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“Chichén Itzá is located near the jungle, so the weather will be very hot and humid. That’s why we offer the trip early in the day. Later in the afternoon, the conditions are too brutal for the outing to be enjoyable. You will have a six a.m. wake-up call on Thursday, and the main restaurant will open an hour early so you and your fellow travelers can have breakfast before you leave. The bus will depart promptly at seven and will return at two thirty that afternoon. Be sure to wear comfortable shoes because there will be a great deal of walking. There isn’t much shade. Sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat are highly recommended, as is mosquito repellent. Bring a camera so you can take plenty of pictures, and cash if you want to purchase souvenirs. There are many available at the site, and the bus will stop at a small indoor flea market on the way so you can look around or simply stretch your legs. Lunch is not included, but you are welcome to bring snacks of your own. The bus is air-conditioned and it has its own bathroom, which might come in handy since the pyramids are two hours away. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. Who’s the guide? Is it someone from the area?” Finn wanted to learn something only locals knew, not something she could read in a brochure.

“All our guides are local and are extremely knowledgeable about their selected routes. Your guide will be Richard Haarhuis. He’s from Amsterdam originally, but he has lived in Mexico for several years and is married to a Mexican national. He has a personal connection to and a true affinity for Mayan culture. He’s one of our best and most popular guides.”

“Excellent.”

“Will that be all or do you see something else that interests you?”

Finn couldn’t tell if Veronique meant the excursions or her.

“That’s all for now. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime. I’m here all week if you change your mind.”

Finn left the office and headed for the beach. She had experienced her share of flings and one-night stands while she was on assignment, but she was only slightly tempted to add Veronique to the list. Even though Veronique was incredibly attractive and her accent was beyond sexy, she didn’t hold a candle to Luisa. At the moment, no one else could compare. Finn looked forward to their daily phone calls and the fantasy-fueled nights that followed.

Her favorite fantasy featured Luisa wearing nothing but her gun belt and a set of handcuffs. She had never been a huge fan of bondage, but Officer Luisa Moreno could shackle her any time she wanted.

Today was Luisa’s first day at work. Finn wondered how it had gone. She hoped Luisa would tell her about it later. If, that was, she was allowed to talk about it. The goings-on inside the Federal Police Building were confidential, so Luisa was probably sworn to secrecy.

Finn had never dated a cop before. But was that what she and Luisa were doing, dating? Sex usually came after the getting-to-know-you stage, not before. Yet another first Finn could chalk up to this trip.

“At this rate, my bucket list will be empty in two days.”

She hoped she hadn’t scared Luisa off by responding to her question the way she had. Luisa probably hadn’t expected to hear her say her favorite location was in Luisa’s arms. Finn hadn’t expected to say it, either, but she couldn’t deny that it was true. Or that she wanted to be there again. Right now, in fact.

What was it Luisa had called her before they ended last night’s call?
Mariposa
. Butterfly. Finn had never been compared to the delicate creatures that brought such beauty to the world. Though she didn’t know if the comparison was apt, she loved the idea that Luisa thought she was beautiful. Or that Luisa continued to think of her at all, given the brevity of their meeting and the abruptness of their parting.

Could they build a future on such an unsteady foundation, or were Finn’s postcard-perfect surroundings trying to fool her into thinking she could live her own version of happily ever after?

A serious reality check was in order. Easier said than done when she was spending the week in paradise, surrounded by singles hoping to fall in love and couples who were already there.

She looked at several pairs of women holding hands as they made their way to the manicured garden for a mass commitment ceremony. In America, gay marriage was finally legal in all fifty states, but there were still a few holdouts internationally. Many countries had adopted laws in favor of marriage equality, but many more refused to do so. For the women living under those circumstances, today’s ceremony might be as close as they would ever come to getting married.

Finn never cried at weddings, but she felt herself start to tear up as she watched the women look into their respective partners’ eyes and pledge to love one another until the end of their days. How did it feel to have a connection that ran that deep? She had heard that falling in love was much easier than remaining that way. How much work did it take to make love last? More than she was willing to put in at this point in her life, that was for sure.

