Author's Note: Fine. Because I'm so guilty about taking so long to post the last chapter, here's this one early. This chapter is one of those that had certain content edited out, but I'll send it to those on my list. Next chapter might take a bit longer to get out because that's when we're really going to get into the plot, and I want to make sure that's written well.
Author thanks at the end.
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Just do it.
You do it.
I would, if you would loosen up.
Tess paced back and forth in her expensive hotel room in San Antonio. Even now she found it hard to believe that she was here. The months since November had wizzed by, almost faster than she could believe. She'd gotten here 24 hours before, and had had just enough time to check in, get some sleep, and worry herself to death.
Tomorrow she was supposed to go down to the bank and make a rather large withdrawal from the bank from one of those offshore accounts that were in her name. That would tip Keel – or someone like him – off to her whereabouts, and after that, things would hopefully go according to Sands' master plan.
Sands. Again, it came down to Sands. It always seemed to come down to him, it seemed. The man was immovable. Which wasn't to say that he couldn't plan for contingencies – she'd heard multiple ones over the weeks, and those were just the ones he wanted to share. What scared her was what would happen if she didn't fit into his plans. Not that she wasn't used to that – she could take care of herself if push came to shove.
That's not what we were worrying about. No. What they'd been worrying about was her continued . . . sensitivity to Sands' presence. The man had become a hundred times more unnerving since regaining his sight and since they'd . . . . Had sex?
Yeah. That. Tessa's pacing redoubled, taking her all around the rather large suite at the top of the San Antonio Hyatt hotel. Sands was a floor below her for tonight. Tomorrow morning he was checking out and she was on her own . . .so to speak. He'd be ghosting around in the background somewhere, but she was going to be the one that everyone looked at. She was the fulcrum that all these plans rested on, and she couldn't even make up her own mind about descending a staircase.
You could invite him up here.
And do what?
You know what. Don't get cute with me. Save that for 'Sheldon.'
Who's 'Sheldon'? Tess even did the air quotes that she felt her voice had used.
Sands, you idiot. Weren't you paying attention when Inge called him by name?
No. Tess turned and went to the large windows that led out to the deck outside. There was no way she was going to actually set a single foot outside, but the view was pretty, if reminiscent of Rapunzel looking out over the forests around her solitary tower. Returning to her previous line of conversation, she commented, Besides. Sands bugged the room before I got here. There's no way anything is going to happen without someone knowing about it, and I'm not an exhibitionist.
I am.
Good for you. It's my body, not yours.
Yes. And your body might end up getting us in a lot of trouble if you can't even keep from blushing uncontrollably every time he looks at you sideways. What happens if you're on the job and catch sight of him? It wouldn't be pretty, let me assure you.
Tess was quickly growing tired of this debate. It was all she'd heard for the past month and a half, practically. Whether to grab the bull by the horns, as it were, or to let the status quo keep playing out for as long as she could maintain even the thinnest veneer of a professional. As much as she didn't want to admit it – and would never admit it out loud – being . . . intimate with Sands again did have it's own amount of appeal. Of course, it also had a downside – like him losing all respect for her, and her losing all respect of herself – but the circular and repetitive conversations were nearly enough to make her scream in frustration.
It was a matter of time now. The only point up for debate was whether she was going to let any sort of sexual relationship between them be her choice. If she didn't decide soon, someone was going to take advantage of her indecision. Either Sands or the voice, and neither choice was appealing. So where did that leave her?
It leaves you alone in you penthouse suite. Just leave the room, take the elevator down a floor, knock on Sands' door, then jump his bones. This isn't brain surgery, Teresa.
No, but it does have rather far-reaching consequences. In the face of her weakening protests, Tess found herself crossing the room, moving from the windows to the door.
Like what? Her voice was very skeptical, as if it knew that Tess was holding a very weak hand.
Which she was.
Well. . . .
Don't play the pregnancy card, because we both know you've taken care of that little inconvenience. Don't try the loss of respect one, because he really didn't respect you much in the first place, so you've nothing to loose. Don't tell me that you're afraid of him, because I know you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be wasting time arguing with me. The simple truth of the matter is you want to go see him, but you don't want him to think that you do. Well, tough. Besides, that's the one reason he wouldn't expect you to visit for, so you might as well use that to your advantage.
