Author's Note: hmm, I certainly hope that the last round of malfunctions that had interfered with people getting author's alerts. Because it's either that, too many people are on vacation, or downtime between updates has gotten so long that no one is reading this any more.
Save me from my writer's imagination and let me know what you're thinking. ; )
Author's thanks at the end, as always.
Tess wanted to go outside. From her seat in the stifling conference room, she could see out a close window. If the gardens at her childhood home were flourishing and well cared for, then the ones here at what Carlos considered his home were pampered and lavish. Even now she could hear the faint whistling of on gardener or another.
The faint sound made her suddenly and violently homesick. Not for New York or Culíacan, but for the dense green jungle that had surrounded her home as a child. When she'd known nothing about cartels, or cruelty, or madness. The whistling could easily be the old woman who'd cared for her then.
The urge to close her eyes and return to that half-remembered home was strong. She could go back and simply live, a quiet hermitess, maintaining a life of peace and calm. Alone . . . never visited by anyone more important than villagers seeking herbal remedies and a dark, slim man who would appear at dusk and disappear before dawn. . . .
Do you hear yourself? The pleasant daydream was shattered by the harsh voice inside her head. As much as I'd love for you to join me, it'll get you killed at the moment. Not to mention you're daydreaming about him.
I was? Tess fought the urge to blush. Well, what do you expect? she asked irritably. He's my first lover –
Bite your tongue! The man is poison and you know it.
I know lots of things. I know you're not real, yet I'm arguing with you.
But lover? The voice sounded distressed and fidgety.
Tess thought about that very carefully. True, Sands might not be her first choice for numerous reasons – he was crude, selfish, manipulative, a danger to her physical and mental health – but at least he was familiar. He didn't portray a single characteristic that she wasn't used to seeing and/or defending herself against. They even had a shared history. . . .
Teresa Adame! Stop thinking like that.
But it's true. . . .
"Teresa?"
Yeah, well, en vino veritas, but you're not drunk. Stop being so "truthful."
It's not like I'd ever fall in lo–
"Teresa?"
The voice became aware of the man calling Tessa's name before Tessa herself did. Pay attention already! The reprimand was full of desperate warning, showing just how on edge the voice – and consequently Tessa – was.
Tessa forced her attention to snap back to the room she was locked in, just in time to hear Carlos say, "I'm sorry if I'm boring you, prima, but could you possible answer my question?" From the dangerous note in his voice, Tess knew she'd been distracted for far too long.
"Uh . . . what was the question?" Her inquiry was met with rude laughter from the men around her. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well." It wasn't a total lie. Embarrassment was rushing through her veins like a fever. "I'm sorry . . . please excuse me. I need some air." Under the criticizing eyes of the men in the room, Tessa rose, surprised by how shaky her muscles were, and escaped.
When Carlos found her an hour later, she was sitting on a bench in a wisteria shrouded alcove just off the path. Her face was half in sunlight, half in shade, and her thoughts preoccupied her to the point that she didn't hear his approach.
He took a seat beside her, gazing out over the same pond she was, taking pleasure in the stands of bamboo and pampas grass that ringed the small millpond, in the Acacia trees, and Mexican orange shrubs, and the mounds of flowers spread to either side of the white gravel paths. The butterfly bushes were still a long way from blooming, but their foliage provided a silvery backdrop to stretches of mountain laurel, hibiscus, narcissi, and taller iris. In a way, he was glad she'd retreated to the gardens. Being here was relaxing for him, and he didn't want to argue with her. Her punishment of three weeks past had been enough.
"Teresa, tell me what is troubling you." She jumped, as if taken by surprise – even though they'd been sitting side by side for a good five minutes. Her eyes, when she looked at him, were shadowed, as if she'd been thinking too long about something that disturbed her. "Ah, querida, I do not like seeing you sad. Tell me what is wrong and we will fix it."
Tess gave him a funny half-smile, then turned her eyes back to the walled garden, although he doubted that was what she saw. "I'm not cut out for this, Carlos. I miss my home."
"I thought this was your home," he said cautiously. If she had any doubts, they needed to be settled now, before plans went any further. Uncertainty could cost lives in the end, and he couldn't afford that. Not until the Barillo cartel once again drew young men to its ranks like it once had. Not until it had shed the brand of being a broken family.
