Desert Exposure (25 page)

Midnight.

A smile curled Pedro’s lips. His cousin had said “give me the word and I’ll take care of business.” Once he’d made up his mind, it hadn’t been so hard to make that call. He hadn’t even discussed it with Ricardo. Maybe he’d become exactly like his older brother? He’d made the phone call last evening and then slept like a baby. He wondered how it had all gone down. Would the early morning news show it? He’d better get the damn laundry done and get back over here so he could watch the TV. His cousin had not called. He’d said for Pedro not to call him. He’d make contact. Surely a shoot-out at a local bar would make the news, even a run-down bar at the Salton Sea.

The old guy looked over at him. Pedro straightened. “I need to secure you,” he said, and collected the cups. Then he approached the old man with his usual rope restraints.

“Let me go,” the old man said. “I’m holding you back. Drive me to the nearest highway and turn me loose. I’ve no idea where we are.”

Pedro glared at him. What did he take him for, an idiot? The guy is as cunning as a fox. He’d lived in these parts his whole life and probably knew exactly where they were. On second thought, he might be as stupid as the other two. It was possible. But the old guy would slow down their pace. He’d be useless as barter. Who wanted an old guy?

“Shut up, and stay put, or Ricardo will put a bullet through your head,” he said sharply. Then he flicked a finger against the old guy’s forehead and watched him flinch. “Yeah. Right there, between the eyes.”

Ricardo looked from one to the other then returned his gaze to the television. He looked like he had not a worry in the world. His brother had gotten soft. It seemed the longer they were in hiding, the weaker he became. Pedro turned away abruptly and began piling clothes onto the end of one bed. On the way to the laundry room he’d detour into the brush at the base of the hills. Sandy soil made for good burial ground; easy to dig. He’d do the job while the clothes were in the dryer.

They were paid up for a week, but now with the deaths at the bar, little more than an hour long drive away, it was time to get moving.
Again.
He walked around the one room cabin, picking up bits and pieces of stinking clothing. He tossed aside the old man’s clothes.
No sense in washing those.
Then not wanting to arouse suspicion, he shoved all of the old guy’s clothes into a pillowcase. With a handful of quarters, scooped off the edge of the coffee table and shoved into his pocket, he turned toward his brother. Ricardo was transfixed by an old slapstick comedy.

He put the gun on his brother’s lap, leaned closer, and whispered.

“Stay alert. Keep watch over the old guy. He’s up to something.”

****

At three-thirty in the morning, Rachel stood next to Michael in the bar at Fred’s. Mantis lurked somewhere in the shadows. Stanton loaded supplies into his car, and Fred fussed around behind the bar, while Ralph sniffed the dance floor. Too much damn testosterone floating in the air.

Fred walked back upstairs and looked over his shoulder. “Come on up when you’re ready. Wife’s made up a bed for you on the couch.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, and tried to smile. She’d had no idea that Fred and his wife had an apartment upstairs. She’d imagined earlier that those stairs led to a den of iniquity and had preferred to ignore their existence. Now she wondered how they lived, what their apartment would be like. Not that she cared. She doubted she’d sleep anyway, and Fred was doing the best he could under the circumstances. She’d be grateful. Even though it irked her that Mr. Macho, standing beside her, thought women shouldn’t be in the battlefield.

“Going to the head,” Stanton said, and walked down the hall.

Michael cleared his throat, and she looked up at him and scowled. There wasn’t much to say. He’d go to the shootout. She’d be left behind like some kind of damn princess. Her grandfather would be caught somewhere in the middle of a lot of guns and bravado. Why didn’t they understand that she needed to be there?

“Make the goodbyes snappy,” Stanton said, coming out of the restroom. “I’ll wait in the car.”

