Chapter 5

Authors Note: Sorry for the little Spanish dialogue thing, promise that there won't be much more of that. Lol. But yes, Puerco pibil looked really good and I want to try it, too. Maybe not with the tequila, but that's definitely going to be on the menu for dinner one night. ( But I'm listening to the Audio Commentary AGAIN lol, and I realized something.) You're in for a surprise in the end, muhaha

"Puerco pibil and tequila," Sable put the bag on the sear and noticed that Sands had his gun again.

"You killed him?" Sands smirked.

"Wounded. He pissed me off," she pulled out of the parking lot, "and you knew, didn't you."

"Had a relative idea," Sands located the tequila and unscrewed the top. Taking a drink he smiled contentedly, "It has lime."

"Course it does. That's yours, the six-pack's mine."

"Budweiser?"

"Amstel," she eyed one wondering if there was enough time to open one and drink it down before they got back to the hotel.

"'s all yours."

A cell phone rang and Sable hurried to answer. Reception so far had been horrible, the few times she'd turned the phone on all she'd gotten back was static and then nothing. She slammed on the brakes so they wouldn't miss the area. Sands coughed against the tequila that went down the wrong way, good thing the road was empty.

"Hello," there was some static, but it wasn't bad. More like a light humming in the background.

"What do you mean the line's been compromised! I haven't ever used this damn thing before!"

Sands listened to the one-sided conversation not surprised. They called for what? Bad news.

"I fucking well won't! Don't you dare hang up on me, Hayiler."

Hayiler, he was a son of a bitch if there ever was one. Even more so then himself and that was saying something, Sands sighed. No wonder he had called, the man no doubt was laughing himself silly over the fact that they would be stuck in Mexico.

"Mexico airport, how original. Yeah, tomorrow at two. Got it."

Mexico Airport was the only major airport in the area. Pretty decent place, but they didn't allow smoking on the plane. It had been too bad. . .

"Arnoldo?" That made him sit up a little straighter, Arnoldo was there? "What about him? Hello?"

He sighed, the static had come back with perfect timing.

"Shit," Sable threw the phone to the dashboard and sat back in her seat. Counting to ten she concluded that counting was in no way a stress- reliever. 10, 9. . . 8, 7. . . how many bodies. . . would there be left. . . 1, 0.

"Welcome to Mexico, babe," Sands said, nearly a quarter of the bottle was already gone.

"We leave tomorrow at two out of the Mexican airport. No disguises needed. Then he was going to put Arnoldo on, but the fuckin' thing died."

"Tomorrow, good. The sooner we leave this godforsaken place the better." Sands wouldn't at all be sad never to see or hear of Mexico again. The music had stopped and the beat was old.

"He'll most likely call back later just to make sure we know how to board a plane. He doesn't trust us with anything." Sable pushed the car to sixty and opened a beer, now was the perfect time for it.

Sands rested his head against the back of the seat, the alcohol had done its job. The pressure and itching pain was dulled, but only time would completely take care of that. The CIA would have to take him back, and not at a desk job.

"There's something wrong," Sable stared at the hotel parking lot and felt a prickly feeling at the back of her neck. The last time she'd ignored it a nice bullet had found it's way into her shoulder.

"Specify wrong. Bomb going off or there's a bee in the car?"

"It's just a feeling."

"Follow it where it takes you," Sands said calmly.

"Down," she screamed, they both ducked as bullets whizzed through the air, "who would be after you now?"

"Damned if I know! I can't exactly scope it out right now." Sable threw open the door and used it as a shield.

"Two on the left, three on the right," she informed Sands, there were just enough bullets and two to spare.

Sands opened his side of the car and listened for where the bullets were coming from. Standing, he fired a round in the direction and heard a thud from a body that hit the ground.

"Damn it," Sable slammed the door shut and made herself the target, "what are you trying to do?! Get yourself killed?"

She aimed first at the ones holding the larger guns. Those were the most fatal and she'd rather not face them without some kind of protection. Three down and only two to go. One of them aimed a shotgun at Sands, without thinking Sable aimed, pressed the trigger, and watched him fall. Why did the last one look so familiar?

"Sands, don't," she called, they needed to keep one alive at least to get information from.

He tipped his head slightly in her direction and pulled the trigger. The gun dropped from the last man's hand, Sable's eyes widened in surprise. . . Sands had hit the man exactly on the wrist bone before crippling him with a bullet to the kneecap. He wouldn't be going anywhere now.

Sable kept the gun locked on him, now she knew why he looked so familiar. It was Billy Chambers.