Feeling more like an intruder than an observer, Finn walked away as the commitment ceremony neared its conclusion.

Same-sex marriage was legal in Mexico City and civil unions were recognized throughout the country. Did Luisa want to get married one day? Did she want to start a family of her own? Did she want all the things Finn had never considered, or did she realize her job was too dangerous for her to plan a future she might not live to see?

“Definitely a conversation that would need to take place in person, not over the phone,” Finn said under her breath as she sat on an empty lounge chair on the beach and watched parasailers float across the cloudless sky.

The familiar choruses of “Would you like something to drink?” echoing around her signaled the employee strike had come to an end.

“The booze is back,” someone said. “All is right with the world.”

In their world, perhaps. In Finn’s, everything had been turned upside down. She didn’t know which end was up. Did she want to continue living life on her own and on her own terms, or did she want to share her life with someone? Namely, someone like Luisa Moreno.

A smiling waitress wearing a sky blue polo shirt and crisp white cotton shorts came over to her, drink tray in hand. “Would you like something, ma’am?”

“Yeah. Answers.”

❖

Luisa’s eyes were crossing. She had spent the morning taking care of all the administrative legwork that came with a new position—completing reams of paperwork for Human Resources, obtaining user IDs and passwords for the computer systems from the guys in IT, and testing her access codes to the rooms her security clearance allowed her to enter. After lunch, she had gathered Carlos Ramos’s old case files and begun looking through them, searching for clues to the direction his investigation of the Jaguars had been headed before he vanished. She had examined dozens of crime scene photographs and read hundreds of pages of reports, but she was no closer to unraveling the twin mysteries of Ramos’s disappearance and the identity of the leader of the Jaguars cartel. She was so tired she couldn’t see straight, but she didn’t want to stop until she felt like she had made some progress.

Director Chavez came out of his office carrying a battered briefcase that had seen better days. He paused in front of Luisa’s desk.

“You’re not getting paid by the hour, Moreno. Just because you came in late doesn’t mean you have to stay late.”

Luisa looked at the time stamp on the corner of her computer screen. No wonder she was so tired. It was past seven o’clock. She had been working for nearly twelve hours. “I’m almost done, sir. One more file and I’ll call it a day.”

“Have at it then.” He tossed a wave over his shoulder as he headed for the elevator.

Luisa stood, stretched, and looked around at the rest of the stragglers. At least ten other people were putting in a late night, too. She locked her computer and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Her stomach’s insistence on food overrode her desire to keep working. She decided to go home and start fresh in the morning.

When she returned to her desk, a rubber rat rested on her computer monitor. The note taped to the rat’s belly read, “You can sit at Carlos Ramos’s desk, but you can’t fill his shoes. The real enemy is outside, not within these walls. Protect your own, and they will protect you. Turn on your own, and no one will be around to hear you fall.”

She looked around the room to see who might claim responsibility for the note or give themselves away by their reaction to watching her find it, but no one was brave enough to meet her eye. She wanted to yell at the top of her lungs that breaking the code of silence didn’t make her a snitch. That trying to limit the narcos’ influence didn’t make her a rat. But she knew trying to defend herself would do no good. The ones who thought she was a traitor to the ranks would continue to think that way. As would the ones who thought the only reason she had spoken up was to advance her career at a respected colleague’s expense. She couldn’t change people’s opinions of her in one day—and she couldn’t take down the Jaguars in one afternoon. So she resolved to come back the next day and start all over again.

She tossed the rat in the trash, shut her computer down, and gathered her belongings with as much dignity as she could muster.

“I don’t think I’m better than you.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking so no one could tell how much the hazing had affected her. “I just want to be one of you. Tomorrow, I hope you give me a chance to do just that. Good night.”

She managed to maintain her composure until she reached the safety of her car. Then she allowed her façade to fall, along with her tears.