She seemed to realize her faux pas, and dutifully corrected herself. "Yes, of course. This is my home." The admission had no joy behind it, and it lacked the ring of truth that Carlos was searching for.
"You are unhappy?"
I am trapped. Trapped by more than your walls and your decisions. "How can I be unhappy among the welcoming arms of familia?"
Carlos laughed, although he wasn't amused by her answer. "I don't what your duty, Teresa Adame. If that is all I have, then you are free to go." It was true – he had duty. Hundreds and thousands of dollars worth of duty. He didn't want that from her.
"You have more than my duty," she whispered after a few seconds of silence.
What are you saying! You stupid tonta! Necia! Zonza!
I'm not a fool. I'm just tired of all the lies. Can't I just let the ones that serve no purpose fall?
No. Not when they're going to get us both killed. I'd rather have you fooling around with Sands than telling the "truth" to your dear primo. I'll be back when you decide to be rational again. And with that there was silence in Tessa's head as the voice left her to her own devices, and making her second guess herself.
Why is it that you're making more and more sense lately? She didn't expect an answer, and she didn't receive one. "Can't you simply understand that it's too hard?"
"What's too hard, Tessa?"
She jumped, remembering too late that she had company. "Carlos!"
He was worried now. Never in his life had he seen his cousin so scatterbrained. "Are you feeling well?" He laid a hand on her forehead to divine whether or not she was running a fever.
"I-I'm fine." Tess pulled away with a bit of reluctance. His touch had been comforting, undemanding. Something she received rarely these days.
"Then why did you run out on the meeting? We were discussing important things. Things I will need you to know if you are to help to the best of your abilities."
Tess winced, knowing Sands would not be happy that she'd left in the middle of that. Even if she hadn't been listening, every word said in that room would have been recorded . . . until she'd rushed out, that was. "I heard one of your gardeners. . ." she started, wanting Carlos to excuse her and Sands to understand why she'd left. She couldn't stand being on bad terms with both her cousin and her . . . handler? Supervisor? Lover?
"And his whistling upset you? I know some of the old men I employ are tone-deaf, but surely they aren't that bad."
"No. They're not. It just reminded me of a song my abuela used to sing."
"Your abuela? I thought uncle's parents were long dead."
"They are, as far as I know. And I've never met my mother's parents." Never met them, never met my mother, never met the parents of the children I've taken in . . .
"Then you're talking about the woman who raised you?"
Tess nodded. "Before I came here. I grew up on the peninsula, in small village. I suppose I was kept there because it was safe – there was a lot of fighting going on for control of the cartel at that time. Sometimes I tell myself that Father sent me there to keep me safe, but it doesn't track."
"He cared for you –"
"Don't tell me that." Tess turned on her cousin, eyes narrowed and temper barely under control. She could feel the temptation to throw her self-control aside, felt it beating at the back of her mind, but she managed to control herself again. Sitting on the bench, her body tense, she said tightly, "He didn't care. He didn't care for anything beyond shaping a tool that would respond to his hand, or Ajedrez' hand, or even yours. All that mattered to him was that I be malleable enough to serve his precious cartel in whatever capacity was demanded from me." She had to take a deep breath and reign her anger in even further. "Just as we were all raised. So don't tell me my father loved me and just didn't know how to express it. I left that lie behind a long time ago."
She figured that she'd shocked him into silence since Carlos didn't say anything for a long time. The shadow on a nearby sundial had moved before he hazarded conversation again.
"I hope you got what you needed out of the meeting."
So do I. "Perhaps you should debrief me just in case."
"Neva would do a better job at that than I would." He slanted a look in her direction, so caught the wrinkled nose and raised lip that resulted from the suggestion. "Neva may be abrasive at times, prima, but she is loyal to the family."
"That doesn't mean she likes me. Or even you if she thinks you're making a mistake. Loyalty is sometimes the most dangerous quality for a person to possess. Both for themselves or for the cause they're loyal to."
Dangerous. . . .
"Yes, but she's loyal to me. Not the cartel." Tess could only grunt and nod in response to that. Carlos was tempted to let the subject drop, but since she'd brought it up. . . . "And what about you, Teresa. What are you loyal to?"
She closed her eyes as if in pain as her mind whirled to find a way to answer the question without lying. "I'm loyal . . . I'm loyal to preventing as much bloodshed as possible."
