Author's Note: here we go, chapter three in all it's glory. I have nothing to say, other than it's 19 days until Secret Window comes out, and that makes me really excited.
Author's thanks at the end.
Quotes always appreciated.
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In her dream, Tess was dressed in a linen suit and a silk blouse. Her hair was coiled around her head in a braid, and not a single hair was out of place. She was wearing a gold filigree bracelet, a gold crucifix on a gold chain, and gold studs in her ears. Her father liked it when she wore gold. She was sitting at a small table on an open-air patio that overlooked a well-tended garden. There was a pot of tea on the table, along with delicate and expensive porcelain cups and saucers, plates of pastries, and other tea-time paraphernalia.
All in all, Tess would have been well pleased with this, but the man across from her ruined it all. "Hello, Father." Her dream self was well aware that this man had been dead for a year now, but that didn't seem strange at all.
"Have you come to your senses yet?"
"What do you mean?"
Barillo shook his head and steepled his fingers. "Fine. I will humor you. Have you yet realized that it was a mistake to run away from your home? Your family?"
"It wasn't a mistake."
"Then what have you been doing with your life? What did you do after leaving home?" Tess looked down at her lap, knowing she'd done nothing. Nothing really worthwhile. "Did you return to the States and become a great doctor? Did you start up a clinic in San Antonio or Mexico City where your money and knowledge would be useful? Did you find a teaching position at a grand university?" He looked at her, almost in pity. "No. You hung onto the coattails of the cartel, and you listened for news of what your family was doing. As it should have been, you found meaning in your family."
"What I found was a trail of victims. What I found were families broken by your presence. None of what I did was caused by any lingering sense of familial bonds."
"Come now, Teresa. Tell yourself the truth." She just stared at the man who'd fathered her. "Somewhere, somewhere inside you, you were searching for your family, and you were grateful to us for giving you meaning, even if you hated the meaning left to you after leaving. You could have left all this behind at any time, but you didn't. Even in your dreams you return here." His voice made shame flower inside her. "What did I always teach you?"
"Family is stronger than blood," she whispered. Some part of her traitorous mind actually believed what he was saying. "But –"
"No. No 'buts.' No excuses. Excuses are for the weak willed, and you, Teresa, are anything by weak willed." He threw a sheaf of photographs on the table between them, motioning for her to take them. It didn't matter that he hadn't had them moments before, because this was a dream and anything could happen in dreams. Photographs could appear out of nowhere and she could sit down and have a civil conversation with a man she hated. "Look at yourself. At what you have chosen."
As Tess looked at each picture, it seemed to come alive, both before her eyes and inside her mind. Each scene revolved around Sands – a man she had every right to despise and should despise. But didn't. "What does this have to do with family?" She didn't understand.
"This man is more like your family than you wish to admit. Look again." Tess did, and this time she saw not only Sands, but the dead family members that his actions sometimes reminded her of. The one who showed up the most was Barillo himself. "That is why you find yourself drawn to the man. It is the reflection of me that you see in him."
It couldn't be true. "No. He's different. He . . . he. . . ."
"He used you, is using you, and plans on using you?"
"Yes." Even in her own ears her voice sounded defeated.
"Do you know why you do this, Teresa?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. If I know, I can stop."
"No. You can't stop. You let him use you because in your heart you still long for family. You see us represented in him, and you long for what he can do. You know he can replace my place in your life. I represented control, discipline, purpose, and even a measure of safety to you. When you lived at home you always knew what your task was. You had a role. Your life had meaning. You had one purpose when you were with us, didn't you?" She nodded. "You miss that. You miss having one task to focus your mind on."
"But the children . . . I look after them. . . ."
"Caring for someone else's brats is not a purpose, Teresa. It is a duty. One you share with someone more capable of dealing with the multitude of choices and minor emergencies they create. You are not truly needed by them, and you know that. But Sands, he needed you, even if he hated that need and hated you for filling it. Yet, here you are again, thrown back together with this man, thrown back into a situation with your family, and you long for it."
