Caught in the Act (3 page)

Maria stared at Kari, her eyes dark with fright.

Kari returned her attention to Pena. She waited for him to act, her chest rising and falling with each breath. His gaze followed the movement, lingering on her breasts. She’d fastened one or two buttons, but the neckline was still low.

Pena moistened his lips, making a murmur of approval. Kari’s flesh crawled where his gaze touched her. Against her will, she flashed back to a horrible night when she and Sasha were teenagers. Kari could see her sister in the hospital bed, her mascara smudged, dress torn.

She squeezed her eyes shut, dispelling the disturbing image.

Pena dragged the barrel of his gun down the hollow of her throat and over her collarbone, sliding it between her breasts. “Nice,” he said, nostrils flaring.

Kari was too afraid to react to his sexually charged threat, but Maria went wild. She bucked in her captor’s arms, sinking her sharp teeth into the palm of his hand.

The man winced in pain, fighting to keep her under control.
“Basta!”
Unlike Pena, he didn’t appear to be enjoying himself. He endured Maria’s struggles, his expression reticent. “
Ya
, Chuy. We didn’t come here for this.”

Pena’s eyes narrowed at the quiet admonishment. He didn’t like being told how to do his business. But after a short pause he took the gun away from Kari’s chest and relaxed his hand in her hair. “Who’s the girl?”

“M—my friend,” she stuttered, surprised by the question. “Maria.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked Maria in Spanish.

Pena’s partner removed his palm from her mouth gingerly, allowing her to speak. She had his blood on her lips and tears in her eyes.
“Busco trabajo,”
she said.
Looking for work
.

Pena forced Kari toward the living room couch, shoving her hard. The other man was more polite with Maria but just as firm. He urged her to sit down next to Kari. Kari stifled the urge to put her arm around Maria and cower against her.

“We have a message from Moreno,” Pena said.

Kari eyed him warily, waiting for it.

“You sister has become a nuisance. She’s been stealing his money, sneaking around.” Pena waved the gun in the air. “He can’t allow it.”

“Bring her to me,” Kari said. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Her debt must be paid first.”

Her stomach twisted. “How much?”

“Two fifty.”

It took a moment for Kari to realize that he didn’t mean $250. “Two hundred and fifty … thousand?” she asked, stunned. Even if she sold all of her assets, she couldn’t come up with that much. She didn’t own her house or her business outright. There was no way she’d be able to pay the amount.

Pena’s gaze fell to her breasts once again before moving up to her face. “Perhaps you can do us a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Next week, during your next trip to Mexico, we’ll
arrange for you to pick up an extra shipment and bring it across the border. In exchange for the safe arrival of those packages, Sasha will be delivered to you, unharmed.”

She wanted to say no, but thought better of it when she saw the sly look on Pena’s face. He stroked the barrel of his gun lightly, relishing the power he held over her.

Kari closed her eyes and took a ragged breath, reliving the last few hours. She’d been a nervous wreck as she crossed the border. She couldn’t imagine carrying a large amount of heroin or cocaine for Moreno. Her anxiety level would skyrocket. And if she got caught, she would do serious time in prison.

But what choice did she have?

“Maybe I’ll make an anonymous call to the border police,” Chuy said. “They would love to meet your new friend.”

Kari felt the blood drain from her face. Maria clutched her hand, her short fingernails biting into Kari’s palm. Maria didn’t want Chuy to report her. Kari was worried that Chuy would punish them in other ways. If she refused to cooperate, their lives would be in danger. Chuy had no qualms about harming innocent women.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll do it. Wh—whatever you want.”

Pena smiled, putting his gun away. “We’ll be in touch. And we’ll be watching you, understand?”

She gave a miserable nod, acknowledging the threat. If she told anyone about this visit, she’d never see Sasha again. Moreno was not a man to cross. For the hundredth time, Kari wished her drug addict sister hadn’t hooked up with that monster.

Pena turned to Maria. “Do you speak English?”

“Very little,” Maria said, her accent thick.

“Come to the Hotel del Oro tomorrow morning,” he said in Spanish on his way out. “We could use another maid.”

Maria knew it was a command, not an invitation. She wiped the blood from her lips, flinching at the bitter taste.