Swallowing, Tess changed the subject as smoothly as she could. "And to that effect, what exactly did I miss in the meeting?" She needed to ask, not only to keep up her cover, but to satisfy her CIA handlers. If more information didn't start rolling their way soon, they'd push Sands to push her to go to more desperate lengths to find the intelligence they wanted. And Tess would do it. She'd do it for a desire just to go home, if not for what had used to be her purpose in life – to mend the damage done by her family.
"Agent Sands!"
After a long night of not being able to shut off his mind, Sands groaned. Whoever was out in the hall was not only banging on the door with unnecessary force, but they'd forgotten to use codenames. Just because the man downstairs was a sorry excuse for a manager and doorman didn't mean that they could relax security. After all, if the man could be bribed, then he couldn't be trusted. And Sands was working within a government budget at the moment so most anyone could outbid him for the man's loyalty.
Grumbling as he automatically reached for his guns, Sands went to open the door. He had to fight down a brief stab of disappointment when Brian Weyhauser's athletic form was revealed, but instead of pondering where the disappointment came from, he growled, "What the hell is so important that you not only had to wake me up with this ungodly racket, but also made you forget that we're supposedly undercover. Not that we will be any more if you continue yelling at the top of your lungs."
The younger man just barely managed to keep from raising his eyebrows at his superior's decidedly irritable disposition. For the most part, Sands behavior and attitude had been easy going – if not bordering on treasonous – for the duration of their stay in Mexico. Brian had to admit that although Sands often cut a few too many corners from what was taught as proper procedure, his methods usually worked. Especially in a country that had no good reason, and no good opinions, to help Americans.
He was going to comment on Sands' bad mood, or at least he'd been planning to until he saw the look on the agent's face. He quickly changed his mind after that. "The Barillo woman just bailed on an important meeting about the Merída cartel. You – "
Sands had shot out of his bedroom before the younger agent had finished his sentence. He didn't like this development at all. For several weeks he'd had the feeling that Tess was wavering, that all tension and subterfuge was getting to her. If she folding on them, there'd be hell to pay, and that was if they all managed to get out safely.
It was a surprise to find himself actually regretting a course of action, but Sands did. He shouldn't have left Tess in silence for so long before she made her escape, and he should have made contact with her more since she had. I need to get a hold of her soon. We've got to meet. He was going to tie her to him in any way he could. This operation couldn't fail.
"What's going on?" All his regrets and decisions had taken place in the eyeblink it took to cross the hallway.
His underlings all paused as he demanded information, and then it rushed into him from more people and at a greater speed than he could understand at once.
"Stop," he ordered, feeling frustrated with himself – which was something he didn't like and was experiencing far too often as of late. "Barnaby, tell me what's going on."
Eliza Barnaby was a few years older than Sands himself, but had made the decision to join the CIA rather late in life. This was her first operation where she was second-in-command, but she took things seriously, not showing any sign of resentment to be working for someone five years her junior. She was also the only one on Sands team that had taken to calling Tess "Adame" instead of "Barillo."
"Velasquez called a conference meeting this morning for nine hundred hours," she read from a thick file. Sands resisted the urge to shake his head. The old lady – which was a term of respect more than it was of ridicule – followed procedure to the letter, going so far as to read from the record rather than report information that was still fresh in her mind. Sands suspected that her by-the-book attitude was the reason she was here. The Company still didn't trust him entirely.
"We knew about the meeting yesterday. Tell me what's up with Adame." As he leaned against a nearby wall, Sands crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around the room, sending loitering agents back about their business with no more than a raised eyebrow.
"Velasquez was just going over the suspected infiltration by the Merída cartel when he tried to get Adame's input on some point of the attempted assassination in Durango. She didn't respond. He tried twice more and when he finally got her attention, she made some excuse for not feeling well and rushed from the room."
Sands nodded. The information on the Merída's had come from the woman the CIA had planted in Guadalajara. Somehow the cartel that Velasquez had targeted had gotten wind of the planned takeover, and they were defending themselves and their territory before they could be attacked. Sands knew that Carlos would know there had to be a mole somewhere in his organization, and he knew that the most obvious suspect would be Tessa. And Tessa had to know that to.
