Author's Note:  this one took a bit longer to write than I thought it would.  I first worked on the plot, wanting to make sure that I knew what I was doing because this is really the opener to the rest of the 'intrigue' that's going to take place, but once I was done with that, there still seemed to be something missing.  Thus, the last half of the chapter.

This didn't make it past my betas this time, simply because I finished writing it TODAY, and really wanted to get it out to you all.  So, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes I didn't catch.

Author's thanks at the end.

************************************************************************

The heels of Tessa's shoes clacked loudly against the marble floors of Winston and Harnel.  The building was prestigious, overbearing, and intimidating.  It was also cold, the air conditioning on even in the winter.  Tess wasn't a big fan of that, seeing as how she was often cold, but she had to admit that it seemed in character with the lofty ceilings and pristine white curtains that framed the large windows.

   Putting these thoughts out of her head, she walked up to one of the deck where some self-important under-financial advisor type person was busily shuffling through papers.  She took a seat, ignoring the feeling that was trying to convince her that she wasn't going to be able to pull this off.  She knew better than that.  I just need to act as if I know more than he does and as if I'm used to having people do as I tell them without question.  I'll just pretend I'm Dr. Schroeder, and I'll be fine, she assured herself.  Dr. Schroeder had been the crankiest doctor at Boston Memorial while she'd been doing her internship in general rotation, able to make nurses 'hop to'  with a single glance.  The woman was a legend. 

   When several minutes went by without the man addressing her, Tess cleared her throat, lifting her brows expectantly.

    "Welcome to Winston and Harnel.  If you will wait just another moment, I'll be right with you."  Tess had to fight from rolling her eyes at the man's arrogance; biting back the comments her voice wanted to make.  In a place like this, everyone was important, and everyone was rich.  This guy was probably the third son of some millionaire, and so was therefore incapable with working with the public at all, but she was still stuck with him.

   The man finally looked up from his paperwork, a patronizing smile on his face.  "Welcome to Winston and Harnel, where our clients come first.  How may I help you today, Ms. –"

   "Barillo.  Teresa Barillo."

   "Ms. Barillo, then.  Please, how can we be of service."

   Tess noted that the man's eyes were already sliding away to other people – clearly, he'd rather be doing something other than working.  "I need to withdraw a hundred thousand dollars from one of my private accounts."  That got his attention back to her.  Quickly.

    "Excuse me?"

    "You heard me."  Tess straitened her head, managing to look down her nose at the man as if she were unimpressed with him . . . which would be the truth.  "I need to make a withdrawal of –"

    "Yes, pardon me, I just wanted to make sure I heard correctly."  The unfortunate man assumed he was dealing with one of the bank's more prestigious clientele, and so therefore immediately became ingratiating.  "Please, may I get you anything to drink before we continue?  Tea?  Coffee?  An espresso?"

    "No, I'm fine, thank you."  Tess crossed her legs, and settled herself more comfortably.  This was going to take awhile at this rate.  She certainly hoped that the cabbie was still waiting for her when she got done.  "Is it going to make a difference that the money I need to access is in offshore accounts?" she asked, wanting to speed along the process as much as she could.

   The man across from her froze in what he was doing, and just looked at her for a moment.  He swallowed, then murmured, "If you will wait here for just a moment?  I think I should get our vice president."

   Tess waited for the man to come back, and when he did, it was with a woman in an expensive business suit and alligator skin heels.  "Ms. Barillo, I'm Maria Powell, vice president of Winston and Harnel.  I understand you'd like to make a substantial withdrawal from an offshore account."  The woman held out a hand for Tess to shake, and she did so, silently sizing the other woman up.  "Please, if you'll follow me to my office, we'll get that underway for you."  She had a soft Texan accent, unlike the cabbie, whose accent had almost sounded exaggerated.  And now that she thought about it, strangely familiar.

   Worries for another time, Teresa.  Get your head in the game and pay attention to the nice lady.  The sooner this is done, the sooner you can turn your attention to protecting yourself from everyone who's out to use you.

   "Thank you Ms. Powell."  Tess stood and followed the other woman to her office, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in front of a large mahogany desk.  "I didn't think vice presidents handled customer's themselves."

