Author's Note: wow – I'm so sorry this took a month to get out, but the end is coming faster than I thought it would. I had to make sure that this chapter was perfect before I could post it; there was so much that needed to go into it that it took a bit longer than I thought it would.
I hope this is satisfying and engaging nonetheless. Please let me know what you're all thinking before I think that only eight people are reading this. ; )
Author's thanks at the end.
"Where have you been?"
Tess felt a jolt of guilt scuttle along her spine at the abrupt greeting from her cousin. "I was getting supplies from town –"
"Yes, and Carlos let you leave five hours ago," Neva scowled, taking her delinquent cousin by the arm and dragging her into the house. "You're going to make us all late for dinner."
"But it's barely five and we don't eat until seven –"
"And tonight isn't a normal night. We have company. You need to get ready now. Go shower por amor de Dios, you look like you spent the afternoon running. You're a mess." Neva shoved her up the main stairs.
Tess went without arguing. Neva almost seemed nervous, and that was enough to make Tess do what she was told. If her militant cousin was nervous, that meant that their guest was probably someone that she and Carlos were going to be watching closely, and Tess had to play her part. If her part was that of a china doll or something else that was delicate and useless for anything other than to be admired . . . well, that was the way things went. She'd rather play useless than spy any day.
Oh wait, I am a spy. It was a bittersweet reminder; bitter because she'd been forced to become something she wasn't, and sweet because it was to herself and there was no reply. That suppressant she'd received had gone a long way towards restoring her peace of mind. Enough so that she could now doubt and second-guess all that she'd spilled to Sands. Not to mention whether they'd really made the agreement she thought they'd made.
Just the thought of that made her heart constrict a little. It was a foolish thing done out of weakness when she hadn't been right in her head. And she had the feeling that admitting to Sands that she'd made a mistake would be a tactical error. He already thought she was weak and coward. Why bother enforcing that idea?
It's not entirely unpleasant. Is it? she asked herself as she pushed open the door to her room. I mean . . . he at least understands that . . . that I'm not normal. And it doesn't seem to scare him. Her voice might not have been around to object, but Tess knew what it would say anyway. Either she did scare/disgust/revolt Sands, but he put up with it to control her, or that no matter what, she would end up alone because Sands wasn't the sort of man to stay.
So if she knew that was true without having to be reminded of it, why was she doing this?
Absentmindedly, Tess stripped off her clothes in her bedroom instead of retreating to the safety of the bathroom, unaware that across the city Sands was having to break up a group of very frustrated guys. Not that she would have believed it if she'd known.
She hummed softly as she showered. One of the side effects of the suppressant she'd been given was that her mind wandered and her thoughts became sluggish. At the moment she counted that a blessing rather than a frustration. It meant she could set aside her problems until the next morning when her head would be clear again. Clear and blessedly empty for at least another twenty-four hours.
"They dined on mince and slices of quince,/Which they ate with a runcible spoon;/And hand in hand on the edge of the sand/They danced by the light of the moon,/The moon,
the moon,/They danced by the light of the moon." It wasn't until absurd visions of owls dancing with kittens were running through her mind that Tess was able to snap out of the lethargy she'd been in. Just because there were no conflicting voices ringing in her ears at the moment didn't mean she could stand around and daydream. If the temperature of the water was any indication, she'd already been standing here for far to long.
With a great sigh, Tess forced herself to get out of the shower, towel off, and don her robe. If she were facing a formal dinner with her cousins and an important guest, then she was going to need all her wits around her. And that meant being able to concentrate on what was said and done, and what hidden meanings those things could carry. Just because someone was allowed into the house didn't mean that they were completely trusted. It just meant that it was safer to execute someone inside the house than outside it. And if she wasn't careful, that "someone" might end up being her.
An hour later, Tess reappeared downstairs, dressed in a gauzy green skirt with peach roses, and a silk shirt in a delicate light green. Her hair was bound back in a chignon, but was loose enough that it didn't pull at her temples. As always, the CIA-approved locket hung at her neck, and she was wearing her spook-endorsed glasses. Carlos probably wouldn't be happy with the presence of the latter, but she could plead a headache and get away with it. If something big was happening, Sands would probably want to know.
There was a buzz of activity in the back of the house. Tess could almost feel the formal dining room being polished and set. That more than anything else told her that the mystery guest was important. Or at least important enough to be intimidated into remembering just how powerful Carlos was.
And once again, I attain knick-knack status, she thought morosely. She was just an extension of Carlos' influence. He'd found her when nearly all of Mexico's more unsavory population had failed. She was proof that he could fine anyone and wouldn't hesitate to track down those who turned on him. Now the question was, who did he want to remind of these things?