"No –"
"Yes. You long for the single-mindedness that comes from having just one purpose. You fear falling into the clutches of the cartel not because you fear them, but because you know you will be tempted to stay with them. You would hate them every day of your life, but you would be tempted by the purpose they represent." He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "And yet, as much as I would rejoice to see you back in the arms of your family, I cannot help feeling uneasy. This man, Sands, he represents these things too. It would be easy for you to find your meaning in him, to devote yourself to him. And despite all evidence to the contrary, you are right. He is different, even if the differences are nearly small enough not to count. He could very well come to see you and long for what you could represent to him. The possibility of you. If I could be sure that that possibility would scare him enough to stay away from you. . . ." Barillo shook his head. "You must kill him, Teresa. Not now. Not where you might be caught. But once you return to Mexico, then you must turn him over to your family."
"No –" The mere suggestion hurt. "I can't."
"You must. The conflicting loyalties between the two – your family and your would-be lover – will tear you to pieces. Your mind will continue to fragment until there is nothing left but the madness, and you trapped, insensible, in its grip. Is that what you want?"
"No," she whispered.
"Then you will do as I say. You will go to Mexico. You will present yourself to the new leader. And to prove your loyalty, you will give him Sands' head on a platter." The dream started to fade before she could deny this. "As certainly as my blood flows in your veins, you will do this, dau. . . ."
*********************************
The dream ended before the word could be completed. Tess opened her eyes to an empty room, darkened by night. Without a second thought, she turned back over and went to sleep, the medication's grip still tight on her mind.
*********************************
The next time Tess woke up, it was past 8:30 the next morning. Tess looked at her bedside clock, and sighed. She wouldn't be able to get out of bed until nine. She didn't know why, she just didn't like the number eight. It was one of those strange quirks that went with the territory of being clinically mentally unstable.
"Ah, sleeping beauty awakes."
Tess closed her eyes in defeat. No matter where she turned, she was forced to confront reality. Maybe she wasn't ready to do so yet.
That's fine. You don't have to. Just sit back and relax. I'll take care of it.
No. It's my life. My life that's come calling. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Just let him sit there and wonder why I'm not talking to him. Let him wonder if I'm myself yet. Which I'm not. Tess knew that lethargy would be her constant companion for the next day or so. She would force herself out of bed – eventually – but she'd be in no condition to do anything other than that. Maybe a puzzle. I like puzzles. Or that box of buttons I bought at that yard sale. They still need to be sorted. The lure of having a mess to straighten distracted her from her guest for the time being.
Sands sat back in his chair as Tess ignored him. Cora was faithfully keeping the kids occupied, although it was only a matter of time before Marcos came in . . . and perhaps the young one. She seemed to be persistent. He needed to talk to Tess before then. While Strauss and his cronies had left soon after yesterday's 'incident,' he'd been left with a message saying they expected an answer by tonight.
Sands gone to his hotel room after Tess had fallen asleep last night, showered, slept a bit, but mostly he'd sat around and considered just what ramifications Tessa's clearly-impaired mental state might have on this mission.
First of all there was the fact that Tessa's state of mind was not something that could be depended on. He didn't like that. The less she was able to do, the more he was going to have to do to make sure that he – they – were not caught. Being caught this time would mean certain death. He was lucky that he hadn't been killed straight off the last time. Getting caught again . . . it wasn't going to happen.
He'd smoked. A week ago he was considering this assignment a godsend – now it was starting to resemble a time-bomb. One misstep on her part, and not only was he dead, but so was she. No. If her 'family' was looking for her this intensely, it was unlikely they'd kill her. There was no such guarantee for him. So no matter what else happened, the first thing he'd have to do was make sure his own ass was covered.