   The other woman smiled.  "I haven't been a VP that long.  And when someone is withdrawing as much as you are, then the bigwigs prefer that one of the many VP's handle it instead of someone like Michael."  Maria settled into her chair and logged onto her computer.  "Now, down to business.  There are some formalities to follow.  You're going to need to sign some papers, and I'm going to have to see a few pieces of identification."

   Tess dug her driver's license, passport, and birth certificate out of her briefcase, handing them over as the other woman slid several documents over the surface of the desk.

   "I see that you don't have an account with the bank.  Are you wishing to open one at this time?"

    "No.  I'm not sure how long I'll be staying in San Antonio."  But it probably won't be as long as I would wish to stay.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Tess had been right.  It took nearly ninety minutes just to settle her identity to everyone's satisfaction – everyone being the FCC, the treasury, and whoever else might get their noses out of joint by her 'little' withdrawal – and another forty-five after that to actually get the money transferred into an account she could easily access.

    Not that I know what I'm going to do with that money, Tess thought as she thanked Vice-President Powell and gathered her things to leave.  I don't really want anything to do with it.   It's nothing more than blood money, a fortune amassed by the addiction of others.  It doesn't seem right to spend it, but it doesn't seem right just to let it sit around forever either.

   Well, you could start by paying your cabbie.

   Tess looked towards the street as she exited the building, momentarily blinded by the bright winter sun.  Surprised, she saw that the cab she'd come in was indeed still waiting for her.  And even more surprising, there was something familiar about the way the cabbie was leaning against the exterior of his car, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles.  I know him from somewhere.

   Nice to see that you can be paranoid without my help, the voice said caustically.  Don't be ridiculous.  You don't know him.  Look at that grey hair.  Remember his accent.  You've never met this man before in your life.

   The voice was right.  Of course it was right.  The only person she knew in San Antonio was Sands, and he'd disappeared sometime early this morning.

   Look at it this way – it saved you the embarrassment of another morning after.

   "How much do I owe you?" she asked the cabbie.  As if any 'morning after' could be more awkward than the last one.  At least this time I wasn't raving mad.

   "Two hundred, not counting the fare for the trip here."

   Tess nodded and pulled five one-hundred dollar bills out of her purse.  "Can you take me to the nearest rehab center?"

   "Rehab?"  The man's tone was disbelieving.

   "Yes.  Rehab."

   What are you planning, Teresa?

   What better way to spend the money than to use it to help the very people – or at least the population – that it came from.  Not to mention, it would make Father furious if he were still alive.  Using ill-gotten wealth to help rehabilitate drug addicts.  It cuts down on the amount of repeat customers.

   "Whatever you want, lady.  Climb in."

   Tess climbed into the car, shaking her head a bit at the man's manners.  God, he's bossy.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands looked in his rearview mirror, checking the traffic and on his passenger.  His blissfully unaware passenger.  I guess we should have worked on disguises as well as fighting tactics and target practice, he thought as he watched Tess as she looked out her window.  He'd seen a brief glint of recognition in her eyes, but it'd disappeared before she could follow her intuition to its natural conclusion.

   He'd been somewhat concerned that it'd taken so long for her to leave the bank.  It was still early on in the game, but there was no proof that her family were the only people looking for her.  Minor cartels with reputations to build or axes to grind against the Barillos could just as easily come after her.  And la niña forgot to wear her surveillance gear.  Perhaps I need to stress that it's for her own safety as much as it is for gathering information.  Still, he'd been somewhat surprised to find himself waiting outside for her, but he'd told himself that he was only doing his job.  It wouldn't be good for his record if the mission folded before it even got started.  And that meant making sure that Tess stayed alive, at least long enough to get her over the border.

   And part of that meant finding out why she wanted to visit a rehab center.  That and he was curious.

   "Sight-seeing or checking in?"

   "Excuse me?"  Tess turned away from her window to meet the cabbie's eyes in the rearview mirror.

   "Why d'you want to check out a rehab center?"  He barely remembered not to call her chiquita, or niña, or pequeña . . . the game was still afoot, and he wasn't ready to give it away yet.

   Tess briefly wondered why the man was being so talkative now when he hadn't been earlier.  She was also struck by the strength of his accent again, but brushed it off.  "Person reasons," she murmured, looking back out the window.