It probably has something to do with the take-over. Perhaps he's invited a few choice allies or something, just to remind them of what they stand to gain. Or lose. Tess knew that the Merída "occupation" of Zacatecas worried her cousin more than he wanted to admit. He didn't know how they'd discovered that he was on the warpath. The possibility of a leak was devastating. Bust she didn't think that the leak was inside the cartel. It's Sands. Not that she could be certain, but it was style to play opposing side of each other. The man must love fluid dynamics. Watching one molecule impact and effect another, finally causing a chair reaction. He's the butterfly that flaps his wings in Yellowstone and causes thunderstorms in China. And he knows it.
"Teresa? Is there a reason you're doing your best impression of the Venus di Milo in the middle of the hallway?" The quiet voice in her ear snapped her out of her reverie. While her attention had been fixed elsewhere, her feet had carried her through the house to the corridor outside her cousin's study. Carlos had just emerged from the private room along with several other men, along with one she recognized.
As she took stock of the situation, Carlos made excuses for her shocking lack of inattention. "Please forgive my cousin. She often finds herself occupied by philosophical thoughts and forgets her surroundings." Tessa's eyes landed on what appeared to be a American, hidden in the midst of the group, and decided that explained why Carlos was speaking English. Most of her attention, however, was fixed on a suave Mexican in an expensive silk suit and wingtip shoes.
"I remember," Giovanni Juarez said smoothly, working through the group to place a dry kiss on her knuckles. "Lovely and thoughtful. A man shouldn't ask for more in the fairer sex." There were several masculine chuckles, and a few whispered comments offering different – and obscene – opinions.
"Señor Juarez . . . it's a pleasure to see you again," Tess murmured, falling into character after a small nudge from Carlos.
"Ah, but the pleasure is mine." He winked, and Tess irrationally found herself letting go of any prejudices she had against the man. "And I would be forever in your debt if you would introduce me to the enchanting woman who is currently coming down the stairs."
What? Tess turned and saw Neva coming down the stairway, and she had to admit that her cousin had certainly pulled out all the stops. I guess she decided to leave security to her men tonight. There was certainly no place to hide a weapon in the outfit Neva had donned. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress with a plunging neckline and satin piping. The only thing demure about the dress was the hemline, which reached the floor and was too long for a hidden thigh holster to be practical. Not to mention that Tess now felt decidedly dowdy.
"Tessa? Please, introduce señor Juarez to my sister." The dismissal and censure in Carlos' voice was plain to the trained ear. Tess smiled weakly, and led Juarez to the banister where Neva was waiting.
"Señor Juarez, please allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Nevada Velasquez. Neva, this is señor Giovanni Juarez, one of Carlos' business partners."
"Señor Juarez, I hear you're providing the weaponry for our little coup," Neva demurred as she presented a hand. Juarez just laughed.
"And you are just as straightforward as your brother, señorita Velasquez. And please, you may call me Giovanni." He kissed her hand, his lips lingering for considerably longer than they had on Tessa's knuckles.
"And you may call me Neva." She glanced at Tess and dismissed her. Tess stubbornly stayed nearby, trying to figure out the game being played. Had Neva and Carlos concocted this plan because they didn't trust Juarez, or was there simply a little too much chemistry between these two?"
"Neva? Such a plain name. I much prefer Nevada."
"But that's such an innocent, pure name. I'm afraid I'm anything but . . . innocent."
Tess rolled her eyes and turned to leave, running into Carlos. Most of the other men had been fobbed off on black and red clad "comfort women," so he was free to talk to her.
"I admit that you look very nice, querida, but Neva must not have explained tonight's dress code. You're much to casual. Please go up and change. And leave the glasses behind."
Tess flushed and nodded, moving towards the stairs. Before she could get there however, Carlos stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Don't draw attention to yourself. Go the back way. I expect your company in less than ten minutes, so be quick."
More than ten minutes later, Tess reappeared, wearing a long black gown. She hadn't bothered to change her hair or her necklace, but she'd added earrings and a silver and fake-sapphire broach than replaced the glasses as a camera. The straps were ties; the broach was over her left breast and she had put several heavy silver bangles on her right wrist to balance the look.
The first thing she did was report to Carlos, certain that if she didn't, that there would be consequences. And she was getting sick of those.
"Perdon," she murmured, interrupting a conversation between Carlos and four other men – leaders of very minor cartels if she had to guess. Or perhaps of major gangs in Guadalajara. The only difference between the two was the amount of money that flowed in and out.
"Ah, Teresa. I see that you have now had time to clean up from your many preparations today. Tell me, when do you expect your supplies?"
"Thursday," she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast. With the abundance of prostitutes and the lack of introductions, she thought it'd be safest not to seem too forward.
"Good. Now, let me make some introductions." Taking her hand in one of his, he gestured towards his audience with the other. "Teresa, these upstanding gentlemen are señores Alvarez, Crespo, Soler, and Heston. Gentlemen, this is my prima, Teresa Barillo, the last surviving member of the Barillo dynasty."