Or more likely, she needs to be warned of it. As the weeks had passed, the mutterings on the other end of the locket had become more and more frequent, and less and less comprehensible. Tess was a smart woman, but she wasn't playing with a full deck of cards.
"Where is she now?"
"From the feed we're getting from her glasses, she seems to be in the gardens behind the house. And Velasquez is with her. He adjourned the meeting some time ago."
Sands didn't like the sound of that. They couldn't afford for any suspicions to be pointed in Tessa's direction. "Are they talking?"
Barnaby shrugged and pointed towards Newman who was on wiretap detail.
Sands nodded his thanks and walked towards the green agent. "Newman, what's going on?"
"Barillo's talking about her childhood with Velasquez. Something about – oh, wait. No, now she's ranting about her father."
Sands rolled his eyes and took the headset from the woman. "Take a break." He wanted to hear this for himself. Fiddling with several knobs, he took a seat in the deserted chair as Tessa's voice came in.
". . . doesn't mean she likes me. Or even you if she thinks you're making a mistake. Loyalty is sometimes the most dangerous quality for a person to possess. Both for themselves or for the cause they're loyal to."
She had a point. Sands knew all about loyalty himself and didn't put much stock in it. Well . . . not in the way she meant. He didn't believe that most people today even had loyalty, with Tess herself being the exception. Perhaps. There were all sorts of grisly, inhumane, and treasonous things done in the name of "loyalty." Not that he could deceive himself into thinking that he hadn't done grisly, inhuman and treasonous things himself. He just chose not to hide his actions behind so noble a name. He was selfish, self-seeking, and self-centered, along with the other 1.8 billion people on the face of the planet.
He missed part of the conversation while lost in these thoughts, but tuned back in just in time to hear Carlos ask, "And what about you, Teresa. What are you loyal to?"
"I'm loyal . . . I'm loyal to preventing as much bloodshed as possible."
The hesitation in her voice caused a note of warning to shiver through his blood. Just how close was Tess getting to changing her "loyalties"? If nothing else I'll have her look through more of that file of letters. Responsibility should reign her in. I just have to figure out a way to get her here.
Tess sat and ran over all the information that Carlos had just given to her. With a suspected infiltration with as many as a hundred men and no less than fifty, the Merída cartel wasn't just attempting to gain reconnaissance, they were making a preemptive strike. But how had they gotten the original information that Carlos was eyeing their territory? And more importantly, how had they discovered that he had enough resources to do more than cast envious glances towards the Jalisco province?
"A mole," she said suddenly, turning very pale. "You think someone's been leaking information to the Merída's." When Carlos didn't answer her, Tess spun around on the seat and felt her heart constrict. Carlos' eyes were fixed on her face, as if willing her to tell the truth to him. As if trying to tell whether she was holding back any secrets or not. "Neva suspects me, doesn't she?"
Her cousin nodded. "She does."
Run, leave. This is dangerous. Go. Go now. Hurry.
Tess had to force herself not to listen to the voice's urgings. Running would make her look guilty and she'd never be able to explain that reaction away. It was better to reason with her cousin. "But-but I can't have. You haven't started including me in these meetings until after I got that disk . . . and you said that's when you got the tip-off that they were coming to Guadalupe."
Carlos said nothing, but he did turn his gaze away. Tess watched carefully for any sign of a pent-up outburst, prepared to leap out of the way should it be aimed at her, but all she saw was a lessening of the tension in Carlos' shoulders.
"You don't think it's me?" Oh god, I hope not. I don't want to be here. I don't want to play this game. I just want to be home.
"No. I do not think you are the one leaking information."
But doesn't it make sense. They had no problems with security until you came along. The attack on you could be explained away as a hit meant to silence a wavering and uncertain informant.
What are you doing? It's not me.
Can you be sure of that, Teresa Adame?
"It's not me," she whispered fiercely, anything to shut the voice up. "It's not."
She jumped when a large hand settled over fists she hadn't even known she'd made. Startled and suddenly panicky, certain that she'd been found out for the madwoman she was, her eyes darted up to meet Carlos'.
"I do not like seeing such fear in you, querida." He unconsciously tightened his grip on her when he felt how cold her skin was. "It will take more than a coincidence or two for me to doubt you. Certainly you know that."