   Too easy.  "Ah.  You sure you don't want me to take you to one of those celebrity rehab joints?  They'd cater to your likes better –"

   "I'm not checking myself in."

   This guy is too inquisitive.  Either ignore him, or creep him out.  You know which one I'd prefer.

   Sands smothered a grin at the defensiveness of her tone.  "My mistake, lady.  No need to get your feathers in a fuss."

   The rest of the ride was completed in silence, Sands thinking his own thoughts, and Tess trying to solve the puzzle of who her 'cabbie' reminded her of.  When they reached the rehab center, Sands pulled over.  "You want me to wait again?"

   "Yes, please."

   Tess got out of the car, looking around.  The neighborhood was rundown, but not exactly threatening.  That would happen in a few years if things didn't turn around.  That insight was all she needed to put some resolve in her spine.

   Walking into the center, she found that the front desk was deserted.  Which was what she wanted, now that she thought about it.  Anonymous donations were always fun.

   Quickly writing out a check for $95,000, she put it into an envelope she found on the desk, then wrote a quick note, letting whoever was in charge know what the money was meant for.  Then she left, not wanting to be caught by anyone.

   She almost made a clean escape.  At the last moment, someone came out of a back room.  "Can I help you?"

   "No, I was just leaving.  Thank you."  With a curt nod for the blond who was watching her curiously, Tess fled the building, more relived to get back into the cab than she'd thought possible.  At the last moment though, she turned and went back inside the building.  "Excuse me," she interrupted the desk clerk.  "I know this is an odd question, but were you raised around here?"

   "Yes ma'am.  Born and bred here in San Antonio."

   "Thank you."  This time when she left, Tess went directly to the cab and climbed in, with more than a little relief and vindication.  Relief to be able to go back to somewhere that would be relatively safe, and vindicated on two counts: she was helping the people her family took advantage of, and she'd figured out who her cabbie reminded her of.

   "Now where to, lady?"

   "Back to my hotel . . . Sands.  By the way, I like the wig."  Tessa's vindication turned into disgust as she realized just how long it'd taken her to unravel this particular puzzle.  "Was there a point for disguising yourself, or is that how you get your kicks?" she asked, not really wanting an answer.

   Sands was a bit taken aback by the hostility in Tessa's voice, but he went with it.  "Think of it this way, if I've taught you a lesson, then this little trip was a success.  If I haven't, then it was a failure, no matter how much money you made off with."

   "And what exactly was I supposed to learn, oh master of disguises?"

   "Always be aware of your surroundings, listen to your instincts, and never leave your room without your surveillance equipment, or I'll be forced to tail you.  Which wouldn't be safe for either of us once we get this little operation underway."  He met her eyes in the mirror.  "Don't make me remind you again, chiquita."

   Bite me.  Tess didn't respond, just looked back out her window.  He was right, of course.  They'd gone over the complex and shockingly minute surveillance equipment weeks ago.  She knew exactly how to wear and disguise it, just as she knew how important it was to wear it.  The quicker she got the information the government was sure it needed, the sooner she'd be able to go home.

   You are going home.

   Home in New York.  Don't try to confuse me.  Anyway, the point was, by the time she reached Mexico, slipping on the bugged necklace and the glasses with the tiny video cameras had to be second nature.  Which meant wearing it now, even though there was no cause for it.  "I'll take care of it when I get back to my room."

   "See that you do."

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

As Tess approached the door to her hotel room, she heard the phone inside start to ring.  She briefly wondered who could be calling her.  The only people that knew she was here, were the hotel staff, Sands, and . . . .  Cursing, she looked at her watch, groaning when she saw what time it was.  I was supposed to call home an hour ago.

   Hurriedly unlocking her door, Tess stepping into the suite, dropping purse and tote on the floor.  Jogging across the room, she picked up the phone.  "Hello?"

   "Tía!" a young voice crowed, making Tess smile.  Selena had become fascinated by the phone about a month ago, begging to be allowed to talk on it whenever she could.  She would swipe cell phones if they were left unattended, running with them, merrily pressing buttons and babbling in a mixture of English and Spanish, nearly all of it unintelligible.  "Tía!"