"Encantado de conocerle, mucho gusto," she murmured, nodding to each man in turn, but she paid the most attention to the Mr. Heston. The American. The odd man out. I wonder why he's here. He was in his fifties, with graying blonde hair and attentive eyes the light color of the sky at sunset.
Her cousin must have noticed her curiosity. "Perhaps you'd be interested to know that señor Heston is an attaché to the American consulate in Mexico City." Carlos' voice was bland, but his eyes were sharp. It appeared that for some reason, he expected this news to disconcerting her, and it was, but Tess had more experience in hiding her feelings than to let any alarm show in front of so many.
"This seems to be an odd place for you to dine then, señor Heston," Tess replied, her voice showing no more than mild interest when in fact she was wondering just how many crooked agents the US government had down here. "Are you a diplomat?"
"DEA. However, it seems that your cousin and I have the same attitude towards government paychecks and government pensions."
Not to mention honor. "I take it that means that if you decide to take a stroll in the gardens later, you won't be looking for marijuana amongst the floribunda."
This remark was met with soft laughter. "I think you were telling the truth earlier about the truth about the young lady," Heston said with a short bow. "But a surprise to find a dry wit to go with her soft tongue." Straightening, he continued, "I ask your permission to steal the young lady from you. It would please me to no end if I could actually follow the conversation." At Tessa's raised eyebrow he explained, "I might be an American attaché in Mexico, but I can't say I've had any luck with the language."
Carlos observed them both closely, but he apparently had no objections. He gave his blessings to the dinner paring, then pulled Tess away to meet and greet more of the guests. Of Neva and Juarez, there was no sign.
"So, what did you think, querida?"
"About what?" Tess sighed, sinking down into the nearest armchair. Dinner had been a long and drawn out affair, made extremely tedious by polite small-talk and a shocking lack of shop talk. If there had been a reason for sitting through it all, she might have been a bit more gracious, but there hadn't been. One might think that Carlos had just wanted to throw a dinner party for his closest cronies. Tess refused to believe that. Especially since she'd learned that all those present at the dinner had been invited to stay for the next two weeks. Carlos was planning something.
"About our guests. Did you observe anything that would make you believe that any of them are untrustworthy?"
"You mean other than their careers? I have to admit that I find it hard to trust gangbangers, turncoats, and double agents."
Carlos looked at her as if she were nuts. "When did you turn so respectable?"
"I don't know. Perhaps I'm just adverse to trusting mercenaries."
"I don't trust them either," Carlos replied as he lit a cigar, a smug look on his face. "That's why I'm paying each of them a small fortune while I also keep track of their families." Tess had been unprepared for that remark, so she was unable to keep the look of utter distaste from her countenance. Carlos caught it; for some reason he laughed. "What is it, mi nessita? Surprised you, did I?"
My little fool. Of course she was. She'd know – someplace she'd known – that her cousin could be ruthless. A cartel leader had to be merciless to be effective, and she'd already witnessed that side of him firsthand. But threatening innocents? Was she a party to this?
"Do they know?" she asked softly.
"They should. It's not anything they wouldn't do themselves." Carlos puffed away contentedly. "And before your gentle heart starts bleeding, remember that the Merídas have already tried the same thing. With you. Tea?"
"Uh. . ." The change of subject confused her. "Uh . . . no thank you. I'd actually like to go to bed now. I've had a long day." She started to stand up, but Carlos pushed her back down with a hand on her shoulder.
"I'll let you go soon, bastante, but we have a few things to settle first." He glanced at his watched. "Now, where's Neva? How long does it take to –"
"Longer than it takes you, I'm sure." This sly declaration came from Neva, who'd just entered the room.
"You look remarkably like the cat who got the cream," Carlos implied, looking pleased.
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose I did." She straightened her collar which had been hanging askew. "Just give me a few more days and I think we'll know if Juarez is involved with the Merídas or not. These arms dealers are cunning and smooth, but not particularly smart."
"I have every confidence in your acting abilities, mi zorrita."
Tess felt sick. Using your body for such intimate yet utterly meaningless and mercenary purposes disgusted her. Using sex as a means to ensure loyalty –
That's not what you were saying a few hours ago. . . The rebuke was nothing more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Tess blush profusely and defend herself.
Yes, but at least there's some sort of . . . empathy between us. Not like –
"Aww . . . I think we just embarrassed the little virgin." Tessa's eyes snapped up from her lap and focused on Neva, taking in the obvious dare of her words and stance. Not to mention the blatant disregard on her face. "That's why you're not on cogida duty," she continued smugly. "Not to mention Carlos is a possessive son of a bitch."
"That will be enough, Neva," Carlos commanded, his own cheeks glowing a shade of dusky red. "Save the pillow talk for the bedroom and give me your impressions of our other guests."
It was after midnight when Tess was finally allowed to retire. Her body was exhausted, and her mind as sluggish from the meds still, but she couldn't even contemplate looking at the bed. It was too big; both she and her thoughts would get lost in it. And she so desperately needed to think while she still had a silent mind.
