Estrella stood at a window, looking out over the beautifully kept
gardens of the Oro del Sol. Tiny frogs sang in the trees, and the stars
and moon bathed the whole scene in a gentle, silvery glow as a cool breeze
made the gauzy curtains over the window shift like restless spirits.
Behind her, a door slammed, and footsteps sounded on the tiled floor of the suite. "Do you have the details you wanted?" she inquired, not turning around.
"Oh yeah," said Sands smugly. "I'm just so glad I signed on with this little venture," he told her, wicked amusement in his tone. "It's going to be so entertaining."
"Then I'm happy you're finally having some fun," Estrella drawled. "Now, about those details..."
"Fine, fine," said Sands, throwing himself down on the bed without bothering to take off his boots first, much to her annoyance. "What do you want to know?"
"For starters, where are we going, exactly?" Estrella asked, also sitting down on the bed and drawing her long legs up to her chest.
"Marisa Barillo has moved her cartel's headquarters out of Cancun, and fairly recently, from what I gathered," he told her. "She's set up shop out in the jungle a good distance away from any major cities or towns. The property consists mostly of a large house, various storage buildings, and private airstrip."
"A private airstrip?" Estrella repeated, frowning at the agent slightly. "How big are we talking?"
"Fairly small," he replied. "I doubt it could handle much more than some of these little single-engine jobs you sometimes see in private hands. The setup of the whole place is fairly odd actually. It's in three completely separate sections, each connected to the next by this little unpaved service road, which is the only access to the whole property, short of flying in. Someone driving on that road would reach the house first, then the storage units, then the airstrip, with about two minutes of driving at a decent speed between each."
"How far are they off any of the major roads?" Estrella asked.
"Half an hour's drive, maybe," said Sands slowly. "But of course the road in is well-watched."
"Of course," Estrella murmured, considering their options. "Just how does Guerro plan on dealing with that?"
Sands grimaced. "Marisa is fond of horseback riding, and apparently there's a whole mess of trails cut through the woods surrounding the property." He paused significantly. "Miles of trails, as it happens."
"Oh my Christ", Estrella growled, borrowing one of Sands' pet phrases. "Let me guess. He expects the whole assault force to ship out to the main road, get out of our vehicles like good little children, cut our way through to one of those bridle paths, then march up to the house, single-file like beads on a string, and either take or destroy it."
Sands sat for a moment, expressionless, waiting to see if she'd finished her summary. Noting that she had, he waited another beat, then smiled and said, "Actually, we'll be sending part of the bead string around on yet more trails to secure the airstrip and hangar while the rest of us take the house. The plan was to then meet them halfway at the storage units, which Guerro wants burned to the ground. But otherwise, yeah, you had it essentially right."
"Cute," she grumbled. "Really cute."
"Of course," said Sands with a mocking little half-bow, "Both Guerro and I are open to better suggestions."
Estrella completely wasted a glare on him.
"You know," said Sands thoughtfully after a moment, "Guerro didn't seem all that surprised at your demand to come along."
"He knew they have El and he knows that El and I are friends," Estrella pointed out with a touch of impatience. "Two and two really do add up to four occasionally, Sands."
His head came up a little at that. "But then why didn't you mention El in your request to come along with us?"
Estrella said nothing.
"You knew," Sands accused quietly. "You knew all along why they wanted to talk to me. You knew Guerro was planning this attack. You knew, and you didn't tell me."
"It was part of my agreement with Guerro," she muttered. "And I didn't have details. All I knew was that he was planning some kind of assault on the Barillos, and that you were going to be involved somehow."
"So I was your ticket in," Sands supplied, his tone flat. "My capture and delivery put you in the right place at the right time, to hear the right conversation, and to make Guerro grateful enough to let you into his plan." He paused, then said, "I guess I only have one question, really. Why?"
"Revenge," she told him softly. "The Barillos betrayed me. They sent their killers after me. I've been running from them for a long time." Her voice hardened. "I'm not going to run anymore."
Sands was silent.