   "Hola, baja."  Tess talked to her youngest 'niece' for some time, alternating between English and Spanish and smiling when the girl managed to answer simple questions in both languages.  After about twenty minutes though, the girl suddenly said, "Cora wants talk to you."

   "Ok, baja.  Be good."

   "Sí, tía."  And then the phone switched hands.

   "Tess?"

   "Yes, Cora."

   There was a brief pause before the other woman said, "I tried to call you last night.  Around five this morning for us."  There wasn't any accusation in the other woman's voice, but there was concern. 

   Tess froze, the pen she'd been idly clicking falling from her hand.  Five for them would be three for her, and she remembered quite well what she'd been doing at three.

   Tess wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say.  Part of her said that she didn't have to make any explanations to this person – she was her own woman, capable of making her own choices.  The other part of her said that Cora had every right to judge, because Tess herself wasn't sure she'd done the right thing by seeking Sands out the night before.  The easier thing, perhaps, but not necessarily the right thing.  Best to skirt the subject then.  "Why did you need to get a hold of me that early?"

   "Marcos was had just had a nightmare about the day his parents died."

   Tess closed her eyes, in shame and regret.  God.  I let down someone I said I'd be there for, simply because I can't control my hormones.  "Is he there?"

   "Yes.  But I need to ask what you were doing.  You're a light sleeper, except for when you've been relying on your meds to get through the day, and if you're doing that already, then I'm not sure you should be doing this."

   Tess nearly collapsed in relief.  Cora thought she'd been in some sort of drug induced comatose state.  She didn't suspect that her employer was sleeping with a man who might or might not be the enemy – the worst person to be sleeping with.  At least with an enemy, you know that one side or the other might kill you both for it.

    And speaking of killing. . . .  Tess got up from the couch and went into her bedroom, picking up the locket that contained a tiny microphone.  She'd been supposed to wear it early, but had forgotten.  "I'm fine, Cora.  I just had trouble sleeping last night, is all.  I, I um, went for a walk."  The clasp was being difficult, but Tess finally got it on, noting that her closet door was ajar.  Which was odd, because she remembered closing it quite vividly.  The latch was loose or something, so you had to press rather firmly to get the door to stay shut.  And she'd made sure that it had been, going so far as to tug on the handle to ensure that it wasn't going to pop open.

   "Look, Cora.  Can you call me back in a half an hour or so?  Or have Marcos call me?  There's something I need to deal with."

   Cora agreed, and Tess hung up the phone, looking at the closet door.  For a second she wavered between opening it the rest of the way, or leaving the room and going for backup.  She knew that Sands had set up operation in another room in the hotel.  All she had to do was ask for help.

   Do it from outside the room, her voice urged.

   Tess nodded absently, backing out of the room.  She'd started to notice that her constant sensation of being watched had elevated.  It could be paranoia . . . but it was better to be safe than –

   Before she could even finish the thought, a cord dropped over her neck and she found herself jerked against a large body.  Before she could react, the cord pulled tight, cutting off her air supply and sending panic racing through her veins.

   She struggled, trying to get her fingers underneath the cable that was now cutting into her throat, throwing her head back to both try to do some sort of damage to the person behind her and to loosen the pressure on her windpipe.  Neither maneuver was successful.  Her head thumped against a rather solid collarbone, telling her that her attacker was taller than she was, and all she managed to do with the cord was break off several nails.  The room was going black around her, and even the sounds of her struggle were having a hard time making themselves known through the throbbing of blood in her ears.  Her lungs were screaming angrily, but there was nothing she could do about that.

   With struggles growing weaker by the moment and knees that were on the verge of collapse, Tess tried to get her attacker to release her, but nothing worked.  Even her voice was quiet, leaving Tess alone in her own head.

   I don't' want to die alone, she thought irrationally, just before she was swung around by nothing more than the pressure on her throat.  Her legs collapsed and she managed one last desperate gasp before falling to the ground, senseless except for the extreme loneliness that'd overtaken her.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Sands entered his hotel room, nearly disgusted with himself.  The damn woman was getting to him.  But that was the point.  She'd been getting to him for months now, if he cared to admit it.  Which he didn't.