Why am I here? she asked herself as she began to pace. Not how am I here, but why? What am I trying to do? What's my objective?
Her wandering feet led her to the waste basket, and her restless hands started gathering harmless clutter; a pencil, a hair clip, a scrap of a to-do list, a tube of lip stick, a pack of matches – they were all thrown away in the same unfeeling manner as she concentrated on making her thoughts flow.
My objective is . . . A water bottle, CD, and nail clippers all fell into the trash can. My objective is to stop my family from hurting others. From becoming too powerful. That has always been my goal. Dixie cup, compact, notebook. Father is dead. Ajedrez is dead. They are no longer a threat. She set the now full waste basket down and wandered over to her dresser. Carlos is still a threat. Neva is still a threat. She pulled a drawer open and moved aside some papers. All her clothes hung in the closet, but this drawer had all the papers and files she wanted to keep . . . and an unused gift from Carlos. A handgun, never fired.
What must I do to go home? she asked, almost mesmerized by the sight of reflections dancing up and down the barrel of the weapon.
"End the threat." The answer was a mere whisper, matched by the slow, gentle motion of her hand as she reached out and gripped the handle. The weight of the small firearm was shocking and comforting at the same time; grounding almost. "To go home, I must end the threat."
-Knock, knock, knock- Quiet though it was, the knock at the door started Tess. She dropped the gun as her hands opened in surprise, but she caught it before it could hit the floor. That wouldn't be good; she couldn't remember if the safety was on or not. "Teresa? I know you're not asleep – the light from your room is shining under the door."
"Carlos –" Just a shot. Neva would come running. Another shot. Others would come. She'd tell them Neva had challenged Carlos for control. With the brand of citizen here, they'd believe her. And then they'd take off to start planning how to take over the former Barillo territory.
It wasn't something that any of them hadn't already considered.
"Just one shot," she murmured. "Get started, go home."
There was another knock, more impatient this time. "Teresa, are you going to let me in, or are you pouting?"
Tess opened her mouth, ready to let Carlos in, but her throat was too dry. She worked her mouth furiously, trying to create some moisture. The gun raised to point at the door as she swallowed hard. "Co– "
-Ring!-
What?
-Ring!-
The sound of the phone was distracting her.
-Ring!-
If she didn't answer . . . .
"J-Just a moment," she called as she moved across the room as if against a current. Holding the gun in her left hand, she picked up her cell phone in her right. "H-Hello?"
"Damnit, Tessa. If we wanted an assassination, we would have sent in someone trained for it."
"S-Sands?" Her nerves were shot to hell. Cold-blooded murder was harder than it looked.
"You going to go back to your kids and tell them you're a murderer, custida? I mean, I know how much you enjoy death, but is this really the way you want to go?" Sands' voice was dry and critical. Not to mention deadly serious.
"I want to go home," she agreed softly.
"Not like this, you don't," he contradicted. "Put the gun away."
"Gun?"
"I'm not blind anymore, niña, so don't play stupid. You're still wearing your broach. I can see the gun in your hand." Tess looked down and saw he was right.
"How much longer?" she suddenly asked, lowering the weapon so the muzzle pointed towards the floor.
Sands didn't pretend not to understand. "If your loving cousin was telling the truth? Two weeks. Just don't do anything stupid."
I can manage that. I think. "Put the gun away?"
"Yeah . . . put the gun away." His voice was very quiet, very weary. Tess could see him sitting in a dark room, cell phone to his ear, lit cigarette in one hand and his glasses on his face. She wondered what he looked like without contacts.
"Okay. Good-night, Giovanni."
"What?"
"Sands. Good-night, Sands." Tess hung up, leaving Sands feeling very peculiar and very empty.
Carlos was getting concerned by the time Tess actually got around to answering the door. He had to admit that he'd hoped that her visit to town would help calm her … make her more open to his cautious advances, but the opposite had happened. She was even more skittish now.
Well, nothing risked, nothing earned. He'd give Tess her head, but he was going to keep reminding her that he was always close.
However, the woman who answered the door didn't look like she needed the reminder. She was pale, haggard, and trembling.
"Querida, what's wrong?"
"I . . . uh . . . if you can't get rid of the family skeleton, you might as well make it dance." She was wringing her hands.
"What?"
Sands wouldn't ask that. Wait. Bad thought. Don't think that way. "It's uh, it's nothing. Bad dreams – bad memories – dancing a jig through my mind."
She wasn't making much sense. "You're exhausted," he pronounced. Tess wasn't impressed; she looked at him askance, as if he'd been dimwitted to say that. "Alright, forget it. Did I wake you?"
From sleep? From insane thought? "No. I was just out of it." Wrong thing to say! "Dozing," she corrected herself. "You know how it is."
