Blurring the Line (12 page)

Beth opened her eyes once she felt the heavy thud of the plane hitting asphalt. She let out the breath she had been holding; no facing the abyss today.

“Scared flyer,” Torres said once he was beside her. It wasn’t a question, but nor did it sound like a judgement, just a statement of fact.

With anyone else she would have made an excuse to cover any signs of vulnerability. “No, I think I’d have rather taken my chances driving through the Northern states.”

“That bad, huh?” Torres asked.

Beth nodded. “I can handle anything on the ground. Not so much at 30,000 feet.”

“You certainly like your control.” Torres lifted down her carry-on and placed it on the seat in front before taking down his own.

She shrugged her shoulders. “No more than anyone else. At least…I don’t think. I think everyone wants to be in control. It’s just part of human nature.”

“It’s certainly part of your nature.”

He was facing away from her, in the line waiting to exit the plane, so she could not see his face or tell if he was insulting her or just commenting on another fact.

A soft breeze of warm air caressed her face as she stood at the top of the stairs. She looked up into the bright morning sky. The sun was just rising on the horizon. Mazatlan was beautiful, what she remembered from the pictures she had seen in her mammoth stash of tour books, but all she could see now was the Brutalist architecture of the airport.

“I rented a car,” Beth told Torres as they entered through the sliding glass doors.

“I know.”

Beth’s eyes narrowed in question. She had made the arrangements on her smart phone.

“It was on your list. I’m sure you get everything done on your lists.”

“I do. It is called being organised,” she retorted.

“You don’t even fold your clothes, there is no organisation involved, it’s just straight-up control.”

Beth put down her carry-on and extended the handle so she could roll the bag. “You don’t even know me.”

“Nope, I don’t. That’s how bad you’re hiding it.”

Beth opened her mouth to speak but closed it again once she realised she had nothing productive to say on the matter, instead she walked in silence trying to come up with witty and intuitive things to say about Torres’ shortcomings. She stopped at the counter beneath the green and gold banner of the rental company. She pulled out her purse and produced her driver’s licence and credit card.

Suddenly she remembered that Torres didn’t know she spoke Spanish, and she wanted to keep it that way, even if it meant playing the rude American tourist.

She smiled apologetically at the woman at the desk. She looked barely old enough to drive a car herself. “Hi, I ordered a car. My name is Beth Thomson.” She cringed inwardly; not even attempting to speak Spanish was rude, she hated when people did that. Normally she would have a go at any language because it was far better to fail miserably but make an effort, than be so ethnocentric to assume everyone in the world speaks the same language as you. She slid her cards across the desk. She wished she had had time to print out a confirmation. That would have been so much easier, no communication required then, just typing numbers in a computer.

Torres could have helped her by translating but he didn’t, he just stared at her with his half smile.

“I hear Spanish is a good language to learn in your line of work,” he said.

Beth glanced over at the customer service agent who was frantically typing away at her keyboard. Eventually the woman walked away from her desk, returning moments later with a set of keys.

“Do you want to ensure him to drive?” The woman pointed at Torres. Her English was perfect and peppered only slightly with an accent, which Beth placed as Guatemalan.

Beth shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

“Of course it won’t be. You wouldn’t want to give up control of that too.”

Beth plastered a smile to her face that she didn’t feel. “Actually yes. Could we please add him?”

She would rather drive but the brief flash of surprise on Torres’ face made it worth it. They signed the papers and thanked the woman for her help.

She paused briefly to admire the line of palm trees at the front of the airport. They gave the structure a tropical feel and put her immediately in mind of a vacation. When this was over she was definitely going to take a vacation, but not to Mexico. She had no doubt it was beautiful and she loved the food and the people, she just needed to put as much space as possible between her and her job. And for her Mexico would always represent murder and cartels. It was a shame really, because from the little she had seen already, she knew she would like it.