Tess paused with her hand on the doorknob to the room. Why is this a good idea again?
Think of it as an inoculation. He's a particularly nasty bug that you will continue to catch until you become immune to him. To his voice, his eyes, his touch . . . his body. You must be able to think clearly when the family comes calling; otherwise, they'll chew you up and spit you out, and neither of us wants to see that happen. The voice could feel Tessa finally weakening, so it held back its comment that Tess wanted to sleep with Sands again. It'd only throw her back into turmoil, and this inaction was wearing on all parts of Tess equally. It's for the best.
There was almost a hint of kindness to the voice that Tess didn't necessarily trust; she appreciated it, but she wasn't sure how genuine it was. How much of it was for her – Tessa's – wellbeing, and how much was for the voice's own pleasure? Pleasure . . . .
Hesitantly, Tess opened the door to her room, making sure to grab a key on her way out the door. She slowly walked down the hallway, passing by the elevator in favor of the stairs. There'd be less people on the stairs.
Before she knew it, she was on Sands' floor. Counting her steps in an effort to calm herself, she made her way to Sands' room, stopping outside of it and tracing the numbers on the door. 1013. The number seemed familiar for some reason, but she couldn't think why. Se looked up and down the hallway – it was completely empty. Totally silent. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was past midnight. What am I doing? I can't do this. She started to back away . . . but her feet weren't responding. No. I've changed my mind.
Grow up. Almost as if she were in a dream, Tess watched her right hand rise to knock softly on the door. As soon as she heard the sound of her knuckles meeting wood, her paralysis shattered, leaving her uncertain and strangely excited.
- - - - - - - - - -
Sands was a light sleeper. It paid off to be able to sleep with one eye open in his line of work. So when the timid knock came on his door, his eyes slowly opened as his mind immediately jumped to analyzing his surroundings.
He was alone and the room was semi-dark, the only light being provided by the half-open door to the bathroom. He was lying on top of the bed, dressed just in a pair of sweats. Winter in San Antonio wasn't cold . . . but it wasn't exactly warm either.
For a moment he wasn't even certain if he'd been wakened by anything more than a dream. The room was silent, nothing was disturbed, and he couldn't even hear the sound of someone else breathing. But just as he was about to dismiss the sound of a knock as a figment of his imagination, it came again. Just as quiet, just as timid, just as polite as it'd been the first time. Whoever was out there obviously wanted his attention, but didn't want to intrude.
Squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, Sands really hoped that it wasn't that red-head from the bar earlier that night. He still didn't know why he hadn't just ordered room service, but he hadn't. And while the petite woman had been pleasant enough to look at – and had been an excellent person to flirt with – he hadn't been nearly interested enough in her to invite her up, even though it'd been clear that she would have jumped at the opportunity. He looked at the bedside clock – 1:27 am. If that was her, she was going to be rudely awakened. He had other things to worry about tomorrow, more than how to tumble a sleepy-eyed woman out of his bed.
-Knock, knock, knock- Groaning, Sands got out of bed, stretched, picked up his handgun, and walked to the door. Completely soundless in his bare feet, he paused to look out the peephole at who was bothering him at this time in the morning. To his great surprise, it was Tessa. She was standing just over the threshold of the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself, and her head turned to look up and down the empty corridor. He'd checked in on her several times during the day, so had seen what she'd been wearing. She was dressed the same now as she had been then.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, briefly considering going back to bed. But he'd seen just how close to the edge of giving up his partner in crime was. It wouldn't take much to make her turn tail and run back to New York. And whether he liked it or not, he did need her to make this all work. He just wasn't looking forward to being 'comforting.'
Tess jumped in surprise when the door to Sands' room flew open. She barely contained a squeak of fright, instead using that fear to freeze her muscles before she took off down the hallway. Now that Sands had answered the door, she couldn't just make a lame excuse and leave. For better or worse, she'd made her decision.