"Well, you should do more than simply doze." He sighed regretfully. "Get some sleep. We've bust days ahead if we're to coordinate everything to our advantage."
Of course. "What about my trip to Zacatecas tomorrow –" Carlos frowned so deeply that she simply stopped.
"No. Absolutely not. It's not safe."
"But I need –"
He grabbed her chin before she could finish her protest. Her mouth snapped shut painfully even as her face was pulled up so he could match her glare for glare. "Order what you need from somewhere else, or send men out to get it. Zacatecas isn't safe. Hell, Guadalupe isn't even safe."
"So I'm a prisoner now –" Carlos tightened his grip, once again cutting off her words.
"You're mine to keep safe," he corrected. "It's what uncle would have wanted."
The barb hit its intended mark; Tess paled dramatically and sagged in his grip, but she didn't back down.
"What Father wanted is irrelevant. I'm a woman grown, Carlos. I've learned how to take care of myself." Not to mention the pack of Feds watching my back. "I've learned how to make my own choices. You don't have to bully me into doing what you want me to do."
If his words had reminded Tess of her position within the family, then hers were meant to remind him that she was only here because she chose to be. But his grip still didn't loosen, and she had to fight from physically prying his hand away. That would just be an admittance of how much she disliked his treatment of her. That it had the ability to disturb her. To keep this from being a weapon, she couldn't react.
"I'm not yours, Carlos. And I never will be if you keep doing this. I learned to dislike abuse as a child."
The words were an equivalent of a slap to the face or a bucket of icy water; Carlos' hand dropped back down to his side and Tess fought to keep from backing away. It was enough that she stood on one side of the doorway, and he in the other.
He was the one to finally clear his throat and break the tableau. "I'm sorry."
She remained silent, thinking, You always are. At least you're better than Father in that way.
"You have thought about what I said this morning?"
And everything that's been said since. She responded to his words with an impassive stare.
"I see . . ." he murmured. "Then you have made a decision?"
Yes. But it doesn't concern you. Sands had advised her not to let Carlos know he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. That would only make him more likely to listen to Neva's suspicions. So aloud she said, "No. I haven't."
"But you are considering it." Carlos' face was a perfect poker mask. She had no idea what he was thinking, and that in itself let her know that she probably didn't want to.
"I . . . I am not saying no." There! There it was! The briefest flash of triumph had lit in his eyes, only to be extinguished. Tess only grew more nervous. Especially when he bowed to her.
"Sleep well, Teresa."
"Y tú," she murmured, finally reaching for the door with the intent to close it in his face. This conversation had gone on for far too long, and she couldn't take any more of it without declaring that she already had a lover and was in no way ready to commit her life to a person she thought of as being as closely related as a factual blood-cousin. She didn't think that would go over well.
He inclined his head, then turned and walked off down the corridor. She watched him leave, ducking inside her room when his bodyguards came to meet him and he looked over his shoulder. For the space of a few seconds she leaned against the wall and listened, wanting to know if he was coming back or not, but she heard nothing more than crickets outside her window, and the rustle of new leaves on the trees in the courtyard.
Are they gone? Or are they still there? Straining her ears, she finally heard well-shod footsteps retreating down the corridor. Silence once again reigned in the rarely-visited wing where the infirmary was and where she stayed.
Letting out a soft sigh of relief, she closed her door and locked it. Not wasting another moment, she retrieved a pill bottle from the medicine cabinet in her office and took one of the sleeping pills it contained. Shaking her head and rubbing her temples, Tess went back into her bedroom and climbed under the down duvet on her bed.
She'd thought enough for one night, and it'd done nothing but get her into trouble. Better to face temporary oblivion.
"Buena noche," she murmured to the shadows dancing on her walls. "Goodnight stars, goodnight air. Goodnight voices everywhere."
Goodnight noises everywhere.
Whatever.
Another dinner party, Tess signed, thoroughly sick of having to put on a nightly – and daily – performance for the sake of Carlos' plans. But at the same time, she remembered that each day of acting brought her a day closer to going home. Back to her life where the only thing she was truly responsible for was herself.
The voice had been right all those weeks ago when it'd said that Cora was more of a mother to her orphans than she was. Sure, Tess could bandage skinned knees, help with homework, read bedtime stories, etc., but Cora was the one who saw off and greeted home children every day. She was the one who chauffeured more often than not. She was the one who cleaned, and cooked, and packed lunches. . .
That should be a relief, she sternly told her reflection in the mirror. That someone is around to care for them. They don't need me as a mother.
But you want to be one. . .
Ridiculous. What do I know of being a mother? Jack squat, that was what. She'd never even met her own mother – not that she now had a desire to – and the only feminine parental unit she'd ever seen in action had been grossly ineffective.
Then –
– stop whining. Yes, I know. She surveyed herself critically in the mirror.
I don't think there's anything wrong with you that sleep won't fix. Sleep – and go ahead and call me crazy – and perhaps eating.