What were the other possibilities? Tess had a total mental breakdown and had to be left behind while he got out. Tess had a partial breakdown – enough to endanger them both, but not enough to confirm any suspicions. What did he do then? Simple enough, he got out the moment it looked as if any unwanted attention was going to be turned his way. Tess held herself together, but things didn't work out. That was a greyer area. What happened next would depend on circumstances, not hypotheses. Tess held herself together and things did work. What happened after that? He left her? He carried out his plan to make her hate him? He didn't want to think about that. If anything was going to happen on that front, it was going to be based more on impulse than plan anyway.
For the most part he thought she'd be able to handle things. His intuition was telling him that she'd be able to cope in a situation she'd been raised in. That contradicted popular opinion, but he was willing to go along with that. He'd managed to get his hands on her medical charts – the only other recorded breakdown she'd had had been in med school. That was when she'd been identified as having schizophrenia. Since then, medication and semi-regular psychologist visits had been keeping her stable. There had been a note though, from her shrink, saying that she needed to avoid extreme emotional upheaval. Something she'd had heaped on her within the past twenty-four hours.
He felt somewhat guilty about that – not enough to regret anything, but enough to wonder how much his sudden reappearance and the subsequent events of their night together had had to do with her breakdown. He justified himself by thinking that it wasn't as if he'd known anything about this, but some nagging part of him told him that he should have. There'd been enough hints dropped: the fidgeting, the quotes, the constant concerns from her friends about her health and their repeated attempts to get her to sleep enough. Her background. And never once had he suspected that she might be anything other than what she pretended to be. He had half a degree in psych – he should have known something.
Perhaps you should have taken the time to find out.
Perhaps she should have said something about this. I certainly wouldn't have stuck around with her if I'd know she was insane. . . . He cursed. That was why she'd never said anything. Her overblown sense of responsibility. She'd been so intent on getting him help that she'd know exactly what a full disclosure would have done. He would have abandoned her long before meeting Pierce, and he'd still be blind somewhere, bitter and useless.
Sands had frozen at that thought. Was he actually empathizing with the woman? He was. Judas Priest. What was it about her that raised emotions in him in the first place?
He knew that was what was really pissing him off. Amusement was a reaction he could have handled. Minor disgust at her behavior. Irritation that Strauss and Inge could be so dramatic. But he hadn't felt any of those. He'd gone and broken his number one rule – don't get involved in the game. You think he would have learned something from Mexico. He'd gotten involved then, although that involvement had been strictly physical with perhaps a hint of sentimentality. Watching Tess as she ignored him, he realized that that record had just been shot to hell.
What was bugging him? What was bugging him was the game that was supposed to be laid out neatly on a board had just become real. The chessboard that was his job – and occasionally his life – had just been knocked off the table. He needed to capture the opponent's queen, and he found that he . . . that he had more in common with her than was comfortable. He was surprised that she hadn't laughed out loud when he'd asked if she knew what it was like to have people watching in horror. And there went my objectivity.
If he was honest with himself, he could admit that his objectivity had been lost long ago. If he was truly mad at Tess, he should have just shot her in the head, or not bothered to do anything. Get the job done, then burn her. But no, his revenge had to be 'personal.' Then he'd gone and gotten upset when he realized that Tessa had had help going over the edge. Being injected with foreign chemicals without giving permission was a sore spot for him now, and he hadn't liked seeing that happen to Tess. He didn't like realizing that if she hadn't met him, she wouldn't be in this now. No one would know where to find her.
Sands got up and left the room. Sitting and watching Tess wasn't helping him think clearly. He needed to know how to approach the woman – what argument would get her to 'join the cause.' If he couldn't do that, he'd need to request that someone else take over the assignment because he'd get himself killed.
*********************************
When Tess turned back over, an hour or so later, she was alone. It was now past eight, so she could get up and move around, but she lacked the motivation. Why bother? Cora could handle the children – they didn't need her. Sands was lurking somewhere, ready to accost her. Perhaps his buddies were still around. Perhaps Inge was still around. The reasons for staying in bed were adding up quickly.