Sands wasn't sure what she was thinking as he looked into Tessa's completely guileless face. Her eyes were enormous, shockingly blue in a face made pale with tension. He fully expected her to start trembling or break into tears at any minute . . . but she didn't. She just stood where she was, balanced like a doe ready to run for cover, and looked at him. Thrown a little off balance himself, Sands asked, "Can I help you?"
"I . . . umm . . . I couldn't sleep." That was brilliant. Sands rolled his eyes, but he moved out of the doorway, motioning for her to come in. Hesitantly, she did, trying to relax knotted muscles as Sands closed the door behind her, and the light from the hallway was cut off, leaving them in a murky twilight inside the room.
Sands noticed the stiff set of her shoulders. Apparently she was more upset about the imminent reunion with her family than he'd thought. "Nervous?"
Nodding absentmindedly, Tess thought, You have no idea. In her state of mind, Tess missed the cautious concern in Sands' voice. All her focus was being channeled into the discipline not to bolt. If this was how just being near the man made her feel, then perhaps the voice was right. How could anyone function like this?
She turned just in time to see Sands reach for a light-switch. "No! Don't!" It was bad enough that she was here without having to see everything in graphic detail. The dark made things appear more dreamlike. Even the strange look on Sands' face was easier to deal with. "I . . . I umm . . . it's dark. I wouldn't want the light to hurt your eyes."
That sounded reasonable, but Sands could hear another motive in her voice. A motive that sounded rather closely related to desire, except jumpier. He leaned back against the door, and waited for Tess to make the next move. She'd come to him for something; let her be the one to make the opening gambit. And in the meantime, he'd like to see her face a bit more clearly.
Tess leaped forward when Sands turned on the lights to the room. Grabbing his wrist in one hand, she flipped the lights back off, blinking to rid her eyes of the spots dancing in front of them. "Please . . ."
"I'm used to seeing the people I'm talking to, niña. And that usually requires light." Instinctively, Sands flexed his wrist under Tessa's hand, testing her grip. It was firm, but in no way unrelenting. He could free himself if he wished . . . but at the moment he decided that he liked having Tess this close to him. In fact, he was close enough to see the trace of shame that flitted over her face, right before she tried to move away, moving to turn on the lights for herself. For him.
Rolling his eyes again, Sands pulled Tess out of the small hallway into the slightly larger sitting area. He roughly sat her on the couch while he sat directly across from her on the coffee table. For a moment silence was once again allowed to reign heavily while Sands examined Tessa's down-turned face, trying to figure out exactly why she'd come to him.
When the silence had gone on long enough to become exponentially uncomfortable, Tess finally looked up from her study of the rather uninteresting carpet. She'd come this far, she couldn't turn back now without a complete loss of face. And Sands was making it clear that things were up to her. But that was what she'd wanted, wasn't it?
Biting her lip, she noticed that her hand was still holding on to his wrist. The fact that he hadn't pulled free both confused and comforted her at the same time. She was well aware that he didn't like being touched, so the knowledge that he hadn't pulled free was somewhat reassuring. Maybe things would work after all.
Sands watched as Tess wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. When he added that to the way that her eyes were slowly drifting up his arm to his torso, he felt the first buzz of arousal at the base of his neck. When her eyes finally met his – albeit briefly – that seed of desire burst into full bloom. The look in Tessa's eyes was that of a woman who'd sought out a man with a certain outcome in mind. The hint of fear in her eyes only amplified the confidence she'd shown in coming here.
Tess felt shivers move down her spine at the sudden heat that flared in Sands' eyes. Sleeping lions. The thought was disjointed, completely at odds from the way her eyes were roving over his bare chest. The last time she'd been in any position to do this, she'd been too focused on surviving the ordeal to take in the landscape. But now . . . now she was very aware of the color of his skin, of the way that skin stretched over muscle and bone, of the way the hair on his forearms was standing because of the slight chill in the room, and of his several tattoos. There was one on his upper left arm, near the shoulder, one on his left forearm, and another – smaller – one over his heart. She vaguely remembered seeing them when she'd given him that sponge bath over a year ago, but then – as a few weeks ago – she'd had other things on her mind.