El dios ahorra el absurda. She didn't like the sound of that. Too many young would-be paramours had come to her with that tone of voice for her to mistake it now.
That's the problem with family that isn't family. They can get ideas.
God, she hated that smug tone. But she couldn't respond. Not now. She still had another bullet to dodge. "I know you don't like to suspect family, and I'm –" Her throat closed when she saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Carlos –"
"No. Just be silent for a moment." Tess shut her mouth. When he was sure she wouldn't say anything else, he started talking. "Surely you know that I admire you for more than the simple reason that we are related through a now distant marriage."
Oh god, no.The voice simply let out a peal of delighted laughter at the chaos this was causing in Tessa's emotions.
"Carlos –"
"Shh. . ." Tess shushed and bit her lip. "Ah, querida. You were always such a brave little girl. And that trait has served you well. But you do not need to be so brave anymore."
"But Neva –"
"Do not use her for an excuse." The words were kind, but they were lined with iron and Tess didn't dare disobey. "Neva is my right arm. She is suspicious of everyone, and catches a great deal that way. But sometimes she is wrong, and you are one of the things she is wrong about." Both his hands were holding hers now, keeping her tethered to him when she would have covered her ears like a child. "I do not ask you for anything now, and I will make no declarations that you are not ready to hear. Just know that I would be happy for you to stay with us always. My left hand. The one that sees the good in people and not just motives. Remember that I have always been kind to you, and ask yourself whether staying here – with me – would be so horrible."
When he released her, Tess had to lock every muscle in her body to keep from flying off the bench and into the house. Running was so easy, and if only it would solve this problem.
He agrees with me, Teresa. You've heard it yourself. Stay here. Stay where no new circumstances would ever arise. Free yourself. Your life is a burden. Give it over.
I can't. . . .
Yes you can. Just tell him about the apartment on Arenas street.
No!
Carlos could easily read the shock on Tessa's face. As much as it saddened him to leave without wringing some admission from her, without some hold on her, it was necessary. Hovering would not speed along her thought process. Not when she was this nervous.
"I have other matters to attend to, querida, but I don't want you to forget what I said. Or fear my reaction if you say no."
She wanted to say no so badly, but couldn't force the words through her dry mouth and past her frozen lips. Her heart screamed it, but that only emphasized the careful lack of opinion from certain parts of her mind. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was tempted. And that would destroy her. She needed to get out. She needed to talk to Sands. She had to be reminded of why she was here.
Carlos was halfway across the lawn before Tess realized that he'd left her side. He has to let me out. He has to. "Carlos!" He stopped and turned to her, waiting for her to say whatever she needed to. "I-I . . . if we're suspecting an influx of casualties . . . there's some things I will need to gather. Some medicines and equipment I'd like to stock the infirmary with. And I'll need to hire a nurse. I might not be able to tend to everyone myself and we can't afford any fatalities."
"What are you asking me, Teresa?"
"I'd like to go into town this afternoon. If the Merída's are mustering in Zacatecas then it should be safe. For today. But tomorrow I might need to go to Zacatecas as well if I can't find what I need here."
Carlos nodded, approving her plans. It was good to see that she wanted to support her family. It meant that she hadn't written them all off because he'd spoken unwisely. And if she supported the family, then she supported him, and some vain part of him liked that idea. "Very well. I will tell your guards –"
"Please. I'd like to go alone today. I'll take a gun but the town should still be safe." He didn't look convinced and Tess offered more than she wanted in order to be let out. "I'll take an armored car tomorrow and as many men as you want. I just . . . I just need time to think today. And I can't do that while I've got two hulking shadows on my tail."
He was hesitant to let her out alone, but she had asked, and she'd made concessions, and even worse was that she'd made sense. "Alright. Today you may got out alone but any excursions that go beyond Guadalupe's borders must have an escort of at least three men."
"Thank you." Tess offered a trembling smile before turning to go into the nearest wing of the house. Carlos watched until she disappeared, then went to find his sister. They had things to discuss. Especially since they were expecting a visitor that evening.
Following the same routine as the last time she'd met Sands, Tessa parked on the other side of the city from her intended destination and then took a cab to Arenas street. She didn't bother to check in with the man at the front desk; she was too agitated for such mundane niceties. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she raced up the stairs, only to pause when she reached the floor she wanted.