“Mil disculpas,”
Pena’s partner said, bowing.
A thousand pardons
.

“Mil maldiciones!”
Maria shot back.
A thousand curses!

The men exchanged a startled glance and laughed, shaking their heads as they walked through the door.

As soon as they were gone, Kari jumped up, rushing to the front window to peer through the blinds. The men climbed into a sleek black SUV and drove away. “Oh my God,” she said, massaging her aching scalp. “What am I going to do?”

Maria just sat and looked down at the coffee table. The fire she’d shown a moment ago was gone, and she appeared to be in shock. Although Kari wasn’t too steady on her own feet, she hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a cold soda from the fridge.

“Drink this,” she said, popping the top and handing it to Maria. The woman had been sandwiched inside a cardboard box for three hours and attacked by strange men five minutes after getting out. It was no wonder she was catatonic.

Maria sipped the soda and stayed quiet. After a few moments her eyes lost the faraway glaze.

“Are you all right?” Kari asked, putting a hand on her arm.

Maria nodded. “The last time I crossed the border,
I came with coyotes. They were bad men, like those. Rough … with women.”

Kari understood what Maria was saying, and she knew all about abusive men. They were the reason Sasha couldn’t handle sobriety. “I’m so sorry,” she said, letting her hand drop. “I never would have brought you here if I’d known they were coming.”

“They have … come before?”

“No. I’ve seen the bigger one with my sister’s boyfriend. Carlos Moreno.”

Maria recognized the name. It was well known on both sides of the border. “We are in very much trouble, yes?”

“I’m in trouble,” Kari corrected. “You don’t have to be. I’ll take you back home.”

Maria put her soda on the coffee table. “Tijuana is not my home. It is just a middle place.”

“Where are you from?”

“Southern Mexico. And I cannot return with empty hands. My family needs the money I will send them.”

Kari furrowed a hand through her hair, frowning. Maria could disappear in the city, get a job elsewhere. She didn’t have to go home—but she couldn’t stay here. “These are dangerous men, Maria. Cold-blooded killers.”

“I waited four years to return to the U.S.,” she said, her voice quiet with determination. “I saved every peso for the trip.”

“You can find a different job, a safer place.”

Maria reached out, grasping her hand once again. “I don’t want to leave,” she said, meeting her eyes. “You helped me. Now I help you.”

Kari glanced away, uncomfortable. She felt awful
about bringing Maria into this, but she didn’t know what else to do. Going to the police wasn’t an option. She couldn’t tell her mother or phone a friend. As horrible as it sounded, she was glad for Maria’s company. She didn’t want to be alone right now.

“Everything will be okay,” Maria insisted, patting her hand.

Kari gave her a wobbly smile, feeling the hot pressure of tears behind her eyes, along with the endless well of guilt in the pit of her stomach. “I hope so.”

Sasha was the only family member she had. Their mother had died when Kari was eight, their father ten years later. Kari had been responsible for Sasha since they were teenagers, but she hadn’t been a very good caretaker. She’d let her sister down in the worst way, and she’d do anything to make things right between them.

Adam drove by Zócalo first, noting that the store was closed on Tuesdays.

He continued to a quiet neighborhood in Bonita. Strauss’s van was parked in her driveway. Afternoon shadows stretched across the front lawn. Less than an hour had elapsed since she passed through San Ysidro.

He parked a few houses down and waited, easing back into secret surveillance as if the job had been tailored for him. It felt good, like lighting up a cigarette after years of abstinence. Right and wrong and oh so illicit. The best bad habit.

When Chuy Pena strolled out the front door, laughing, Adam couldn’t believe his eyes. He grappled for his cell phone, pretending he’d pulled over to make a call,
and watched Pena climb behind the wheel of a black Cadillac SUV. Pena and his companion, Armando Villarreal, managed the seedy Hotel del Oro.

Both were connected to Moreno.

Adam followed at a distance, his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what he’d expected from the doe-eyed Ms. Strauss, but this wasn’t it. For some reason, he felt disappointed. Part of him had hoped that she wasn’t mixed up with Moreno.

Several parts of him, actually.