You're such a wuss.
Yes, I am. At least when I can afford to be.
Fine. Then as long as you're laying there, you might as well think about what you're going to do. You have two choices: resist and spend the rest of your days with me for company – because you know that's what you were being threatened with – or go along with it. The voice paused. What's that poem you're always reciting?
What? There were several poems she was always reciting.
The one about losers.
Oh, right. Tess wracked her lazy mind. Wandering by lone sea breakers,/and sitting by desolate streams –
No. Further on.
One man with a dream, at pleasure/shall go forth and conquer a crown/And three with a new song's measure/can trample an empire down. Tess thought a moment. But there'll only be two of us.
Not the point. If you can damage the cartel, should you try?
It'll be dangerous.
Do you want to live with the ruined lives of thousands on your head? It'll be your fault. Especially if you can actually take the cartel down. They hurt you – get them back.
I'll be alone! What can I do by myself?! Tess asked this to cover up her real fear. She didn't know what would happen if she went back to the hacienda after all this time. That was where her voice had made its first appearance. Would it feed off that?
You won't be alone. Sands will be with you. Tess swore that the voice was grinning evilly. Speak of the devil.
Tess turned her head to stare at the man standing in her doorway. "Who is it?" She saw the look on his face, the look that wondered if she was totally there. "Which family member am I being asked to betray?"
Sands moved slowly into the room. It'd be good if he didn't have to argue her around – god, he still wasn't sure what to say to her to get her to cooperate. She might be mad, but she was in no way stupid. He had the feeling that she knew exactly what was at stake.
Tess saw his hesitation and felt humiliation burn its way through her. He was scared of her. "I'm unbalanced, not insane, Sands. I'm not going to bite."
"Pity." He sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Carlos. Carlos Barillo."
What? Tess looked at Sands as if he was the one who was insane. "Carlos Barillo? There isn't a 'Carlos Barillo.' Whoever sent along that intelligence had no idea what they were talking about."
"Then who do you think has taken over the cartel?"
Tess relaxed into her pillows. "Carlos. Carlos took it over. That was always the plan if Barillo and Ajedrez both died. He was second in command and in charge of security. Ajedrez was supposed to take over the cartel eventually, I was supposed to be her medical slave, and Carlos was going to be her chief of security. A cartel is very like a family business." Family, her family, her problem.
"I thought you said there wasn't a Carlos." If he didn't know better, he'd say she was still delusional. But he'd seen her eyes and they were clear and lucid, if dull.
"I said there wasn't a Carlos Barillo. But there is a Carlos. Carlos Velasquez. His father was the brother of Celia, who was Ajedrez's mother."
"So he's not actually related to you." Sands was carefully storing this information away.
"No, not blood. But he is family. We were all family, even if I was the scapegoat, the outsider. Family is stronger than blood, a bond that ties knots tighter than those of ancestry." Tessa's gaze became unfocused. "He touched me once. I remember that." No one was supposed to touch her – deprivation of human touch had just been another of Barillo's tactics to control her. The only time she was supposed to be touched was when she was being punished. But Carlos had given her a hug once – from one cousin to another. They'd both been punished for that, but she still remembered.
Sands carefully kept his face blank. Interrogations were a game, just like poker. He needed to bluff and keep his face blank to win, but he wondered what that last comment had meant. This cousin had 'touched' her. What was the context of that touch?
Ruthlessly, he jerked his mind off a track that may lead to concern for Tess as a person, and refocused his attention on his primary goal for being here. "I take it, this means that you're going to help."
Tess shrugged. "We are today in the most literal sense a lawless society, for our law has ceased to be law and become instead its opposite – mere force at the disposal of whoever is at the controls." A sigh escaped her. "However, it looks like I don't have much of a choice, do I? Either I face a living nightmare in Mexico, or my charges are deported while I'm given a permanent home in a room with padded walls." Her eyes examined his. "What's it like to discover that your government is playing by cartel rules to destroy the threat they're imitating?" Her eyes darted away. "I'll tell you what it feels like – it blows."
