Chapter Eleven
After riding for almost another hour, Santos unexpectedly turned off the main highway and followed a rutted road, Rose hanging on tightly. Finally, after a mile or two, he pulled up to a wrought iron gate and pressed a brass button hidden among the vines that covered the stucco walls. A small camera perched at the top of the nearest column turned slowly around to take them in. She leaned to one side to peer around Santos’s shoulder. On the other side of the iron bars, a curved drive wended a path through a grove of citrus trees, a string of yellow lights woven among their branches like globes of fruit. Despite the hour, the gate swung open, and Santos drove through.
A cluster of buildings with red tile roofs waited for them, along with a woman poised just inside another gate. When she saw the lone bike, she pushed past the barrier and walked down the sidewalk to meet them. Santos climbed off the Harley and opened the storage compartment, grabbing the small totes they’d each brought, leaving Rose behind to wonder about the woman.
They’d obviously woken her. Dressed in a white cotton robe with slippers on her feet, she wrapped one of her arms around Santos and hugged him tightly. In her other hand, down by her side, she held a G30 Glock.
Rose wasn’t armed—they hadn’t wanted to risk it in case they’d been stopped—and Santos’s .45 was in the bag he now carried. She tensed, then Santos stepped back and looked down at the woman’s weapon.
He nodded in approval.“I see you’re still being careful.”
Rose exhaled silently, her relief practically tangible.
“This gun has become my lover,” the woman in white said in a regretful tone. “It never leaves my side, and I sleep with it every night. I only wish it could keep me warm.”
“It’ll keep you alive, and that’s more important.” He smiled in the darkness, and Rose felt a tremor of jealousy.
As if sensing her reaction, they both turned at the same time. Santos tilted his head and motioned for her to join them, introducing the two women when she reached his side. “This is Reina Salazar,” he told her. “She takes me in when I find myself on this side of the border.”
The woman shook Rose’s hand, then led them past an interior courtyard and into the hacienda. The thick stucco walls hid a home with stylish concrete floors and brightly colored paintings. Their discreet signatures were, for the most part, from artists whose names she actually recognized. The contrast between the traditional exterior and the surprisingly contemporary home made her wonder if the owner was just as complex.
Reina glided through the room and out the other side through a double set of French doors. Crossing another courtyard that guarded a separate wing of the structure, she stopped at a door, opened it, and stepped aside. “It’s all yours,” she said simply. “We’ll talk in the morning.” Without another word, she left them.
Rose glanced up at Santos and raised an eyebrow. “She’s a woman of few words. Who is she?”
“A good person I’ve known all my life.” His cryptic answer left room for no more questions. Holding out his hand, he waited for her to enter first.
A wide bed dominated the space, crudely fashioned nightstands of fragrant cedar flanking it, lanterns with low lights hanging above. Through an open door off to one side, she saw a cast-iron tub reflected in their soft yellow light. There was no other furniture or even art as she’d seen in the other room. Only white linens and white walls, all of which added to the stark austerity and monastic feel.
She glanced over her shoulder toward Santos to make a comment, then fell silent as his gaze swept over the bed and came back to her. The intensity in his black eyes was anything but monk-like, and the heated look ignited her buried need, the flames jumping higher than she expected.
The attraction between them had been building ever since he’d appeared at her side, despite the fact that she’d told herself over and over that what they’d shared was behind them. It was over, ancient history, old memories, and nothing more. But she’d been dishonest, and suddenly Silas’s voice whispered in her head… There’s no worse lie than the one you tell yourself. The relationship between herself and Santos, and all the emotions it entailed, wasn’t going to go away, no matter how much she denied it.
They moved at the very same time, a single step bringing them together. Without a word, he crushed her to his chest and pressed his lips to hers. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and a stab of pure need pierced the wall she’d tried to erect between them. No one but Santos could fill that need, and she knew it was useless to fight it. There was more to her need than lust, though. She was desperate to erase the bloody, tortured image lingering inside her head. She needed to connect with him and be reassured that life carried on, no matter how deep the evil they fought.
His obvious sense of urgency washed over her and took control. Had she known all along this was how the night would end? The question didn’t matter as a haze of recklessness descended over her. She didn’t care. All she wanted right now was Santos inside of her. If he filled her up, there would be no room for anything else.