They must have cameras in the lobby, she thought dizzily. Sands was lounging in front of the door that led to the fifth floor. For a moment her entire body revolted at the thought of what her whirling mind might spew out through her mouth and she took a step backwards, forgetting there was a step immediately behind her. Only quick action from Sands saved her from a tumble down the stairs.
Looking into her unnaturally pale face, Sands found himself thinking that she was more upset than he'd expected her to be. And even worse, that there was an air of mania to her distress. She struggled against his close observance, but he tightened his hands and wouldn't let her go. "Conejo, tell me –"
"The moon is no door, it's face in its own right,/white as a knuckle and terribly upset/It drags the sea after it like a dark crime;/it is quiet with the O-gape of complete despair/I live here."
He shook her brusquely. "Don't give me that, niña. A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a shortcut to meet it. Have you been taking your meds?"
"When you absolutely don't know what to do anymore, it's time to panic." Tess knew she had to calm down, that she was driving herself towards an episode, but she couldn't seem to find her mental brakes. "Though they go mad they shall be sane –"
"Damnit, niña." Sands grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. "Use your words."
The phrase was so perfectly normal, something she'd said to Lena a hundred times, that it grabbed her attention and gave her spinning mind something to grab hold to. Like water molecules to dust to form rain. Focus. "Wh-what?"
"Have you been taking your meds?" The question was more of a demand than in inquiry, and Tess didn't dare not answer.
"It-it's hard. People interrupt. They can't know. Knowledge is power. A rein. A leash."
"I'll take that as a no." Now that Tess was making a bit more sense, Sands led her out of the stair well and into his room. "Sit," he demanded, ushering her to a chair. "And don't get up." Tess watched his hands as he made the type of gesture she'd seen Carlos use on his Dobermans to make sure they were going to obey before daring to turn his back on them. This memory distracted her until Sands suddenly reappeared in front of her eyes.
"Hello," she greeted him, as if they hadn't already spoken.
Sands shook his head and didn't reply. Instead he stepped back to reveal a slight woman behind him. Tess examined her, noting the facial features that hinted at some sort of Asian background, the short, glossy hair, and the needle in her hand.
"No." She jumped out of the chair, moving to stand behind it. "I can't sleep. I can't. I have things I need to do."
The two agents shared a look, then Sands looked back at her. "It's not a tranquilizer, chiquita. It's one of your suppressants. Someone thought it might be a good idea if we kept one or two of them on hand." As he spoke, Sands moved around the chair slowly, coming to stand beside her. "You won't go to sleep."
"They make me sleepy," she disputed.
"Then you need the sleep." Sands took her arm to hold her in place as the female agent approached.
"Can't. I have to . . . I have to . . ."
"You have to stock your cabinets. Yes, I know. Do you have a list?" He nodded when Tessa's eyes flew to her purse. "Agent Maddox will take care of it for you, from our own supplies if necessary."
"Can't get them all today. Have to go to Zacatecas tomorrow." Despite the restraint of Sands' hand on her arm, Tess was still backing away.
"Why?"
"To get out of the house. To get away from him. He can't. Oh god he can't." Distracted by this, she covered her eyes.
Sands nodded to Maddox, intending to do this by hook or by crook if he had to. She moved in slowly and silently, and gave Tess the depressant before she could protest again. The moment she felt the prick, all the fight went out of her and she leaned against Sands, her head drooping a bit.
Dismissing his agent with a look, Sands led Tess to the bed and sat her down. She wouldn't look at him. Women, he thought, somewhat disgusted at her display of such stereotypical behaviour. Just because she hadn't gotten her way, she wasn't going to acknowledge his presence. Well fine. He wouldn't inflict it on her.
Crossing the room, Sands retrieved the file with all the letters and scraps of paper from Tessa's family. It took the last of his patience to thrust it under her nose and wait for her to take it. When she did, he turned on his heel and left the room, telling an unfortunate Weyhauser to guard the door.
Tess wouldn't be leaving until they'd gotten the chance to talk.
When Sands went back to his room an hour later, he found Tessa stretched out and asleep on his bed. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and stared down at her.
I've never met a more infuriating and frustrating woman in my entire life. No, wait. An image of Inge rose before his mind's eyes, and he grimaced. Make that just frustrating. Tess always did what was expected of her, but almost never for the reasons that he expected.
