Chapter Six

“What the hell are you doing?” B.J. hissed.

“Maybe getting us some help.” Callie looked up, then jumped when the passenger door slammed.

“What?” B.J. gritted his teeth. He didn’t sound happy now, but that would change when he found out what she’d done to help them.

“Wait for it.” She struggled to contain her excitement.

Finally, the narcos resumed their conversation and started up the music again. She mentally counted to twenty before she moved.

As Callie bent toward her feet, she ran her hand under the blanket and patted the floor. She glanced at B.J., but he was watching the window. Her fingers touched something hard and cold.

“Ah!” She barely breathed the word as she leaned back and slid the item into her lap.

B.J. heard her over the blaring music and looked at her. She reached for his arm and eased his hand under the blanket, ignoring the intimate implications of that action. His eyes hardened when she put the gun in his hand.

“The guard slipped it to me while I was yelling about the bathroom.”

“That was one hell of a risk.” The cords in his neck tightened.

Callie’s shoulders slumped, and she crossed her arms. He ought to be glad to get a weapon. “The risk was worth the reward.”

He pulled away and checked the ammunition in their newly acquired gun, but he continued to glower. She couldn’t understand why he was mad. Did he have the corner on the market for taking risks? She thought they were a team, especially after that kiss. He’d said the kiss was a mistake, but it felt too right to be wrong.

That kiss had shaken her to her core, along with all the sensations that brought her body to life. Those wolf eyes, that rock-hard chest, that rumbling voice, left her defenseless. Sure, he was sexy but in a completely unconscious way.

They weren’t here for a romp in the back of a van, though. They were in real trouble. She’d best keep in mind that he’d be gone after this was over. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of Mexico in one piece. She hoped her contribution would give them an advantage.

Still, that kiss…

As the van picked up speed, she noticed a faint odor of gas. B.J. pocketed the gun and pulled his feet in to sit cross-legged. “Do you know which checkpoint we went through?”

She answered, the faint fumes momentarily forgotten. “No. There’s the one in the middle of town and the one on the south side. Could have been either one.”

“South makes sense. If they want to avoid the city, that is.”

“Is that good or bad?” Callie looked up at the window. Streetlights interrupted the darkness less frequently, the primary source of light now the soft glow from the van’s instrument panel.

“Likely bad. It leaves us less chance to get help.” His voice came out of the darkness.

Callie shivered. Her parents used to go to Juárez all the time until the travel warnings about drug cartel danger. They’d had a hard time believing things could be so bad here in their metaphorical backyard. But then came reports of all the murders. The news outlets called Juárez “Murder Capital of the World,” all because one cartel had the routes to take their drugs through Juárez and one cartel wanted them.

She pulled the blanket tighter. “Do you think Karl got through the checkpoint?”

“Manny seems pretty relaxed up there. I’m thinking not.”

Callie had tuned out the narcos’ conversation, because she didn’t understand it, but now she could hear talking and an occasional laugh.

“That border agent was obviously part of this. Why would he help us?” She struggled to put the pieces together.

“So he could live with his conscience and still have his cover.”

“How does a border agent go bad? Money?”

“Or cartel threats to the family.”

His statement took her breath away. “How awful!” If Jimmy had lived, she might be living that tightrope.

They lapsed into a silence as a jumble of thoughts rampaged through her head. Her parents and Alison must be so worried right now. Would someone open the library? All the little details that made up her life were now interrupted. Would she ever see home again? To push those thoughts out of her head, she ran scenarios like she did when she read a good thriller. Living in one was horrible, but the analysis might help them out.

“We’ve got to find a way to stop the van before we get wherever they’re taking us.” Callie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Agreed. It would also help to know what weapons they have before we get there.” B.J. ran a hand through his hair.

“Then we have to disable both guys before they can use any weapons.”

B.J. slid the small handgun from his pocket. “This peashooter is only lethal at close range.”

“What if we lured one guy to the window and shot him point-blank? Then they would have to stop the van. Or you could take out the passenger and then the driver.” Callie turned and raised up on her knees, pantomiming shooting someone through the window.

“You read mysteries, don’t you?” His voice came out in a teasing tone…or was it sarcasm?

Deflated, she sat back on her heels. “These aren’t good ideas?”

B.J. shrugged. “They’re great for a mystery novel, but if I start shooting in the cab we could crash.”

Callie leaned in and placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll take my chances in a crash over a death house any day.”

