Chapter Seventeen
W ith difficulty, Rio and Becca found the breach, crawled through, and began to casually amble down the paved street. People were out in throngs, protesting, just as the pilot, Julio, had told them. Some held signs, NO CROOKED POLICE in both English and Spanish. CUT OUT THE ROT, they said. A man on a makeshift stage shouted slogans and exhorted the populace to keep up the good fight. The people of Laredo would no longer accept a corrupt police force.
Quickly, Rio and Becca were lost in the crowd.
In the warmth of the day their clothes dried. Cars rolled by and people walked to and from the border terminal. Holding hands, to a casual observer, they would appear to be part of the protest.
To cover his bright hair, Rio pulled on his black cap. There had been one dicey moment in the middle of the river when the border agent had raised binoculars and it seemed they’d been spotted. In that instant, Rio had winked at Becca, and bless her, she’d winked back.
Her eyes had been bright with fear, but also excitement. The idea gave his spirits a grand lift. No panicked, mindless female was she! No, she’d kept her wits, followed his every command, and they’d made it safely across. Most of all, she’d shown him that in the moment of highest danger, she was capable, strong, and almost enjoyed the peril. She’d felt some of his same thirst for risk. He’d seen it in her eyes. Now that was a real woman. He gazed down at her in pleasure.
“Now what?” she said, keeping her voice low. “We need a vehicle.” Three angry women walked by, carrying placards, yelling in protest.
“I’ll get us that vehicle,” Rio said. “First, I’ll give you money, leave you in the shopping mart. Get us some new clothes and shoes. Size twelve for me. Nothing fancy. And buy me some shades, okay?”
“Are you going to steal a car?”
He looked at her. “What do you think I am? A spy? No, I’ll rent one.” He grinned. “For cash.”
“Don’t you need ID? Insurance?” She paused. “Oh, I get it. With enough cash, you don’t need those.”
“You’re quick. I like that.”
Within minutes they made it to the town, where the crowd thinned. With its two and three story buildings and end-to-end shops beneath, some of the buildings were painted orange, some yellow. Most had long, colorful awnings protecting the store’s wares below. The outdoor area featured dozens of vendors hawking trinkets, Mexican sombreros, jewelry, and clothing. Rio pulled her into a small alcove and pressed bills into her hand with a promise to be back soon. “Stay off the street,” he ordered. “The fewer people that see you, the better.”
****
W ithin seconds, Becca was lost in the marketplace. She mingled with the crowd. Choosing carefully, she made her purchases and also bought water and hot steamed tamales. She was paying for her last purchase when a car pulled up and she glanced over. Rio sat behind the wheel of a dirty, ancient sedan of indeterminate color. She’d call it rust .
He gestured for her, and she hurried out with her packages to climb into the passenger side.
“What? No Vespa?” she asked.
“Naw,” he said, pulling into traffic. “We’re riding in style.”
She glanced around at the torn upholstery, weathered windows, and beat-up floorboards. “I can see that.” From her bag she withdrew a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, and he put them on.
“It’s about a three-hour drive to San Antonio,” he said. “You should rest until we get there.”
“I can’t rest.” She opened her food containers and handed him a warm tamale. “The only thing I can think about is my dad, and my uncle. And my brothers. They can’t be doing anything illegal.”
“We’ll find out,” he said, wolfing the food. “Any more?” He pointed at her bag.
Unable to eat, Becca took out more food and watched as he drove and chewed. Now that his hair had dried and he’d taken off his cap, some of it fell over his forehead, lending him a jaunty look. He drove easily, with one wrist draped over the old steering wheel. Even with their dirty-water swim, and in the same clothes for days, he looked impossibly handsome. In his sunglasses, he appeared the epitome of cool. She could imagine him posed like this in a slick retro ad for a men’s magazine. Perhaps for an expensive cologne. Buy this, and you’ll look like him , the advertisement would say. She shook her head at the fanciful thought.
In her mind, like snapshots in time, memories of their long night in bed flashed before her. His slow, luxurious caresses, his obvious pleasure in her body and her delight in his. Warmth seeped through her veins and all at once she wanted him again. She didn’t know him well, was only learning his personality little by little. But physically, he was spectacular.
She pushed aside such thoughts. How could she be sexually stimulated during a time of such danger? Why did she feel excitement as much as she did fear?
Perhaps it was her body’s way of reminding her of the importance of life, the fragility of it, the preciousness.
“Why?” she asked abruptly. “Why are you doing this?”
“Driving you to San Antonio? Told you. It’s my job.”
“But it’s not your job to help me figure out what’s going on at De Monte Wheel Solutions ... if something is,” she tacked on.
He shrugged. “Don’t have anything else for a few days. I’m sure by week’s end I’ll have a new assignment, and you’ll see the last of me. Meanwhile, I like a good mystery. Especially if it’s illegal.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She liked a good mystery too, but usually when it was in a novel.
And she guessed his answer was as good as she would get. She shied away from pressing. For now, she desperately needed his help.
“The warehouse is closed at night, correct?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s no night crew.”
“Good. And you’ve got keys? Where do you keep them?”
“On a hook in my condo’s kitchen. When I leave for work in the morning, I just grab them. Because I’d gone to my college roommate’s home in Mexico City, I didn’t take them. When we get to town, I’ll go over and pick them up.”