   Yawning, he resisted the urge to throw himself on couch and take a nap.  Last night's encounter with Tess had been nice – disturbing in a sense, but nice – but it hadn't left him with much time to sleep.  Especially since he'd needed to be setting things up before the sun rose if things were to go smoothly today.  Which they had.

   Sands didn't trust things that went off with a hitch.  Not any more.

   Rubbing at eyes burning from exhaustion, Sands went into the bedroom and turned on the small TV on his dresser.  It wasn't the one that came with the hotel room.  This one was meant for picking up the signals from the four or five cameras he'd put in Tessa's room.  The only room that didn't have one was the bathroom – he did have some decency.  Each camera operated on a separate channel, so he had to flip through them. 

   Hallway outside the room – clear.

   Entryway – clear. 

   Dining area – clear.

   Tess was in the living room, on the phone.  With a sigh, Sands reached over and turned on the special radio that was supposed to pick up signals from her bugged jewelry – silence.  "Damnit, niña.  Go put the damn necklace on."  Reaching over to the other audio device on the dresser, Sands tuned into Tessa's phone conversation.

   "I tried to call you last night.  Around five this morning for us."  The housekeeper.  Sands sat back and wondered what Tessa was going to say to that comment.

   There was a moment of silence, stretched a moment too long to be comfortable, then she said, "Why did you need to get a hold of me that early?"

   So, his little niña wasn't going to fess up to where she'd been.  Sands rolled his eyes, and decided to check the other rooms as he listened to the two women.

   They talked of mundane things, and the other rooms were empt –

   "Shit!"

   Grabbing his gun, Sands ran from his room, racing down the hall to the stairwell.

   There'd been a man in Tessa's room, garrote stretched taut between two fists.

   Bursting into the stairwell, Sands could feel seconds dying away with each impact of his feet on the risers on the stairs.  He was only three floors below Tessa's room, but he suddenly knew he wasn't going to make it in time.  He wasn't going to get there before she died.  He was going to fail on the first assignment he'd gotten in a year, and it was all –

   He threw open the door leading from the stairwell with such force that it slammed into the wall and rebounded back at him, but he was moving so fast that it didn't even clip him.  Three steps and he was at the door to Tessa's room.  He didn't bother to test whether it was locked or not, simply shooting the lock off for time's sake.  The door flew open and Sands entered the apartment.  Sounds of a weak struggle came from the hallway that lead to the bedroom.

   Not bother to be amazed by the fact he'd gotten here before the man could kill Tess, Sands entered the hallway with gun raised.

   Attacker and victim were facing away from him, but not for long.  The man behind Tess sung around, dragging the woman with him, surprise on his face.  Sands didn't leave him enough time to change his expression.  Seeing that Tess was shorter than the man by at least a foot, he simply aimed and fired, a small hole appearing in the man's forehead.  Both fell to the floor, silently.

   "Damn it all."  Had he still been too late?  For a moment he'd been foolish enough to believe that he'd gotten here in time to ensure Tess lived through their stupidity, but apparently not –

   Tessa's legs moved weakly, one hand twitching as if trying to move towards her throat.  A strangled gasping sound emerged from her, weak but audible.  With more relief than he cared to examine, Sands pulled his Swiss Army knife from his back pocket, swiftly moving towards the form of the prostrate woman.

   The cord was tied tightly around Tessa's neck, the flesh around it raised and inflamed and bleeding in spots . . . but it was plastic.  Not bothering to try to avoid cutting her, Sands slit the cable, pulling Tess into a sitting position.  He knew she had no idea of what was going on around her, but she didn't fight him.  Most likely because she had nothing left to fight him with.

   Unlike in movies, she didn't gasp and immediately recover.  Her eyes were barely open, no more than slits and her mouth was gaping as she tried to breath through a windpipe that would be severely swollen.  What she'd just experienced would be the equivalent of getting the wind knocked out of her . . . just ten times worse.  Her body was flooded with adrenaline, her muscles desperate for oxygen, her diaphragm working convulsively to draw air into her lungs, but unable to do so.

   "Just calm down, niña.  Calm down.  Slow breaths.  I know it hurts, just take slow breaths."

   Tess heard this somehow through the layered screams of her body.  She was one giant, insensible, ache.