Why can't you be like other voices and just be paranoid? Or even delusional for that matter.
Fine. God told me that he wants you to suck it up and eat. Was that better?
Shut up. Tess sighed again and left her room.
Carlos intercepted her on the way down the stairs. He'd been extremely solicitous since their last argument, apparently trying to prove to her that he would be better as an ally – or husband – than an enemy. Tess wasn't the least bit convinced. As far as she was concerned, the two were the same thing.
"You're not eating."
"What?" This was so far from what she'd been expecting from him that she was thrown for a loop.
"You've lost weight. That dress used to actually fit you."
Crap. How was she supposed to explain that she couldn't eat most of the fancy, calorie-ridden foods that he liked to see on his table? (She was ignoring for the moment his criticism of how she was dressed.) He'd ask why not, and that would lead to explanations she wanted – needed – to avoid. But he was waiting for one nonetheless.
I guess I've been so busy that I've skipped a few meals now and then."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the issue either.
Dinner proceeded in much the same way that it normally did, with the exception that Mr. I'm-a-crooked-DEA-agent Heston had left the compound that morning to return to the embassy in Mexico City. She hoped Sands had checked that man out.
But then again, your Agent Sands is used to playing both sides of the line himself. He might show mercy to a fellow turncoat.
Tess turned her attention to her salad and the quiet conversation buzzing around the room like lazy flies. If she concentrated really hard, she could almost see the words hovering like verbal fog over the diners.
You know its true.
I don't care.
Why? The question was loaded with wager anticipation and shadows of disapproval.
Tess hesitated before answering. Because it doesn't concern me. Now let me eat. Carlos is already suspicious. Tonight, in the absence of Mr. Heston, she was seated next to her cousin, and although he was in the midst of some rallying speech about their triumph over the Merídas five days hence, he still was managing to keep an eye on her.
To her great surprise though, the meal was largely things she could eat with a clear conscience. Small green peppers stuffed with cream cheese, rice, beans, fry bread, and pibil. It was a simple meal, much the same as she could remember eating as a very young child. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to find Carlos watching her as he spoke to the man on her other side.
He's wooing you.
It doesn't matter.
You should stay.
I'm not going to. Ripping off a piece of her fry bread, she scooped up come salsa verde and ate it happily. For the moment she was hungry, her defenses were down so stress wouldn't steal her appetite, and she wanted to eat. The bread had a nutty taste that she tried to place, but eventually gave up on. It was too faint for her to be able to name.
The topic of conversation moved from the upcoming take-over to Brazilian cocaine runners who were absorbing cartels and gangs along the Gulf. One of the men at the table had "business" concerns in that region and was prophesizing that the Brazilian drogue corredores would soon put a major dent in marijuana production in that area. Talk turned to what could be done about that – not immediately, but for plans to be put into action by the end of the year. After all, with the influence they were about to gain, they'd be able to deal with the threat. None of them questioned that they would win.
Tess wondered if they ever considered that anyone else would take advantage of the hell that was going to be raised. The entire populations of at least two provinces had to know what was about to go down, not to mention other cartels, gangs, Mexican government officials, the AFN, and of course, certain branches of the American government.
But then again, it's best that they don't suspect anyone else is going to come in and clear both parties out. The US was going to handle the Barillo contingent – for their part in the attempted death of a US government officer – and the Mexican AFN was going to take the Merídas. If Carlos or Neva suspected there was more going on than they had planned for . . .
"Señor Juarez, are you feeling alright?" The sounds of someone coughing heavily made Tess look up from the pork she'd been staring at. Juarez – inseparable at Neva's side as always – was reaching for a glass of water with a hand that trembled from the force of his coughs. Neva was the one who'd asked the question, but she looked totally unconcerned.
Juarez shook his head, and drank from the glass; water dribbled down the front of his shirt. Tess noted with some alarm that he was having trouble breathing and that his lips and the skin under his fingernails was turning blue. Without a second thought, she stood, ready to go help –
– and Carlos jerked her back down into her seat.
Alarmed, Tess turned to him and tried to free herself. "Carlos, he's having an allergic reaction or something – "
"You will take your seat and keep it." His voice was low, but it carried down the length of the table.
"He might die," she said angrily, her fingers working to pry his from her arm.
"That's the idea, ratón." Neva looked very much like a satisfied snake for some reason. Over the muttered words of unrest coming from the other diners, she informed everyone, "Juarez was supplying the Merídas with weapons, just as he was us. Hedging his bets so that no matter who won, he'd still have regular – and big – customers." She smirked. "Too bad he also let slip that he has a problem with peanuts."
The faces of those around the table went hard and their soft protests stopped while Juarez's face when red and he started gasping for breath.
"Stop this!" Tess yelled, trying to stand again. Carlos simply stood with her and then pulled her against his body, where he wrapped both arms around her to impede her struggles.
