Off the Rails (Border Patrol #2)

“What are those?” he asked in Spanish.

The man replied with a word Ian didn’t recognize. Then he said, “They are there to keep people away. So you can’t run along the tracks and hop on.”

Ian nodded his understanding. “How far do they go?”

The man shrugged, “No sé.”

He was stuck on this railcar. He’d have to just sit here, squinting into the distance and hoping Maria didn’t get attacked by the other passengers. He glanced at the photo again. She seemed okay, for now. If someone was going to make a move on her, they’d probably wait until nightfall. “Where is the next stop, do you know?”

“Guadalajara,” the man replied with a smile, flashing silver front teeth. “Five hours, nomás.”

Only five hours. That was a short trip. They’d arrive before the sun set. Ian thanked the man for the information and tried to relax. He couldn’t believe how stubborn Maria was. How bold and optimistic and fearless. She was so fucking helpful, he couldn’t stand it. The same qualities that drew him to her drove him crazy.

“Is there a problem?” the man asked.

“Women.”

He chuckled with sympathy. “One in particular?”

“Yes.”

“She didn’t want you to take the train?”

It was the opposite, but Ian didn’t say that. He was too tired to speak Spanish, though listening required no extra effort.

“My wife told me not to go. Too dangerous. And we have a new baby at home. She thinks I won’t come back to her.”

Ian studied his smooth brown face. He looked like a teenager, twenty at the most. “Will you?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling.

Stated simply, as if it was a given that he would survive this trip, cross the border successfully, make a pocketful of money, and return safe. Ian wanted to dismiss him as foolish and naive. Instead he felt a mild envy. Maria’s sunny attitude in the face of hardship bewildered him, but it was a hallmark of her culture. These people weren’t quitters. The worst life circumstances couldn’t bring them down. They just kept going. Resilience was in their blood.

Meanwhile, he was boohooing over a few career stumbles and one impossible relationship. He was young, white, educated, and healthy. He had more money than most Latin Americans collected in a lifetime. What did he have to mope about, besides Maria?

He wasn’t going to die if he didn’t have her. The world would keep on turning. Every guy fell for a beautiful girl who was off-limits or out of his league at some point. It was practically a rite of passage, and Maria was the type of woman who collected hearts like wildflowers. She gave a stranger a friendly look, just to be nice, and he was a goner.

Ian couldn’t say he was cheered by these thoughts, but some of his anxiety eased. He was on a risky assignment, tangled up in a red-hot affair with a sexy foreigner. Some men would kill to be in his position. It wasn’t that bad, travel accommodations aside.

He settled in for the ride and pondered what LaGuardia had said about Villarreal. Ian didn’t give a damn who he’d worked for before he’d joined Moreno’s crew. Ian didn’t trust the PFM, or any other government agency in Mexico. The drug cartels were more powerful than the law here. They infiltrated every facet of law enforcement and influenced politicians.

The tracks stretched on toward Guadalajara, interminable. This trip was shorter than the previous one, but the landscape more precarious. There were trees to dodge and tunnels to pass through, so he had to stay alert. The boys on the railcar curled up to sleep while their mother kept watch. Some of the men tied themselves to the grate with rope or a belt and did the same. Ian worried about Maria drifting off and falling over the edge. He wished he was beside her, so she could sleep.

Finally they approached a sprawling city. Smog billowed into a brilliant orange sunset, ironically made more vibrant by the heavy pollution. Ian’s spirits lifted. He couldn’t wait to get the hell off the train. He needed a different strategy for finding Sarai. If she was here, she was laying low. He might ride all the way to Tijuana and never spot her.

As soon as the train stopped, he’d catch up with Maria and search the crowd for Sarai. Then he’d look for a hot meal, a shower, and a bed. He didn’t know what to do with Maria. She refused to listen to him. She refused to go home. Sooner or later, her presence was going to get him into serious trouble.

He couldn’t resist her much longer, either. Hell, he hadn’t been able to resist her so far. He’d barely been able to keep his dick in his pants. The next time he touched her, he might lose control, and escalating their affair would only make things worse. He needed to get his career back on track.

For the next thirty minutes, the train rolled through the outskirts of Guadalajara. It was the second largest city in Mexico, and about the size of Los Angeles, if memory served. It was dusk when they approached the cargo station, lights twinkling. Instead of slowing down, the train passed right on by. They left Guadalajara in the dust.

“Why aren’t we stopping?” he asked in Spanish.

The man next to him shrugged. “No sé, se?or.”

Ian glanced back into the dark abyss. He couldn’t see railcar seven anymore. Taking a photo wouldn’t help. “Is there another station coming up?”

“Sí. El Limbo.”

El Limbo? That didn’t sound promising.

“It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“When will we get there?”

“Not for a long time.”

“Fuck!”

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