   She'd had a really bad case of strep throat as a child, where her throat had felt like flaming sand paper, and it'd hurt to breathe.  That was nothing compared to this.  This was scary, not because it hurt to breathe, but because she was unable to.  Her hands found fabric, or a clothed appendage or something, and they squeezed, trying to transmit the panic she was feeling.

   "Just relax.  It's over.  In a few minutes some of the swelling will go down, and it'll be easier to breathe.  You're going to sound like a frog whenever you open your mouth for a few days, and you might have a scar from our friend's crude tactics, but you're going to be fine.  And if you're not, I'm going to have to kick your ass, because I can't have wimps going into enemy territory.  It'd be a good way to not only get you and me killed, but other agents.  So suck it up, niña."

   Tess knew that voice, and at the moment, it was more beautiful than anything she'd ever heard in her life, because hearing it meant she was alive. 

   Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen as Sands and Tess sat in the hallway.  Finally, twenty minutes after Sands had arrived, Tess was able to breathe, if not comfortably, then reliably.  With this newfound ability, she managed to whisper, "You're an ass," before coughing harshly.  And the worst part was, the words had barely been audible.

   Once the spasm passed, she allowed Sands to help her stand.  For a moment she glanced at the body of the man who'd attacked her, but then she kept her eyes pasted on her feet as he helped her into the living room.  He sat her on the couch, then walked over to where she kept her ice bucket.  There were several bottles of water next to the container, and Sands grabbed one, picking up a nearby notepad and pen as well.  Going back to the couch, he handed Tess the water, and stopped her when she tried to thank him.  "Don't be an idiot, niña.  At least, not any more than you've already been today."

   When she didn't even try to respond, or even look at him, he got impatient.  He couldn't even see her face because her hair had come loose in her struggle and was now curtaining her off from the rest of existence almost.

   Impatiently, he swiped it out of his way, only to reveal that Tess was staring blankly at the floor, slow tears rolling down her face.

   Ah, fuck.  Like most men, he had no idea what to do with a crying woman.  Much less one that didn't want the rest of the world to know that she was unhappy.  All the women in his past acquaintance had always wailed to wake the dead.  That he could ignore.  This was harder somehow.

   Tess wasn't even really aware of what was happening around her, now that the spike of adrenaline in her blood had mostly burned away and she wasn't fighting for breath anymore.  Now her nerves were shaking and making her tremble right along with them.  And for some reason, she felt guilty for it.  But she'd almost died.  Didn't she have the right to some sort of display of female histrionics?

   She was startled from these revelations when a pad of paper and a pen were thrust under her nose.  She looked up to find Sands sitting on the coffee table across from her, much as he had been the night before.  The night before when she'd been strong and sure enough of herself to seek him out.  With any other man, she might have turned to them for comfort now, wanting to be held and shielded in the aftermath of someone making an attempt on her life, but with Sands . . . .

   Tess took the pad of paper from him, her eyes once again focusing on the carpet.  Sands didn't bother to say anything, not really wanting to step into the role of comforter, but he was willing to hear what she had to say.  Or read what she had to write as the case may be.

   Another half hour ticked by before Tess was ready to write anything.

   I was dying.

   Sands nodded.  "I noticed.  Scary, isn't it?"

   Yes.

   Silence reigned again.

   Who would want to kill me?

   Sands moved onto the couch next to her, shifting around until he was comfortable as he ran over several different theories.  He'd been asking himself that, and was unhappy with his lack of answers.  He'd have to get a team up here and let them take care of finding those answers for him.  "Well, a rival cartel perhaps.  There's several who are trying to nibble away at the territory now controlled by your family.  If the US government heard that your cousin is looking for you, then it's likely that some cartel out looking to make a name for itself did as well.  Perhaps someone with a grudge against your family, but that's a little to broad to be of any help.  Someone who took a dislike to you personally.  Or he could have been your ordinary, run of the mill, homicidal psychotic."

   Tess didn't ask any more questions.  Instead, she took a slow slip of water, grimacing as it trickled down her throat, coughing when it stopped.

   Sands waited until he was done before asking, "Do you need to see a doctor for that?"