She's pure, remember? And if you don't do something soon, she'll turn on you for completely pure reasons. Since you can't kill her without loosing your credibility – if not your job – then I suggest you make her think that you're more important to her and her dear cousin is.
Disgusted by the circular pattern of his thoughts, Sands went to a window and lit up, flicking the ashes outside. It was there that he realized that the entire game had changed on him. Tess was still the queen, but he'd let her become his queen when she should simply be the most powerful piece out of dozens that could be manipulated for good or ill. He needed to put some distance between them, and if she were anyone else, he'd hand her over to the care of someone else and break off all contact with her. Much as she'd done with him all those months ago in LA.
But she knew you were on your way to recovery before she split.
"Fuck you," he hissed at his conscience. But that didn't mean it wasn't right. Yes, Tess had taken off. Yes, she'd left him alone. But it was with someone she trusted, someone he knew, and out of consideration for his feelings.
You don't want to kill her. You never did.
No. That had never been the point. If he had to kill her, then she'd come to mean too much. But the opposite was true as well – if he didn't want to kill her, if he couldn't kill her, then she'd come to mean too much. Either way he was screwed over where she was concerned. No matter what he chose to do, he would be left with an inexperienced double-agent whose sanity was doubtful and growing more so with every passing day. But he wouldn't admit he cared. Let the record show that he was looking out for her on behalf of the kid who'd saved his life on that Day of the Dead. And once they all returned to the States, then he could make the break.
A soft rustling behind him made Sands look over his shoulder. Tess had rolled over onto her back and her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. He turned back to his grungy view and waited for her to make the first move – after all, she was the one who'd raced here.
"Doesn't the smoke hurt your eyes?" The question was a soft and unobtrusive as possible, but it still got on Sands' nerves.
"I don't think you have any right to nag, pequeña." The words sounded sulky, and Sands cursed himself under his breath. Silence came from the other end of the room, and he tried not to feel guilty. The woman rushed to him for some sort of support, and he snaps at her. Not sure what else she was expecting though. No one's ever been able to accuse me of being a nurturer.
"I suppose you're right." Her eventual agreement sounded defeated. "But don't I have the smallest cause for being concerned?" After everything we've gone through, whether we wanted to be together or not?
Why did she have to bow to his every dictate so easily? Damnit, why couldn't she put her foot down for once and blast him for being an unjust tyrant? And why the hell did he want her to? There was only one way to respond to her comment, and it was one he'd given women before. This shouldn't be so different.
Snuffing out his cigarette, Sands said in a soft, listen-to-me-because-I'm-only-going-to-say-this-once voice, "We're not having this conversation, niña. If you're well enough to carp like a wronged mistress, you can collect your things and leave." He was certainly going to. With other women it was amusing to watch their reactions, but the opportunity to watch Tessa's didn't seem nearly as appealing.
Tess watched in a daze as Sands threw his lighter on a nearby table and walked towards the door. She didn't want him to leave. If he left that meant she didn't belong with him, with the country he represented, and then she'd have to take Carlos' suit. And she didn't want to do that. His hand was on the doorknob before she managed to force her dry mouth to say anything.
"No. No, you can't . . . stop!" Her panic reemerged as Sands only paused. "Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before. And if you leave . . . if you leave. . . . I just, I remember things better with you! I do." He didn't seem convinced. I look at you, and I . . . and I'm home! "Please . . . I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget."
You're home, Teresa? What kind of bullshit is that? This is not home. Carlos is home.
"Oh god, please stop."
It was the desperation in that final plea that made Sands turned around. Tess was the picture of someone who'd run out of options. Her head was cradled in her hands, and she was bent over as if to protect herself from invisible foes.
Sands liked desperation. It made people more amenable to his "suggestions." Survival instinct would make people treat with the devil, only because the alternative was unthinkable. Part of him didn't like hearing Tess in desperation, but he crushed it. If desperation was what it took to tie her to his purpose, then he'd use it.
"Were you talking to me, niña?"
She shook her head. "No. No, it won't stop. It's so lazy. It wants to give in, to stay."
The mention of Carlos' little confession made Sands' eyes narrow. He didn't believe for a second that Tessa's cousin had any concern for Tess herself. At least, not any more than Sands had for her.
