyone worrying about him. He’d learned to take care of himself at a very young age.
She swiped at her wet cheeks. “I walked all day to find help for you. I stayed up half the night. You are not well, but you insisted on l
eaving anyway. I was scared and worried, my heart beating like crazy, while you were taking naps and laughing at me.”
“I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“You were sharing jokes with him. Ha-ha, mile sex club. I don’t like being treated that way, like a pedazo de cuero.”
He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. Don Pablo had treated her like a piece of ass, and Ian hadn’t objected. Then again, the plane had been their only escape. Ian probably wouldn’t have objected if Pablo had groped her ass. “What did you expect me to do? He was a horny old man. We’re all the same, just like I told you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You say that every time we argue. I think it’s a lie you tell to hide your true feelings.”
He made a scoffing sound, uncomfortable with her assessment. She saw through him too easily. Hiding his feelings was a defense mechanism, even a basic survival instinct. Sometimes it was easier to act like a jerk than a gentleman.
Sometimes it felt better too.
“Let’s go,” he said, spotting a tour bus in the distance. The sign across the front said Mazatlán, which worked for him. It would be easier to blend into the crowd of tourists along the coast. The driver charged him twenty dollars for the ride. He found two open spaces in the middle section. She took the aisle seat while he stared out the window.
“I’m sorry about Don Pablo,” he said. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
Maria met his gaze warily.
“Men aren’t all the same, either. It is a lie I tell because I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else after I’m gone.”
Her expression softened. “I don’t want anyone else.”
“You will.”
“Will you?”
He shrugged, though he couldn’t imagine it. He’d been celibate for four years after spending a handful of hours with her, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t like sex. He did like it—a lot. But he’d never be satisfied by anonymous encounters again. She’d ruined him for other women. Instead of telling her that, he went quiet. It would be selfish to stake his claim on her under these circumstances. She was young and beautiful and resilient. She’d find another if he let her go.
“I haven’t been in an airplane before,” she said.
“I gathered that.”
“Do you know how I crossed the border the second time?”
“No.”
“Kari let me hide in a cardboard box in the back of her van. It was hot and dark and had no air. I fainted on the way there. After she dragged me out, I threw up on the grass.” She smiled at the memory. “Then I cried, because I finally had made it.”
He smiled back at her, his heart aching.
“Being with you is like that.”
“Like throwing up?”
“No. It’s like arriving to a place I always dreamed about.”
“Except there’s no trapeze.”
“There is a baton.”
He started laughing, surprised by her crude joke, and couldn’t stop. It was either laugh or cry, because he felt the same way about her. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. She filled all the missing pieces inside him.
They arrived in Mazatlán that evening. He had trouble staying awake during the trip. His head ached and his wound itched. Before they got off the bus, she touched her palm to his cheek, frowning. “Your fever is back.”
That didn’t surprise him. They entered the bus station and he found a place to rest while Maria paid for some American-style fast food. The hot meal and cold drink revived him a little. After they ate, he threw away the trash and approached the pay phone. LaGuardia’s secretary put him through immediately—to someone else.
“Agent Foster? This is Special Agent Ernesto Bell of ICE. We’re happy to hear from you.”
“Is LaGuardia available?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s on a flight at the moment. Are you in need of emergency assistance?”
“I can wait.”
“All right. LaGuardia asked me to act as a liaison between you. I know the details of your assignment, and I have news about the target.”
“What news?”
“There was a carjacking in Playas de Tijuana two days ago. The assailant was shirtless and barefoot, with a bandage around his torso. Both witnesses identified him as Armando Villarreal from a photo lineup. He switched cars in Tijuana, and again in Mexicali.”
Ian rocked back on his heels, stunned. Villarreal was alive, and coming to collect his daughter. “Has he contacted Sarai?”
“We don’t know. Tech hasn’t been able to find any communications between them. We’re trying to hack her cellphone, but we can’t find any social media accounts. The girl is a ghost. She seems to have vanished into thin air.”
“She didn’t get intercepted by immigration?”
“No. They’re still looking for her.”
Ian was surprised that Sarai had been able to evade capture at El Limbo. The ambush had been swift and well executed. Everyone in the valley had been trapped. He’d barely managed to escape with Maria. How had a sheltered Catholic schoolgirl slipped away?