Without a word Estrella got up, padded silently across the tiled floor in her bare feet, and turned out the lights with a tiny click.
Behind her, Sands swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reached down, and pulled off his boots. He unfastened the gun belt around his hips and draped it carefully over the headboard, within easy reach.
She walked back over to the bed and draped her own gun belt across the opposite corner of the headboard, then slid under the sheets, shivering a little ('What is it with hotel rooms and cold sheets?'). Without a word he moved over to make a space for her, more than was necessary. He paused a moment, then deliberately turned his back to her and lay down.
Remembering something, she reached up with one hand, drew one of her own guns, and slid it under her pillow, the gun belt tapping against the wooden headboard ever so slightly.
"Any of those bullets meant for me?" Sands drawled suddenly, making her jump.
"Of course not," she said sharply. "I don't want you dead. One would think you would've figured that out by now."
"Would I?" he retorted, still with his back to her.
"I saved your life," she pointed out quietly. "More than once."
"For money," he argued. "There's a big difference between keeping merchandise alive and saving the life of, say, a friend. You sold me to a drug cartel."
"I knew you wouldn't be hurt," she reminded him, wishing she could see his face.
"But did it matter to you?" he shot back. "Would it have mattered if they had wanted to kill me?"
"I..."
"Well?"
Estrella bit her lip, then answered quietly, "It would have. If I knew they were going to kill you, I don't think I could've turned you over to them."
"And why is that?" Sands inquired coolly. "And don't waste my time by saying you think you love me or any shit like that. Your sleeping with me was a way to ensure that I wouldn't leave you right away, nothing more."
"Then what am I supposed to say?" she asked frankly.
"Well," he said slowly, "I guess, for now, you could just plead unexpected emergence of conscience. Not particularly inspired, I suppose, but at least somewhat feasible."
"Alright," Estrella agreed. "Sure. If that's what you want."
"And now," he concluded, making a show of shifting into a more comfortable position, "If you don't mind, I'm going to try and get some fucking sleep. Big day tomorrow and all that."
As she drifted into the darkness of sleep, Estrella smiled a little and thought at the agent, 'Fine, then. I don't love you, but... I think I could get used to having you around.'
Behind her, a door slammed, and footsteps sounded on the tiled floor of the suite. "Do you have the details you wanted?" she inquired, not turning around.
"Oh yeah," said Sands smugly. "I'm just so glad I signed on with this little venture," he told her, wicked amusement in his tone. "It's going to be so entertaining."
"Then I'm happy you're finally having some fun," Estrella drawled. "Now, about those details..."
"Fine, fine," said Sands, throwing himself down on the bed without bothering to take off his boots first, much to her annoyance. "What do you want to know?"
"For starters, where are we going, exactly?" Estrella asked, also sitting down on the bed and drawing her long legs up to her chest.
"Marisa Barillo has moved her cartel's headquarters out of Cancun, and fairly recently, from what I gathered," he told her. "She's set up shop out in the jungle a good distance away from any major cities or towns. The property consists mostly of a large house, various storage buildings, and private airstrip."
"A private airstrip?" Estrella repeated, frowning at the agent slightly. "How big are we talking?"
"Fairly small," he replied. "I doubt it could handle much more than some of these little single-engine jobs you sometimes see in private hands. The setup of the whole place is fairly odd actually. It's in three completely separate sections, each connected to the next by this little unpaved service road, which is the only access to the whole property, short of flying in. Someone driving on that road would reach the house first, then the storage units, then the airstrip, with about two minutes of driving at a decent speed between each."
"How far are they off any of the major roads?" Estrella asked.
"Half an hour's drive, maybe," said Sands slowly. "But of course the road in is well-watched."
"Of course," Estrella murmured, considering their options. "Just how does Guerro plan on dealing with that?"
Sands grimaced. "Marisa is fond of horseback riding, and apparently there's a whole mess of trails cut through the woods surrounding the property." He paused significantly. "Miles of trails, as it happens."