Moving slowly, he started walking towards the bed. "Well, is that what you want?"
Tess made note of the dangerously silky note in his voice and shook her head. Tirado? No. No. She didn't want to stay here. The voice . . . she swore it fed off heat and hostility. That's why it wanted her to stay, because it was more powerful here. It had more memories to work with. More tangled thoughts and emotions. "No, I can't."
"Then what is it you want?"
"Remind me. Had I really come out here to Los Vegas to work on a story? Who –"
"Tessa. No more quotes." He was standing at the foot of the bed now, close enough that she had to crane her head to maintain eye contact. "What do you want?"
Not fair. Not fair. He'd stripped her last defense from her. Why did he have to do that? Why was truth so important to him? "I . . . I need an anchor." Her voice was weak. "I'm getting lost. It's too much the same. I forget when and where I am. The kids are too far away to . . . to . . ." She gave up, simply breathing shallowly through her mouth and hoping he understood.
Well that was interesting. She was entrusting him of all people with her mental health. Sands thought that he perhaps understood a little. "You've never been alone for so long, have you? Not when you've had to do something this difficult."
Tess shook her head slowly. "No. I was a child . . . but . . . I wasn't allowed . . . I couldn't like Ajedrez. Or my father. I had them to hate. The rules were . . . were very clear. I made friends in college, and they helped me when everything fell apart. When I ran away, I had such a clear goal, and I still had family to hate. Then I had another goal – to help you. And then I had the kids depending on me. But now . . ." She stopped, unsure of what to say. "Now I'm pulled in too many directions, none of them stronger than the other. No matter what I do, I betray someone. I ruin someone's life. I cause someone to be killed. There's no clear rules. There's no routine. There's no one to hate. I get lost."
"And you want me to find you?"
Tess shivered at the emptiness of his voice. There was no indication of whether he wanted to play hero to her distressed psyche or not. "I-I need someone to find me."
Sands bit the inside of his lip as if thinking, then nodded. "Alright. But you have to remember something."
"What?" As long as she could at least remember what side she was on, she'd remember anything.
"This is just fucking. It's physical. Nothing more." Sands had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing bitterly at that. If Tess could remember what side she was on, and he could convince himself that this was purely physical, then perhaps they had a greater chance of coming out of this intact that he'd begun to believe. "Can you accept that, niña?"
Yes. She could. Because to ask for anything more was to risk her sanity when things came to a natural conclusion. "I've never asked for more," she informed him seriously, scooting up the bed. It's too dangerous.
Her little quip caused Sands' temper to leap, but he beat it down. If things were going to stay physical, he couldn't even afford anger.
Climbing onto the bed, he pulled her to him, kissing her thoroughly and never giving her the option to say she didn't want this right now. He'd show her. If he had to struggle with remaining distant, then she was sure as hell going to struggle to.
He never even once considered that she already was. Or that it was hurting her.
Quotes: Sylvia Plath; JRR Tolkien; John Vander Wiel; Dylan Thomas; Finding Nemo; Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas
Author's Thanks: as always, many thanks to all my readers and reviewers, not to mention; normal human being (Aww, that's sweet. I love you too. I suppose there's lots more Carlosity to be found in this chapter, but the guy is so much fun to write that way. Knife twisting is a specialty of mine, so anticipate more. I hope this chapter was just as good as the last.); velly (I did finally update. I do try. I really do. As long as Sands stays in character, then I consider each chapter a job well done. And yes, I do plan to leave you all hanging until you can't stand it any more and I start getting death threats.); Isola (Yes, Sands is on very slippery territory, but that's always the most fun to write.); Kontara (Thank you for taking the time to review.); Dreamgirl21147 (Well, as I've said, it's hard to think of someone as a blood sibling when they're not. nods and smirks Lots of development coming.); Raven (wow! You win the prize for longest review in awhile. I love long reviews, so don't worry about ever putting me to sleep. ; ) I'm really, really, really glad that you're finding the story to be real and natural. Sometimes I have my doubts over passages that are difficult to write, but I hope that's just because I take too long to find the perfect word, and not me being stuffy as I sometimes think I border on being. Don't worry about me not writing. I promise to finish all works in progress first.); SS (hmm, good question. Sooner or later Tess will have her day, I promise.)
