Page 5

TWO

NICOLE WINTER

“C ome on, you piece of shit.” I smacked the side of the satellite phone.

I’d snagged it from a police chief a while back and felt zero remorse for taking it.

These people were so messed up they’d raid some poor person’s business on the pretense of looking for someone they knew friggin’ well wasn’t even there.

The raids were just a means to help themselves to whatever they wanted.

I loved Mexico, and I’d spent more time there than anywhere else, but the country was horribly corrupt, and the people were at the mercy of those who called themselves police.

Of course, like everywhere, not all of them were bad, and I’d made a few good friends.

It was just such a shame that the few spoiled it for the rest. Sadly, the bad way outnumbered the good.

Money was the driving force in Mexico—money and violence.

I twisted the dial and tried a different channel, but I got the same static as before. I jammed it back into my bag and flopped my head back against the wall. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Suddenly, a child’s brown, tear-filled eyes blinked up at me as his mouth moved but I was thrown back into a memory and remembered Justin’s face before I left.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Work.” I zipped my knapsack.

“Why can’t you tell me who it is?”

I shook my head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“If you leave this time, Nicole, that’s it.

I’m not going to wait around anymore for you to leave your job for me.

It’s been four years. It’s me or Mexico.

” Justin leaned forward over the arm of the couch and nodded toward the engagement ring he wanted me to have.

I stared at the diamond, and the noose around my neck tightened and the walls started to close in.

Marriage was something I wanted someday but not right then.

I needed to be free to do my job and help people.

In my mind, it was more than a job, it was a calling, and Justin would never understand that.

His was a nine to five corporate type. He loved his nice clothes, cappuccinos, and weekends he knew were his.

“You know I love my job, and what I do does make a difference.”

“It doesn’t to me. All I see is you leaving, and then I hold my breath until you come home.

Why can’t you just stay here, be here, with me?

Start a life, kids, you know, the whole white picket fence thing.

Don’t you want a house in a safe suburban town where we can make something good happen?

That would make a difference.” His brown eyes teared up as he pleaded.

I pulled up the handle of my suitcase and gripped the handle for something to hold me in place.

“I’m sorry, Justin, but this was what I was made to do. It’s what I need right now.”

He snagged the ring off the table and snapped the box closed as if to mimic my action.

“I’m sorry too.” His eyes turned angry. “I’m sorry for you, Nicole.

You can’t see that you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone or,” he made a face, “dead in a hole somewhere.” He brushed by me and headed down the hall.

“And you wonder why no one sticks around in your life.”

“Justin,” his words lashed at a deep, raw wound, “that’s too far.”

He stopped and rubbed his face with a heavy huff.

“You know what? No. It’s time you hear this.

Nicole, you’re impossible to love.” My chest heaved at his words.

“You’re unlovable because you don’t give anything of yourself to anyone who might care for you even a little bit.

Your own family trauma has spilled over into mine, and I can’t do it anymore. ”

My anger over such a hurtful statement rushed to the surface.

“All right, you want to toss all the blame at me for leaving. Let’s be honest, shall we?

Two months ago, when I called home, and I heard a woman on the other end of the phone, was that Pam?

Did you sleep with your co-worker?” He looked away, and I knew it was true.

Tommy the doorman had warned me, but I didn’t want to believe it. “Be a man and answer me.”

“Yes.”

I let go of the air I held as my chest hurt. “Was that the first time?”

He dropped his hands with a defeated shrug. “No.”

“Right,” I sniffed. I didn’t want him to see how much he’d just hurt me. “So, you want to marry me, make me leave my job, give up everything I worked so hard for and what? So you can have Pam on the side?”

“A least she’s capable of loving me.”

“Wow.” His hits just kept coming. “So, if she loves you like you claim, then why marry me? Admit it, Justin. You just like my connections to Washington.” He didn’t even deny it; he just shrugged like I should have known all along. “Got it. Well, that’s that.”

He snickered, and I knew he’d need to have the last word. “Good luck being alone, Nicole, because that’s all you have left.” He glared like I was the only guilty one here. “I’ll be gone by tonight. You can get someone else to water your damn plant.”

