13. / Surreptitious Business

It's nearly midnight when Lisiado parks his vehicle well away from the main house and makes certain it's concealed and aimed for a fast departure. He checks the rounds in his gun as he cautiously approaches the house. Distant laughing and splashing come from the pool area; the party is still going on, by the sound of it.

The kitchen door is unlocked, and he enters quietly. Their wing is on the south side of the house, past the laundry area and sewing room. When he reaches his bedroom door, he finds it locked. He raps lightly against the wood with his knuckes. A touch on his shoulder makes him jump; he lowers the gun, heart pounding.

Dolores gives him a reproachful look. "I was in Ché's room," she whispers. "I didn't want to leave the door open in case one of them came in and saw all the luggage."

"There'd better not be too much," he warns as she jiggles the key in the knob. "I've only got a jeep, and it's not safe to make too many trips back and forth to the car."

She has a thermos of black coffee - hot and sweet - and a plateful of sandwiches waiting for him in the denuded bedroom. The leopard print sheets are gone, the bed is bare, and he wonders - but doesn't ask - what happened to the orchids.

"This is wonderful, thank you," he says through a mouthful of ham and cheese, realizing for the first time how hungry he is. It's been a long time since those tacos with Esteban - it's been a hell of a long day all the way around, come to think of it...he's been awake since four in the morning.

There are several black garbage bags in addition to luggage. They move the suitcases first. On the last trip with the trash bags, one of the night patrol catches Dolores. Lisiado waits at the jeep beyond a stand of oleanders, tensely fingering his gun as his wife chats with the man - who's obviously had a few drinks.

"I've been cleaning out Ché's room while he's gone," she explains, holding up the black plastic sack. "You know how it is with boys, they save every gum wrapper, so this is the perfect chance to get rid of all that junk he's had cluttering up the place."

As the man stumbles closer, Lisiado takes aim. He doesn't want to shoot the poor slob and bring down half the compound - or will it? Dolores said that they were firing guns off earlier. They may take it as more drunken exuberence. He's certainly not going to stand here and let this oaf molest his wife.

"You can come over and clean my room next," the man laughs. If he sets one paw on Dolores, he's a dead man, vows her husband.

"Not tonight," she says firmly. "I'm too tired."

"Me too," he yawns, staggering away. "I'm gonna find some place to take a nap."

Lisiado takes a deep breath, dropping the gun's muzzle at the ground and watching the guard's unsteady progress as Dolores stows the last of their possessions in the jeep. A nap? Lucky bastard. Nearing fifty, he tries to avoid twenty-hour days, and the five-hour drive from Culiacan hasn't helped. The strong coffee has numbed some of the fatigue, but he's thoroughly grimy and smells like a goat.

"I'm going to take a shower before I talk to Ernesto," he decides once they're safely back in the bedroom, hoping that will revive him further. He discards his gamy clothes, and to his pleasure, Dolores joins him in the shower. The body wash is called "Rainforest", a relaxing scent, not too floral. He enjoys the sensation as his wife scrubs him. "Dolores, you're the best thing that ever happened to me," he murmurs as the dark green shower puff makes brisk circles against his ribs.

"I know," she agrees, and her free hand reaches out to rouse him. She's very good at it, and this time, Lisiado's heavy breathing has nothing to do with old bullet wounds. He closes his eyes; the ferns on the shower curtain vanish as he revels in the pleasure she's granting him. He shouldn't...really shouldn't...so tired...

"What are you doing? We don't have time -" he protests half-heartedly - but stops as she bends down to reinforce her caress with a kiss that lingers. Time, no time, no time for - maybe just a few minutes...?

"I know," she says again, straightening up, leaving him wanting more. "But this way, you'll be a little meaner, won't you?" He growls at her and she smiles back wickedly. "And then later..." she teases.

If there is a later, he thinks grimly. If it wasn't just him against them...

"Don't worry, my love," says Dolores, as if she can read his mind, leaning close so that her full breasts press against his chest. "Remember, you were doing what Ernesto is trying to do when he was younger than Esteban is now." That's true. He recalls a favorite saying of Nestor's: Age and treachery can easily defeat youth and strength.

Damn, his wife is beautiful. Even with her hair hanging in wet ropes around her face - there's a gleam in her brown eyes and her lips curve deliciously as she smiles encouragement at Lisiado. What the hell. He kisses her, pressing her against the tile of the enclosure as the warm water beats against their naked bodies. His mouth plunders hers until she moans. Her slick body squirms, trying to tempt him - then he stops deliberately.

"Until later," he says with an evil grin and is rewarded as she makes a frustrated wail like a cat in heat. A few minutes later, dressing in surplus clothing, he watches her toweling her hair and wishes he had the time and energy to satisfy them both properly. At his age, after the day he's had, he'd be out cold in the aftermath. Someone would find the jeep - he'd wind up being awakened and hauled in front of Ernesto stark naked. No, passion will have to wait.

"Listen," he instructs Dolores. "I want you to wait fifteen minutes after I go into the library. No more. If I haven't made it out in that time, get yourself to Culiacan. Here's my cell phone. There's a number programmed in there for a man named Sands. Tell him what's happened to me."

"Don't talk this way!" she says, distressed.

"If worse comes to worse, tell Esteban to keep to the deal with Sands. Understand?" She nods silently, her forehead marred by worried creases. "Ché is safe. You'll have to contact Sands to talk to him. That's part of the deal."

"What?" She's aghast, outraged. "Cesar! Who is this 'Sands'?"

Oh, to have the answer to that question!

"I want Ché safe and away from this whole dirty business!" he says curtly, cutting off her protests. "Isn't his safety the most important thing?" Before today, its been years since he's spoken so vehemently to her or anyone else. Many years. The past is catching up to him; in one day he's gone from comfortable middle-age back to childhood, and now he's revisiting the years when he was strongest, the out-of-control years he's lamented for so long.

"We're going to discuss this later," Dolores responds, a set line to her lips, and he knows he hasn't heard the last of the subject. Well, if she hadn't been wild, with a stubborn streak, she'd never have defied Nestor and taken up with him to begin with. If she wasn't so protective, they wouldn't be having this discussion because he'd be long dead.

"Later," he agrees, smiling, hoping to remind her that that's not all they'll be doing later.

"Sooner than that," she promises, but her lips fight a little grin of their own.

"Remember, fifteen minutes," he says. "If it takes less time than that, or if it goes badly, you need to be in place."

"Okay, give me a minute to get dressed and I'll go right out there." She gestures to the clothes she's laid out on the stripped bed, and he nods.

"I'll see you soon." Lisiado presses a quick kiss upon her forehead and exits the bedroom before his nerve fails him. I can do this, he tells himself sternly as he strides through the big house toward Nestor's library at the north end. Surely this is the longest walk he's ever taken... He breathes as deeply as his much-mended lungs allow. If only Manito were here to guard his back...