"Oh my Christ", Estrella growled, borrowing one of Sands' pet phrases. "Let me guess. He expects the whole assault force to ship out to the main road, get out of our vehicles like good little children, cut our way through to one of those bridle paths, then march up to the house, single-file like beads on a string, and either take or destroy it."
Sands sat for a moment, expressionless, waiting to see if she'd finished her summary. Noting that she had, he waited another beat, then smiled and said, "Actually, we'll be sending part of the bead string around on yet more trails to secure the airstrip and hangar while the rest of us take the house. The plan was to then meet them halfway at the storage units, which Guerro wants burned to the ground. But otherwise, yeah, you had it essentially right."
"Cute," she grumbled. "Really cute."
"Of course," said Sands with a mocking little half-bow, "Both Guerro and I are open to better suggestions."
Estrella completely wasted a glare on him.
"You know," said Sands thoughtfully after a moment, "Guerro didn't seem all that surprised at your demand to come along."
"He knew they have El and he knows that El and I are friends," Estrella pointed out with a touch of impatience. "Two and two really do add up to four occasionally, Sands."
His head came up a little at that. "But then why didn't you mention El in your request to come along with us?"
Estrella said nothing.
"You knew," Sands accused quietly. "You knew all along why they wanted to talk to me. You knew Guerro was planning this attack. You knew, and you didn't tell me."
"It was part of my agreement with Guerro," she muttered. "And I didn't have details. All I knew was that he was planning some kind of assault on the Barillos, and that you were going to be involved somehow."
"So I was your ticket in," Sands supplied, his tone flat. "My capture and delivery put you in the right place at the right time, to hear the right conversation, and to make Guerro grateful enough to let you into his plan." He paused, then said, "I guess I only have one question, really. Why?"
"Revenge," she told him softly. "The Barillos betrayed me. They sent their killers after me. I've been running from them for a long time." Her voice hardened. "I'm not going to run anymore."
Sands was silent.
Without a word Estrella got up, padded silently across the tiled floor in her bare feet, and turned out the lights with a tiny click.
Behind her, Sands swung his legs over the edge of the bed, reached down, and pulled off his boots. He unfastened the gun belt around his hips and draped it carefully over the headboard, within easy reach.
She walked back over to the bed and draped her own gun belt across the opposite corner of the headboard, then slid under the sheets, shivering a little ('What is it with hotel rooms and cold sheets?'). Without a word he moved over to make a space for her, more than was necessary. He paused a moment, then deliberately turned his back to her and lay down.
Remembering something, she reached up with one hand, drew one of her own guns, and slid it under her pillow, the gun belt tapping against the wooden headboard ever so slightly.
"Any of those bullets meant for me?" Sands drawled suddenly, making her jump.
"Of course not," she said sharply. "I don't want you dead. One would think you would've figured that out by now."
"Would I?" he retorted, still with his back to her.
"I saved your life," she pointed out quietly. "More than once."
"For money," he argued. "There's a big difference between keeping merchandise alive and saving the life of, say, a friend. You sold me to a drug cartel."
"I knew you wouldn't be hurt," she reminded him, wishing she could see his face.
"But did it matter to you?" he shot back. "Would it have mattered if they had wanted to kill me?"
"I..."
"Well?"
Estrella bit her lip, then answered quietly, "It would have. If I knew they were going to kill you, I don't think I could've turned you over to them."
"And why is that?" Sands inquired coolly. "And don't waste my time by saying you think you love me or any shit like that. Your sleeping with me was a way to ensure that I wouldn't leave you right away, nothing more."
"Then what am I supposed to say?" she asked frankly.
"Well," he said slowly, "I guess, for now, you could just plead unexpected emergence of conscience. Not particularly inspired, I suppose, but at least somewhat feasible."
"Alright," Estrella agreed. "Sure. If that's what you want."
"And now," he concluded, making a show of shifting into a more comfortable position, "If you don't mind, I'm going to try and get some fucking sleep. Big day tomorrow and all that."
As she drifted into the darkness of sleep, Estrella smiled a little and thought at the agent, 'Fine, then. I don't love you, but... I think I could get used to having you around.'