That stung . . . but she was right. Even he could see that fear and intimidation were being used to corral her into doing something she didn't want to do. He could see that not only were his bosses using those tactics, but he'd been using them. Why not use it? It was effective. Find the one thing a person held dear, then use it against them. He'd seen . . . or not seen . . . the effects of that, up close and personal. It was an uncomfortable revelation to be confronted with, but a fact that was unlikely to change any time soon. When you swim with sharks. . . . "You're acting like you haven't been given a choice."
Clearly, he didn't understand. "I've always had a choice, Sands. It's my own fault I let people who knew my secret live. I could have killed them all, but I chose not to. I could have let you die, but I helped. I could have killed myself, but I didn't. It's your own fault that you're here now, and that you're helping them. We all have choices. I try not to regret mine. Can you say the same?" Tess turned on her side, facing away from him. "Go report back to your handlers. Tell them I'll do it, and that I'll meet with them tomorrow. Now, go away."
Sands thought about firing off a retort, but decided against it. Tess had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours and it looked like they would be working rather closely in the months to come. He wasn't ready for her to totally despise him quite yet. "Sleep well, niña." Over her blanketed shoulder, she flipped him off.
*********************************
Tess fidgeted in front of her mirror. If she was going to go downstairs and face these men, she was going to look as professional as she could. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she examined everything from her make-up to her posture. She was wearing just enough concealer to cover the dusting of freckles that ran over the bridge of her nose, her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, she was wearing black slacks and a black suitcoat over a sapphire blue shirt. She didn't bother with jewelry – she wanted them to see a competent, worldly, woman. Not a fragile miss or a case number.
You won't fool Sands. He's already seen the both just how fragile and just how worldly you are. He won't buy this.
Tess ignored her voice. Thoughts like that were not going to help. All the fame I look for in life is to have lived it quietly. She adjusted the way her jacket rested on her shoulders. This would be an easier pill to swallow if I had any confidence that they wanted me for my qualifications. But that wasn't the reason they'd sought her out. All they wanted was her blood – which was exactly what the cartel wanted. After a lifetime of being worthless because of 'diluted' blood, she was now a valuable commodity, and she found that she didn't like it at all. She just wanted to live her life. Unfortunately, that included dealing with these people and with Carlos.
The clock on her bedroom mantle chimed. She was now officially late for her meeting. Oh well. She was always late, and she didn't seem to mind keeping these people waiting a bit longer. Anything to show them that she could make their lives uncomfortable just as easily as they could ruin hers.
You're primping. Just go downstairs already.
I'm not primping. I'm stalling. There's a difference. Just because I'm going to cooperate doesn't mean I'm easy.
Sands would disagree, the voice said slyly.
Sands would disagree purely on principle. She took one last deep breath, then left her bedroom. Reaching the top of the stairs, she took another deep breath before going downstairs.
I can do this. Once I remember that dealing with these people is just like dealing with a cartel, I'll be fine. Just like riding a bike – you never forget how to do it. I can do this. I have done this. Before she realized it, she reached the bottom of the stairs. She was chagrined to realize that she didn't actually remember walking down the stairs, but that was something she would deal with later.
Another deep breath got her to the door of the dining room. The family – who was currently out of the house – usually ate in the kitchen, saving the more impersonal dining room for more important events. It was perfect for a conference – or negotiations. With a brief prayer to whoever may be listening, she took one last calming breath – You sound like you're doing Lamaze. – and went into the room.
The first thing she noticed was that Inge and the unknown man were conspicuously absent. That was perfectly fine by her. She was in control at the moment, but she wasn't sure how long she would have remained that way if she'd been forced to deal with her old roommate's presence. Even now, she could hear her voice murmuring against the woman. Shh, she hushed her voice, watching out of impartial eyes as Strauss stood, waiting for her to take a seat.