The van slowed and then made a right turn, and the smell of gas assaulted her senses again, stronger this time. “Do you smell gas? Will it make us sick?”

“It won’t make us sick but—” He looked around.

When he didn’t finish his sentence, a shiver ran up her spine. “Do you think Karl did something to the gas line?”

“Could have.” B.J. shrugged again, then turned to study the opening into the cab. “Do you think you could get the passenger to put his face up to the window?”

Her palms were sweaty, but she was so ready to do something. “I’ll try.” Callie had already done the bathroom thing. What else could she do?

B.J. rose up on his knees, holding up a finger. “Get ready to do your thing.”

She went to her knees and pressed her face into the window. “Hey, guys. I think I’m going to be sick. Can we stop?”

Spanish began to fly. She got a quick look around the cab. She counted three handguns and a GPS. The passenger held a smartphone in his hand.

Callie gagged. “Seriously. I need to stop.” She fought the urge to look at B.J.

“Sit down!” Manny yelled.

Callie gagged again. “These fumes. I can’t breathe. It’s making me sick.”

The van sputtered. Both narcos looked at the instrument panel. Callie could see the gauge. They were out of gas. B.J. nudged her and circled his finger to signal her to keep going.

So she gagged again, putting her face in the window. “Guys, I gotta get out of here.”

Callie finally got on the passenger’s nerves. He snarled at her. The van died and rolled slowly. She continued moaning. He yelled at her, and she was glad she didn’t know Spanish. She eased slightly away from the window. He continued to shout at her, coming closer to her face as if to push her back, until the window framed his face.

B.J. yanked her down, and Callie covered her ears as he took the shot. The van rocked as it coasted to a stop. Manny must have jumped out. Callie gulped in air as B.J. struggled with the door, trying to override the locks. Finally the side door slid open.

“Callie, this way.”

Was he crazy? Manny was outside.

He pulled her across the floor. Once outside, he yanked her to the ground. “Get behind the wheels.” B.J. pushed her under the van.

Manny fired at the driver’s side of the van. It sounded like automatic gunfire, but though she’d seen no rifle, there was no mistaking how lethal his shots were. She scooted to the back wheels for cover. The bullets pierced the metal van, rocking it above where she lay. Callie bit her lip to stay silent, but it was hard not to scream at the pop of gunfire. Where was B.J.?

With her hands back over her ears, she looked around. She only saw his hiking boots by the passenger door doing God knew what. Then he dropped under the van behind the front tire.

The gunfire stopped, and the silence was eerie, the air full of unfamiliar smells. Callie’s ears rang, overriding every other sound. Manny’s feet moved around the back of the van. He was only inches away from her, and she expected to have him lean down and find her at any moment. She covered her mouth so no sound could leak out.

If only she had a weapon of some kind. Callie watched his feet as he continued around the van. She put her hand in her jacket pocket, and her fingers wrapped around a small, round object. The golf ball Sara gave her. It had some weight. If she threw it among the desert bushes around them, she thought it might make a loud enough sound to distract the narco. Knowing the angle wasn’t right to throw from under the van, her next thought terrified her. She could climb out, stand up, and throw.

Callie didn’t have time to show B.J. what she meant to do. Watching Manny’s feet work their way to the passenger door, she crawled to the back of the van and eased into the open. Staying low to the ground, she pulled off her jacket and hesitated. The idea had seemed so good under the van, but now she didn’t know if she could do it.

His shoes scraped on the gravel. He must be bending over to look under the van. She had to do it now. She stood up and threw the golf ball as hard as she could so it crashed through the bushes. Then she followed it with the white jacket. It looked a little like her running into the night.

…

Dear God, this woman was insane. B.J. had been watching Manny’s feet when he realized she was no long under the van. He searched for her frantically, even crawled toward where she had been. She was nowhere. How could she disappear so quickly?

Then Manny fired at something. Please don’t let it be Callie. Swallowing a sick feeling, B.J. scrambled out. He only had seconds, and he had to be accurate. The noise of Manny’s automatic handgun muffled the sound of B.J.’s movements as he moved up behind Manny. B.J. had a clear shot and his training took over. He aimed the handgun at Manny’s head and fired.

Manny went slack but took precious seconds before he collapsed in the dirt, seconds that all B.J. could think about was Callie. He took a few more seconds to kick the gun away from Manny’s crumpled body. Finally he turned to go to Callie and spotted her white jacket on the ground. He ran, panicked at what he might find. Not Callie, too.