As much as Sands didn't mind the admiration in Tessa's eyes, he was getting a bit bored with just sitting here and letting her look her fill. He reached for her to pull her forward, but she balked. "Relax, conejo. I – "
She shook her head, interrupting him. "No. Not tonight." Perhaps never. This thought she kept to herself. Sands would be more cooperative if he thought he would get his way later on.
Sands hadn't missed the flash of fear that'd accompanied her statement. He'd been wrong. She wasn't scared of confronting her family . . . she was scared about being alone with him. But she was here. And she was taking the initiative. He wasn't adverse to taking a backseat . . . this time. He would get her back, though. Even if he had to tie her to a sturdy piece of furniture. A mental image accompanied that thought, and it was rather . . . inspiring.
Tess didn't know where to go from here. That is, she knew, but she wasn't sure about it. Help?
Oh my god. Don't tell me you need help with this. You're a healthy, red-blooded woman of Latino descent. Are you honestly telling me that you can't figure this out on your own? The voice was almost breathless, sounding ever so much more aroused than Tess felt. It also sounded irritated by the intrusion. Just follow your instincts. The biological urge to reproduce and all that rot. And if that doesn't work, ask him for help. With that advice, it was like a door slammed somewhere in Tessa's mind. Not a wooden door, but a glass one. Enough to keep her out, but not enough to keep the voice from observing the proceedings.
Tess looked up, both from her internal debate and her intense study of Sands' body. She swallowed hard before looking Sands in the face, uncertain of what she would find there. What she found was that she was being subjected to an equally powerful stare and the sneaking suspicion that Sands knew exactly what her problem was. No point in hiding it, then, I suppose. Tessa wet her lips again, before whispering, "I don't know what I'm doing."
The admission was almost enough to make Sands shove Tessa out the door. Almost enough for him to end things here and now and tell her to go back to her room and get some sleep. Almost. It was the darker side of him that clamped down on the whispered admission and held onto it. She was still so innocent. Still so pure. So open to being made completely his. And then his common sense broke in on that daydream and more realistically pointed out that this was a good opportunity to win some of her trust. Not to make her his to keep, but his to manipulate and eventually abandon. That was his purpose. That was his ultimate goal – beyond leaving Mexico with his body fully intact.
He ignored the small part of him that found his tactics despicable, and focused instead on maintaining a cool head for the time being. The part of him that screamed against using Tess was strangled until its cry was nothing more than a desire to be gentle enough with Tess that she wouldn't get scared. He was already physically ready to take things farther . . . but Tess was going to take persuasion. And he looked forward to it, in a masochistic sort of way.
"What do you want to do?"
Tess listened to that question with a sense of disbelief. She didn't know. That was the problem. Okay. Calm down. Think. What's something you enjoyed the . . . the last time? A quiet answer rang inside of her; she'd liked kissing.
The woman across from him didn't answer, but her eyes did lock onto his lips for more than a moment, before rising to meet his gaze again. Well, that seemed apparent enough. Moving slowly, doing his best not to startle Tess, Sands moved to sit beside her on the couch. Tess swallowed hard when she found herself so much closer to Sands, but the way her heart was speeding up was . . . it felt good. She shivered, suddenly cold and the need to be warm was more than she could stand.
Sands watched as Tess folded one leg under her to make herself taller on the couch, before she leaned in and kissed his jaw. For a moment her newfound incentive wavered, torn between the desire to conquer new territory – the spot right behind his ear – and the need to reacquaint herself with familiar territory – his mouth. The unknown proved to be too much of a daunting choice, though. Slowly, Tessa's mouth ghosted along Sands' jaw until she'd reached his lips. She pulled away for a moment to study his face, her own countenance deadly serious, before closing the inches separating them.
She almost hummed in satisfaction when Sands met her but didn't overwhelm her. Last time he'd dominated her, this time he was . . . letting her play. Explore. Accustom herself to him; to his body, to the way he smelled, to the way he tasted.