Rachel saw the glimmer in both men’s eyes. They loved their work. They lived for these adrenaline soaked moments. They’d both been strutting around, making plans, talking on cell phones in hushed voices, doing guy stuff.
How come she hadn’t seen that before
? Stanton and Michael were the same. Like peas in a pod. They both put their work first. They both thought women were frail, and neither one wanted to be bothered by any permanent relationship. Good thing she hadn’t given Michael her heart. He was a cop. A one night stand, that’s all. She turned away, walked to the door and opened it. She scooped up Ralph and nestled him against her chest. At least nobody could take him away from her.

“Goodbye. Good luck,” she said without looking at Michael.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching up to her, and cupping a hand to the nape of her neck.

He stood beside her, yet somehow still giving her some space. She tried not to react, although her traitorous body began to lean backward as if drawn by a magnet to his chest. She wanted to turn and trace those wonderful muscles with her fingertips. But instead, she remained beside him, her hands clenched.

“All I can do is my best,” he said, bending forward to murmur in her ear. “There are no guarantees, but I’m planning on coming back.”

She nodded, but couldn’t turn, couldn’t face him. Maybe she’d been wrong? Maybe there was hope for them? Her pulses bounded, and she pulled in a quick breath. He dropped tiny kisses along her neck, and she felt her entire body flush with warmth. This might be the last time they got to hold each other.
Ever.
Would she survive that? Her eyes burned. Michael stepped around in front of her.

He ran a hand over his head, and then grimaced. He looked out at the waiting car, and then down into her face. “Look, I know you like being in the thick of things, but you’ll have to trust me on this.”

“I know.”

“Seriously, this is the one time I need you and Ralph to stay put. Okay?”

“I said, I know,” she said sharply. And she did, yet she didn’t.

“Do I get a hug, at least?” Michael asked softly.

She turned, put Ralph on the floor, and grabbing Michael’s jacket with both fists, buried her face into his chest. She swallowed back all of her fear, anger, and frustration. How could she be so hurtful? How could she be so cold? She looked up into his concerned face. The guy was going into a war zone. Even if he didn’t come back, she couldn’t let him go without a proper farewell. She lifted her mouth to his. Her lips brushed his tenderly, and all of the pent up emotion evaporated in that kiss. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to go, but it did mean she had faith in him.

He deepened the kiss, holding her as if she were fine china that he might break. “That will have to last you for a while,” he said, murmuring against her lips. “See you soon.”

She nodded, unable to speak. He lifted up Ralph and planted a kiss on his head. “Look after Mommy,” he said, and handed the dog back to her.

She stayed in the open doorway as he strode to Stanton’s old black car, which sat idling in the parking lot. He turned, raised one hand, and then slid into the passenger seat. A slim figure moved out from the shadows and disappeared into the back seat of the car. Rachel refused to cry, and she hurried out into the parking lot.

“I love you,” she yelled, too late as red taillights sped away toward the highway.

What a mind blowing realization. She was deeply and forever in love with Michael, she blinked back her tears and walked slowly into the bar.

****

Michael talked with his chief, back at the Indio PD, while Stanton drove. Then he contacted the chief at the Brawley PD. He shut off the cell and glanced over at Stanton. He had everything set up as best as he possibly could. He had to keep sight of his goal and achieve what his undercover assignment had been about. Find the dudes who were out to snuff a DEA agent. Get to them before they got to the agent. He closed his eyes; almost home.

“A SWAT team is being briefed,” he said a few moments later. He sat up straighter, opened his eyes. “I’m to notify them of the exact location of the cabin once we’ve found it. We have to wait for them. Have to wait for orders on how to proceed.”

Stanton shot him a quick look.

“Chief’s orders,” Michael said, in case Stanton had plans of his own. “This could be a set-up, and we don’t want civilians harmed.” He looked over into the back seat. Mantis slept soundly, curled up like a baby. He hoped and prayed this would not be a wild goose chase, or a set-up. He’d put his and Stanton’s reputations on the line by placing score on his snitch’s findings.

Chapter Fifteen

One hour’s drive later, heading toward the small mountain town of Julien in San Diego County, Michael peered out at the dark landscape. He’d never been in the area, but he remembered Rachel talking about picking apples at a festival. With no traffic and Stanton’s lead foot, they made it to Ocotillo Flats in good time. As the name implied, it was the flat of the desert floor, at the base of the mountain range. Ocotillo plants covered the desert for as far as the eye could see.