“B.J.? Are you all right?” Her plaintive voice came from the back of the van, not where the crushed jacket lay.

He slid to a stop at the sound of her voice. He tried to sync up what he saw with what he thought happened. It took him far too long to realize she must have thrown her jacket to draw Manny’s fire. White-hot fury went through him. Recklessness could get her killed. He grabbed the jacket and headed toward her intending to let her know what an unbelievable risk she had taken.

“B.J.?” She huddled against the back cargo door, shivering, her arms crossed in front of her, her head down, and she flinched when he came toward her.

He took several breaths to deal with the adrenaline dump in his body and kept his voice low and soft. “Hey, it’s me.”

She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his middle. As she cried and held on to him, some of his anger evaporated. Thank God, she was safe.

He put the jacket around her shoulders, wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair, grateful for her warmth, grateful that both of them were still alive.

“I’m sorry.” Her tears soaked his shirt.

“For what?” He expected her to apologize for putting him through hell thinking she was hurt.

“I’m sorry we had to kill them.” She trembled in his arms.

Her answer shocked him. This wasn’t her tidy mystery novel. When she talked about taking out the narcos, what did she think was going to happen? “Aw, Callie. They were scumbags.”

Even though she was willing to share the blame, he was the only one responsible. Not for killing the narcos. Someone would have done that sooner or later. No, he should have gotten her out of harm’s way sooner. He should have made her go to the safe house when he had the chance, before the narcos could come for them.

Callie pulled back and continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “We had to do it, right? To stay alive, I mean? Right?”

As B.J. looked at the bullet holes in the van, those bullets were overkill. If he and Callie had been in that van, there wouldn’t be enough of them left to take home to bury. He had no compassion for the people who used those kinds of weapons. “Right.”

Callie tightened her arms and clung to him, triggering something primal with her intense embrace. Survival. This woman. He wanted more.

B.J. gently cupped her face with both hands and angled it toward his. “It’s going to be okay.” Did he make the promise to her or to himself? He didn’t know, couldn’t think. He just wanted her with a need that would have shocked him if things had been normal.

For hours he’d tried to forget the softness of her lips and the caring need he felt in her hands. Traces of her jasmine fragrance tantalized him. Her brown hair lay tousled around her face. She’d lost her ponytail holder, and he ran strands of her luxurious mane through his fingers. He wanted to kiss her again. Badly. All around them was chaos, but she was the eye of the storm.

She shivered in the cool night breeze, awash with the light of the full moon. She ought to be safe somewhere, unafraid to be seen in moonlight. He wanted to hold her and warm her. Now the moonlight illuminated her expectant expression.

“B.J.” She sighed.

She wanted that kiss as much as he did. With his heart thudding, he tried to pull away from the need on her face. It was impossible. He lowered his head and gently touched her lips, intending to comfort. Once again it set off an unexpected yearning that rocked him all over again. It pulled him down, pulled him in. Gathering her to him, he pressed against her curves. He’d wanted to feel her luscious body against his in the van, but he’d been too busy denying anything was there.

Now he couldn’t stop. He ran his hands down her back, savoring the way she felt in his arms. With arms hungry for him, Callie met his touch with a need that broke past the last of his discipline. She begged for more, drawing him in with her heat. His own desire answered, hot and bright.

B.J. took her mouth, and she opened for him, inviting him to take the kiss further. Unable to refuse, he tasted, he took, he plundered. Now that he was here, he had to acknowledge he’d wanted this touch for days. Callie slid her hands to his shoulders with unspoken persuasion to explore further, and her moan drove him to the brink.

They were alive and celebrating.

He backed her into the van, and it brought back a memory of Karl doing the same thing. Now he felt the swell in her lip made worse by his kisses. This was wrong. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong woman.

He pulled back, his breath coming swift and hard as if he’d run a marathon. If he allowed the blaze pounding in his veins to reach flash point, he would scorch them both. He had to protect Callie, keep her safe even from him and to get her away from the death.

Her whiskey-colored eyes came open, looking confused and hurt. He almost lost control and pulled her back in his arms. Denying himself her sweetness was torture, but there were bigger forces at work. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

She stumbled as he led her around the driver’s side of the van. He put her in the bright light of the headlights so she couldn’t see the bodies. He stepped around Manny’s body to collect the blankets from the cargo area and ran to put one around her shoulders.