…
Santos kissed Rose with a hunger he’d staved off for years. His fingers swept down her back and over her hips, the memories he had carried with him for so long paling in comparison to the reality. The barrier of her blouse fell under his demands, his hands reaching greedily for the buttons. One popped and rolled to the floor. Her leather jacket and the rest of her clothing quickly joined it. Naked in his arms, she clearly felt the same hunger he did, a hunger that could only be satisfied with the feel of their bodies skin to skin. She reached for his belt and fumbled with the heavy buckle. Thrusting his hands between them, he helped her, unzipping his pants then reaching for the nightstand for his wallet and the condom he kept there. His shirt and his vest followed, the pile of clothing at their feet growing until nothing was left to remove.
Stumbling toward the big white bed, locked in each other’s arms, he finally admitted to himself he’d been a fool to leave Rose. Especially the way he had. He should have tried harder…and been more honest. He should have made her understand how much she meant to him. He should have loved her better, and worked harder to save their relationship. They landed with him above her, but before he could draw her closer, Rose crawled on top of him, her touch darting over his body as she straddled him. Her fingertips burned a trail across his chest. As her hand drifted lower, she felt his stomach tense. He wanted to roll over and be the one of top, but she wouldn’t let him. Cradling his face in her hands, she stared into his eyes. Tightening her fingers in his hair where it curled, she tugged until his chin was lifted and his throat exposed.
Her eyes were dark and strange as they stared into his. He had warned her that he was a different man when he was on this side of the border, but looking at her right now, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had changed. This was a Rose he didn’t recognize. When had this happened?
She jerked her head toward their slick bodies, the heat of their passion trapping them in a place with no escape. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said harshly. “You understand that, don’t you? Promise me you do.”
She could have asked for anything, and he would have promised her the world. But he knew that wasn’t what she sought. She didn’t want him to hurt her again, and without a commitment, there was no pain when it was over. On one level, the demand made his heart ache even though he knew he deserved it. On another, he didn’t care about anything other than this moment.
“I understand,” he said thickly. “No strings, no tomorrows, no ties.”
She nodded once then let him enter her, a gasp escaping her lips as he rose to meet her. Their bodies fit as if they’d never whispered their raw goodbyes. When they finished, they started over again.
…
Rose rolled to one side and quietly eased from the bed, moving as slowly as she could. She didn’t want to wake Santos and face the questions she knew he’d have, and she didn’t have answers, anyway. She knew he’d agreed to her conditions only because he’d thought she would stop if he’d said no. He didn’t know she wouldn’t have been able to walk away from their lovemaking any more than she could have stopped her heart from beating. She’d had to have the feel of his lips on her skin and her hands on his body. Her desire had been more than just that. Much, much more.
They’d stopped at some point to take a shower together, which had, of course, segued into something beyond the effort to wash off the road dust. Now she filled the tub and took a longer, more luxurious bath, then dressed in the fresh jeans and T-shirt she’d tucked into her bag. With a brush through her hair and a quick swipe of lipstick, she was ready. Under the covers, Santos stirred and turned in his sleep, murmuring quietly. She shouldn’t have worried about waking him. Whoever Reina Salazar was, she had made a sanctuary here, and Santos felt safe. Rose tiptoed past him, opened the door, and slipped outside to the courtyard.
She saw the child before he saw her. He was young, maybe five or six, and he held a toy vehicle in each hand, one a tiny police car, the other a black SUV. He was racing them around the edge of the fountain. The imaginary road must have been a dangerous one; accompanied by the sounds of squealing tires and terrified cries, the cruiser slipped over the edge and tumbled into the water while the SUV kept going. He reached down to save the police car then went still when he saw Rose.
“Hola,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t scare me,” he declared. “Not at all.”
“That’s good,” she answered. “I’m Rose. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jonathan Salazar.” He extended his hand. “It is very nice to meet you, Miss Rose. How are you today?”
The phrase was one he’d clearly practiced. “I’m very well, thank you, Jonathan.”
She kneeled beside him and took in his delicate features. Big brown eyes, dark black hair, light brown skin. Was he Reina’s son?
Was he Santos’s child?
The thought had come out of the blue, and she shook her head to dislodge it.
She nodded at the dripping car in his hands. “Your policemen had a wreck.”