❖

Finn’s call to Luisa’s cell phone went straight to voice mail. Again. She listened as the automated message played.

“You have reached Luisa Moreno,” Luisa’s voice said in Spanish. “I am unable to come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and I will call you back as soon as I can.”

Finn was more comfortable translating Spanish than speaking it so she left her message—her third—in English.

“Hey, Luisa, it’s Finn. I hope I don’t seem stalkerish, but I’ve been calling you all night and I haven’t been able to reach you. I’m starting to get worried. I was hoping to hear how your day was. Now I’m just hoping to hear from you at all. I hope I’m overreacting. I hope you’re simply working late and have your phone turned off. If that’s the case, we can laugh about it later. But in the meantime, call me. Please.”

She ended the call and looked at the clock. It was past midnight. She had been trying to call Luisa for five hours with no luck.

“Perhaps I should take the hint.”

Maybe Luisa hadn’t returned her calls because she didn’t want to, not because she couldn’t. Their first few conversations had been light and fun, but the last one had taken a serious turn near the end. Maybe, as Finn had feared that morning, her words had scared Luisa away. But Luisa didn’t seem like the type of woman who scared easily. In fact, she might be too brave for her own good.

Finn stepped onto the balcony outside her room, but the insistent thump-thump-thump of the dance music playing at the outdoor disco drove her back inside.

Was this what it was like to date a cop? Sentenced to sleepless nights waiting for the phone to ring while part of you hoped it wouldn’t for fear it might be bad news? If so, she wasn’t sure if she was up to the task.

Her phone finally rang several minutes later. She blew out a sigh of relief when she saw Luisa’s name on the display. “How was your day?”

“Long.”

Finn frowned. She had tried to keep her tone light, but Luisa sounded distant. Edgy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” A few days ago, holding a conversation with Luisa had been easy. Now it was like pulling teeth. Perhaps it was time for her to do what she did best: leave. Before being with Luisa stopped being fun and began to turn into something neither of them seemed to want. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not into it. I should hang up and call you tomorrow when you’re in a better mood, or maybe I should stop calling altogether.”

“No. Don’t do that.” Luisa’s voice sounded strangled. Like she was choking back a sob. “Just talk to me, Finn. Make me forget the shitty day I had. Give me reason to believe tomorrow will be better.”

Finn wasn’t used to being someone’s shoulder to cry on. She didn’t know how to go about it. She resorted to humor because laughter was supposed to be the best medicine.

“In the immortal words of Scarlett O’Hara, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’ If you could live this one over, what would you do different?”

Luisa was quiet for a moment, then she let out a rueful laugh. “I wouldn’t have wasted fifteen minutes of it listening to my neighbor trying to fix me up with her grandson. Because it was all downhill from there.”

Finn could feel Luisa finally begin to relax. She wished she could be there to see the light banish the darkness from Luisa’s soulful brown eyes. She wished she could be there to stroke her black hair and hold her close. She wished she could be there. Even though she couldn’t be there with her, she could still be there for her.

“When’s the wedding?” she asked.

Luisa laughed again. With less of an effort this time. “Never, if I can help it. The grandson’s cute, but he’s not my type.”

“Did you tell your neighbor you were a lesbian?”

“No, but I don’t think it would matter. She’d probably trot out the ‘you just haven’t met the right man’ speech and try even harder to hook me up with one.”

“Do I need to come out there and protect my interests?”

“You might. Otherwise, I could be Mrs. Javier Villalobos by the time you see me again.”

Finn felt uncharacteristically possessive. She wanted to hold on instead of letting go. “When will I see you again?” she said, unable to resist asking the question.

“I wish I knew. Until my probationary period is over, I have to keep my nose to the grindstone. Lots of long days and very little, if any, time off. I would love to play hooky tomorrow and spend the day with you, sipping margaritas on the beach and feeling the sand between my toes, but I can’t. I have to be here.”