Chapter 18
Jackie stood between Razorback and Cowboy, gazing at the map spread out on the table of the hotel room that had been her temporary home while Razorback recuperated at the hospital.
Her fingernails dug into her palms. Lines and colors.
Arbitrary determinations that had deeply affected her life.
She was still an American in her heart, and always would be.
Even if I’ve got to sneak back into my own damn country.
She’d been hoping HERO Force would come through with a passport and a nice, comfy first-class flight into Dulles, but it seemed their options were this or nothing. They would go across the Rio Grande and into South Texas, the way hundreds of migrants entered the United States every year.
If they survived the journey.
She’d heard of this trail before. It was legendary for the human remains that littered the route, all that was left of those unable to complete the arduous trek.
The area was hot, drought-ridden, and paradoxically humid—a potentially deadly combination for a hike this long, and the forecasted highs for the next week were well over a hundred degrees.
But it was the only way, and she trusted Razorback to lead her. He was a Navy SEAL, for God’s sake. If anyone could get her through hell and back, it was him.
She glanced at his face and serious expression. They hadn’t been alone since they left the resort when HERO Force arrived, hadn’t even had a chance to talk. Now they were setting off with the barest of essentials for a grueling hike, alone.
Cowboy pointed at the map. “You’ll cross the Rio Grande here tomorrow morning at oh four hundred hours.
I’ll meet you on the other side at the first set of coordinates and drive you fifty-five miles north.
” He pointed again. “That’s when you need to get out.
The Falfurrias checkpoint is set up on the main highway just to look for illegals.
We can’t drive you through it, so you’ll hike around the checkpoint and I’ll pick you up at the second set of coordinates. It’s mostly ranchland.”
“What if Border Patrol sees us when we cross the river?” Jackie asked.
Cowboy shook his head. “They won’t. Watch for choppers. That’s how they’ll spot you if they do.”
She furrowed her brow. “But they have electronic surveillance cameras up and down the river.”
Cowboy met her stare. “Jackie, you’re not going to get caught.”
Understanding dawned. They wouldn’t be caught because Cowboy had made sure they’d have safe passage. “Oh.”
Razorback pushed away from the table. “I’m going to finish packing. Be ready in ten.”
“Ian,” said Cowboy. “Just so we’re clear, once you get out of my truck, you’re on your own. Jax’s instructions were clear. HERO Force can’t swoop in and save you unless you make it to the coordinates.”
“Understood.” Razorback walked out the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll make it.”
She stared at the closed door. “What happens if we get caught?”
Cowboy hitched his hip on the edge of a dresser. “To him? Nothing. To you, with your situation? God only knows. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“I don’t have a choice.” In truth she felt ready for nothing, anxiety permeating her nervous system like a toxin.
What could possibly prepare her for the journey ahead, a trip back in time to the place she swore never to return, and the trail through a desert where so many had died?
She didn’t like it one bit. “How sure are you about this route?”
“Born and raised just a few miles from there. This is your best chance into the country.”
She nodded. Cowboy instilled confidence, just as the other men she’d met from HERO Force.
They were a formidable crew, exactly the type of men she imagined protected the United States at the elitist levels of the military.
Too bad she didn’t have as much confidence in herself. “How long will it take us to walk?”
“Depends how fast you go. It’s forty miles of sandy, uneven terrain. Punishing heat. You’ll be able to cover one to two miles an hour. How’s your endurance?”
“I run ten miles a week.”
“Then for you, I’d say three days, give or take.” He folded up the map.
“The Democratic National Conference starts tomorrow!”
“And runs for four days. You can still make it before they officially make him the nominee.”
“Three damn days to hike.” She shook her head. “How long would it take Razorback without me?”
“Normally? Day and a half, maybe two.” He shrugged and handed her the map. “With his lungs healing from the smoke inhalation? I’m not sure.”
Logan had declared Razorback to have one very lucky set of lungs, but he’d also advised he lie low for a few days—the exact opposite of what was about to happen.
She stared at the map. The convention was in Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. Her daughter would be thousands of miles away. A physical ache seemed to stab at her abdomen. “Do you have kids?”
“No, ma’am, though I hope to one day.”
She sniffed, tucking the map into her back pocket. “I’ve never been away from her. Not for a single day of her life.” Saying goodbye to Selena that morning had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, though she’d kept up a good front, insisting it was just a fun trip with a friend.
“Sloan will take good care of her until her passport comes through. Maybe she’ll even make it to the States before you do.”
She nodded. “Let’s hope so.” There was a knock at the door. “That must be the lawyer.”
“I’ll let him in on my way out. I wish you well, Jackie.” He touched the rim of his cowboy hat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to watch a political convention on TV.” He kissed her cheek. “Safe travels.”
Cowboy left and the solicitor walked in. Jackie drew in a shaking breath. Seven and a half years after Selena’s birth, it was finally time to fill in the blank on her daughter’s birth certificate.