Hypocrites.
Hypocrite. Sands is still sitting. He was, and he was watching her out of eyes that had to be just as veiled as hers were.
Strauss had taken the head of the table, and she understood that his position of head 'negotiator' would say he should take that seat, she still felt her hackles rise. This was her house, not his.
But you're not in control here. The voice was right, but that didn't soothe the sting. Tess pushed the pain away though, taking the seat across from Sands so that they all formed a neat little triangle. She sat, noticing the tea service on the table; the delicate china cups, the saucers, the baked goods. "Have you come to your senses? . . . Family is stronger than blood . . . kill him." She immediately poured herself a cup, relieved when she found green tea filling her cup. Barillo had bought only the most expensive black tea. She drank organic, green, decaffeinated tea.
"I'm glad to see that you've . . . recovered." Sands tucked away a smile as Tess glared at Strauss' unfortunate choice of words.
"I'm sure you are – a raving lunatic wouldn't be of much use to you." Tess added some honey to her cup to sweeten her tea. "We are men of action – lies do not become us."
"Excuse me?"
Sands snuffed out his cigarette, impatient to be done with this. "She wants you to cut the idle chit-chat and get to the point."
Look who became Mr.-Know-it-all since he slept with you.
Shut up. "The board is set . . . the pieces are moving. Explain what you want, Mr. Strauss." Tess crossed her legs under the table and fixed Strauss with the no-nonsense stare she'd learned in med school. As long as you looked professional, people would take your word at face value – that's what she'd been taught, by life, by school, and by family. So she pretended not to care what happened either way, and waited for the man to explain himself.
Strauss knew when he was in control of a conversation and when he wasn't, and he was pissed to find out that he was not in control of this one. No. The renegade agent and the lunatic woman were. "Well, first of all," he said tightly, "let me thank you for agreeing to –"
"I may be what many people would consider insane, but I'm not stupid. I'm well aware of what would have happened should I have declined to 'help' you. Just give me the facts, a detailed explanation of what you want me to do and how you expect me to do it, then get out of my house."
Sands was a bit surprised by the vehemence in Tessa's voice. The last time he'd heard such forcefulness from her, she was trying to convince him that he still had a soul despite the fact that he was going around sans eyes at the time. He now wondered how much of that strength was hers and how much was an effect of her schizophrenia. If he had to bet money, he'd say it was her – it had to take a lot of strength to keep things together. Especially under circumstances like this.
Tess ignored Sands, focusing on the man at the head of the table as he opened a leather portfolio and started sorting through papers and file folders. The sooner she was rid of both men, the better.
"Here's the intelligence we've gathered on Barillo. He –"
"Barillo is dead," Tess stated flatly.
Strauss gave her a strange look. "Armando Barillo is dead. Carlos Barillo –"
"How many times do I have to tell you this? There is no 'Carlos' Barillo. There is a Carlos Velasquez, who was indeed Armando Barillo's nephew, but who is of no relation to me other than the fact that it was decided that we were family."
"If that's true, this is the first I've heard of it."
If it's true? Tessa's voice went up in arms over that. The bastard. Who does he think he is?
The man with all the information, that's who. Tess looked at Sands, then back at Strauss. "I'm sorry. I thought I had mentioned that. I must have been mistaken. Your intelligence is wrong."
Strauss had caught the look that Tess had sent Sands, but he wasn't going to comment on it. He'd pass the incident along to Director Colton and hope that he'd reprimand Sands for holding back information, but it wasn't worth the fight. He handed a file over to Tess. "Please, let me know if any of this other information might be incorrect."