“There’s another complication.”
“What?”
“According to one of my sources in Guadalajara, there are multiple Mexican agencies involved in the search. The story on the ground is that Sarai ran away with an American she met online. He’s the main suspect in the murder of Anita Flores.”
Ian’s hand tightened on the receiver. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I wish.”
“Do they have a description of this American?”
“Six foot, mid-thirties, brown hair. Armed and dangerous.”
That was definitely him. Mid-thirties was a bit of a stretch, but he felt like he’d aged five years in the last five days. Maybe by the end of this job he’d look forty, with wrinkles and gray hair.
“If you get picked up, we can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Well, no shit!”
Bell had the nerve to chuckle at his outburst.
“What are my orders?”
“LaGuardia wants you to lay low. He’ll send someone to escort you to the border as soon as possible, but it might take a day or two.”
Ian didn’t care for that plan. He’d rather keep moving and stay one step ahead of the federales. He promised to call back tomorrow and hung up. Then he returned to Maria’s side, slouching in the seat next to her. Although the bus station was crowded with tourists, he felt exposed. He had to stay alert, or he’d end up in custody.
“What did your boss say?” Maria asked.
“I didn’t talk to him. I talked to another agent.”
“And?”
“He said that Sarai didn’t get caught in El Limbo. She just disappeared.”
Maria sipped her soda through a straw, contemplative. “Maybe she stayed on the train.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. There aren’t many places to hide, but she’s a smart girl, and very small. She can fit in tight spaces.”
He found this idea plausible. Maria was speaking from first-hand experience. She’d stowed away in a cardboard box. He dug a few dollars out of his pocket and gestured toward an information booth. “Buy me a map of Mexico, will you?”
She accepted the money but didn’t rise.
“Please,” he added, scanning the crowd again. She strode across the station and returned with a large, folded map. He spread it out on his lap. He couldn’t find El Limbo, but he knew the general area. “If she did stay on the train, how far could she get?”
Maria traced the edge of the coast with her fingertip. “She could be in Los Mochis by now, or Ciudad Obregón,” she said, touching both spots. Then she moved up a little. “The tracks fork just after Hermosillo, in Benjamín Hill. It’s one of the last stops. Most of the passengers go north to Nogales, the closest border city. Some travel east to Tijuana.”
“So Benjamín Hill is a good place to look for her?”
He turned around to check the fare boards above the ticket window. There were several departures to Hermosillo tonight. He could sleep on the bus and arrive tomorrow morning. The freight train wasn’t that fast. He had an excellent chance of catching up with it.
She followed his gaze. “You never quit, do you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re not well.”
“I’m well enough to sit on a bus for twelve hours.”
“Does your boss know about your fever?”
Ian shifted in his seat, ignoring her question.
“You are keeping secrets from me.”
“Villarreal is alive. He was spotted in TJ.”
Her eyes brightened. “Really?”
His heart went cold as he studied her hopeful expression. This reaction wasn’t a surprise, but it felt like a betrayal. Cynically, he wondered who she’d root for in a showdown between them. Who would she cry for? He engaged in a dark fantasy of killing Villarreal with his bare hands and kissing her afterward, leaving bloody fingerprints on her skin.
Ian had fought Villarreal before. Over Maria, ironically enough, at the Hotel del Oro. They’d exchanged some brutal punches before Chuy Peña came out to break up the fight. Although Ian was bigger than Villarreal, he hadn’t come away the victor.
“Do you know what I’ll do when I find him?” Ian asked her.
She flinched at the question, as if his ugly thoughts were written on his face. “You won’t kill him unless he attacks you first. It’s not in your nature to hurt people.”
He laughed without humor. “Maybe you don’t remember our scuffle at the hotel.”
“He won.”
“He won’t win again.”
Chapter 19
Caitlyn wasn’t optimistic about her patient’s chances.
She’d spent the last forty-eight hours tending to him. She’d cleaned him up, debrided his wounds, and bandaged his entire upper body, including most of his head. His back had been ravaged with second-degree burns, but the damage wasn’t as deep or extensive as she’d thought. She believed the tissue would heal without skin grafts.