He smoothed a hand over his close-cropped head. “I needed a change.”
This Ian Foster was a far cry from the scruffy narco she’d encountered at the Hotel del Oro. He wasn’t the fresh-faced border patrol officer she’d met four years ago, either. He’d grown harder, worldlier, more rugged. More handsome. She studied his clothes with interest. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His legs were long and lean in casual trousers.
“How’s your injury?” she asked.
“Better,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Have you heard from Armando?”
“No.”
He glanced at her, his expression inscrutable.
“You think he’s alive?” she asked.
“You tell me.”
“How would I know?”
“You helped him get away.”
“Only because he saved my life.”
“When?”
“On the day of the shootout. After Chuy found me on the phone with you, he dragged me into his office. He said he was going to kill me, but Armando wouldn’t let him. He stepped between us.”
His brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
He shrugged, swerving around a pothole in the road. Then he said, “There’s a veterinarian missing from the La Canada Pet Clinic. A woman.”
Maria was startled by this news. She’d helped Armando walk to the clinic. She’d left him outside the backdoor, semiconscious. Now a woman was missing, and Maria felt responsible. She’d been in the country illegally. She was a fugitive from justice. Maybe Ian would turn her over to the U.S. authorities. Or worse, the Mexican authorities. “Will you arrest me?”
“I can’t arrest anyone,” he said, his mouth thin. “I’m not with the DEA anymore. I was asked to submit my resignation.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had to quit.”
“Why?”
He stared straight ahead, not answering.
“Because of me?”
“You, and Sonia Barreras. She died in surgery.”
Chuy’s girlfriend. Maria felt a pang of sadness, though they hadn’t been friends. “That’s not fair. You didn’t shoot her.”
“I broke cover and instigated the shootout, against direct orders.”
Maria’s stomach clenched with regret. “I’m so sorry, Ian.”
He tightened his hands around the wheel. “So am I.”
“Can you work somewhere else?”
“I don’t know. Right now I’m on a temporary assignment with ICE, which is part of Homeland Security. The DEA is investigating the incident at the hotel. If I’m found liable, I can’t transfer to another agency. I’ll have to start over.”
Maria nibbled the edge of her thumbnail. She knew all about starting over. She’d started over in Tijuana, after her first failed attempt to cross the border. Her second try had been successful, but the time she’d spent in the United States had been a disaster. So she’d gone back to Mezcala to start over again. She’d been hoping to go home and forget Ian.
Now she realized it was impossible. She couldn’t erase her memories or change her heart. Seeing him in her mother’s store had forced her to face that harsh reality.
She could start over, but she couldn’t move on.
Chapter 4
ONE WEEK EARLIER
Caitlyn Weiss was having a great day.
She’d finished her surgeries early and sent the staff to lunch. There were no sick animals to take care of, just routine spays and neuters. The only appointments this afternoon were vaccinations with the vet tech. Caitlyn didn’t have to stick around for those. As soon as she finished walking this dog, she could go home and sleep.
Sleep.
She’d been in dire need of sleep since she’d moved to San Diego four months ago. She worked as a relief vet at La Canada Pet Clinic in addition to her regular job at the emergency animal hospital in Otay Mesa. She wanted to work days, but it was a competitive market and she didn’t have enough experience to secure a better position. So she slogged through night shifts and relief jobs, paying her dues.
The dog she was leading stopped to lift his leg at a cluster of purple wildflowers that were pretty but smelled like skunk. The scent tickled her nostrils as she waited for the dog to finish. She tipped her face toward the sun, enjoying the moment. The field behind the clinic was no paradise. It was a dry lot littered with weeds and bits of flyaway trash, but it was a convenient space for dogs to pee.
After Oliver was finished, she tugged on his leash to urge him forward. As she entered the back door of the clinic she noted blood splashes on the floor. They’d drained Oliver’s ear hematoma on the exam table this morning. She checked his bandage for seepage and found none. She shrugged and put him in a clean dog run. He wagged his tail at her, tongue hanging out.
“Good boy,” she said, and stepped back.
Right into someone.
Someone…scary. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she could smell him. Fresh blood and male sweat and another odor, like firecrackers.
Gunpowder.
She was suddenly aware of the gun pressed to her side. She’d heard several loud pops a few minutes ago, but she’d dismissed it as artillery testing at the nearby Naval Weapons Station. They made a lot of noise over there.
“Don’t move.”
His voice was raspy. Spanish accent. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was taller than her. He oozed menace and adrenaline. He was also bleeding profusely. Big red drops splashed at her feet. Oliver made a whining sound.
She stood still, her heart pounding. She should have locked the back door. The receptionist was always telling her to lock the door because there were homeless people all around this area. There were gang members and drug dealers in the neighborhood too. They were located at the edge of downtown San Diego, less than ten miles from the border.
“Don’t scream.”