Tess took the file and set it off to the side; she'd have time to look it over later. "I understand how much importance you're setting on all this, Mr. Strauss, but I would appreciate it if you would stop with the details and just tell me what you're trying to accomplish. Why did you come to me? Why do you want me to go back? What information is it you're trying to get me to dig up, and why do you think I have to go back to the 'loving arms' of my family to get it?"
Sands noticed that Tessa's fingers were tapping against the table rather agitatedly. He took over the conversation as it became clear that Strauss was going to keep giving out information like a fisherman playing with 'the big one.' Tess had already agreed to help; these tactics were doing nothing but annoying her and pissing him off. "We came to you because your so called 'loving family' is looking for you. In fact, they've started a rather desperate – if quiet – manhunt for you."
"Why? Why now?"
"It's not just now. They've been looking for you since the end of November. It's just within the past two or three months that they've become desperate." Sands lit up a cigarette and ignored Strauss as the other man fumed at the end of the table. Tess was facing him now, although her fingers had picked up their pace. He obviously made her nervous. "I assume you're aware of the off-shore bank accounts held in your name?" She nodded. "And you're also aware that they hold some total that comes very close to twenty million dollars?"
Tess smirked. "I'm starting to believe that the 'I' in CIA does not stand for 'intelligence.'" She paused and took a sip of tea. "The money in those accounts is well over 'twenty million dollars.' If you multiply that amount by five you'd be closer to the actual amount – give or take a few hundred thousands pesos." The two men were staring at her in shock. "Unless something has happened in the past week to devastate those accounts." Privately, she was thinking, Well, I suppose that explains why Carlos is looking for me.
Sands narrowed his eyes at her, but otherwise didn't challenge this declaration. Apparently there were some accounts they weren't aware of. He made a mental note to track down the name of her attorney and see if they could get anything from the man. It was likely he was in Mexico, otherwise someone would have known about this. "I assume that answers at least some of your questions."
"Yes. I understand that Carlos needs me alive and well if he's to get the funds he needs to not only 'expand his territory,' but to keep what territory he's got. Loyalty isn't cheap, and IOU's only go so far." Alive and well. They needed her to access any of those accounts, unless she signed them over to Carlos, which she wouldn't do. "So, I understand why they want me. Why do you want me?"
Sands smirked. "You mean, other than the fact that you've got a nice rack –"
Tess stood, all pretence of humor gone. "If you're going to resort to juvenile comments like that, I'll leave right now. And not only will I leave, but I will willing overdose myself because I'd rather have madness for company than a chauvinist pig like you." Tessa's voice was icily controlled, but he could see the leap of temper in her eyes. He wondered how often they would give her away. Madness had to find some way to display itself, and if it couldn't get out through her mannerisms and behavior, her eyes were a probably a good indicator of what was going on inside her head.
"Calm down, chiquita. It was a joke. People make those in uncomfortable situations." Tess glared at him, but she resumed her seat. She glanced at Strauss who seemed to have given up any hope of regaining control of the conversation. When Sands started to talk again, she turned her attention back to him. "We need you because we know that you cousin is trying to enlarge the territory his cartel holds sway over, and that means –"
"That means more drugs. Yes, I know. I'm not going to be able to talk him out of that. It seems to me like you'd want me to stay out of the cartel's hold so they can't get the money they need."
"We're not ready to settle for merely stunting their growth. As long as they hold power, they will continue to grow, no matter how slowly. They need to be completely exterminated."
Tess shook her head. "We'll pretend for the moment that I'm as heartless as some people and that I don't have a problem with betraying people who've really never done me any wrong. What makes you think that destroying one cartel will solve any of your problems? Others will move in."
"Yes, but there will be so many territory disputes and infighting that we'll have a couple years of rest before going in to wipe them out again."
"Take down the big dog and let the rest fight over the bones, hmm?" Tess shook her head. "That still doesn't explain –"
"We're going to get you inside, hoping that Carlos will at least give you some of the information about when and how they're going to increase their operation, and you'll report back to me."