“There is much danger for the policemens here. I want to be a policeman when I grow up. They must be very brave men.” He held up the SUV. “The bad guys got away. They have big guns. We have to be careful.”
She remembered the weapon in Reina Salazar’s hand last night. “Your mother looks like she can take of you.”
“She is not mi madre. How do you say mi tia, en ingles?”
“She’s your aunt?”
“Si.” He nodded. “She is my aunt.”
Reina stepped out from the shade of the walkway as the little boy spoke, and Rose found herself wondering how long the other woman had been listening. She told the child in rapid fire Spanish there were fresh churros in the kitchen. Her message sent him flying, and Rose stood up.
“Would you like something to eat, too?” Reina wore a smile but looked pointedly at her watch. “Breakfast is over.”
Rose felt her cheeks flush. She would have gotten up earlier if she and Santos had actually slept. “I can wait for lunch.”
Reina dipped her head. “Then perhaps some café to hold you until then?”
“That sounds good.”
She trailed the woman back to the main house. The disparity between the beautiful home and the village hovels they’d seen last night was too stark to ignore. Mexico was a country that seemed unable to escape such dichotomies.
They ended up in a smaller, more intimate den Rose hadn’t seen the night before. The plaster walls were tinted a warm yellow, the satin smooth concrete floors covered by a soft rug. Against one wall, a series of open niches held a collection of blue-tinged pottery, some with mirror finishes, others unglazed as if waiting for their turn in the kiln. Before a leather sofa, a tray with a coffee pot and mugs perched on a low cedar chest. The woman waved Rose toward the couch while she took a chair nearby.
“Your home is amazing.” She accepted the mug Reina handed her. It matched the blue pots on the wall. “Are you an artist?”
“I dabble. When I have the time.”
“I’d call this more than dabbling.” Rose lifted her mug toward the stoneware. “I don’t know which is more beautiful, the pottery or the paintings in the living room.”
“You’re very kind, but I wouldn’t expect less from Sheriff Rose Renwick.”
“You know who I am?”
Reina looked at Rose over her coffee mug. “Santos called and said you might be with him if he made it to the border. You’re the first woman he has ever brought here.”
Startled by the woman’s knowledge of who she was but almost more surprised by that last sentence, Rose kept her reaction to herself. What had Santos told this woman? And what had he left out? She wasn’t sure, despite his apparent trust of Reina, and decided to keep the conversation vague. “We’ve known each other quite a while,” she said ambiguously. “How about you two?”
Reina smiled, her amusement obvious. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”
“Told me what?”
“I’m his sister.”
Rose barely held in the coffee she’d just swallowed. This time her astonishment couldn’t be checked. “You’re his sister? He never told me he had a sister.”
“We both decided a long time ago that keeping our relationship secret was for the best. There are people who would make life difficult for us if they knew the truth.”
“He told me his parents were dead. And that he had no other family.”
Reina nodded. “The first part of that is the truth.”
“And the little boy in the courtyard? He…he said you were his aunt.”
Her voice was as soft as the wind chimes outside the open window. “He’s the son of a friend. She was killed by los traficantes. I promised I would take him if anything happened to her. Something did happen, of course, because she had the wrong kind of associates. Afterward, Santos found him and brought him to me.”
“Jonathan is lucky to have you.”
“I am the lucky one,” Reina answered. “He keeps me from thinking too much.”
The words echoed with familiarity. She wished she had something that would do the same for her.
…
Rose was sitting on the patio when Santos found her, a coffee mug in his hand just like the one he’d noticed in the kitchen with her lip print on its rim. For a ridiculous moment he’d considered picking up that mug and putting his mouth over the mark. He didn’t really care how that might look, but he’d rather have the real thing. The night they’d spent in each other’s arms felt as if it had happened to someone else. And in a way, it had. Neither of them were the people they’d been before they’d crossed the border, much less who they’d been in San Antonio. His heart ached when he thought about what was going to happen when the truth came out. Rose would never forgive his lies.
Clearly lost in thought, she didn’t look up until he was next to her, pulling out an extra chair at the table where she sat.
“You’ve been busy,” she said. “I heard you on the phone earlier.”
“I was talking to Jessie. I wanted to see how things are going.”
“And?”