I eyed the sad little plant that looked to be on its last leg. I curled it into my arm and awkwardly rolled my suitcase out the door. I knew that would be the last time I’d see Justin.

“You’re off again,” Tommy my doorman commented as the car rolled up to the curb.

“Yes, sir.” I held out my pathetic looking plant. “Seems I can’t keep a companion in my life. So, for the sake of this little guy, will you take him?” He smiled warmly and nodded. He knew I referred to Justin too.

“Sure thing, Ms. Winter. He’ll be bright and happy by the time my wife is finished with him.” He eyed the wilted, brown-edged leaves. “You make sure you come back in one piece so you can take this guy back home.”

“I will, Tommy.” I leaned in for a hug. “Thanks.” I waved but stopped myself when Pam’s face popped up in my head. “Tommy?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter?

“Justin is moving out, so I’d appreciate it if this was the last time he or anyone else is here.”

“You got it.” He gave me a reassuring smile as I slipped into the back seat of the car and didn’t look back.

I blinked the memory away, and my brain tried to catch up with what was going on in the here and now.

“You need to calm down. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” I tried to get through to the little boy who was now screaming at me to help him.

“ Necesito ayuda ,” he cried again and pointed over his shoulder down an alleyway. I could hear a woman crying.

“Okay.” I looked around. I knew I had to move on, but I was a sucker for a kid in trouble.

This part of town was crawling with Cartel.

I generally worked the southern part of Mexico and sometimes El Salvador if the story was there.

I knew I only had about ten minutes to spare before I had to make the next checkpoint.

I had to hook back up with the military team that looked out for my safety.

I’d been separated from them, and my cameraman Ben Bale had been taken.

Now I had no idea if he was alive or dead.

I pushed his sister’s face out of my head.

Now wasn’t the time to let my mind go anywhere else. He had to be okay.

“ Prisa !” the little boy screamed as he ran down the alley.

He spoke Spanish so fast I missed most of it as I chased him.

His beaten-up shoes twisted and slipped on the mashed-up asphalt, and he had to use the wall to stop his fall a few times.

He finally stopped and pointed through a door to show me where she was.

I stepped into the poorly lit house and saw his mother propped up against the wall, sweaty, her hands held to her bloody stomach.

I did a quick scan to make sure no one was going to jump out at me, and thankfully the place was clear.

I noticed they had very little, just a tiny table, three chairs, and a torn couch in front of a super old TV.

So, then, why shoot her? They had nothing to offer.

When it came to a Cartel killing, nothing made sense.

She was simply in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

“ Ayuda !” he cried.

Shit.

I patted his shoulder then dropped to my knees in front of her. I huffed. A wound like that couldn’t be fixed. I pulled out some narcotics I had hidden away for myself in case I ever needed them. I hated to give them up, but no one should die in that much pain.

“ Agua ?” I asked the boy for water, and he raced out of the room. I packed her stomach the best I could, but I could see her intestines. “ Inglesa ?”

“A little.” She shifted in pain, and her face paled even more.

“What’s your name?”

“Clara.” I swore her eyes started to dim.

“Who did this?” I grabbed the cup from the little boy, pushed the pill into her mouth, and held the glass to her lips. She wasted no time taking the pill. It was probably silly to waste it, but I had to try to ease her pain.

“Cartel,” she sputtered.

“Do you have a husband?”

“ Sí .” She closed her eyes, but I shook her shoulders to bring her back. “He’s at work.”

“No sleep,” I said to her then barked at the boy to go get his father. He hesitated with a look at his mother but then left. No child should see their parent die this way. “I know it hurts, and I know you’re scared, but you must fight. Do you understand? Don’t let them win.”

“ Soy luchadora ,” she whispered in Spanish.

I pushed on her wound but knew I had to get out of here. “That’s right, you’re a fighter.” I pushed a smile past my lips and hoped the boy would return soon with his father.

I jumped as tires squealed outside the door and the woman grabbed my hand.

“Run,” she wheezed.

Zip, zip! Two bullets drilled into her skull. A cloth was whipped over my head, and I was hauled to my feet and dragged outside. I spared a brief thought for the boy who would come back to see his mother dead. Life was a cruel bitch at times.