It was hard for Sands to sit still and keep his hands to himself until she was ready. Tess was being so torturously slow that he was tempted to speed things up. If he could convince her to sleep with him against her better judgment, then surely it'd be even easier to get her into bed when she was here of her own free will. But the fear that'd been in her eyes came back to his mind, and he resisted the urge to strip her shirt from her and press her back against the couch cushions. She hadn't been scared the last time.
Tess was trying to catalogue and analyze everything she felt as she felt it, but was failing miserably. The entire point of this had been to help get used to the way he made her felt, but how could she when she couldn't process the sensations running through her body? Maybe she just needed to change their contact.
Slowly, carefully, Tess parted her lips. Hesitantly, she ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, asking permission for more, for deeper contact. Sands readily opened, fighting to keep from taking over the kiss. The moment his tongue met hers, she was lost. Any thought of analyzing was lost. All that was left was desire, uncertainty, and a trace of fear. Fear she wanted to lose.
Sands noticed when Tessa's kiss changed from tentative to distressed. And while it was nice, he wondered at the change. He pulled away from Tess, watching her face as her eyes opened. They were clouded with desire, but the fear that'd made him hesitate before was still there. What had he gotten himself into? There was still time to get her to leave. It would be painful . . . .
"Please. . . ." Tessa's whisper jolted Sands back to reality. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go. She was simply too sexy for her own good at the moment. It was rare to find a woman that was genuinely uncertain instead of coy . . . or at least, it was something he'd rarely found. The chance to be the one to make that fear go away was too good to pass up.
Tessa's eyes widened as the wrist she was still holding, twisted to grab her wrist. "Relax, Tessa. I'm not going to hurt you. You know that." She did know that. He wasn't . . . he didn't . . . there wasn't an aura of suppressed violence around him at the moment. "Do you want to finish what you started?" Yes. She did.
When she nodded, Sands used his hold on her arm to pull her closer to him, before changing his mind and pulling her to her feet after him. He pulled her into the bedroom, stopping just inside the door and pulling her against his body. With determination, he started kissing her, starting at her neck, and moving up. Tessa's eyes drifted closed as he kissed neck, ear, throat, chin, cheekbones, temple, nose, lips. Her head was rolling on her neck by the time Sands finally deepened the kiss. Things weren't as overwhelming this time. Perhaps she'd been right to do this after all.
"I want to lie down on the bed with you."
Tess nodded, giving her consent. Her knees were starting to feel shaky, and she didn't want to collapse. So when Sands moved towards the bed, still kissing her, still holding her head in his hands, she went with him.
- - - - - - - - - -
Tess groaned as a buzzer went off by her head. She rolled and buried her head in her pillow, taken aback when her nose picked up an unfamiliar scent. Confused, she rolled over, looking around the room with eyes that were nothing more than slits in her face. It was bright in here – the curtains were wide open.
For a moment she was confused when she realized this wasn't her room, but almost immediately she remembered the events of the previous night. Or morning. It'd been after midnight when she'd come down here. To see Sands. With the express purpose of getting laid.
Yes, but for scientific reasons.
Oh yes, very 'scientific.' Looking down, Tess saw that she was completely naked. Wrapping the sheet around her, she slammed the alarm clock to turn it off. It was getting perilously close to 8:00 am. If she didn't get up now, she wouldn't be able to for another hour, and housekeeping made their rounds at 9:15. She was sure Sands didn't want her here when they came around. They couldn't have any connects between them . . . at least not visible ones.
Climbing out of the bed, Tess cautiously poked her head into the small bathroom – it was empty. As was the rest of the hotel room. Sands was gone, his bags nowhere to be seen, any trace of him having been here gone, except for Tess herself.
Looking around the room, Tess found her clothes, stacked in a sloppy pile on a nearby chair. She abandoned the sheet and got dressed, not bothering to put on her shoes. She needed to get out. She needed to get to her own room, take a shower or a very long bath, and get dressed in some sort of outfit that would make her look like some sort of socialite with old money. Not the Paris Hilton and Brittney Spears look that was so popular, but more along the lines of . . . someone on their way to a charity auction for orphans in Botswana or something.
Not to mention there were no memories of Sands lying in wait for her in her own room.