Tess felt her heart stop. "What did you say?"
"Agent Sand will be the one coordinating our efforts in Mexico." Strauss finally jumped in. "He has the most experience dealing with these people out of anyone at the Agency, and he's the least likely person to be suspected."
Yes. Because everyone thinks he's been taken care of. Tess bit back the ruthless comment about drills and missing eyes that her voice was demanding she make. "How nice." Even with his 'experience,' they were still getting in over their heads. Why didn't she just try to infiltrate the mob? They would be just as forgiving if they found out that she was double-crossing them. "We can all be insane together, because this is what this plan is."
"Yeah, but we get some pretty cool spy tools."
Tess just rolled her eyes. I'm dead. I'm dead and just haven't bothered to lie down yet.
Ask what kind of spy tools.
Tess cradled her head in her hands in defeat.
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Quotes: Charles A. Reict; Anatole France; Prince Bride; LotR
Author's Thanks: thanks to all who gave me feedback on my 'story extras' à it's always nice to hear that I'm good at bluffing. : P Still accepting people for that, so please e-mail me if you want the 'adult content' bits.
Thanks go to: first and foremost, to my awesome team of betas – Ashley, Sarah, and Merrie. You guys are a total encouragement and you make me laugh. ^_^ Thanks also to: dreamshadow13 (yes, I'm so glad that Inge is so readily dislikeable. She's fun to write, but I'm not sure she'll be popping up again. Pity that. ^_^); Ashley (don't worry about it. I love having a beta, but I'm not so spoiled as to panic without one. You're kinda like an umbrella – I won't die if I get wet, but I'd rather be as comfortable as possible. ^_^); Crystal Symphony (I'm amazed too. That's what constant character development will do for a person. Maybe I should stop that. (j/k) I had a blast with just letting Tess go, taking off all the restraints and letting everything show through.); grace (thank you); Kontara (If I can make characters that people despise, then I consider my job done well. Go ahead and do whatever you want with Inge – I'm done for her, at least for the moment. I might need her back though, so please don't kill her.); Kristin (Mmm . . . I don't see Tess as being violent, even when she's really out of control. She will have her moments – farther down the road. And I agree, it's nice to see her stripped of all her masks for once.); Merrie (what can I say? You must be rubbing off on me. No, the next chapter will not be perfect, but that's the way life is. What is it that makes writing sequels so much harder than writing the first?); The Flaming Chia Pet (one of these days I will strive to write a female OC that people at least feel neutral about. It's funny that all my others have come across as petty or busybodies. I'll have to work on that. She heard Inge call Sands by his first name, but I doubt she'll ever use it. And as for crazy!Tess, she was fun to write. I hope I get to do it again.); Pixy (You're right, Sands wouldn't really mind seeing Tessa being feisty, but I'm not sure that's going to come up in everyday conversation. Just because Sands knows she's nuts doesn't mean that she's going to let that show any more than she used too. I think she'd even try to hide it even more. Loss of any control is loss of it all, and she can't afford that.); C.J. Davis (isn't that the way so many of us get involved in things? I know I start things and then find out that I've come to enjoy it more than I thought I would, or miss it more, or hate it more, or whatever. I know that's how my writing ended up.); Nefarious Coda (I try really hard to keep things from sounding contrived. That would be death. I figure that if I don't enjoy writing it, no one is really going to want to read it, which is not to say that I don't manipulate things to get them to say what I want, but what author doesn't? And Ingrid is fun. She reminds me of a two-year-old who's just had a favorite toy stolen from her.); Sleeping Dictionary (I suck at summaries. If you've got any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them. Yes, Sands pisses everyone off at one time or another, but I know I'd get over it if I could sit around and stare at him all day. : P Thanks for the complement to my part about Tessa's 'freak out.' It was hard to write because I really had no idea what I was doing, but I've got a great beta who checks that stuff for me.); and Dreamgirl21147 (thanks.)