Beth opened the trunk of the light blue Dodge Neon and put in her luggage. They had stopped production on the car almost a decade earlier. If she stopped to think about it too long she might worry about its safety rating. But then again if she stopped too long to think about her safety, she wouldn’t be in Mexico in the first place or even in the DEA for that matter, and she certainly wouldn’t be keeping company with Torres.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re the one with the plan,” Torres said as he slid the keys into the ignition.

“I do have a plan. I just don’t have hotel reservations.”

“Because it wasn’t on the list.”

Beth smacked her lips in a sound of frustration. “Nope.”

“Lucky I have a place.”

Beth nodded. “That is lucky.”

His eyes curled into crescent moons. They were smiling even though his mouth wasn’t. He looked less scary this way, but only slightly. He had not had time to shave his head and his hair was growing in quickly. The thick black stubble did little to soften his features but she doubted anything would. At least he looked slightly less like a criminal with the shadow of hair.

“You sure you don’t want to drive,
Gatita
?”

Beth shook her head. She was desperate to drive but showing Torres she could loosen her grip on the reins was more important. Why she cared what he thought was beyond her. “I am happy to let you drive.”

“No you’re not,” he smirked “But it is good for you.”

Before she could stop herself she made a
pfft
sound.

“Trust me. If you let yourself lose control a little you might even learn the sounds women make in bed. There’s no control when you’re coming. You can be in control of everything up until that point, but then you have to let go. I think if you could let go a little your to-do list might even include a phone call to your boyfriend.”

Her pulse quickened as his mouth curled over the words. Her blood burned hot in her cheeks, every heartbeat sending more burning liquid to the surface. He was staring at her again, the way that she could feel. “Spoken like a man who thinks he could do better.”

His eyes were dark, the black of his dilated pupils blocking out all colour. “Spoken like a woman who wants me to try.” Torres put the car into gear and pulled out.

Beth’s mouth was suddenly dry. Her skin was on fire now. Her gaze fell to his full lips, far too soft for his harsh features. She was overtaken with a desire to close her eyes and press her mouth into his. She had no doubt that all her anxiety and annoyance would be temporarily forgotten the moment their lips touched. His body radiated heat and a strange magnetism that pulled her in despite every warning her mind threw at her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t articulate why kissing him was a bad idea, her body was too consumed with the desire to act on the reckless impulse.

Geez, she needed to get it together. Staring at his mouth wasn’t the way forward. She forced herself to lower her gaze to his hands, his strong callused hands. Damn, that wasn’t going to help either. Her imagination went running with images of all the things he could do with his hands. There was something seriously wrong with her. She was attracted to Torres.

No she, wasn’t, her traitorous body was. Her mind was still very much in control of the situation and once her blood supply returned to its normal course, she was going to go through all the reasons she did not like Torres. In the back of her mind, she knew there was a long list, shame she could not remember a single thing on it. She had a tendency to forget things when she was with him; like forgetting to keep her private life private, and forgetting to be outraged when he pinned her to the bed. The truth was she liked it. She liked being in control but it turned out she also liked having the control taken away from her completely.

It had been the most liberating and invigorating sensation of her life, his weight heavy on her. She could not have stopped him even if she tried, but that was OK, because for a brief moment there was nothing he could have done with her body that she would not have wanted. Later she would worry about what that said about her as a liberated self-declared feminist woman.

Secretly she was glad he was driving because it gave her a chance to look out the window and enjoy her surroundings. The sun was now perched higher in the cloudless sky. Mazatlan was as beautiful as she had gathered from her guide books. The coastline was rocky and arid but below the steep drop was the bluest water Beth had ever seen. It put the murky water of Folsom lake, where she had learned to swim as a kid, to shame. Even the buildings were beautiful, massive hotel after hotel, each a soft colour that melded with the natural beauty of the city. The architecture surprised her, especially the quaint shops with broad balconies. They reminded her of the buildings she had seen in the brochures for Disney World. She had never actually been, but she had a fairly good idea what it looked like. When she was a kid, her dad had promised to take her, but she still hadn’t been because he made a lot of promises that he didn’t keep.