“Everything’s quiet for the moment. She spread the story that I’m making a gun run to Baja, and Silas told everyone you’re at a law enforcement officer’s conference in San Antonio. Strangely enough, Dan had a sudden meeting there, as well.”
Rose rolled her eyes at his implication.
“Jessie said it feels like the county is holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.”
“What about the Stanleys? Has Cervantes talked yet?”
“Your friends are fine. Your deputy’s still working the case but Silas knows all the details, of course. He said Cervantes hasn’t said a word.”
She stared at a birdfeeder Reina had hung on a hook on the other side of the patio. A flock of small brown birds chattered at each other as they ate. Underneath, was a clay tub planted with a gardenia bush covered in white blossoms, their heads lifted, their fragrance filling the morning air.
“Why didn’t you tell me Reina was your sister?” Rose turned in her chair to face him. “When we lived with each other, you said you didn’t have a family anymore.”
“I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think? Look around you, Rose.” He flicked a hand to the low rise of mountains behind the casa. “She lives right in the middle of the most dangerous part of the border. If everyone knew she was the sister of a Texas lawman, what do you think they’d do to get to her?”
“But we’re here right now.”
“And no one knows that. We came when it was dark, and we’ll leave the same way. Besides, I hardly look like a typical officer right now. I haven’t seen her in months. I needed to check on her.”
“I just don’t understand why you kept it a secret from me.”
He reached across the table and threaded his fingers with hers. Her skin was warm from the filtered sunlight dappling the patio where they sat. His voice softened. “If you knew, you might have said something, no matter how badly you would want to do otherwise. I wanted to keep you both safe. I should have listened to my better judgment and taken us somewhere else last night. But I felt it was time the two of you met.”
She accepted his explanation, because she understood life on the border. Even more so after seeing Concepción DeLeon’s body. But knowing he wanted Rose to meet his sister despite the situation made her heart tremble. She forced herself to return to the conversation. “Why does Reina stay here if it’s so risky?”
“She has her reasons. She says it’s home and she can’t leave.”
“But you left.”
“It wasn’t my choice. My mother grew up in Texas, then moved to Mexico after meeting my father. The summer I turned thirteen, she sent me to the States to spend some time with her father. I had a smart mouth and reckless energy and was already getting into trouble. She thought my grandfather’s old-fashioned discipline would be good for me. I think she hoped I would be equally good for him.”
“I thought you had grown up with your grandfather because she and your father had passed away.”
“They were murdered, but that happened after I was already here.”
“You told me there was a car wreck.”
“There was—I didn’t lie about that. What I didn’t explain was that they owned a magazine in Mexico City. They published the truth no one wanted revealed, especially the politicians. It could never be proven, but my grandfather was sure their car was forced off the road. Reina refused to join me in the States. She was seventeen, and she’d just fallen in love.”
“She must have loved him a lot to give up that opportunity. I hope he’s still around.”
“Oh, he’s around. He lives in El Paso as he always has—with his wife. Reina waits, and he comes here when he can.”
“Whoa,” Rose said with surprise. “She doesn’t strike me as a person who would want that kind of relationship.”
“I agree,” he said sadly. “But that’s what she ended up with.”
“Love is a powerful emotion.”
He started to point out they both understood that, then he remembered his promise from the night before and he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and stared at her. “Do you remember me telling you that I had a reliable source of information on the border?”
She nodded curtly.
“That source is my sister.”
“Your sister?” she repeated in surprise.
“She’s been an informant since Jonathan’s mother, Dulcina, was killed. They were best friends, inseparable since childhood.”
“So Reina’s the one who took the video Jessie had?”
He wondered once more if he could navigate the treacherous maze he’d created for himself. Skipping her question, he said, “Reina has sources in town who told her about a blond woman who was seen with some local gun dealers. But she’s heard nothing.
“I’ll say it again, then. It’s possible there’s no connection between Lilith and my mother.”
“Reina has another theory about everything that’s going on in Rio County. She suggested it some time ago, but she didn’t go into any detail.”
“And that is…?”
“That you’re both approaching the same problem, but you’re coming from different directions.” They looked up as Reina spoke from the doorway.
She’d changed clothes and was now dressed in a white caftan, a slash of red lipstick her only adornment. He glanced over at Rose, and her expression was easy to read. She could clearly see why any man, married or not, would want Reina beside him.
His sister walked to where they sat with a tray of drinks and a dish of cold ceviche and put the offering down on the table. “If you two worked together, you might have more success.”
“No kidding,” Santos murmured.
Rose shot him a look then lifted her chin. “What do you mean?” she asked Reina.
“You don’t believe your mother could be involved with someone like Pablo Ortega, but my dear brother is sure that she is.” He held his breath. Reina was smart, smarter than him. Had she figured out the truth? He hoped not; it would only make all of them more vulnerable.
She handed over a pair of embroidered napkins. Lifting her eyes to Rose’s, she spoke. “You think the boy with the knife, the killers at the trailer park, the thugs at your friends’ house could all be the work of someone local, a minor player totally unconnected to your mother. Possibly someone named Juan Enrique, yes? And Santos believes Ortega is behind everything, including the death of the woman whose body you saw yesterday.” She paused. “What if you’re both right?”
He leaned back in his chair and made a sound of dismissal. “You don’t understand Ortega—”
Rose held up a hand. “Let her finish, Santos.”
Reina smiled slyly. She was acknowledging the unspoken power Rose held over him—the same power that any woman held over the man who loved her. He gritted his teeth.
“You told Santos this man—Juan Enrique—runs the boys in your village,” Reina continued, her eyes on Rose. “You think he was trying to get you to release one of his men you were holding in jail?”
Rose nodded.
“No one operates in a vacuum, especially within the cartels. Enrique might be Ortega’s underling, he could be a rival, he might even be his boss, who knows? The cartels in this part of the world are family businesses. At the very least, everyone knows everyone else. Best case, they know each other. Worst case, they both have a hand in the kidnapping.” Reina took one of the tall glasses from the tray and sipped from it before speaking again. “It’s quite possible they both could have a hand in the silence of Santos’s informant.”
He scoffed. “These men are cutthroats. Why would they work with each other?”
“I didn’t say they would be working together.” Reina took a significant pause. “I said they might both have a hand in it.”
Rose had been creasing the napkin under her drink as she listened. Now she stilled, and he knew she was slowly processing Reina’s words. He’d seen those wheels moving before.
She spoke slowly. “You wondering if Lilith was doing something other than investigating?”
Reina nodded at Rose in approval, then turned to Santos. “She’s your informant, but she’s a woman, too. What if Enrique and Ortega were competing for Lilith’s attentions? If Rose’s mother is Ortega’s lover, wouldn’t she want to get rid of the woman catching her man’s eyes? Is it not conceivable that Gloria has silenced your informant, and not Ortega?” Her caftan moved in the breeze, and she reached out to pull it closer. “Or…turn the possibility around. Say Gloria was Ortega’s lover, but now she wants Enrique instead. Maybe Lilith got caught up in this triangle?” She shrugged. “Does it even matter how or what happened? A battle has begun, and I think now both men are entangled.”
“My mother is only forty-five,” Rose said thoughtfully. “When I was a teenager, we were often mistaken for sisters. It’s quite possible a man in his forties and a man in his sixties would find her attractive.”
“Beauty has nothing to do with age.” Reina nodded. “Mexican men appreciate that fact.”
“I just thought of something else, too.” Rose leaned forward to face Santos, her voice eager. “You told me yourself there were problems with the investigation. Confusion, leaks, the missed opportunities… Is it possible Lilith could have been turned? Maybe she was passing information, playing one against the other? Neither man would like that.”
He made his expression as neutral as he could. If he protested too much, he’d seem stubborn. If he dismissed the arguments, he’d look illogical.
If he told the truth, people could die.
“Maybe Lilith switched sides. My mother might not even be involved,” she pressed.
“She would never flip. That’s not a possibility.”
A stronger gust of wind swirled into the courtyard, bringing the smell of rain with it. The sunshine had disappeared, and he hadn’t even realized it until now.
He leaned forward and forced Rose to meet his gaze. Her eyes were troubled and dark with concern.
“Reina is dead straight on one thing. Your mother, my agent, Ortega, Juan Enrique… In some ways it doesn’t really matter who’s behind any this.” He gripped the arms of Rose’s chair so tightly he was surprised they didn’t bend under his fingers. “West Texas is on fire with the evil that’s being spread. It has to be stopped. Until that happens, we’re all in danger.”