Chapter Thirteen

The afternoon had turned into a blur. As Callie hunched over her chopping, her back ached, her fingers cramped, and her heart hurt from B.J. pushing her away. The despair almost dulled her senses so all she would let herself think about was going home. She’d never break through B.J.’s walls, even if she still wanted to. She could only hope to get through these few hours without crying.

B.J. startled her, appearing in the dining hall before anyone else. His usual smooth stride was rushed, and his face hard-set with a harsh glint in his eye.

“Uh-oh. What happened? We’re leaving, right?” Callie wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and flexed her tired fingers, but she never took her eyes off his face.

“I need to talk to you about that.” Motioning for her to come around the counter, he paced like a caged animal with his hands on his hips. Dread pooling in her middle, Callie pushed her legs to move, lifting her chin with determination to meet the new dilemma head-on.

“We’re not leaving tonight.” He finally stopped pacing and put his hands in his pockets. “Karl Abbott is still in Juárez.”

Callie’s eyes widened. “And that means what exactly?”

His gray eyes raked across her face, and then he rubbed the back of his neck. “We have a chance to catch him before he disappears.”

At first, relief made her chest relax for the first time in days, but the longer B.J. looked like a restless panther, the more Callie had to face that something was wrong about it.

“So what are you not telling me?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

“We need your help to catch him. Can I get some of that water?” His sudden shift in subjects made her turn toward the pitchers with a frown.

“We? What’s this all about?” Callie watched his Adam’s apple bob as he drank, trying to get a hint why he took so long to elaborate.

“My boss wants to set up a sting before Abbott gets away from Juárez. The jurisdiction stuff has all been worked out and it’s a go for tomorrow. One given is that Abbott will try to get you, so we’ll leave a trail for him to follow and catch him.” He slammed the metal cup down on the counter.

“Wait. Are you saying I’m bait?” Callie thought the surprises were over. She forced herself to breathe.

“There wasn’t time to come ask you. They’re setting it all up. This is a chance to never look over your shoulder, to see that justice is done for Jimmy, for you to be free.”

Knowing B.J. made the decision for her twisted the knife he’d plunged in her heart that morning. She would have walked over burning coals to put Karl away, but that didn’t change the fact that B.J. was willing to use her. For his case.

“Of course I see how it is.” Her tiny smile was cold.

B.J. started to say something, but Angel came through the door.

“I can put you up for the night, but you’re not going to like it.” He twirled a padlock on his finger and stopped when he saw Callie’s sharp look.

“I don’t like any of it.” Callie slid her gaze over to B.J.

“That means all of us are pissed. C’mon.” With a growl, he turned and went through the door.

“After you.” B.J.’s gallant offer only made her puff out her cheeks and hurry after Angel.

She saw his back halfway across the compound, and an uncomfortable fluttering began in her stomach. They would be in one of the solitary confinement rooms.

“B.J.? I really don’t like this.” Callie meant to sound insulted, but it came out cowardly.

His tight smile didn’t make her feel any better. The room was more like a windowless prison cell with white tile on the walls. As Angel opened the metal door, it clanged back against the wall and its little window scraped when he showed them how it opened. Two mattresses took up most of the floor space. Each had a plaid blanket folded neatly on top.

Angel demonstrated how the padlock could be used on the inside. “No one will bother you because they can’t get in.”

Nothing felt safe. Inside was B.J., outside were the crazies. It wasn’t fair. She’d expected to be home tonight, in her own bathtub and in her own bed. Her anger at B.J. came back hot and fierce because his stupid case kept her here.

Even though they’d sleep in the same room, she’d have no problem keeping her distance.

“This ain’t no Hilton, but here is your welcome gift.” Angel thrust Baggies with shampoo and soap into their hands, and handed them some threadbare towels.

Callie tossed them on a mattress as if to claim it. “I have to get back. It’s almost suppertime.”