Unfortunately, the previous night wasn't that easy to put out of her head. Again, she opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator, not wanting to run into anyone who would wonder why she was looking so disheveled so early in the morning. "Not that they wouldn't be able to figure it out," she muttered. "I'm really not sure this is worth it." With every step, Tess felt the muscles of her legs and some other rarely used muscles complaining that she was taking the stairs too fast. Every step was a reminder that she'd had sex, not once, but twice, the night before. She felt her face breaking out into embarrassed flames, but she didn't feel all that regretful or repentant. Which was odd, if she thought about it.
Why is that odd? So you figured out you're a woman, and you're a woman who enjoys men. Tess could feel the voice stretch as if it'd been asleep. Just don't get used to it. I'm not against a little bit of nookie now and again, but you're dangerously close to liking that man, which is not acceptable. He's the enemy – remember that. They're all the enemy.
Tess shook her head as she unlocked the door to her room. No. I won't live like that. I don't want to live like that.
It's true though. Perhaps they're not all out to kill you, but they'll all take advantage of you. And Sands wouldn't regret it. He'd say it's your own fault for being so trusting.
One of us has to be trusting.
Ok, you be naive and I'll keep us alive.
I resent the fact that you think I'll get myself killed without your eye constantly on me. She slowly undressed again, folding her dirty clothes and putting them in the cloth bag she always took with her on trips for that purpose. Dirty and clean clothes didn't need to mix.
There's worse things than death, Teresa. You know that.
She did. But wasn't something she needed to ponder as she was getting ready to let the world of organized crime in Mexico know where she was. So she flippantly answered, Yeah, there are. All of which I'll experience if I'm late getting to the bank. Sands will have my hide.
Why not? He's had everything else.
- - - - - - - - - -
Tess stood in front of the mirror, making last moment adjustments to her hair and clothing. Appearance was everything. Years ago, she'd perfected how to look tidy and successful without drawing anyone's eyes to her. It'd been an essential part of her existence at the cartel compound. If a single hair was out of place, she would be punished, and the longer she went without attracting anyone's attention, the better. But that wasn't the look she was striving for today. Today she needed to appear successful, confident, and in charge. It wasn't everyday someone withdrew hundreds of thousands of dollars, and not everyone would be allowed to do so . . . especially from accounts as closely guarded as the ones she was attempting to access. Whatever bank official she ended up dealing with could not be allowed to harbor a single doubt as to who she was. Hence, the $300 outfit she was wearing.
It'd taken her some time to decide what she was going to wear. Her wardrobe was mainly dresses and business suits which were perfectly acceptable for a professor at a small community college. But that wasn't the image she wanted to project. After searching through her closet several times and dismissing every item that was meant for cold Great Lake winters, she'd pieced together an ensemble that should convey the image she wished to project. First, there was the long black wrap-around skirt. There was a line of fringe down the right side, giving the illusion that the skirt really had been wrapped around her waist several times. On top of that was a sleeveless mock turtleneck in a shade of deep, rich, turquoise blue, meant to emphasize her eyes. She'd wanted to wear red – it was such a warm, friendly, forgiving color – but the entire point of this exercise had been to help her look like a spoiled heiress or some jet-setter. And that meant enhancing her natural features whenever she could. Then, over the shirt, she was planning to wear a long black duster. It was one of her favorite things to wear because she loved the way the sleeves belled out around her hands.
To complement that, she was wearing silver bangle-bracelets and a pin of silver and turquoise that'd been worked in the shape of a turtle. She'd decided against earrings, deciding that her hair was enough to have around her face. If there was one thing she would say, it was she liked her hair. She wasn't too fond of her eyes, and her face was only slightly above average – although it was plain when she compared it to what Ajedrez had looked like – but her hair was a dark ash brown, wavy, and grown a little past her shoulders. When she fastened part of it behind her head with a silver hairclip, two strands hung down to frame her face.
I suppose I look presentable, she thought, although my bangs could use a trim. She smiled softly when her mind pulled up a thought from a book she'd once read – one of the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Something about lunatic fringe; that's what they called bangs.
A buzzer went off in the other room. With a deep sigh to bolster herself, Tess left the bathroom, picked up her purse and her attaché, grabbed a room key, and went downstairs. It was time to do this.