"He betrayed us, Teresa," he whispered in her ear. "This is what he earned. This is what all traitors earn. You know that. Father taught that to you just as he did to the rest of us."
"But –"
"But nothing." Juarez was going glassy-eyed. "He knew too much about our plans. We couldn't let him leave. And his death will serve as a warning to the rest of the people around the table. Besides, we've already received our supplies from him. He was expendable."
"No one is – "
"Everyone is expendable," he hissed. "Now stop disobeying me before I start to believe Neva when she say that you're expendable."
Tess stopped struggling, although there was nothing she could do to still her struggles. Carlos let her go with one last warning look, then turned to his guests.
"I propose we move to another room for brandy and cigars." There were murmurs of approval this time as the men all dismissed themselves. "Teresa, you will stay behind with Neva and record señor Juarez's time of death." He left the room.
Tess stood by her chair, still longing to do something to help the man. He was a cretin, and too charming for his own good, and perhaps underhanded, but so what? He was still alive. She could still save him. But Neva sat in her chair next to the man and polished her handgun with the napkin she'd plucked from Juarez's lap. She looked up at Tess and said, "You're lucky you're not joining him."
This is bad.
No shit. Neva was dressed in black tonight, and Tess now knew why. Tonight she wasn't just Carlos' sister and chief of security. Tonight she was an assassin too.
Swallowing, she asked the question she knew she was supposed to. "Why?"
"I don't trust you, prima." The word had more than its fair share of mockery in it. "You were never one to be party to something like this. You were the little do-gooder, the rebel. The weak one. I don't care what you've said, or how you've behaved – you're not here to help. And as soon as I can prove it, it'll be you in that chair."
Tess looked at Juarez just as his chest deflated. She waited for him to breath again, but he didn't. She waited longer. Nothing.
In a daze she slowly walked towards the corpse. Her job had been given to her – ensure that Juarez was really dead. Her fingers found his pulse, and she felt a thrill of hope when there was something there. It was faint and erratic, but his heart hadn't stopped yet. If she could just –
"Is he dead yet?" Neva inquired indolently.
"No. I could – " Her words were cut off by the sharp report of a gunshot. She stepped back as blood splattered over her hand. Stunned, she looked to her cousin.
"He was taking too long," she said offhandedly. "Let's go. I'll make sure someone comes in here and cleans up the mess."
It was after midnight when Tess snuck out of the house. After leaving the dining room, she'd reported to Carlos that Juarez was dead. He'd nodded, not particularly caring, and carried on a conversation with another man about Cuban cigars. Disgusted, Tess had gone back to her room, and taken an hour-long bath, scrubbing at the hand that had been splattered with Juarez's blood.
That had been hours ago, and she couldn't relax. Neva's little warning had put her too on edge. Neva was too close to finding the truth, and if she did, it'd mean Tessa's life. And she didn't want to die.
Idiot, her voice seethed as she went downstairs and outside, walking to the garage. This isn't going to do anything to allay any suspicions.
I'm just going to go for a drive. I have to. I can either clean until there's nothing left in my room, go for a drive, or explode. Those are your choices.
You're not going for a drive. You're going to see him.
What if I am? Do you honestly think anyone is going to notice that I'm gone? I'll be back before it gets light.She nodded to the man responsible for guarding the cars, and he let her by. Apparently Carlos hadn't actually enforced his threat to keep her under house-arrest. That was good. If he wants me to keep helping, he'll help me calm down. He doesn't have a choice either.
" – show signs of second-thoughts. Apparently Juarez served his purpose as a warning. The rest follow DeSilva, and he's determined to be the one you put in charge of Jalisco province."
Carlos nodded as Neva gave him her impressions of how the evening had went. "I'll have to think about that. DeSilva is ruthless, but he also has ambitions. I'd have to either be sure of him, or place one of my own men in his network."
"That'd be smart anyway. You should have spies with all your men."
"It's spendy," Carlos murmured, but he nodded anyway. "It's spendy but I'll soon have the money anyway." He wearily paced back and forth in his office; it was late and he wanted to go to bed. "Tell me, how did –" He was interrupted by the sound of a car starting.
"I told you she'd leave," Neva murmured, going to stand at the window.
"You have someone ready to follow her?" He was displeased that it was necessary, but even he could see that her behavior was suspicious. It could be nothing, but the risk was too great. He had to know.
"Yeah. I've got Hector on it. All those years working covert operations comes in handy at times. He'll report to me when she comes back."
"I'll expect a full report after breakfast. Have Hector there if you have to."
"And if I'm right about her? Are you going to do what you have to?"
Carlos shook his head. "No. Not yet. First we'll remove every single support she has outside of the family and see if that makes a difference. But if we can't break her, it may come to that."
" – I'm sorry but you can't go in there –"
Tess brushed past the agent that was voicing the protest. He tried to stop her; she twirled and broke his nose. Her life was in danger, so she didn't give a damn what the rules were. She was going to see Sands.