She stumbled back to the kitchen. After all the things she’d endured, spending the night here was the worst possible scenario. Right then and there she resolved to survive it, as she took her place in the serving line and began ladling up the evening soup. No matter how much she ignored it, foreboding took up residence in her middle.

The soup had smelled so enticing as it cooked that afternoon, but now it was only survival. Part of that survival centered on Consuelo. She lurked in the doorway, not hiding her contempt for Callie.

Her stomach churned, and she wasn’t sure she could eat, but she still smiled and kept her head held high.

Once more, B.J. was one of the last to get to the dining room. This time he’d showered and shaved. Water still glistened in his hair. His wild-man beard was gone, and the top half of his face sunburned. Callie couldn’t bear to look at him as she ladled up a bowl of soup for him.

Juanita shooed her away when B.J. took his soup. Callie huffed out her irritation, causing B.J. to look up. She still didn’t look at him as she grabbed her bowl. She sullenly followed him to the table and plopped beside him.

Callie swirled her spoon and glared at the vegetables she’d chopped, waiting for it to cool. B.J. had no trouble eating the hot broth. He finally turned to her. “Okay. I get it. You thought you’d be home tonight. You have every right to be mad.”

She didn’t bother to reply. He couldn’t begin to know what she was thinking.

B.J.’s forehead creased as he studied her. He tried again. “Do you want to go through the plan for tomorrow?”

“No.” Callie blew, tasted, and then dug in for more.

“So if you had to say what made you the maddest, what’d it be?”

She slammed her spoon down. “Now you’re mocking me.”

He had the audacity to look stunned, like he didn’t know what she was talking about. Her own conversation-starters sounded lame coming from B.J.

“Callie, I’m not mocking you. I’m trying to help—oh, just forget it.” He went back to his soup.

“Forget it? You want to know what makes me the maddest? You took a shower.” Callie emphasized each word with a tap of her fingernail on the scarred table.

“What?” B.J. stared at her, then he sat back with realization dawning in his eyes. “You’re scared to take a shower.”

“Scared? No.” Callie turned back to her bowl.

“Makes perfect sense. I’ll stand outside the restroom, and I won’t let anyone in while you’re showering.” B.J. dipped his head to meet her eyes.

She was able to take in a full breath for the first time since B.J. said they were staying. “You—you’d do that?”

“Of course. But first eat your dinner.” The amusement that lit his eyes was aimed at her, but she suddenly didn’t mind as much.

Callie now ate quickly, not saying a word until she tipped the bowl to get the last spoonful. B.J. looked over the edge appraisingly, his eyebrows raised. “Seconds? Another tortilla perhaps? Dessert?”

“No, no, and there is no dessert.” She gulped the water in her cup and grabbed their bowls, taking them to the residents who washed dishes.

When she turned back, Callie saw hunger of a different kind in B.J.’s eyes before he shuttered the look and stood up. She had to keep the truce temporary. She was grateful for his act of kindness, but she couldn’t allow him to get past her defenses.

As they walked across the compound, she didn’t protest when B.J. put his hand at her back. It was protection, she told herself, and showed the residents they were together. When they retrieved her Baggy of trial sizes, she looked more closely at the products in it. She saw a toothbrush and toothpaste that she hadn’t seen before.

B.J. stopped at the door of the shower room and struck a double-biceps flex worthy of a bodybuilding competition. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Callie laughed. “Thank you.”

It was dangerous to smile at him, to laugh with him. She couldn’t help it. He’d read her mind and knew what she needed. She wished—no, she couldn’t wish. She couldn’t dream. As she rushed by him, she checked all the toilet and shower stalls and rejoiced to have the facility to herself. She slipped out of her clothes with a nervous look around and started the water.

The barely lukewarm water trickled from the showerhead. “C’mon, c’mon,” she muttered.

Callie lathered and rinsed her body with a few swift motions. She got the shampoo worked into a foam when her hyperalert senses caught a sound.

Consuelo’s voice.