“It’s beautiful.” Beth didn’t realise she’d said it out loud until Torres answered.

“It is.”

“Do you like being based here?” Beth realised he might think it was a stupid question. Torres made no secret that he was not enjoying his tenure in the DEA. Like her, it was just a means to an end. They were similar that way except her end wasn’t killing someone.

He nodded. “It beats the hell out of Laredo, that’s for sure.”

“But you grew up in Laredo.”

“Exactly.”

“I get that. I would rather be in Mazatlan than Sacramento any day.”

“But you’re doing everything you can to get back to California.”

Beth turned to look at another line of palm trees. “I know. Not exactly the life I dreamed of but reality has a nasty habit of pissing on dreams, doesn’t it?”

“That it does,” Torres agreed. “What was your dream,
Gatita
?”

Beth shrugged her shoulders.

Torres turned down a steep narrow road. The only thing that kept them from dropping off the cliff into the Pacific Ocean was a crumbling rock wall. Beth held her breath as he manoeuvred down the hill. Thankfully no one was coming in the other direction because there was no way two cars could fit on the road. “Come on, Beth. You brought it up. What would you rather be doing with your life?”

“I’d rather be driving in the carpool lane of the freeway in California.” She subconsciously drew in her shoulders, as if making herself smaller would help the car through the narrow gap.

“Just close your eyes, Beth. If you keep holding your breath you’re going to pass out.”

She closed her eyes. It did help because if she couldn’t see the steep drop to the ocean she could pretend it wasn’t there. She was just on a nice Sunday drive.

“Better?” Torres asked.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me, Beth. Why did you choose a career with the DEA?”

Beth kept her eyes closed. His deep voice was soothing. Maybe it was the raspy timbre or the confidence, but it relaxed her, which was hard to do. She was asked this question a lot. She had a stock answer about safety and justice and purpose, but it was all bullshit. There was no harm in telling Torres the truth. She doubted he would think any less of her for it. “I didn’t pick the DEA. They picked me. In college they had a table at a recruiting fair on campus. One of my professors recommended that I speak to them. I was just finishing my Masters. At that point I wanted to be in the Foreign Service. I had taken the tests, filled out all my paperwork; I was just waiting for a call to see if I got in. But the DEA offered me a job first so I took it because a bird in the hand and all that stuff.”

“You wanted to be an Ambassador?” Torres asked. “I can see that.”

“I was young, I didn’t know what I wanted. I just knew I wanted to travel and I loved foreign policy. But those were pipe dreams. The reality is I had bills to pay, first my student loans and then I needed to help with my sister’s tuition. It never would have worked.” She sounded like she was complaining, which she wasn’t. She was eternally grateful to have a reasonably well paid job with medical and dental insurance. She was living the dream, somebody’s dream, even if it wasn’t hers. “Besides, heading this task force is as international as anyone could hope to get, a Mexican drug lord supplying arms to dissident groups in the Middle East. I think I fell on my feet.” Beth tried to minimise her dissatisfaction; it wasn’t like she hated her job, it just wasn’t what she thought she would be doing with her life.

“Why do you have to pay your sister’s tuition?”

“I don’t have to. I want to. She shouldn’t have to start her career with a massive debt.”

“But it is OK for you to incur debt for her?”

Now there was definitely judgement in his tone. Beth bristled at the thought of anyone judging Paige. Paige had worked her butt off to get into vet school and she had never asked for anyone’s help. Beth paid for her school because she wanted to, not because it was expected. “There’s no need for both us to be in debt.” And Paige was hers, her sister, and her best friend. No six-year-old had ever been happier to have a screaming red-faced baby brought home than Beth. From the moment Beth saw her it was love. There was never any jealously because she was too overjoyed to have her. Beth never minded not having new clothes or fancy toys because she had a baby sister that was all hers.

“If you didn’t need to pay for your sister’s education, would you have taken the job with the DEA?”