Betrayal on the Border. Jill Nelson Elizabeth
the bucket seat on the passenger side. He wasn’t about to step out of the vehicle and have her change her mind, then leave him sucking exhaust. Her reasons for letting him ride along, given what she thought of him, were likely as layered as her personality, but he wouldn’t find them out until she chose to share them.
Maddie climbed in, maneuvered the stick shift, and they drove, smooth as glass, out of the parking garage. “Where to, Mr. Investigative Reporter?”
“Grab I-35 south toward Laredo.”
Maddie frowned, but headed the vehicle in the proper direction to catch the Interstate. “Back to the scene of the crime?”
“It’s a good place to start.”
“And the last place our enemies would think to look for us.” She grinned wolfishly. “I may not trust you, but I like the way you think.”
“You used to like a lot more about me than that.”
Chris could have slapped himself. Why did he shoot off his mouth about the mutual attraction they’d danced around since the day they were first introduced? So what if they’d flirted with their eyes and sometimes their banter during the training days before the mission? Romance between them was strictly off-limits.
“Don’t remind me of my bad judgment.” She shot him a glare that could have sizzled bacon.
“Is there some reason you don’t think someone on the Mexican side of the equation could have betrayed our location?”
She snorted. “They’re as dead as the rest of the U.S. forces. Only a member of the coalition team on the ground with us would have known which of half a dozen designated safe zones we chose to bivouac that final night before the assault on the cartel was to begin. We operated under close cover for a reason. Even the Mexicans know plenty of their officials are on the cartel’s payroll. What our good U.S. citizens don’t like to face is that drug money talks as loudly on our side of the border. Government pension isn’t that good.”
“I hear you.” Chris nodded. “That’s why I want to start by talking to the DEA agents in the Laredo field office. I ferreted out their home addresses before I took my flight to San Antonio.”
“Good thought.” She ghosted a grim smile. “They lost comrades. Some of them were in on the planning phase. Some may even be dirty. If anyone can dig out a nugget that the FBI investigation missed, it’s The Man with the Golden Tongue from World News.”
She laughed but Chris frowned. He slumped against his seat, closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep. The real thing eluded him, as usual. For the past year, exhaustion and a latent sense of desperation had dogged his every step. Maddie had no idea how many sleepless nights he’d spent since that horror in the desert.
When he slept the dreams came. The scream of incoming mortar rounds. Visions of smoke and fire and the scent of burning flesh. Worse, he saw her broken and bloodied body sprawled on the ground in the middle of the encampment. He’d carried her in his arms away from the war zone to save her life, but in the end she’d saved his. Someone had followed them away from the camp and started taking potshots at them. Maddie revived long enough to draw her sidearm and return fire. Did she remember any of that? Clearly not. And he couldn’t explain right now. Anything he said or did was suspect.
In her mind, the fact that he was the only one to escape that night without harm equated complicity with the attack. The logic made sense on the surface...only that wasn’t what happened, and he had no idea how to convince her otherwise.
Lord, you’ve got to help me here. I have no idea how to regain this woman’s trust.
* * *
Maddie glanced at her passenger. He was pretending to sleep. The twitch of a muscle under his jaw betrayed him. He was frustrated, probably angry with her for not buying into his innocence the minute he gazed at her with those baby blues and exercised his honeyed voice. She’d been tempted. Mightily. But too many of her friends had lost their lives for her to trust anyone involved who was still breathing. Not until she knew for sure what really happened.
Chris said he wanted to help with that. Well, all right. He had the skills. She didn’t. She’d give him some rope and see where it led. Letting him into her car, inviting him back into her life, had to number among the gutsiest things she’d ever done, because now she couldn’t trust herself any more than she trusted him. The attraction was too strong. She’d have to make sure her head stayed in charge.
Right! Like hugging a viper ever turned out well.
Her foot itched to press on the brakes. She should pull over and toss him out. One fact stopped her. Death dogged her trail, with or without him by her side. What was that old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. The frenemy in her passenger seat would betray himself one way or another soon enough.
“Did you soup up this car yourself?”
His question jolted Maddie. He suddenly wanted conversation? She glanced toward the passenger seat and found him sitting up straight and alert, subterfuge laid aside for the moment. If that was the way he wanted to play it, she could be cool and cordial, too.
Maddie shook her head. “Ginger was my big brother’s pride and joy. He restored her chassis to near original, but supercharged her insides. Then he was deployed to Afghanistan, and a roadside bomb ended his life before he got to enjoy the fruits of his labor. I inherited her, and she’s one possession I’m not about to give up, even when I’m on the run for my life.”
“I don’t blame you. Pretty smart, though, selling Ginger to yourself under an assumed name and changing the license plate numbers.”
“You figured that out from your Department of Motor Vehicles search?” A shiver slithered down her back. Could someone else follow the same trail? Sure, if they dug too deeply into the background of the buyer of record, Joan Tubman, and discovered her to be a phantom. Keeping Ginger might rank among the top stupid choices of her life. So be it. Her hands clenched the steering wheel.
Chris patted the dashboard like a man caresses a beloved pet. “As long as you have Ginger, you have a tangible connection to your brother.”
Maddie awarded him a wide-eyed stare. “Do you have a degree in psychology, too?”
“Comes with the reporter territory.” He smiled with one side of his mouth. “You get to know a thing or two about how the human soul ticks. Your attachment to the vehicle is natural. I respect that.”
The backs of Maddie’s eyes stung, and she glued her gaze to the road. “I suppose your research told you Jason was the last living member of my immediate family. The news of his death reached me while I was in the hospital, recovering from the Rio Grande. My parents and only sibling are gone, my nearest relatives are a few scattered cousins and an aunt who lives on the other side of the country, and the army has divorced me. I’m a free agent. Works well for someone on the run.”
She finished in a glib tone but made the mistake of glancing at him. The compassion in his eyes nearly gave birth to the tears that lurked behind hers. Every once in a while, like now, it was daunting to think there was no one in the world who would miss her if she was gone, but she couldn’t reveal her vulnerability to this man. He’d take full advantage of it to get his story.
Her gaze narrowed. So that was the motive behind his dogged search for her. An Emmy wasn’t enough? She was his one-way ticket to another sensational story. He probably hadn’t figured on joining her in her enemies’ crosshairs.
“You’re slick as a weasel in the weeds. Do you know that?” She sent him a sidelong look. “You thought I’d buy into the idea that you’ve stepped back into this mess for truth, justice, and the American way. But it’s all about the story, isn’t it? Expose the mastermind behind the Rio Grande Massacre, and win another award. A scoop like this ought to be worth at least a Peabody.”
Tenderness evaporated from his face. Maddie’s heart jolted, and she tasted the loss. What was the matter with her? She didn’t want warmth from