…

The water had been on a few minutes. While he kept a diligent watch, B.J. fought the images in his mind of Callie in the shower.

Waves of guilt assaulted him. He’d dashed her hopes of going home tonight, and she was obviously scared of the place where they were stuck. He should have been able to make her more comfortable somehow. Remembering her pale face and exhaustion-ringed eyes, he vowed to at least give her a peaceful shower. As if on cue, Consuelo slipped around the corner. He wasn’t surprised. Consuelo showed up nearly any time he was in the compound, but especially when he and Callie were together. He could only imagine the never-ending torment her mind must put her through.

“Good evening, Miss Consuelo.” B.J. blocked her way with a polite greeting in Spanish.

Anger flashed on her face, the same face that usually projected sexual allure. She bared her teeth and tried to go around him the other way.

“Miss Consuelo, I want to talk to you. You’re not making this easy.” B.J. kept up the soothing talk and smiled.

She prowled in front of him, looking for a way around him.

“I hope the men this morning didn’t hurt you.” B.J. used sympathy to settle her, but he balanced on the balls of his feet in case it didn’t work.

Consuelo still paced. “All men hurt me. Men must be in control and to be in control they hurt.”

B.J. cringed. Callie might agree with that. His lapse in concentration cost him. Consuelo lunged, scratching his face with her fingernails and coming close to gouging his eyes. The sunburned skin sizzled with extra pain.

Clamping her arms in a fierce hold, he continued softly. “I’m not going to allow you to bother the Americano lady.”

Consuelo pouted. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

He heard the water shut off. A little more subterfuge would do the trick and buy Callie some time. As he looked up and down Consuelo’s body, the sexy vamp came out again, and she snuggled closer to him.

“I could hurt you. You don’t know how good it can be.” The smile made her beautiful again.

“I’ll just bet you can, Miss Consuelo.” His hands tightened on her arms in case she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

She brought her hands up to his chest. “Such a strong man. Is he strong everywhere?” Her hands slowly went south toward his crotch. This was about to get awkward.

“Take. Your. Hands. Off. Him.” Callie stood beside him with the towel wrapped around her hair, lips stiff with rage.

B.J. shrugged as he carefully pushed Consuelo back. “As I’ve said, I’m with the Americano lady.”

She looked between the two of them, as if deciding how to react.

“I know you speak English.” Callie leaned into Consuelo’s space. “Leave B.J. alone.”

Now Consuelo took a step back and began to laugh. Callie straightened and put her hand in the crook of B.J.’s arm. Consuelo laughed even harder.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Callie resolutely sidestepped Consuelo and urged him forward.

“Senora, I like those jeans.” Consuelo sang the comment.

Callie didn’t turn around. “They’re too short for you.”

Consuelo’s laughter echoed around the compound, making others look up and laugh. Callie pushed forward without slowing. “Show no fear.”

“Is that for you or me?” B.J.’s grin met her icy stare.

“Only me. You don’t seem to have a problem with the residents.”

B.J. bit back a laugh and patted her hand. As her warm fingers tightened, he suspected she’d be giving him hell soon. “In my defense, I was only trying to buy you some time.”

“You were playing with a tiger.” Now she let go of his arm and grabbed the door handle to their cell.

“True. I have the scratches to show for it.” He winced when he touched his face and held the door for her.

Callie turned in the doorway, and her eyes widened as she saw the scratches. “Oh. Well, thank you for your help.”

B.J. had scored a little sympathy from her, but he didn’t take it for granted. She spread the plaid blanket over the mattress and sank down with a sigh, kicking her shoes off. She made little noises of pleasure as she searched through her Baggy and found a tiny comb. He turned to padlock the door when she pulled the towel off her head. A shaft of early-evening sunshine came through the little window in the door and illuminated her hair. He’d leave the little trap door open to take advantage of the light for as long as he could.

“You really stood up to Consuelo. That took guts.” B.J. followed her lead and made his bed, then untied his hiking boots and slipped them off, sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall.