“You up, Fernando?”

Like a spring, Mantis snapped up into a seated position and surveyed the highway. “Almost there,” he said, rubbing at his eyes, and then smoothing his stringy hair. “About two miles down the road, on the right. It’s a motor home park with cabins way at the back, almost pressed up to the mountains.” He pulled out a pack of gum. “Want some?”

About to refuse, Michael thought better of it. “Thanks,” he said. He took two pieces, unwrapped one and handed it to Stanton, then popped the other piece into his mouth and chewed.

Mantis shoved several pieces into his mouth and chewed with enthusiasm.

A few minutes later, and a mile away from the campground, Stanton pulled off the highway, turned off the lights and cut the engine. “What’s the best approach?”

“There’s an office up front,” Mantis said, chewing and talking at the same time. His head darted from side to side surveying the area. The empty highway stretched ahead of them. “A few motor homes here and there, not much business.”

“I’d lay a bet that the manager is asleep,” Michael said. “But, we can’t risk driving in the main gates and heading for the cabin. Are there any back roads?”

Mantis shook his head.

“What about if we crossed those Ocotillo fields?” Michael asked, looking out through the open window. “The car would be safe here.”

“Good idea,” Stanton said. “What’s the distance?”

“We’re about a mile away,” Mantis said. “There’s a shallow river bed we’d have to cross. It runs behind the cabins. It’s easy. I did it when I followed them yesterday.”

Michael nodded. He looked out the window at the huge cactus plants, a large stem rising from the middle of each one like a sentry. Some were so tall they looked like the giant stalk in the fable Jack and the Beanstalk. They lined up as far back as he could see, the stems thin but sturdy. They would be cover for someone with Mantis’ frame, maybe even his. Stanton would be out of luck once day break hit. With any luck they’d reach their destination before then. He squinted into the dark. “How far back do these plants go?”

“All the way to the foothills,” Mantis said. “They’ll be good cover. Not that I expect anyone is sitting watch. We might run into a coyote, or some other wildlife out here. There’s bighorn sheep up in those hills…maybe a big cat or two…scorpions.”

Stanton shrugged.

Michael did the same. “Let’s go.”

****

Rachel tossed and turned on the narrow couch in Fred’s den. One minute the blanket made her too hot, and she’d toss it off, and then the dampness seeping through the thin walls made her shiver. No way she’d get any sleep tonight. Besides, the memory of Michael driving off to whatever hell he was driving to, and her desperate last minute shouted declaration of love, well, both had left her with too many frightening thoughts.

She’d never allowed herself to feel like this about anyone and had never said those three words to a man. Ever. Except Grandpa. But it was true, she was in love.
He’d never commit anyway, because he’s an adrenaline junkie.
She sat up at that thought, and then pulled the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. Ralph had given up on sleeping beside her, and he’d curled into a ball on the floor and fallen into a deep sleep. Poor little guy. He’d had such a scary night. Yet, she envied him his ability to sleep at all. He’d dragged the t-shirt that Michael had changed out of earlier and used it as a pillow.
Smart dog.

Maybe if she’d inhaled Michael’s scent too, she’d have gone into a deep and comfortable sleep herself. He’d been wonderful with Ralph. She liked that about him, and felt he would be equally as gentle with children. Would he even want children?
Oh, stop it already
. He’d never commit. He’d never had a long-lasting relationship. She stopped herself. Well, she wasn’t that much better at relationships. She couldn’t commit either. Relationships had always been her biggest failing.

She huffed loudly, and drew the cover up over her shoulders, certain that she wasn’t giving up Cliffs to go wander the country with some guy who lived on the edge of danger twenty-four-seven, even if he did get around to asking her. Nor would she sit at home by the fire and wait for her wanderer to return. And she probably couldn’t even have kids at her age, so why would she want to get married? Not that he’d asked her or anything. She turned onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling.