Blurring The Line. Kierney Scott
bring him in safe.”
His lip curled again into a facsimile of a smile. “You assume I’ll kill him. But you also assume I’ll tell you the truth about it.” She had forgotten how deep his voice was, like the slow plucked strings of a bass. Had there ever been any warmth in his tone, it would not have been a stretch to call it melodic. His eyes were dark now, the irises consuming any illusion of colour. She had never met anyone else whose physical presence made the hairs on the back of hair stand taut, and that was saying a lot. Beth was often in the company of felons. She could walk into any prison in Texas and not feel as unsettled as she did when she was with Torres.
“That’s not an answer. I know this is all about avenging Archila but you need to see the big picture. This isn’t just a squabble between warring cartels. This is national security. El Escorpion is wanted for arms dealing. You get that, right? He is supplying terrorists. If we don’t get him there will be thousands of other Archilas.” She tried to appeal to him in a language he understood; as an ex-Marine, Torres knew better than most the exact price of the war on terror.
She had been so proud of herself when she recruited Torres, and not just because he was such a valuable asset: she was proud of herself for facing him.
Torres shrugged his shoulders. “Well you’d better catch him.” He left the words “before I do” unsaid, but they were there, hanging between then, palpable.
Beth shook her head. She would find him. She quickly changed the subject. “How are you for money?”
“Good. I—”
Beth cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t tell me. I just need to know you have enough. I don’t need to be an accessory after the fact.” The Administration had not given Torres money in months. They both knew that any money he had now had not been obtained by legal means and Beth liked to ignore the many less than savoury aspects of her job. Most the time she could if she focused on the big picture and did not let herself think too long about things.
Again Torres shrugged. “Your rules, Gatita.”
Beth flinched again at the cat reference. She really wasn’t the pathetic lovelorn shrew people thought she was, or maybe she was, either way she did not appreciate having it thrown in her face. Not that she cared what Torres thought.
But her pride niggled away at her like a feral cat clawing at her stomach. Was it so unbelievable to imagine Beth Thomson in a relationship? She wasn’t hideously deformed or unhygienic. And when she tried she could almost pass as charming.
Beth tapped her foot against the terracotta tiles of the bathroom floor. “Are we done here, because I really need to get back to my…boyfriend.” The word caught in her throat, barely making it past her dry lips. It wasn’t a lie; she was dating someone…she just would not characterise him as a boyfriend yet. Maybe at some point she would but it was too soon to tell…and she was not going to share that with Torres. God she just wanted to get home to her house. And, yes, her cat.
“Sorry to interrupt your quality time with your…boyfriend. Is that why you came? To tell me about your sex life? Must be pretty fantastic if you’re willing to get us both killed.” His tone changed when he said “boyfriend” but it was hard to tell if he was mocking her because his face remained blank. If there was any emotion behind his dark eyes, he hid it well. She wondered if he learned that in the military or if it had been a gift from Los Zetas. She did not let herself think about the things he must have seen undercover. And the things he must have done…
“No I didn’t come here to talk about my boyfriend – about Neil.” Beth stopped and cleared her throat. She had come to tell him about Archila’s murderer. She glanced to the door, fully aware that Flores and his three associates were still there. Once Beth gave up her information, there was no need for Torres to protect her. Trust did not come easily to her, and he had done nothing yet to earn it. “I came to see if you had any more information on El Escorpion, but you don’t so I will go. We need to change our meeting place. I’ll pick somewhere along I35—”
Beth reached for the door handle but Torres stopped her by placing his large frame between her and the door. His eyes were darker than before. There was emotion there now, but not a welcome one. His demeanour had changed in an instant going from indifferent to alert, like a cheetah ready to pounce.
“You’re leaving after five minutes? Didn’t think that one through did ya, Gatita? I just told four gang members that you are my woman and you expect them to think five minutes would be enough time to get…reacquainted? I’ve been with them two years and they have never seen me with a woman. You’re gonna need to fake it a bit longer than that.”
A hot flush crept up Beth’s neck, settling high on her cheeks, burning as the blood rose to the surface of her skin. The way his lips curled around each syllable made her stomach do a flip, especially when he said “my woman”. Beth had no doubt that a plethora of woman had filled that role over the years. Some women probably got off on the fear. What was it about women and bad boys? She had a name for those women: stupid. Bad boys were just that, bad. People don’t change. If you date a bad boy, you end up with a bad boyfriend, and then a bad husband, and then a bad father for your children, simple as that.
Though she could see how women could forget themselves with him. Her gaze drifted to the white cotton fabric that strained to cover the expanse of his biceps. Beth was fairly certain she could smell testosterone under the clean scent of aftershave. Once she got past the fact that his physical presence was completely terrifying, she could see in an objective way why women found him attractive, there was something primal about him. And the taut muscles that sculpted his body didn’t hurt either.
Beth cleared her throat, remembering where she was. “Right…of course. We should give it some time…” Beth looked down lamely at her watch but her eyes did not register the numbers. She cleared her throat again. It had been a long day. “Um…how long exactly were you thinking?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, Beth saw a flash of a smile crack over his full lips. It was hard to tell because it was gone so quickly, and the curve of his lips made it look as much like a snarl as a grin.
“I don’t know, Gatita. How long does it take with Neil?”
Beth let out a sharp breath. The mention of Neil in the context of sex temporarily put her on the back foot. She had not had sex with Neil yet but she was not about to tell Torres that. It would mean explaining that she hadn’t gotten around to sleeping with Neil because she fully expected it to be another lacklustre sexual experience. She was putting it off so she could pretend a little bit longer this would be the guy who made her see stars. “Um…you know, I don’t know, the normal amount of time. Now let’s go. I need a drink from the minibar.” Beth tried to push past him, but the wall of muscle that was Torres’ body did not budge.
“No, I don’t know. It’s been a while. Remind me how long sex should take.”
Beth dropped her hands to her sides and forced herself to look Torres directly in the eye. His mouth was not smiling but his dark eyes certainly were. The sides crinkled in amusement. He found her amusing. Her sex life amused him. She forced a confidence into her tone she did not feel. “Thirty minutes should be adequate if everyone knows what they are doing.” Yep, thirty minutes was usually enough time for her to realise it wasn’t working for her. Half an hour was how long it took for the guy to stop trying.
Torres nodded his dark head. “OK then. Showtime,” Torres said and then turned off the water. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed in question, but the only answer she got was a quick flash of a smile. Like before, his lips curled up so it looked more like an act of aggression than a smile, but this time she could see his teeth, two perfectly straight rows of white. Clearly any initiation he endured had not involved having his teeth pulled, which must have been a relief for him because he really did have nice teeth. She wondered if he had had braces and then she wondered why she cared.
“Ready?” Torres asked but he did not wait for an answer. He opened the bathroom door, kicked