“She’s all about fear. She lives with it and tries to inflict it. I’d hoped a firm stand would keep her calm and let her know she wasn’t going to beat us.”

“Good thinking.” B.J.’s gut tightened a little when she said “us” so effortlessly.

Even though he felt like crap, he repeated his mantra. He’d done the right thing. This extra time together was a hell he hadn’t anticipated, but one he would take. He found himself greedy for one more smile. He couldn’t hope for anything more, but he’d like one more smile.

Callie didn’t say anything as she worked the comb through her wet hair. B.J. had to do something besides stare at her like a lovesick puppy.

“So, let’s go through tomorrow. El Pastor has a car in a barn behind the compound. We’ll drive it to the checkpoint, but we won’t be able to get through because we don’t have ID.” B.J. leaned his head against the tiled wall.

“Wait. El Pastor has a car?” Callie furiously worked at a tangle.

“Apparently it’s a donation. Our cover story is we stole it.” With his head tilted back, he didn’t think it was so obvious he drank in the sight of her.

“That’s ridiculous. We wouldn’t steal a car.” Callie thinned her lips to show her irritation.

“Too late. This morning, Angel told the narcos we’d stolen it so they’d leave. Once we’re at the border, we’ll cause a ruckus so that the border patrol will tell the narcos about us.” The little crease in her forehead fascinated him when she frowned.

“First we’re thieves, then we’re troublemakers?” She ran her fingers through her hair.

“See what a bad influence I am on you?”

She snorted as she went back to her Baggy. “Oh my God, there’re Band-Aids in here. I might cry.”

“Here, take mine.” B.J. tossed his Baggy to her.

With her knees pulled up to her chin, she examined her blistered toes. “So we can’t get through the checkpoint, then what?”

B.J. forced his thoughts back to the plan. “We’ll leave the car and go to a house where we’ll wait for Abbott.”

“A house? Like in a neighborhood? Isn’t there a risk to innocent bystanders?” She bandaged her pinkie toe and glanced up with a deepening scowl.

“I’m sure they’ve done a risk assessment.” While he actually hadn’t asked, it was part of their protocol. Just because they were in Mexico didn’t mean they changed their procedure.

Callie bandaged another toe and both heels before hugging her knees. “Do you think it will work?”

B.J. lifted his head at the uncertainty in her voice. “Yes, it will work.”

Callie lay down on her side, her head propped on her arm so she could still see him. “Where will I be?”

“They’re taking you out. You’ll be safely across the border when we make the arrest. You’ll be sipping margaritas at the bodega.” He watched her eyes grow heavier.

She fought it. “Don’t forget you promised me a steak dinner.”

Callie’s eyes closed so she didn’t see B.J. recoil, stung by her words. There was no way in hell he could take her to dinner now, all dressed up and bathed in candlelight. But for the next few hours he’d protect her and make sure she got home.

A knock startled him. He glanced up at the window in the door, and seeing Angel, rose stiffly to his feet, the day’s work making his muscles sore.

“I brought you some tortillas for tomorrow.” With a look at Callie’s sleeping form, he kept his voice low.

“What about my weapon?” B.J. leaned on the warm door.

Angel looked around. “I put it in the trunk of the car.”

Not what he wanted, but at least he wasn’t leaving his Glock in Mexico. Angel handed him a set of keys.

B.J. wanted to shake the big guy’s hand. “Thank you, Angel. We couldn’t have made it without you.”

“Damn right.” Angel flashed a rare smile and looked down with a sudden awkwardness. “You guys take care. Get her home safe, okay?”

“It’s the main thing.”

Then Angel was gone, and the breeze that blew through the little window hinted at the cool desert night to come. B.J. returned to the mattress, content to sit for a moment and gaze at Callie with her hand tucked under her cheek. As the coolness coming off the floor registered with him, he crawled over to their little bundle of possessions. He shook out a blanket and tucked it around Callie.