Other agents came rushing out of a room when they heard the commotion. Two of them managed to catch Tessa's arms, and she found herself trapped. Everywhere I go I'm trapped, she thought, still trying to free herself. There was a satisfying crunch as she stomped on a bare foot, but another agent came forward to restrain her before she could break free.
"Hold her," someone commanded, coming forward. It was the doctor who'd treated her the last time Tess had come here. She had a syringe in her hand.
"No!" Tess yelled, fighting wildly now. "I'm not crazy so just back the hell off." Her protests were ignored. "Stop!"
The door to Sands' room flew open, revealing a very sleepy, very disheveled, and very unhappy agent. Everyone froze as he surveyed the scene in the hallway; his eyes finally landed on Tessa and he raised one sardonic eyebrow in enquiry.
"When men gather for battle,/ravens fill the skies,/and wait to sup on war spilled-blood/and feast upon men's eyes," she said, trying not to pant.
"Teresa. . ." he said warningly, glancing towards agent Maddox. It was clear that he'd have her drugged unless she proved that she wasn't raving.
"I just had my life threatened," she said. "What were you expecting me to do?"
Sands nodded, and then caught the eyes of the men holding her. She found herself released a mere second later. Rubbing her arms where they'd been held, she allowed Sands to usher her into his room.
He closed the door behind them, ignoring the looks of his agents. "Chica, I've threatened your life before and I've never seen you act like this."
"But you didn't mean it. And the few times you did, you didn't really have the means, now did you?" she asked. "I can't say the same for that pack of murderers I'm living with."
Sands shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Keep me safe!
Her silent plea wasn't heard though. "You've been there for months. Don't tell me now that you can't last four more days."
I'm scared!
He doesn't care.
"Don't make me go back tonight," she whispered.
"And just where do you expect me to keep you?"
Instead of answering, Tess walked forward a few steps until she could rest her palms against his bare chest. "Don't make me go back tonight," she repeated, looking up to meet his eyes. The room was dark and she couldn't see if he was wearing his contacts or not, but it didn't matter at the moment.
He sighed, but his own hands came up to rest on her shoulders. "You're playing a dangerous game, niña."
Everything is dangerous. She leaned forward until their chests were lightly pressed together. "Don't make me leave."
The third time was obviously charmed.
The man sitting outside the apartment complex on a motorcycle was not. He was too busy taking notes.
Quotes: George Bernard Shaw; Margaret Wise Brown; Holly Lisle
Author Thanks: first, thanks to normal human being (once the story is done, I'm more than willing to hand Carlos over to you to do with what you will. And yes, you can also smack Sands once the story is done. Don't worry about ranting – it's fun to read. And amusement makes me write faster. ; ) So get to it.); Raven (Tess is just a bit unlucky when it comes to men. I wonder who's to blame for that. looks angelic I had to let Tess and Sands come to some sort of understanding eventually. No relationship stays static without dying, and that's certainly not what I wanted. Unfortunately, some relationships are also built on lies . . . although that's one thing that can eventually be solved. And Sands may perhaps be a little jealous. rolls eyes at the vast understatement Carlos is a fun guy to write. He's the guy next door that grew up to the girl next door…and her father. They're family, but not related. He knows that she understands the life she has to live, but he can't understand the one she wants to live. It's so much fun. Eventually I was going to have to rip Sands' control away, because that's when he truly started to shine in OUATIM. As a cell-phone addicted manipulator, he was a jerk. As a blind pistolero, he was almost likeable – although Chicle boy had a lot to do with that.); Dreamgirl21147 (Are you hurt? Did you fall out of your chair? Thank you so much for the compliments and I'm sorry for taking so long. I hope this chapter made up for it.); Shannon (I try to use a bit of variety in my quotes, and then I remembered that Sands was a little hooked on F&L while he was medicated in the last story, so I decided that Tess had heard it so many times that she'd have bit memorized, so there we are. I'm glad you're finding that I'm managing to keep Sands in character. That's one of my biggest concerns while writing. As for Tessa's babies ….. I'll leave that one alone for the time being.); Merrie (again I update while you're gone. Seems like I'm not the only one that's distracting. Perhaps you'll get a lot of your own stories written while I'm gone. ; ) As for Carlos – oh good! You hate him! : D I've never really written a villain before, so I'm glad this one is good. The angst here is all your fault, I'm sure. I never wrote angst – or at least not a lot – before I "met" you.); Kontara (can't have the two leads getting together too soon. That would be anticlimactic. I'm very glad you liked the last chapter, and I hope you liked this one.); SS (should I ever have books for sale, I'm sure I'll post on JA, and you'll see it. ; ) And this chapter might eventually have extra bits, but I want to get a chapter of FS out before I leave.); C.J. Davis (I'm glad you're still reading! I'm also glad that you're still enjoying it and that I'm managing to entertain you.)