B.J. went to the open door of the cab. As he took back his ID, he saw his Glock in the console. It felt good to get it back. He decided to leave the little .38. He didn’t want to incriminate the border agent, but he only had so many pockets. He left all the other weapons.

The smell of rancid blood hung in the cab. When Callie took a step toward him, he had to keep her away. “Almost done.” He tried to sound cheerful.

She nodded and slid her arms into the white jacket. Then she wrapped the blanket around her waist and held the ends tightly.

As B.J. continued his grisly task, he looked for anything that would help them. They might have to survive in the desert for a few days. The narcos had bottled water and some candy bars, an apparent convenience store stop. He found a lighter in the cupholder and a flashlight in the glove compartment. Everything went into the store’s plastic bag. B.J. closed the door and headed to join Callie.

A ringtone made him slide on some gravel.

“When no one answers, they’ll be onto us.” She gasped, her voice in the stratosphere.

“Then we’d best get out of here.” He took her arm with a gentle touch.

“Should we leave the headlights on? They might not see it for a minute or two if the lights are out. Right?” She tried so hard to be practical and helpful, and he had to give her points for trying.

“Sure.” He jogged back to the van to placate her. While there, B.J. noticed the roll of duct tape on the floorboard and added it to the grocery sack. Then he considered they might need money to bribe their way out of the country. As distasteful as he found it, he searched the narcos’ pockets and found a money clip with a healthy amount of American bills.

“What’s taking so long?” She shaded her eyes with her hand.

“Done.” B.J. turned out the lights and hurried to her.

She stared up at the sky as he pushed her down the road. “Does it seem like the stars are brighter?”

He could’ve told her they were away from the city lights, but he glanced up to humor her. “We see them differently, because we’re still here to see them.”

Callie took his hand. “That’s very profound.”

B.J. squeezed her fingers to reassure her and then let go, not willing to get sucked back in to the yearning he felt moments before. He tied the ends of the plastic sack to his belt as he walked, setting a quick pace.

Callie matched his steps with an anxious look behind them. “What now?”

He pointed up. “There’s the North Star. Our best bet is to go north. The road is flat enough to see any cars before they see us, and we’ll make better time on the pavement than we will on that dirt.”

“And I’m all for that.” She adjusted the blanket.

They made fairly good time, and Callie was content to walk without talking for a good while. He tried not to relive the scene over and over, especially the part where he thought Callie was hit.

“What’s the procedure now? Do you stay and look for Karl?” Her voice broke into his thoughts.

“We’ll probably turn it over to the Marshalls.”

“I guess this means you’ll be going back to Dallas.” Callie shuffled along beside him, the ends of the blanket dragging in the dirt behind her.

“And you’ll go back to the library,” he said.

“I guess.” She shrugged.

B.J. glanced over his shoulder, turning back to her when he was satisfied no one was following them. Yet. “Aren’t you happy there?”

“I’ve been restless lately.” Callie sighed. “Now this. It’s time for something new. I mean, life is short.”

Could have been a lot shorter. “What would you do?” Even though they talked, he listened that much closer to sounds in the night.

Callie hesitated, looking up at him. “I haven’t told this to anyone, but I’d love to work at the Library of Congress. It would use my history and library degrees.” Her face lit up as she spoke, seeming to escape from the dire situation they were in.

“Government work. Like me,” he teased as he deftly sidestepped a large stone in his path.

“Make fun if you want, but I may be job-hunting when we get back. What about you?” She shrieked when she saw a snake slithering on the pavement. They gave it a wide berth, and B.J. hoped she’d forget her question. She only laughed a little and asked again, “What about you?”

“Back to Dallas for me. Like you said, standing a line of defense against gun violence.” Deflecting any further questions, he looked behind them.

Callie glanced, too, and continued with a nervous laugh. “Your Spanish is really good. Is that part of your ATF training?”

“No, I learned it before. When I was in college, I did a semester abroad in Spain.”

“Spain? Wow! I’d love to travel.” She shot questions at him about Spain.

He didn’t join her enthusiasm. He’d met his Irish wife in Spain. The first time he saw Moira, she argued with a bartender over a bill. That memory captured her personality for him. He waited for the pain to hit, but when it did, it wasn’t as intense as usual.

Before he had time to question it, headlights bounced in the distance. B.J. gripped Callie’s hand. “We’re about to have company.”