Holding The Line: A romantic suspense that will get your pulse racing

But now? What was there to say? She used to want answers but now all she wanted was to be able to breathe again. For too long she had pushed the feelings down and now they were pushing back and threatening to strangle her in the process.

Her legs were leaden, holding her down in place, making it hard for her to move. Undoubtedly it was her body’s way of protecting her. Jessop led her outside, down a steep hill, past a barn and a field with three horses, to a tiny cottage. It was far enough away from the main house to provide complete seclusion. She doubted Andrea even knew they were hosting an undercover agent on their property.

Beth couldn’t hear what Jessop was saying. She saw his mouth moving but all she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears. She ran a hand over her hair. Suddenly she felt self-conscious, about the way she looked, about her life since Torres, about the choices she had made since he left. She stopped just short of the door.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jessop said putting himself between her and the black lacquered door. “Unless you want me to come in.” A paternal concern laced to his tone. Like most relationships in her life, the dynamic was complicated. As her boss, Jessop was ruthless, but there were times like now when his guard slipped, and he acted more like a protective father.

Mindlessly Beth shook her head. “No. Its fine.”

“Are you sure? I can wait outside. Take your time. I don’t mind.” Concern knitted his dark brows.

She shook her head again. She needed to do this alone. She watched as Jessop walked away, returning to the main house, before she turned again and stared at the door.

Torres was here. Every molecule in her body vibrated. She wanted to run. Her muscles contracted, ready to sprint, as soon as she chose the direction. That was the question. Did she want to run towards Torres or away? Her heart screamed at her to leave and never look back. She would be an idiot to invite that level of pain back into her life.

But her head needed answers. She had a million questions. Where were you? What happened? What was it like? How did they treat you? How did you get out?

Why did you leave me?

Would she go with her head or her heart? That was always the question when it came to Torres. She made the wrong choice last time and paid the price. She was still paying the price.

She closed her eyes and thought about the consequence. Her hands balled into tight fists.

Slowly she reached out and turned the handle.

She held her breath. Time slowed down until she was suspended in it like an ant caught in amber.

“Beth.” Torres’ deep voice surrounded her; she could physically feel it on her skin, warm and potent, reaching into every pore. She fought the temptation to close her eyes and give herself over to the sensation.

Torres stood up from the bench where he was sitting.

She forced herself to look at him and really see him, the man who had shattered her dreams. He looked different. His hair was long now. He always had short hair. When they first met he had a military cut but later when he joined Los Zetas he shaved his head. But now his hair was thick and long, tied at the base of his neck.

Even his clothes were different. He always wore T-shirts and jeans but now he was wearing a button-up shirt. He looked like he was on his way to a funeral or about to be arraigned. It wasn’t him. He was different. No doubt she looked different too. Older maybe, sadder…

Her gaze lowered to his broad shoulders: still strong and heavily muscled. That part was him. It was Torres, only different.

Tentatively she took a step forward. There was a raw and brutal beauty to him that inhabited a place where masculinity became intimidating. His features were too harsh to be handsome but too overpowering to be anything but. Quite simply he was the most attractive man she had ever met but she would never have the words to describe why.

She reached up and traced the scar that slashed the left side of his face from below his eye to the corner of his mouth. The skin was raised in two parallel lines. This was the face she loved. This was the face she tried to forget. The memories of the night he got the scar flooded back, the blood-soaked sheets: the way his presence had filled her bedroom. He had stepped between two gang members to prevent an attack and had been wounded in the process.

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

“I cant…I just can’t…” Her knees threatened to buckle. It was too much.

Beth turned and ran.

Chapter Five (#ulink_f5ed1caf-bf94-50d1-987b-ed165b30c27b)

Beth pulled in behind her sister’s pickup truck. She stared down at her clenched hands on the steering wheel. The full moon provided enough light for her to watch the color drain from her fingers. She needed to get it together, change gears, go inside and be a mommy again. Her life was complicated, but it was compartmentalized, that is the only way it worked. When she was at work she was one person, when she got home, she was another. Those were her rules. Everyone followed them, except Torres. He crossed every line. There was nothing neat or ordered when Torres was around. There was no divide between work and home life; he filled both worlds completely.

He couldn’t be back. Not now.

It was time for some sugar therapy. Beth reached into her glove box and found her emergency supply of M&Ms. A more adjusted person would talk her feelings through with Adam Frazer, the department psychologist, but Beth was past pretending, M&Ms were as adjusted as she got.

She popped a green candy into her mouth and sucked on the hard shell until it dissolved. She took a deep breath and allowed the sweet to work its magic. When the chocolate had completely dissolved, she popped another, and then another. Slowly the knot in her stomach loosened.

Thirteen pieces later, she was ready to face the world again.

“Hey, I’m home,” Beth called when she opened her front door.

“Mama!” Alejandra squealed. She ran to Beth and jumped into her arms. She was still wearing the blue plaid pinafore that was her school uniform but the neat braids she had this morning had given way to a mass of tangled ringlets. Combing that out wasn’t going to be fun for either of them.

“Oh Pretty Girl. Am I glad to see you.” Beth gathered her in close and breathed in the clean scent of her hair.

“Mama, can I show you the picture I painted? I made you a princess butterfly. Do you wanna see?”

She sat her down. “Of course I want to see your picture but tell me about your day first.” Beth spent a lot of time worrying about Alejandra, but she didn’t need to. Ally took most things in her stride. Beth often worried if the trauma of her early childhood would impact her but so far there was no sign that it had, probably because Alejandra had only been a year old when her parents had been murdered. She had no recollection of them, which was a blessing but on some small level it also made Beth feel guilty. She loved her child as if she had given birth to her, but she hadn’t. Another woman had carried her and loved her. Beth was sad for her, Alejandra’s first mother. She just hoped that if her first mom could know how well Alejandra was loved, she would be all right with the way things turned out.

Alejandra ran to her room and returned seconds later with a painting, complete with bold strokes of pink and orange, her favorite colors. “Do you like it, Mama?” Her wide eyes were bright with anticipation.

Beth admired the picture. “I love it. But now I need to decide which painting I should take off the refrigerator to make room for this one.” Their house was filled with Alejandra’s paintings. They were stuck to every flat surface. Her sister called the decorating practice “Preschool Chic”.

“No, Mama. It’s for your office so you can remember me now that I’m at big school.”

Beth leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “This will look perfect on my desk but you know, Pretty Girl, I never forget you.”

Alejandra smiled, clearly pleased with that response.

“Where is your Auntie Paige?”

“I’m in here,” Paige called from the kitchen. “I am cutting the cake. You have had dinner, right? Ally had pesto chicken and carrots.” Her sister appeared carrying two plates with wedges of cake big enough to be doorstops. Her sister was still dressed in surgical scrubs with the name of her practice embroidered on the top.

“That is far too big. Alejandra can have a quarter of that,” Beth said.

Paige smiled. “That is your piece.”

“Well in that case.”

Beth sunk her fork into the layers of sponge and whipped buttercream frosting. She relaxed as the sugar high took hold. “Mmm I needed this.” The M&Ms had only whetted her appetite.

“I bet you do. What happened today? You had a longer day than me.”

Beth put down her fork. She glanced and Alejandra and then back at her sister.

“I am working on a big case.” That much wasn’t a lie. She was always working on a big case. In her line of work she had to keep lots of secrets and she was fine with that, but she hated outright lying.

“You going to catch the bad guy, Mama?” Alejandra piped up.