He swore under his breath, adjusting his bruised ego. Why was he surprised? She hadn’t unbuttoned her blouse because she
wanted
him.

Moreno’s men went to the hotel, their central location for drug sales. Neither carried a package, but that didn’t mean anything. Adam passed by the Oro without slowing. He couldn’t afford to be seen by Pena or anyone else who might recognize him. The DEA probably had undercover agents working this area.

He headed home to Otay, brooding over the sequence of events. As soon as he arrived, he saw a tall, scruffy-looking man with a duffel bag at his front step. He pulled into the garage and got out of his car, feeling surly. He wasn’t in the mood to be panhandled.

The instant Adam rounded the corner, the stranger jumped to his feet. “Got any spare change, mister?”

Adam did a double take, letting out a low laugh. It was his best friend, Ian Foster. “Fuck, man. Have you been sleeping in garbage?”

“Pretty much. My base has rats.”

Adam unlocked the door and gestured for Ian to come in. His friend’s dark brown hair was longer than usual, curling around his collar, and he sported a scraggly goatee.
With his sweat-stained T-shirt and ripped jeans, he looked like hell. Only his smile was clean. “You’re a disgusting mess. Don’t stain my couch.”

Ian took that as an invitation to sit down.

Adam went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Pacifico for himself and a Penafiel for Ian, who didn’t drink beer. He opened both and brought them to the living room, taking a seat next to his friend.

Ian accepted the imported soda and stared at the bottle for a moment, turning it in his hands. Adam’s mother had always bought this kind of soft drink when they were growing up, so it carried a kind of sentimental value. He knew Ian missed her—they both did.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a long swallow.

Adam thought that Ian had lost a few pounds. He was leaner than ever, all ropy muscles and sharp elbows. “How’s it going?”

Ian shook his head. He couldn’t talk about the specifics of his assignment. A visit like this was rare, and Adam was glad to see him, despite his broken-down appearance. “I find myself practicing, even when I’m alone. Staying in character.”

“Come back to CBP,” Adam said, naming the Department of Customs and Border Protection. Ian used to work border patrol, hunting coyotes in the desert.

“It’s not that bad,” he said.

Instead of pressing the issue, Adam drank his beer. Ian had never loved CBP like he did. Adam’s family had been here—legally—for several generations, so he felt very strongly about enforcing immigration laws.

Ian didn’t have the same conviction. He’d told Adam that he didn’t feel right about arresting good, hardworking people. Four years ago, Ian had reached the end of
his rope. He’d found a girl on the dunes, raped and beaten within an inch of her life. The attack hadn’t happened on U.S. soil, so they couldn’t investigate. After the girl was sent back to Mexico, Ian resigned from his position.

Adam had seen his share of tragedies, but he wasn’t as conflicted about the job. The department he worked for stopped terrorists and arrested drug smugglers. They protected the country from attack. It wasn’t a lost cause.

“How’s your sister?” Ian asked.

Adam smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Pregnant again.”

His face lit up at the good news. “Goddamn, man. How many kids is she going to have?”

Adam laughed. This was only number three.

“Tell her congrats for me.”

He promised he would, and they caught up on other family members for a few minutes. The only person they didn’t talk about was Ian’s mother. Adam already knew how she was doing—poorly.

Ian shot him a canny look. “Are you ghosting again?”

Adam froze. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch,” he said, meeting his gaze. “Something I saw in your expression, right before you recognized me.”

Adam rubbed a hand over his mouth, uncomfortable with the assessment. He didn’t want to be so transparent. And his obsession with Moreno was an ugly thing. “I saw Karina Strauss at the border today,” he admitted.

“Who’s that?”

“Sasha Strauss’s sister.”

“Ah.”

“They look alike,” Adam said, getting defensive. He didn’t run a background check on every Strauss he met.

“Pale and skinny?”

“No.” The resemblance was in their facial features, he supposed. “Definitely not skinny. She’s more … healthy-looking.”

Ian’s brows rose. “Sounds like you did a thorough inspection, officer.”

“Her shirt was unbuttoned down to here,” he explained, touching the middle of his chest. “And she came on to me.”

“Really?”

“I think she was trying to distract me.”