Whether she felt like she could do it or not.
The lobby of the hotel was busy. There was the pre-lunch crowd that was leaving and the lunch crowd that was arriving, not to mention a bus-load of tourists who appeared to be checking out.
Tess easily threaded her way through the crowd, staying on the fringes, skirting the potted plants. There was a tense moment when she nearly collided with an overeager bellboy, but she did manage to get past the door man and outside to freedom without incident. Without incident, but unsure as how to get to the bank. She knew what bank, but not where it was. Taxi then, she thought with a silent groan. She hated taxies. They were dirty, and their drivers were usually dirty, and they drove too fast and too recklessly . . . but she really didn't have much of a choice. She couldn't ask for directions because she couldn't keep a map straight in her head, and she didn't want to end up walking miles to get there anyway.
"Miss?" Tess looked to her side and saw the doorman standing there. The man was ancient; his face was lined with more wrinkles than she could count and his shoulders were stooped, but he had a kind smile on his face. "Can I help you?"
"Yes. I need a taxi."
The old man nodded and took her by the elbow, leading her over to a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb. "Where are you going, miss?"
"Winston and Harnel, the bank."
The doorman escorted her to the door of the cab, opening it for her and lending a hand as she got in. Then he closed the door and told the cabbie where she was going. Before she knew it, she was on her way to the bank.
The ride was completed in silence, something for which Tess was eternally grateful. In her admittedly limited experience, cabbies liked to talk. And she wasn't adroit at making small-talk at the best of times . . . of which this wasn't. All her energy was focused on one thing at the moment – keeping perspective on everything. Today she withdrew the money, but it wouldn't be for another two or three days at the least before anyone tracked her down. That would be time enough to prepare for her return to Mexico.
"I'm charging you for using my backseat as a sitting room, lady."
Tess jumped, suddenly aware that the car wasn't moving any longer. "I'm sorry." Gathering her belongings, Tess got out of the cab, blinking in the harsh sunlight. With one hand she dug her sunglasses out of her purse while turning back to the cabbie who was still waiting for his fee. "Can you wait for me?" The man was gruff, but she didn't want to go through the hassle of finding another cab during the lunch hour.
"I dunno. Can you afford to have me wait?"
"Yes. And there'll be a fifty dollar tip in it for you." The cabbie nodded, turning off his engine. "Thank you." He grunted. And with that, Tess went inside the building.
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Quotes: none this chapter. Amazing, isn't it?
Author Thanks: as always, firstly to my betas Ashley, Merrie, and Sara (DD).
Thanks also go to: C.J. Davis (without some weaknesses to the characters, who's going to want to read about them. Struggle is what interests people, whether it be external or internal, and a little of both is always good. Besides, real people do struggle with things like this, so I feel like it'd be stupid to not have people who are almost real to me to not have to deal with it.); Kontara (I hope your roomie is not making you a basket case, although, if she is, then I guess you fit in well with some of my characters. : P Glad you liked the chapter, short though it was.); Pixy (I'm glad you seemed to like the chapter so much. Just want to let you know that ff.net sent me your review something like 40 times. Yeah. That was interesting. ^_^ And I agree about the Secret Window deal – it makes me feel less guilty about taking my sister to see it.); kinkyfrodo (glad to see you're still around. I liked the analogy with the addiction too. It just seemed to me that Tess would have seen things like that if she'd grown up in a cartel, and therefore she'd want to avoid addiction at all costs. I'm glad you're still here. ^_^); Merrie (Yes, I value my life, despite frequent requests for death – mine or other's *coughcaptainjacksparrowcough*); nimwin (it wasn't my fault. The last chapter should have been posted much sooner than it was, but then ff.net was down, and then it wouldn't let anyone log in for two days. : P But I am glad you liked the chapter – I was a bit worried over it.); and normal human being (I'm not sure what a 'glomp' is, but I'm glad you're doing it to my fic. I think. ^_^ I can understand why reading this before my other story might leave you a bit lost, but I am glad that you're able to enjoy this one without reading the other. That pretty much makes my day.)