“You can’t,” he said. “Your condo is probably under surveillance.”
She felt her eyes widen. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Becca, no one can know you’re back in the states. Not yet. Not until we find out if you’re still in danger.”
She breathed in deeply. “Okay.”
“I’ll get us a no-tell motel room, sneak over to your place and grab the keys.”
“But how? Why do you think you won’t be seen?”
He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “No one will see me.”
She thought about how he’d snatched her from the cantina’s bathroom right under the noses of her captors. He’d kept her hidden in the mountain cabin, even saved her from certain recapture from the cartel. She reminded herself of how he’d constructed their ghillie suit hats, had successfully maneuvered them past watchful guards and across the river into the United States. For whatever reason, Rio was still assisting her. And he was good at what he did.
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” she told him. “And I have confidence in you. It’s obvious that you know what you’re doing. You’re the expert. From now on, I’ll try to do everything you say.”
He did take his eyes off the road then.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his glinting sunglasses, but she gave him a nod and a soft smile.
He took off his sunglasses, and she found that the same blue flames that had animated his eyes during their lovemaking had come alive again. “I want you.” Taking a quick glance at the road, his gaze returned to travel over her breasts, down her body. “Do you want me?”
“Oh,” she breathed, fidgeting. Oh, God. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He slid his shades back on his face. “Good. Man, it’s gonna be a long drive.” A wry grin twisted his lips. “That part about doing everything I say? That was pretty funny. You’re not exactly the meek type.”
“I said I’d try .”
“When we arrive in San Antonio and find a motel, I’ll get the keys and late tonight I’ll sneak over to your dad’s factory, and check it out.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m going, too.”
“Becca—”
“I’m going.” She set her jaw.
He hesitated, then gave his trademark shrug as though it was her choice and he cared little.
She found it bothered her, his retreat into indifference. During their hours of lovemaking, he’d been anything but indifferent. She wondered if he used the cool attitude to insulate himself from the world, like a shell or invisible armor ... or a ghillie suit.
“This evening in the motel, we won’t have much to do for several hours. We’ll just have to rest...” He grinned wolfishly. “And stuff.”
****
A s soon as they checked in, Rio left her alone in the low-rent motel room to shower and wait for his return. When he drove away, she locked the door securely, and using the motel’s shampoo, washed her hair twice. In the bathroom, she found a room-supplied comb, so she worked it through her long hair until it hung heavy and damp down her back.
Making a pot of coffee with the hotel’s equipment, she nursed the black brew. It was bitter and a poor replacement for her beloved Ethiopian Arabica coffee beans, but it was all she had and she desperately craved it.
Putting on new undergarments, white cotton capris pants, and the white embroidered Mexican peasant top felt good. A new pair of white tennis shoes and socks finished her outfit. On the bed she laid out the khaki pants, new T-shirt and shoes she’d bought for Rio. He’d told her he would take a shower when he got back.
Peeking through the motel draperies into the parking lot, she saw that it was beginning to get dark. He hadn’t told her how he was going to get inside her condo. She’d only given him her address and a description of the building.
However, now that she’d seen the imaginative way he solved problems, she’d no doubt he’d find a way.
Gazing longingly at the room telephone, she wished she could call her father, reassure him of her safety. She wished she could call Maria, her old roommate, and make certain that during the violent kidnapping, she and her father hadn’t been hurt.
Reluctantly, Becca made no calls.
Picking up a newspaper left on the nightstand, she scanned it for news and found nothing about any American woman kidnapped from the Mexican ambassador’s home. When she flipped on the TV and watched an entire news cycle, there was no reporting on her case there, either. As Rio had told her, somebody high up was keeping a lid on this.
Pacing the room, she chewed nervously on a knuckle.
At last, Rio pulled into a nearby parking spot.
She opened the door and stood back. “Did you get the keys?” she asked.
He held up a jingling set and locked the door behind him. “Doesn’t look like your roommate has been home at all. The place is closed up, no new food in the fridge, all your mail still on the floor from the mail slot in the front door.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. “It’s pretty normal for her to be gone for a couple of weeks at a time. She might not even know I’ve been gone.”
“I fed your frogs,” he said. “Found some frozen blood worms and brine shrimp in the freezer and defrosted it real fast in hot water. Threw that in the tank right in front of their faces. I also gave them some sinking pellets you had there. Little guys were pretty hungry.”
Becca gazed at him in wonder. She loved her African dwarf frogs, and knowing that Rio had stopped long enough to feed her pets warmed her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Moving to the bathroom to start the shower, he came back and drew his t-shirt over his head before starting to unzip his pants. “Well, I am a frogman.”
For a moment she didn’t understand. Then, it dawned on her. “Oh, you were Navy SEAL.”
“I was a SEAL, but I’ll always be a frogman.”
With that, he disappeared into the bathroom and she heard him washing beneath the hot spray. In minutes he came out. He’d rubbed his hair and slicked it back with the comb. Around his ribbed waist, he’d tied the towel.
“Way I figure it,” he said, lifting her blouse to place a warm palm on the bare skin of her hip, “we’ve got at least six hours before we can sneak into the warehouse.” He caressed her skin. “You tired?”
Becca wound her arms around his neck. “No.” She touched her lips to his and caught her breath. Desire snaked through her veins like a flash fire. “Not one bit.”
Folding her into his arms, Rio lowered his head.
And he let the towel drop.