   Tess started to shake her head, but quickly thought twice about that.  No.  I can take care of the flesh wound at least.  And a shot of cortisone will help ease the swelling.

   "Suit yourself."

   Silence.

   I can't stay here tonight, Tess wrote.

   Sands agreed.  If one person with some sort of unknown agenda had found Tess and tried to kill her, then it wasn't safe for her to stay here without increasing security, and that couldn't happen because it would give away the game.  "Alright.  If you're up to it, we'll move you down to my room while I take care of some things up here, and then we'll check you in somewhere else tonight."

   Tess thought about that.  She didn't really want to move.  She wanted to sit here on the couch for the next hour, or day, or year . . . however long it took her to start feeling like herself again.

   He's right.  You need to get out of here.

   Alright.

   Putting pen to paper once more, Tess wrote, I need my medical case from the bathroom.  I need to clean my neck.  And I'd like to change, I think.

   "Don't worry, niña.  I'll have someone pack up your things for you and move them to your new room."  Sands stood and pulled Tess to her feet.  "Where's this case of yours?"

   Bathroom cabinet.

   Sands walked into the back of the suite, stepping over the body of the man he'd killed with a grimace.  He didn't like killing people.  If he had to kill someone, that meant he'd lost control of the game somehow.  Death was the ultimate defeat, whether it was his or someone else's.  It meant he hadn't been a good enough manipulator to keep all the pieces on the board.  Not that he was squeamish about taking a life if that life was determined on taking his own.  Or that of someone he wasn't finished using.

   And he was a long way from being done with using Tess, both for personal and practical reasons.

-   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -   -

Three hours later, Sands didn't know any more than he had when he'd ushered Tess down to his room to clean up and get some sleep.  She'd been reluctant to sleep, but he'd insisted, watching as she gave herself a tranquilizer shot.  Once he was assured that she was out of trouble and locked in his room, he went back upstairs.

   While Tess had been tending his wounds, Sands had gotten a small team of CIA agents to her room with no more than a few phone calls.  By the time he'd gotten back, the body was gone, the blood had been cleaned from the carpet, and people were searching to find out how the man had gotten into the room without ,shooting off the lock, himself.  The rooms in this hotel all had pass cards, and very secure ones, especially the penthouse suite.  To anyone's best guess, their dead intruder had swiped a maid's pass card or stolen one from the front desk – which was nearly impossible because the lobby was always full of people and the front desk watched by around the clock video surveillance.

   With every answer that he didn't have, get, or find, Sands' temper grew.  Finally he'd called an end to the pow-wow, had barked out orders to run the man's fingerprints and face through the FBI database, the Interpol database, and to INS.  He wanted an identity by this time tomorrow.  Then he had someone start packing up Tessa's clothes, although he grabbed some sweats for her to change into once she woke up.  He wasn't going to move her until the morning, when her head would be clear of any drugs.  And lastly, he had some green agent with a fast growing reputation for technical skills go over to the room they'd checked out for Tess and start planting bugs – video and audio – and to set up a command center in another room.  One checked out to a 'Giovanni Tirado.'

   The stakes had just been upped, and he was not going to be the one to fold.

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Quotes: none for this chapter, but I hope to see them return in the next.

Author's Thanks: to be quite honest, I don't quite have the energy to do the detailed thanks I usually do, but I do want you all to know that I appreciate and take to heart each review that I get.  With that said, thanks go to: Kontara, Dreamgirl21147, Tracy6, C.J. Davis, normal human being, Pixy, dissolved star, Crystal Symphony, Satisdee (glad you're back!), relaxed_guru89, and PPL!

With that all said, I'm going to take a moment to inform you about a side project I've been working on (another reason this took forever to write).  I've been writing something of an AU story with Merrie, another author in the OUATIM and POTC fan 'verses (she wrote 'Darkness Rising,' 'Broken Wings,' and 'A Gilded Cage.') that combines her Jeffrey (Sands' other side) and my Salida (Tessa's voice).   The story is basically smut inspired by, "What would happen if Tessa's voice ever met Sands' voice?"  So, you can check that out if you want at à http : // adultfan . nexcess . net /aff /story . php ? no=21691  (please ignore the spaces.  Stupid ff.net wouldn't let me post the address without them.)